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by Martina Cole

  Lance was staring at his mother as if he had never seen her before. In all the years he had worked with his family, she had never said so much to him at one time. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having a conversation with her in his life. Pat could see the hurt his brother was experiencing; he knew that whatever had happened, he actually loved this woman who had never once given him a kind word.

  ‘She don’t mean that, Lance. She’s annoyed, we both are . . .’

  ‘Oi! Patrick Brodie, don’t you dare talk for me. I am just about at the end of my patience with him, and you, come to that. I heard whispers about him years ago and I swallowed. But not any more. I have to say this now while I still have the chance. My cancer is back and I will not go to my grave regretting that I didn’t finally tell this fucking nutter what I really thought of him and his fucking carrying-on. I’ve left you nothing, Lance, not a brass razoo; so now you know. My mother took you the second you were born and you’ve been hers ever since because I never wanted you. Even as a baby you were fucking weird, unnatural. And, God forgive me, when my Colleen went missing I wished it had been you. I would have given my own life to swap her for you. I blamed you, for years I blamed you, Lance, and I don’t know why. It was an instinct, a feeling I had, everything that went wrong I always felt that, somehow, it came back to you.’

  ‘Fucking hell, Mum, that’s enough!’

  Patrick was in such shock at her tirade that it was only after she had sat down and lit another cigarette that he remembered her saying her cancer was back. That was why she was smoking again and drinking brandy; it was her painkiller, always had been.

  Lance was still staring at her. His face was devoid of any emotion. ‘You really hate me, don’t you?’ His voice was low and without any inflection whatsoever.

  ‘Hate? I don’t hate you, Lance. Hate is not a strong enough word for how I feel.’

  Patrick was appalled at his mother’s words, yet he knew she had cause. Lance had always been an outsider and even as kids he had never really felt like a part of the family. He had been eaten up with anger and hate all his life.

  Patrick had only protected him through guilt, the guilt he felt because his mother had loved him with a passion. All her kids had felt that love at some time but not Lance, and that had shaped his life. It was as if they had danced around each other for all those years and they were living a lie and everything that had happened to them was just leading up to this moment in time.

  The door opened and Scanlon was standing there looking at them. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with hatred and belated honesty. It was almost physical, it felt almost as if it could be touched, it was so charged with emotion.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’

  Scanlon took a deep breath and, looking at Lil Brodie, he said sadly, ‘They’ve found a body.’

  It was a few moments before Lil realised the enormity of what the man had said.

  Chapter Thirty

  Scanlon had finally arrived at the house. He had been dreading this, and yet he knew the news was better coming from him. They had waited up all night for him, and he knew that what he said and how he said it, would be remembered for a long time to come. Patrick ushered him into the lounge and he said hello to everyone as respectfully as he could. All the children were there, and he could feel the nervousness coming off everyone in the room.

  Lil didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. ‘Is it her?’

  Scanlon nodded. ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  He nodded once again, his face full of genuine sorrow. ‘Her uniform was the marker, it was still more or less intact. Her schoolbag was also buried with her . . .’

  Lil nodded as if she understood perfectly, when she didn’t understand anything at all. Someone had buried her child somewhere, buried her school bag beside her and no one had known where she was until now.

  ‘What happened to her? Do they know?’

  Scanlon nodded once more, desperately sorry for the woman sitting on the large leather chair, who was hoping against hope that it was all a mistake and her daughter was alive somewhere, living a good life.

  He looked at Patrick and Lance, sitting side by side on the sofa. They were both as shell-shocked as their mother. They were so alike, yet so different.

  Patrick nodded towards the man, giving him permission to tell his mother what she wanted to know. Knowing she needed to hear the truth about her child more than ever now, no matter how bad it was, or how painful.

  ‘She was beaten to death. There are three holes in her skull. It would have been quick though, the coroner says that any one of the blows would have been enough to render her unconscious.’

  Lil didn’t answer him, she just sat and waited for him to continue.

  ‘I am so sorry, Mrs Brodie.’

  She knew he meant it, and being called Mrs Brodie brought back memories of good times. Good times that had been destroyed first with her husband’s murder, and then with her daughter’s disappearance.

  ‘Was she raped?’ She had to know, even as she didn’t want to know.

  Scanlon sighed. ‘They don’t think so. All her clothes were still intact; she was wrapped in plastic and that kept everything in pretty good condition. It seems more like a rage murder than anything else. No one knows why these things happen. Usually it’s just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  Lil nodded again. Why, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what else to do, wasn’t up on the protocol on how to deal with something like this.

  ’Any idea who did it?’ Lance’s voice was heavy with distress.

  ‘Not yet.’ Scanlon stared at the floor once more.

  ‘Where was she found?’ Lil wanted to know the answer to her question, but she hoped against hope it wasn’t somewhere they had looked. They had searched everywhere, over and over again, wondering if they had missed something. Hoping she might turn up there. Her fear now was that she had missed her child, had walked past her poor, broken little body. Had not seen her burial mound, not noticed a newly dug grave, had not realised they were walking over her last resting place.

  ‘That is the strange thing about it. She was found buried in a garden in Chigwell.’

  Lance was staring at him as if he had just turned into Lana Turner before his eyes. ‘Chigwell?’

  Scanlon nodded again, unable to do anything else. ‘The owners were having a pond dug, for Koi carp. The workmen came across the body late yesterday afternoon. I heard about it, and, after they had identified the body, I offered to tell you all about it. I explained that I knew you . . .’

  His voice trailed off. Pat knew that the man’s cover was blown now, that Scanlon had put himself on the line for them; to make this easier all round. You found friends in the unlikeliest places.

  ‘Thanks.’ It was such a small word for such an enormous thing, but Pat couldn’t say anything else. He was as dazed and traumatised as his mother was.

  ‘Fucking Chigwell. Why would she be there?’ Lil was getting angry now, the shock was wearing off and real life was once more creeping up to overtake her.

  Scanlon shook his head once more. ‘That is what we are trying to find out, Mrs Brodie.’

  Lil was nodding again, unable to think of anything to say, grateful to this man for finally bringing news of her baby, of finally putting her mind at rest. But resenting him, also, because now all hope was gone.

  ‘Of course you are. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking . . .’ She started crying then, a deep and heart-wrenching sobbing. Nearly twenty years of fear, and questioning, and bewilderment, were now finally being set free. She was still sobbing hours later and she wondered if she would ever stop.

  Lance was also crying, and it was strange because it was he who went to his mother’s aid, not Patrick, and she let him hold her, let him comfort her, then she held on to him. For the first time in his life, his mother was hugging him, and he was hugging her back as if his life depended on it.

  Spide
r and Jimmy Brick were both mulling over the news. Everyone had heard about Colleen’s body being found, and no one seemed to know what to do about it. It didn’t seem right somehow, ringing up, or going to visit, until the family had finally taken it all in. It seemed intrusive. It had been so long since she had disappeared, that it was almost as if she had never been there in the first place.

  Lil had once said to Spider that her only solace was, if Colleen was dead, at least she knew that Pat would look after her. Care for her until she could join them.

  He had been surprised that she had not thought of the girl’s father, had thought that in death he might have finally been redeemed. She was, after all, a church-goer, and she was a believer, as Pat had been. Lenny Brewster was not even to be trusted in death and, he had to admit, Lil was probably right about that.

  ‘Poor Lil, eh? How do you cope with it? A husband murdered, and a child.’

  Spider poured them both more Scotch. Only whisky seemed appropriate today; it killed the pain somehow.

  ‘You know, Spider, I always thought she had run off with someone, a boyfriend or such like.’

  Spider laughed then, a tired, sad laugh. ‘Not little Colleen, she was as green as the grass. She had a bit of life about her, I admit, but she and Christy were as close as two people could be. If that had been the case, he would have known.’

  Jimmy thought about what was said. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. But like Pat’s death, it’s never sat right with me, you know?’

  Spider looked at the man he had known for so many years, and who had returned one day out of the blue. ‘Why did you go off, Jim? The truth now, let’s be honest with one another.’

  Jimmy shrugged, his huge shoulders more noticeable in his expensive jacket. It occurred to Spider then that Jimmy had come back to them all a snappy dresser. Before Pat’s death, Jimmy had been an average Joe; he had worked to live, now he lived to work. Liked good clothes, and nice cars.

  ‘Honest, between me and you?’

  Spider laughed once more. ‘Who the fuck am I going to tell, eh? We are old mates, and somewhere along the line we lost trust in each other, and it grieves me, Jim. All of a sudden, you were gone. One day you were gone, and that was that. You came back, and we were like strangers. Both unsure what had happened to us. To everyone around us.’

  Jimmy Brick knew the truth of Spider’s words, and he was pleased that one of them had finally brought it out into the open.

  ‘I didn’t know who to trust any more, Spider. Patrick’s death was so brutal, so fucking senseless, it threw me off kilter. I blamed you for a long time.’

  Spider was cross, as Jimmy knew he would be, but he had asked for the truth and finally got it. That child’s death had made them all rethink their lives.

  ‘Hey, you asked for the truth and you got it, don’t fucking hold it against me now. You were protecting Cain, but you know you should have made sure the situation with the Williams brothers was taken care of. Patrick trusted you to do that; he would have sorted it immediately if it was one of his children. Let alone a brother.’

  ‘Do you still blame me?’

  ‘It’s been so long now, what does it matter? Nothing can bring him back, can it? I heard through the grapevine that young Pat ironed out Jasper, so he must have known the score. He is a shrewd man, like his father before him, but Patrick has something his father never had.’

  ’And what’s that then?’

  Jimmy could hear the coldness that had crept into Spider’s voice. ’A taste for revenge.’

  Patrick had rung and told them all there was more news about Colleen, so they were all waiting now with bated breath, and in Lil’s case, a terror in her heart at what she was going to hear.

  ‘Where’s Lance?’

  Patrick shrugged. ‘He said he was caught up in traffic, he won’t be long.’

  Annie nodded. She was making tea while watching out for Kathleen as she chain-smoked her cigarettes and stared into space. She was capable of going on one of her wanders if not watched closely, and that’s the last thing they needed on this day of all days.

  Lil looked around her at everyone in the room. ‘You know, it’s funny, but people have actually asked me what was worse, to have a husband murdered, or a child? And I couldn’t answer that question. I still don’t know the answer to that question . . . I always said that we didn’t know if Colleen had been murdered, you know...’

  She was panicking suddenly, and her voice was faltering; she felt the air rising up inside her body, hot and clammy. Stopping her from breathing.

  When she opened her eyes, Scanlon was there, and everyone was looking down at her; she understood then that she had passed out. Never before in her life had she fainted.

  ‘Come on, Mum, sit up, drink this.’

  She sat up with difficulty, and drank the brandy Eileen had poured for her. When she was feeling brighter, she looked at the policeman who had gone from enemy to friend in a few short days, and said, ‘Come on then, what have you got to tell us?’

  Her voice was full of false determination. He knew she didn’t really want to know; she needed to know. There was a big difference.

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Lance?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I need to talk now, get this over with.’

  Scanlon was so nervous, he had to tell them something so heinous, so fucking hateful, and he knew he had to do it. He knew he had to get this thing out, had to explain why that child had died. He was glad that Lance wasn’t there, somehow it made this all easier.

  ‘We traced the owners of the house back to a couple, now living in Spain. By the condition of the remains, and from the date she was reported missing, we sorted out who was living there on or around that time.’

  He sighed, and sipped the drink Patrick had poured for him, before continuing. ‘This is the strange thing, when the Spanish police went to their house to question them, the man broke down immediately and admitted everything.’

  No one spoke for a while.

  ‘What was his name?’

  This from Christy, who was already suspicious.

  ‘Gardener. Sammy Gardener.’

  Lil sat up in her seat then, as did most of the people in the room. ‘Sammy Gardener, Ugly Sammy?’

  Scanlon nodded again, hating himself for what he had to do, and knowing he had to do it.

  ‘But why? He was friends with us, with Patrick, my husband Patrick. I knew his first wife. Sammy wasn’t a killer . . .’

  She was distressed, she didn’t want Colleen to have been killed by someone they knew and trusted, it was worse somehow, worse than a stranger doing it. A stranger wouldn’t have known how lovely she was, a stranger wouldn’t have known how much they loved her. A stranger was just a nutter, and they were not someone you could focus on, could see as a real person.

  ‘He said he had a reason for it . . .’

  Patrick was watching him now, as were Shamus and Christy. The three of them all looked at one another, and they all seemed to know what Scanlon was going to say.

  Eileen was crying now. The guilt that had been eating at her for so long was now once more to the forefront of her mind. ‘What reason could anyone have to hurt Colleen. She was a little girl, for Christ’s sake, a bloody little girl . . . Ain’t it enough me dad was murdered? Why was she murdered and all? What is fucking wrong with this family? What is this all about?’

  Paulie pulled her into his arms then, and she buried her face in his chest, the tears were already falling. Eileen had thought about Colleen every day of her life, and it never got easier. Her guilt at Colleen’s disappearance had eaten away at her for so long. Her mum had been so ill in hospital, she had taken over as the woman of the house and she was supposed to have been looking after the kids. Watching out for them, caring for them, and she had lost her, had not even missed her until it was too late. Colleen had been taken and murdered, and Eileen was responsible for it, had been so busy with herself and pretending to be everyone’s mother.

/>   And she had not even wondered where she was. All the while she was being murdered, that poor little girl was being killed somewhere, and she had been more interested in how the house looked. Colleen had not even entered her mind. Eileen blamed herself for it, had always blamed herself.

  Then when she had married Paulie, she had hoped to make everything better, but there had been no babies; the one time she had been pregnant she had lost it at five months, and there had been nothing since then. She had seen that as her punishment for losing Colleen, that God saw that she couldn’t be trusted with a child.

  The drinking had started after poor Colleen had gone missing. It had gradually escalated over the years until now she was an alcoholic and Paulie helped her keep her secret. Knew why she was like she was. Listened to her rambling on about Colleen, wishing there was something he could do to help her.

  ‘Take her home, Paulie, will you?’

  Eileen’s secret was common knowledge to everyone, but until Paulie asked for help, they would let him sort it out, knowing he was good to her, loved her, and would one day see that his love and care was not enough to make her better.

  Paulie Brick walked the sobbing woman from the room. Kathleen put her hand out to touch her as she passed her, and Eileen grabbed it tightly, saying, ‘I can’t listen, in case they say it’s my fault.’

  Paulie walked her out, and the silence was deafening until Shawn said, ‘Well, come on, what’s this fucking reason then?’

  Scanlon looked at the sea of faces around him and, taking a deep breath, he spoke once more: ‘Six weeks before Sammy snatched her, Lance and Donny Barker had gone to his house to collect a debt they had recently bought from an unknown party.’ He waited for some kind of reaction, but no one spoke. It was as if they were all in shock.

  ‘Go on.’ It was Patrick who urged him on.

  ‘Sammy’s eldest daughter was held at gunpoint, and she was terrified. Only twelve at the time, he said she was absolutely in bits. He said that Lance had shot him in the feet with a sawn-off and that has been verified by the way, the shooting. He told the hospital he opened his front door, and someone had shot him cold. No one really bothered to pursue it, knowing it was obviously something and nothing. The usual falling out among thieves.’