by P. F. Ford
Slater was still sitting like a statue, drink halfway to his mouth, as Norman pushed his way through the doors and out into the hazy afternoon sunshine.
Norman parked the car on the road outside and looked up at the house. Detached, with four bedrooms, it looked like any other on the estate, except where the others tended to have assorted kids’ stuff strewn across the driveway, the small front garden and driveway of this house were neat and tidy, all evidence of the three children who lived here, such as bikes, skateboards, etc. stowed away in the garage, out of sight. But apart from that, to all intents and purposes, it was just like all the other houses. It was only the occupants, and what had happened to them, that made this house different.
Norman always felt a little awkward about coming here, and he had never discussed it with anyone, not even Slater. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Slater to know, it was simply that he had never really come to terms with what had happened and didn’t really know if he could share it easily. Even though he knew what had happened hadn’t been his fault, he still felt guilty to think a family had been shattered because of something from his past. As a result, a husband and father was now in prison, and three children were still trying to understand why.
He knocked on the door and waited. He heard someone on the other side of the door, and he knew he was being scrutinised through the spyhole. Finally, he heard the familiar sounds of the door being unbolted, and it opened to reveal the face of a woman in her sixties. Convinced it was him and that he was alone, she smiled.
‘Hi, Jean,’ he said. ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m fine. Come on in.’
A kindly soul, with wispy white hair, Jean Jessop was the mother of the owner of this house – Jane Jolly. Since Jane’s husband had kidnapped Norman and subsequently been incarcerated himself at Her Majesty’s pleasure, Jean had been living here, helping to look after the children and gather up the pieces that her daughter’s former life had become.
‘How is she today?’ asked Norman. ‘Still moving on up?’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Jean. ‘I think she’s nearly there now. I even saw her smile this morning.’
‘That’s something that’s been missing for a long time. She was known for that cheery smile.’
‘Come through,’ said Jean, heading for the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
It was half term, and one of the children, ten-year-old Billy, was in the kitchen. It was a long kitchen, with a dining table at the far end. The boy was drawing something on a white pad and looked around as Norman followed his grandmother into the room. He smiled in recognition and Norman beamed back at him.
‘Hi Billy,’ said Norman. ‘How are you today?’
‘Hi,’ said the boy. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘No school today, huh?’ asked Norman, walking across to the table.
‘Yeah, it’s really cool. School should be like this all the time.’
‘I used to think like that. But you gotta learn, and the only place to do that is at school. It’s just one of those things you have to do.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ agreed the boy reluctantly.
‘Here’s your tea,’ said Jean, bringing two cups of tea over to the table. She placed them on the table, drew a chair out, and sat down.
Billy Jolly was studying Norman intently.
‘Billy, why don’t you go and play?’ asked Jean. ‘I have some questions I need to ask Mr Norman.’
The boy’s lower lip protruded briefly, and he looked disappointed. ‘But I wanted to ask Mr Norman a question.’
Jean looked at Norman.
‘It’s okay, Jean,’ he said, nodding his assent. Then, turning to Billy, ‘Fire away, Billy. What do you want to know?’
‘Mr Norman, is it your fault my daddy’s in prison?’
Norman’s mouth flapped open and shut. Jean looked appalled. Billy looked from one to the other, clearly baffled as to what he’d done wrong.
‘Billy Jolly! Really, what a thing to say. Perhaps you should go to your room.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ said Norman, quickly recovering his composure. ‘It’s a fair question. I think if I was ten, I’d want to understand what had happened.’
He pulled out a chair and sat next to Billy, who was looking up at him with wide eyes. He sat so he was facing the boy and looked him straight in the eye.
‘It wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t your dad’s fault,’ he began. ‘Your daddy made a mistake because a bad man persuaded him to believe something that wasn’t true.’
‘You mean about you and Mum?’ asked the boy.
Norman had forgotten about the ability children had to ask the most direct questions without any qualms, and he was briefly lost for words.
‘Me and your mum used to work together, and we became friends,’ he explained. ‘You have friends you’ve made at school, right?’
Billy nodded.
‘Well, that’s the same sort of thing,’ said Norman. ‘We still are friends – that’s why I come round here now and then to see if she’s okay. But the bad man told your daddy I was going to take Mummy away, even though that was never going to happen.’
‘So why did Daddy think it was going to happen?’
‘Because the bad man was very convincing. Sometimes, someone will find out what you’re really scared of, and then they keep telling you it’s going to happen. If they do it enough, you start to believe it. That’s what the bad man did to your dad.’
‘Is Daddy a bad man? Mum thinks he is.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Norman, sadly. ‘It’s just that the bad man wanted to hurt me, and he made your daddy think bad things.’
‘Is that why he took you prisoner?’
‘Yeah, that’s why he took me prisoner. But he didn’t hurt me. If he really was a bad man, I’m sure he would have hurt me.’
The boy considered this.
‘Does that make sense, Billy?’
‘Yes, I think so. Thank you, Mr Norman.’
‘I tell you what,’ said Norman. ‘You and me, we’re friends, right?’
The boy nodded.
‘Well, in that case, I don’t think you need to keep calling me Mr Norman. I think it would be good if you call me Norm, like all my other friends, don’t you?’
A big grin split the boy’s face. ‘Really? Oh, wow, that’s so cool!’ He beamed from ear to ear.
‘Go and play now Billy, I want to talk to Norm,’ said Jean.
‘Okay, Granny.’
Norman held up his hand and exchanged a high five with Billy as he climbed down from the table and headed for the door.
‘He’s a great little boy,’ he said to Jean when Billy had gone.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, embarrassed. ‘I don’t know where that came from.’
‘There’s no need to apologise. He’s a bright kid, and he wants to understand. It’s better he’s asking questions than bottling it all up inside. He deserves some answers. I’ll talk to him any time.’
Jean didn’t look convinced.
‘Where is Jane, anyway?’ asked Norman.
‘Counselling session,’ said Jean. ‘But I think this will be the last one. She thinks she’s gone as far as she can with it. What she wants to do now is make herself useful and have something else to think about. You do still want her to work for you, don’t you?’
‘That’s what I came to see her about,’ he said. ‘We’ve got this case we’re working on, and we could do with some help. It’s going to be mostly stuff she can do online.’
‘It’s just what she needs,’ said Jean. ‘It’s stuff she knows how to do, and it’ll break her in gently and get her back into some sort of routine.’
‘The thing is, Jean, I can’t guarantee there’ll be more work after this. I’m pretty sure Dave’s going to join me, but we have no way of knowing how much work we can get, or how much we can pay her.’
‘I understand that, and so does Jane. Even if it only lasts a couple of weeks
, it’ll be a start.’
‘And you’re sure she’s up for it?’ asked Norman.
‘She can’t wait,’ said Jean.
‘Alright. Tell her I’ll be here at nine in the morning. And if there’s any problem with that, or anything else, you call me, right? You have my number.’
He stood and made ready to go. Jean walked him to the front door.
‘I can’t tell you what a help you’ve been through all this,’ she said at the door. ‘I don’t know if I could have got her through it without your help.’
‘Sure you would have,’ said Norman. ‘You’re her mum, that’s what mums do.’
‘But after what happened to you . . .’ she said, and Norman could see she was getting teary-eyed.
‘It was because of what happened to me that I had to help,’ said Norman. ‘I felt like it was my fault, and anyway, Jane’s my friend. It’s no trouble. She would have done the same for me.’
He reached out and pulled Jean to him and gave her a big hug.
‘I have to go now,’ he said, ‘before you get me started . . .’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
Chapter Nine
Slater and Norman had agreed they would be on church hall duties that night. Slater was driving, and he had made sure he had been running late. This meant they didn’t really have time to speak to each other until they joined Chris and Diane at their table for dinner after all the “guests” had eaten their own meals and headed off to their respective roosts. Slater figured, quite correctly, that Norman wouldn’t bring up the subject of his relationship with Goodnews in front of Chris and Diane.
‘How are your investigations going?’ asked Chris.
‘Pretty slow, to be honest,’ said Norman. ‘We still have no idea where Ryan is. We thought he was hanging out with Ginger and that if we found her, she would lead us back to him, but there’s been no sign of either of them.’
‘We haven’t seen them here either, I’m afraid,’ said Chris. ‘Do you think they’ve left town?’
‘That has to be a possibility.’ Slater heaved a sigh. ‘But then, that might not be such a bad thing. Admittedly it won’t help us find out what Ryan knows, but maybe it will keep him out of trouble while we follow up one or two other leads.’
‘So you are making some progress?’
‘It’s a long shot,’ said Norman. ‘There’s this gangster guy who comes from London. It seems he’s spending a lot of time down this way.’
‘A gangster? That sounds very dramatic, like something off the TV,’ said Chris. ‘Does this man have a name?’
‘His name’s Stan Coulter. He’s a nasty piece of work, but then we can’t see any reason why he would want to bump off a couple of homeless guys in Tinton, so like I said, it’s probably a long shot and could well be a waste of time. We’ll know a bit more tomorrow.’
‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ asked Diane.
‘We have a new helper doing some research for us. She’s very good. If there’s anything to find, I’m sure she’ll find it.’
‘She?’ asked Diane. Norman didn’t reply so she looked at Slater.
‘It’s Norm’s mystery woman,’ he said. ‘I believe her name might be Jane.’
Norman looked at Slater in surprise.
‘What?’ said Slater, ‘You think you can read me, but I can’t read you? It didn’t take a lot of working out really, did it?’
Diane looked from Slater to Norman and back. ‘You sly old devil, Norm,’ she said. ‘You’ve never mentioned this mystery woman before. So, come on, do tell.’
Norman looked uncomfortable. Slater thought about telling the story for him, but then realised maybe Norman didn’t want to share it with Chris and Diane.
‘It’s not what you think,’ said Norman. ‘Jane used to work with us. She had some problems and left the force, but she’s much better now and she needs to feel useful. I thought maybe we could help her out for a while.’
‘What happened to her?’ asked Diane. ‘Is it anything I can help with?’
Norman sighed. ‘Okay. This goes no further, right?’
Diane nodded.
‘Of course,’ said Chris.
Norman took a deep breath. ‘Like I said, we used to work together – Dave, Jane and me. She’s a great girl, Jane, always happy and smiling, you know? The sort you can’t help but like. We used to have some real laughs back then but we always got the job done, too. Anyway, there was a guy from my past. He thought I had framed him years ago, and he wanted to get his own back. He convinced Jane’s husband we were having an affair. Then he suggested it would be a good idea to kidnap me and hold me prisoner until he could get down here. The idea was Jane’s husband would hold me prisoner, and then when the other guy got here he was going to finish me off. Only this man here’–Norman pointed at Slater–‘found me first.’
‘Wow!’ said Diane. ‘So when you say he saved your life, he really did! You two have such dull lives, don’t you?’
Norman looked decidedly unhappy. ‘The thing is, Jane didn’t deal very well with her husband turning into a kidnapper and murderer’s accomplice,’ he said, sadly. ‘She had a breakdown and had to leave the force.’
There was a brief silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Diane. ‘I can see how upset you are. Now I wish I hadn’t asked.’
‘No, its fine. It’ll probably do me good to bring it out into the open. I don’t usually talk about it at all.’
‘So she’s alright now, is she?’
‘Her mother thinks so. Apparently she’s finished her counselling sessions, and she tells me she’s raring to get started.’
‘Well, that’s a good thing,’ said Diane.
‘Yeah,’ said Norman. ‘We just need to be careful we don’t push her too hard, so for now it’s just going to be online research.’
‘You kept that quiet about you and Jane,’ said Slater.
They were in his car, driving away from the church hall.
‘And that’s exactly why I kept it quiet,’ said Norman, irritably. ‘You immediately assume there’s a “Me and Jane” situation, when there isn’t. She’s just a friend. I feel responsible for what happened and I’ve been trying to help her get herself back together. It would be the same if she was a he. The fact she’s a woman is neither here nor there.’
‘Okay, Norm, keep your hair on. Actually, I wasn’t assuming anything. If you recall, I was heavily involved with the situation, and I understand why you would want to help, although there’s no way you should feel responsible. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘Yeah? Well, you try telling my conscience that,’ said Norman.
‘Jeez, I knew it had affected you, but I didn’t realise you were feeling that bad about it,’ said Slater.
‘That’s why I feel I have to help her out. You do get it, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, and if it helps, I think it’s a great idea. I just hope you haven’t promised her this is going to be a permanent job.’
‘I wish,’ said Norman. ‘That would be great, wouldn’t it? The old team back together.’
Slater took a quick glance across at Norman, who caught the look.
‘No, I didn’t promise her a job. She knows it’s probably just a one-off, but she still wants to do it. She’s ready to start rebuilding. I said I’d see her first thing tomorrow to let her know what we have and what we want her to check out.’
‘D’you want me to come?’ asked Slater.
‘I thought we’d save that for when she’s done her stuff. She can report back to both of us. One step at a time,’ said Norman, looking across for approval of his plan.
‘That makes sense.’ Slater swung the car past three exits of the next roundabout, and then headed for the centre of town and the pub where Norman lived.
‘So, how did you figure out about me and Goodnews?’ he asked, having decided to raise the subject himself and get it out in the open.
‘Don’t you know I’m a detective, trained
to observe? She left her silk scarf hanging behind your front door. I thought I recognised it, and then when I got a whiff of the perfume, I figured it had to be hers. That stuff’s expensive. I don’t know anyone else who can afford it.’
Slater quietly cursed himself. He was the one who had hung the scarf separately from the coat. She had grabbed the coat when she rushed from the house next morning, but she must have missed the scarf. A nagging thought occurred to him. She had said she was going to come over again. Was it tomorrow night, or the night after? He hoped to God it hadn’t been tonight or he was going to be in real trouble.
‘I was going to tell you,’ he began.
‘You don’t have to tell me anything,’ said Norman, quite reasonably. ‘Who you go out with is none of my business, and you certainly don’t need my permission.’
‘Yeah, but I know you don’t like her.’
‘I don’t have to like her. I’m not the one sleeping with her.’ He turned his head to look at Slater. ‘You are sleeping with her, right?’
Briefly, Slater thought about taking the opportunity he had just been given to lie and say she had just called round to speak to him, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
‘Why do I feel guilty about this?’ he asked, unhappily.
‘I don’t know,’ said Norman. ‘Perhaps it’s because your secret’s out, although I don’t understand why you thought you needed to keep it a secret. Maybe it’s because you were making oblique references to her instead of coming right out with it. I’m assuming she’s the woman you were referring to? The one who’s been knocking at your door wanting to have sex with you?’
Now Slater felt even more guilty, and embarrassed too. He had said that, hadn’t he? And she deserved better than that. In glorious technicolour, a short movie played in his head showing, yet again, his amazing ability to morph from a normal bloke into a complete arse with no effort on his part whatsoever. Then Norman’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
‘If she makes you happy that’s all that matters. What I think is irrelevant,’ he continued. ‘She does make you happy, right?’
Now this was a question Slater hadn’t considered. Did she make him happy? He supposed she did, although he hadn’t really given it much thought. He wasn’t even sure they were really in a proper relationship. Did spending the night with someone more than once constitute being in a relationship? Or did it just mean they’d had sex twice?