by Annie Weir
In the early afternoon the two detectives came to take Judith back to the police station to continue the interview. They went through the same procedure as before, then started again.
‘We have been in contact with Mr. Clements.’
Judith looked back at DI Gibson without comment.
‘He confirms that he took Ms. Parks to view your flat on Monday afternoon.’
Judith continued to hold eye contact.
‘He stated that Ms. Parks was startled and distressed when she saw that it was your flat, indeed when you arrived unexpectedly during the viewing.’
Judith still didn’t react.
‘Have you anything to say about that?’
‘No. What do you want me to say?’
‘Can you confirm that what Mr. Clements said was true?’
‘Yes, I told you before. We had had words and I wanted to clear the air.’
‘So why was Ms. Parks so afraid when she saw you at the flat? What did you do to frighten her?’
‘I didn’t do anything to frighten her. If you say she was frightened, she was frightened, but I didn’t do anything to make her frightened. What do you think I did? What could I have done? What did she say in the diary I did?’
DI Gibson didn’t reply straight away. Judith continued to maintain eye contact. It didn’t make him uneasy but he wondered how anyone could not blink for such a long time. He blinked and continued.
‘You said you hadn’t been out to where Ms. Parks lived.’
‘Correct.’
‘But you followed her home one evening.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘She noted in the diary that a car like yours pulled out behind her and followed from a distance until she turned off to Haltwhistle.’
‘Really? Then what did I do?’
‘I don’t know. What did you do?’
‘I was on my way somewhere but didn’t feel too good so I went back home. There is no law about being on the A69 at the same time as someone else.’
‘No, indeed.’
‘Did you go and visit your mother on your way back? Or your sister?’
‘No, I told you, I didn’t feel well so I went home.’
‘We can check.’
‘Please do.’
It was getting dark by the time Judith came out of the police station for the second time. This time there was a message from Fiona begging her to get in touch. She felt exhausted and drove to Fiona’s house.
‘Auntie Ju, you poor thing. Your poor friend.’ Rosie threw herself at Judith as she collapsed onto an armchair.
Fiona brought in a mug of tea.
‘Here. Where have you been all day? You couldn’t have been at the police station the whole time.’
‘Most of the time. They let me go at lunch time then came back for me in the afternoon. They’re saying horrible things. Haven’t you got anything stronger than tea?’
‘Yes, of course. But you’ll have to stay the night. You look exhausted. You’ll fall over if you have alcohol. Oh my God, Judith! Sorry. That was a really insensitive thing to say. I just mean, you look so tired.’
‘It’s OK, people always say things like that when someone dies.’
‘So did she fall?’
‘I suppose so. It looked like it to me.’
‘You were there?’ asked Rosie.
‘I was at the station. She sort of stumbled.’
‘So what are the police saying that’s so horrible?’
‘They suggested that she might have done it deliberately.’
‘Do you think that?’ asked Rosie from the kitchen.
‘No.’
‘Then neither do I,’ said Rosie bringing Judith a whisky. ‘Anyway, why would she?’
Back at the police station, DI Gibson and DS Doggart went back over the interviews with Judith.
‘She doesn’t look as though she’s lying,’ said the young sergeant.
‘She doesn’t look particularly bothered,’ said her senior officer.
‘No, she hasn’t cried or got angry or any of the classic things that people do.’
‘She’s a cold fish alright. Do you find her scary?’
‘No. But then, not a lot scares me. I know what you’re asking though. I’ve never been stalked but I dealt with a stalking case last year in Newcastle. It was very unpleasant for the person concerned but nobody else could see that there was much wrong. The stalker was very clever about it.’
‘I don’t think Dillon was deliberately stalking Chloe, but it undoubtedly looked that way to her. I don’t believe there was any intention to harm her. I don’t think this line of enquiry is going to go anywhere at all.’
‘I’ll go and pick up Louise Holmes in the morning. Do you want someone else to sit in with you? I’ve known her for ages.’
‘No, I’d rather you were here. She’s more likely to open up if she sees a friendly face. I understand that she’s devastated.’
Saturday 14th February 2009
The local paper had been geared up for Valentine’s Day advertisements and declarations of love by the local population. It was completely overshadowed by the news of the young businesswoman who had fallen under a train. The CCTV cameras in the station had been used to create stills of Chloe’s last few moments and in one of them Judith was clearly visible by the door with Chloe looking back at her over her shoulder. The look on Chloe’s face was of fear, according to the journalist, and nobody studying it disagreed. Judith was shopping in Tesco and everyone seemed to be talking about it. She overheard a range of views about herself, some by people who didn’t know her at all borne out by the fact that they didn’t recognise her as she walked past. A couple of people offered condolences but most averted their eyes or nudged the person next to them and nodded to indicate that she was there. She did what she had to do and left as soon as she could.
Approaching the driveway to her flat, Judith noticed a lot more cars in the visitors’ parking bays. In fact, they were double parked in most places. She drove round to her garage at the rear of the building thinking there must be a wedding or a funeral on. By the time she had unloaded her bags of groceries from the boot, she was surrounded. Cameras flashed, and voices called out at the same time.
‘How well did you know Chloe Parks?’ ‘What were you doing at the station?’ ‘Do you blame yourself for her death?’ ‘Do you think she jumped under the train?’ ‘Why did she look so frightened when she saw you?’ ‘Can I have an interview? An exclusive? We’ll pay?’ ‘Just a few minutes of your time, Judith.’
Judith fell back against her car. She stared at the sea of faces, lost for words in the noise of it all and thought she would collapse. She forced herself to get a grip and firmly closed the boot, locked the car then turned to face them.
‘That is my friend you’re talking about. No comment.’
She marched past them and through them, trying where she could to knock into cameras and voice recorders, and to avoid meeting anyone’s eye. At the door to the flats, they stood back as though observing some unwritten rule that said there’s a two foot force field around the entrance through which hacks could not pass. She had planned to drive to Northumberland later to get away but she knew they would still be there.
She called Fiona to say that she wouldn’t be going to see their mother and to explain why.
‘We’ve had them here as well, Ju. Two phoned and one came to the house. They were asking whether I knew Chloe and stuff like that.’
‘Don’t say anything. I didn’t. I’m hoping they’ll get bored and go away soon.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, just a prisoner here for now, that’s all.’
Sunday 15th February 2009
The journalists had gone by mid-afternoon. It
was bitterly cold and starting to frost over as the sun set. Suddenly the car park was empty and Judith felt able to venture out. She thought that an hour sitting with her mother was just what she needed. They would probably either talk about times long past or just sit there. Either would do. She hoped that her mother hadn’t heard or understood anything about this business.
The drive to Mill View was still and frosty, and the cold air cleared Judith’s head as she walked up to the house. She got past the first door release, which worked on a buzzer from inside the building then found she was trapped in the large porch where she had to wait longer than usual before someone came to physically open it. Eventually Tina came to let her in. She led her straight to her office and shut the door. ‘I’ll get straight to the point, Judith, there is a lot of bad feeling here.’
‘About what?’
‘About the incident that you were involved in, of course. What did you think I meant?’
‘I don’t know, and I wasn’t involved in any incident. A friend had an accident and I would like to see my mother, please.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s a lot of upset here.’
‘What has it got to do with anyone here? Did someone know Chloe? Is that what it is?’
‘No, but the train driver’s sister works here. Well, she’s off sick with it all. Her brother, the driver, is in a terrible state and the whole family is upset. All the staff are affected.’
‘If she’s not here, what’s the problem? I’ll go and sit in Mum’s room.’
‘No, Judith, I’m sorry but no, not today.’
Judith sat and looked at Tina but she was not going to be swayed. She played the waiting game back. It occurred to Judith that Tina was the only person who could out-wait her and she put it down to years of dealing with difficult residents and their families. Eventually she gave in and stood up to leave.
‘Will you tell her I came in to see her please? When she’s in a state to understand. I’ll come back in a few days’ time when things have settled down.’
‘I’ll call you when I feel that things have settled down,’ said Tina firmly as she let Judith out of the building.
Five miles away in a small terraced house, Tommy and Ivy Shipton sat in their respective armchairs staring into the open fire. It was silent apart from the crackle of the logs. Upstairs, their son Tom, back in his old bedroom lay curled up and shivering despite the tablets to calm his nerves. He had been a train driver for fourteen years and this was his first fatality. He hadn’t had time to call out, let alone stop, and it wouldn’t have helped if he had. She just appeared there on the line then she was gone; out of sight and out of life.
Ivy went up to see him. ‘Anything you want, love?’
He shook his head.
His sister, Shelly, came out of her room waving her mobile phone around.
‘Bitch! That bitch Judith Dillon’s been in to work. It’s all her fault our Tom’s like this. She should be locked up, not allowed to go round scaring people under trains. Tina sent her away and told her to stay away.’
Tom turned away and buried his head deeper into the duvet.
‘Come on Shelly. Leave your brother alone for a while. Come downstairs.’
Tommy was still looking into the flames.
‘You go and talk to him,’ said Ivy.
He shook his head. ‘Nothing you can say. He knows it wasn’t his fault. That doesn’t make it better.’
He didn’t say much at the best of times, but Ivy knew that her husband was remembering when, on the Newcastle Metro, some drunken lads had pushed someone under his engine. One of the reasons they’d moved to Hexham was to get away from the memories and now their son was suffering the same way and probably always would. Tommy still did.
Monday 16th February 2009
Dr. Ellis sat in her colleague’s consulting room.
‘I knew I should have done something more.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, you know that. We can’t be responsible for everything our patients do.’
‘The police came round yesterday to ask about the tablets I prescribed. They’d read her diary. They knew as much about her anxieties as I did. There must have been something else I could have done.’
‘You could have advised her to go to the police, but what would they have done? Just the same as you; advised her to keep clear boundaries and advised her to tell Judith Dillon how she was feeling. As far as we know, Chloe did those things and then she had an accident.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘But nothing. You are a doctor. You have living people to deal with today. Go and give your time to them.’
Dr. Ellis, just for a moment, wondered whether Dr. Sinhan’s attitude to this was a cultural thing, but she knew he was very experienced and usually right, and was probably trying to make her feel better. The practice manager rang through to see whether she was ready for her first patient.
Judith hadn’t slept well so had got up and was in her office by seven-thirty. By eight-thirty she was glad that she had, as a couple of the local reporters were outside giving it one last try. If they’d done any investigative work they would have seen her car parked nearby, but as it was they hung around outside waiting for her to come in.
There were three phone messages asking for her to return people’s accounts as they wanted to find another accountant, and when the postman arrived he brought three more such requests.
‘Oh, you’re here,’ he said as he dropped off the bundle of envelopes. ‘There are people downstairs waiting for you.’
‘I’ve seen them. Don’t tell them I’m here. They’ll get cold and go away soon.’
He hesitated, as if debating whether to say anything, but decided against it. It was none of his business; that much he had learned since becoming a postie.
Louise sat in the police interviewing room. DS Doggart had hugged her when she picked her up and squeezed her hand as she handed her a glass of water, but once the interview started she was completely professional. It became clear to DI Gibson and DS Doggart that Louise considered Judith to be the cause of her friend’s death but she couldn’t tell them any more than the diaries or Judith herself.
‘Did Chloe consider coming to the police?’ DS Doggart asked gently.
‘I suggested it but she said no. What would you have done, anyway? There wasn’t much to go on.’
‘No, indeed,’ agreed DI Gibson.
‘Actually I blame myself.’
They looked at her and waited. They knew that guilt was often part of the grieving process and they let her speak before reassuring her.
‘I put the thought in her mind, you know, that Judith Dillon is a bit weird.’
‘How did she react when you said that?’
‘Dismissed it, really. It was later that she noticed it as well, but maybe she wouldn’t have if I hadn’t put the idea in her head in the first place.’
‘Maybe and maybe not, but if she is ‘weird’ as you put it, then it’s likely that she would.’
‘Judith seems to be alright on a business level, but personally you never know what she’s thinking or doing. She lies about her family, for a start.’
‘In what way?’
‘Pretending they’re all happy-happy, and stuff like that.’
‘Well, we all keep family secrets,’ said DS Doggart.
DI Gibson flashed her a look that said ‘keep to business, not chat’. She blushed, then continued, ‘Anyway, I don’t think you have anything to blame yourself for. We’ve read her diaries and she refers a lot to the support you gave. You were a good friend to her; no need to feel guilty at all.’
‘What do I do about her shop? Should I open it?’
‘No, not yet. We’ll need to contact her next of kin. Perhaps you could help us with that.’
‘Her father is still alive. He moved to Spain years ago, near Alicante. They’re not close and I haven’t got his address although I visited him with Chloe once. Her mum died soon after they moved.’
‘No doubt we’ll find the address in her house.’
DS Doggart drove Louise home and went in for a cup of tea but she was not able to get any more information. Louise just kept saying the same things over and over again. It was looking more and more like an accident.
Fiona came back from shopping, dumped the bags on the kitchen floor and reached for her anxiety pills. Rosie appeared, looking as though she had just got out of bed.
‘Been shopping?’ Rosie asked unnecessarily, then noticed what Fiona was doing. ‘Why are you taking one of them? I thought you’d stopped.’
‘You’d want one as well if you’d been with me.’
‘What happened? Why aren’t you visiting Granny? Has Tina banned you as well?’
‘I couldn’t face it. The comments I’ve heard about Judith are unbelievable. Some people are saying that she pushed Chloe under that train. Why would they say that? There were the pictures in the paper, for a start, but even so.’
‘Didn’t you tell them? Who was saying it anyway? People you know?’
‘Yes, a couple, but most people I know were full of pity or embarrassment. They didn’t know where to look. I felt guilty, and sorry for Judith, and really angry, and just plain embarrassed as well. It was horrible.’
Rosie put the kettle on in the universal gesture of making everything alright.
‘Anyway, what do you mean, banned from Mill View?’ said Fiona.
‘You know my friend Moira who works at Mill View at weekends? She phoned and said Judith had gone to see Granny yesterday and that Tina wouldn’t let her in. Something to do with the train driver’s sister being upset. She works there as well.’
‘Oh my God. I’ll have to phone her. Oh my God, the poor train driver. I hadn’t even thought about him.’
‘I was planning to go out tonight but I think I’ll stay in.’
‘It’s half-term, go out and enjoy yourself. None of your friends will be bothered.’