by Jo Allen
‘Aw, nothing much. Just that I don’t have time for jobsworths who spend their lives getting in the way of five minutes of harmless fun. Fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit? A couple of pints when you’re okay to drive home? These guys need to give us a break and catch the real criminals.’
‘It’s because they want the easy targets,’ agreed Adam. ‘Not the ones who cause them any hassle.’
Becca’s eyes met Mikey’s and each silently reproached the other for not standing up for the man they’d both fallen out with over his attitude to exactly such things. She looked away first.
‘I’d better go.’ Mikey stood up, hooked a finger through his leather jacket and flung it over his shoulder. ‘I forgot. I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Ryan, mate. I know it’s my round next. But I’ll buy you a pint before you go back.’
‘Don’t do anything you shouldn’t,’ Ryan called after him. ‘The boys in blue will get you if you do.’
Mikey was staying at home in Wasby over the summer and Becca had arranged to give him a lift. For a moment she was tempted to go after him, either to persuade him to stay or to go with him and make some kind of stand against the low-level niggling, but she stayed. Because, after all, she agreed with everything Ryan and Adam were saying even if she didn’t like the way they were saying it, and Mikey was old enough to make his own way back home without her.
‘I’ll get his brother eventually,’ Adam said, confidentially. ‘Don’t worry about that.’ He cracked his knuckles, an unpleasant sound. ‘I learned a few things when I was inside. Made a few friends.’
‘Patience,’ Ryan said to him, with a laugh. ‘Patience.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got all the time in the world.’
Eleven
‘See you in the morning.’ Jude hovered on the doorstep for one last kiss and Ashleigh, obliging him, wondered about asking him to stay. He’d have agreed. She knew it. He was as reluctant as she was to spend the night alone. But she didn’t want to risk getting too close, and a dose of independence was healthy.
‘Okay.’ She added a bonus kiss, just to make sure he knew she still wanted him, though there was no reason she could imagine he’d think otherwise. Or maybe it was just to leave herself with that last taste of him to see her through the evening. ‘Don’t be late in tomorrow. After all, we’ve got loads to do. Lots of routine cases to over-investigate.’
He groaned. ‘Don’t remind me. Though it looks like we can lay poor Summer to rest, now. Pending the toxicology reports.’
They’d show some kind of drugs, Ashleigh was sure, with every case creating more work. And there was still something troubling her about the neatness of Summer Raine’s clothes, piled at the very edge of the steep drop to the water. ‘Let’s hope so.’
‘When are we next off at the same time? It reminded me that I haven’t been walking up that way for years. We should go down to Martindale and do Pikeawassa and Beda Fell. Just Pikeawassa, if you don’t want to do the whole thing.’
‘You know me. A good walk doesn’t have to be a long walk. If we just do the morning I’ll treat you to lunch in Pooley Bridge.’
‘It’s a deal.’ He lingered for a satisfying second longer before he turned and headed down the street towards his car.
‘I’ll be in early,’ she called after him, watching as he strode down through the evening and the last pale light of the fleeing sun, and got a brief wave in reply.
It was barely nine o’clock. She turned back into the house and went through to the kitchen where Lisa was pottering about with the dishwasher. ‘I’ll help clear up.’
‘No, on you go. You know the rule. You cook, I clear up.’ Though it had been Jude who’d done the cooking, turning his hand to a speedy and tasty macaroni cheese. ‘Anyway, I’m listening to the football.’ To emphasise the point, Lisa turned the radio up.
Like Ashleigh’s ex-husband, Scott, Lisa was a Manchester United fan. Ashleigh frowned. This was the third time that day she’d thought of him. The first had been when her phone had pinged her through a notification she didn’t need, didn’t want and thought she’d turned off, alerting her that it was his birthday. Then there had been Jude’s remarks about Luke and his jealousy, the thought she knew they’d shared about how hard it was to leave real love behind. Now it was the triviality of a meaningless football commentary on the radio when all the winners and losers of the season were already decided and there was nothing left at stake.
Foolish things always reminded her of Scott. It must be because she’d loved him. But unlike Jude’s romance with Becca, Ashleigh’s relationship with Scott had ended at a time of her choosing, a conscious moment when she realised the effort of committing to him wasn’t worth the pain of his perpetual philandering, and that the charm and tenderness which she so adored in him would never only be for her. Over two years later she had her regrets, but they were never about ending it — only that she’d had no choice.
When she’d first arrived in Cumbria he’d tried to follow her but he’d been silent since then, other than a bunch of flowers by way of an apology. She’d bumped into him in a pub in Alderley Edge on a visit to her family, and they’d managed a civilised conversation. He’d been with a woman, of course, because he always was, and for the first time in years she’d parted from him without awkwardness. Maybe it was time to forgive and forget. She picked up the phone and hesitated before downgrading her magnanimity from a phone call to a text. Happy birthday. Have a good one. A. No kisses, though. It was never a good idea to offer him unnecessary encouragement.
Still carrying the phone, she ran upstairs. ‘I’m going to have a bath,’ she called down to Lisa, ‘and put my pyjamas on. I’ll be down in a minute.’ And she’d take a moment to read the cards, because the melancholy that came over her when she thought of what she’d walked away from always meant her common sense needed shoring up, and her decision required validation. She was in the mood for positive advice and knew exactly where she’d find it.
The phone rang in her hand and she looked down at it. There had been a time when she’d thought about blocking his number, but she’d never quite been able to bring herself to do it. ‘Scotty. Happy birthday. Are you having a good one?’
‘I thought you wouldn’t call.’ Sometimes there could be a trace of self-pity in his voice but though she listened carefully, today she could detect nothing but cheerfulness. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. But it’s great to hear from you.’
‘You, too.’ A slow tide of warmth crept over her. She hated unfinished business and if she couldn’t afford to have Scott as her lifetime partner, she still wanted him as a friend. Jude might have something to say about that, but he was in no position to preach. ‘How are you doing? Out for the evening?’
‘Just down in the Crown with some of the guys.’
They’d had a few evenings out together in the Crown. ‘I bet they’ve forgotten all about me.’
‘Never. We were talking about you earlier.’
‘All good, I hope.’ She laughed and sat down at the dressing table taking the tarot cards out of their slot in her top drawer and unwrapping the purple silk that bound them with her right hand.
‘Yeah, all of it. I saw you in the paper, talking about that girl who went missing. Found drowned, is that it?’
‘Yes.’ Scott’s curiosity was always superficial, and there was nothing about the case that was secret. It was safe to answer his questions. ‘Poor girl. Horrid.’
‘I don’t know how you cope with it. I couldn’t do your job, even if I could do hers. Watersports instructor, wasn’t she?’
She laughed again. It was a long time since she’d found two separate things to smile about in a conversation with Scott. He’d been a watersports instructor when they’d met, but the cold, grey waters of a Cheshire reservoir hadn’t sat easily with his sun-seeking nature, and he’d upgraded his qualifications and taken off to the Mediterranean to crew yachts instead. It was no wonder the marriage hadn’t worke
d. They’d been apart so much they’d surely have failed, even if he’d been able to keep his trousers on with so much beautiful female flesh around him. ‘I can just see you. You’d be shivering, even in August, and that handsome tan would fade.’
‘The tan’s gone. I’m not going back to the Med this year. Just looking at a bit of this and that, wherever I can get it.’ For the first time he sounded forlorn. ‘You know what, Ash? It isn’t the same without you.’
Alarm bells rang. ‘You’d freeze your favourite bits off in Ullswater.’
Lisa flung the bedroom door open without knocking, and her questioning expression rapidly turned to a scowl. ‘Get off the phone!’ she mouthed.
Ashleigh raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Sorry, Scott. What was that?’
‘Off the phone,’ Lisa hissed, maybe loud enough for Scott to hear. ‘Now!’
‘Okay. I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your birthday.’ She flicked the call off and turned to her housemate. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Something the matter? I’ll bloody say so.’ Lisa, tall and stick-thin, stood with legs braced apart, hands off hips, looking like a strange runic symbol from an ancient grave. ‘That was Scott, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it’s his birthday. That’s all it was.’
‘He called you, and you answered. Ashleigh O’Halloran, what in the name of all that’s holy do you think you were doing?’
Ashleigh put the phone down and spun round in her chair. Lisa was only articulating what her own better judgement was struggling with. ‘I was wishing my ex-husband a happy birthday. Because we’re adults and we’re civilised.’
‘I thought you’d let him go.’
‘I have.’
‘Really? Well, I’ve got news for you. When you let someone go you don’t call them to wish them a happy birthday.’
‘He knows there’s no chance of me taking him back. Do you want me never to speak to him again?’ Ashleigh spun back, picked up the cards and began to shuffle them, cutting and intercutting. The Queen of Cups dropped out of the pack and she scooped it up and put it back.
‘Yes.’ Lisa was never afraid of expressing her opinions. ‘That’s exactly what I want. Because you’ve forgotten how awful he was to you. You’ve forgotten how miserable he made you. And I haven’t.’
Ashleigh pursed her lips. If she had any courage she should ask the cards about Scott, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. ‘It’s nice of you to be concerned.’ She struggled to keep the irritation out of her voice. ‘But you don’t know what went on in my marriage.’ Only she and Scott knew that.
‘No, but I know what you were like when it all went wrong. I know what he did to you.’
‘He didn’t do anything. You’re talking as if he’s a domestic abuser and I’m some defenceless child. He was just never there.’
‘Ash.’ Lisa must have realised that shouting would get her nowhere, so she dropped her arms and composed herself into an altogether more appeasing shape, leaning against the door frame, head tilted archly to one side. The landing light shone behind her head so her short dark hair glowed like a halo. ‘Come on. You know how upset you were. You don’t know how worried we all were about you.’
It was sometimes hard to be so rational, trained to analyse the evidence. There was no denying Ashleigh had come closer than she dared to think to a breakdown when she’d realised nothing she could ever do would change Scott’s character, that fidelity was an impossibility for him. ‘You had no need to be. It turned out okay.’
‘Yes, but you had to give up your job.’
‘That wasn’t Scott.’ That had been because of Faye Scanlon, a woman with emotional problems of her own who’d tumbled into an affair with her junior officer and then ended it the moment she sensed any risk to her career. God, Ashleigh thought, looking at her reflection in the mirror, I may have nearly lost it over Scott but it wasn’t him who made me go. And if she could handle Faye, who’d kicked her when she was down, she could surely handle Scott, who was only ever true to his nature.
‘I just don’t want you to get hurt again.’
Ashleigh softened again. Lisa was thirty-two and had never, as far as she knew, fallen in love, so how could she understand what madness came on you when you lost your heart to someone? But friendship came with just as many commitments and compromises as marriage, though a different sort. ‘Yeah, I know. I appreciate it.’
‘I just don’t want him to treat you the same way again.’
‘He won’t get the chance. I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t love him any more, but I still like him and I want to be his friend.’
‘Hmm.’ Maybe Ashleigh hadn’t been as convincing as she’d hoped, because Lisa radiated scepticism, but she didn’t press the matter. ‘Okay. But if I think you’re back with him—’
‘If I get back with him —which I won’t — it’ll be nobody’s business but mine and his. But if it makes you feel better you can give me a piece of your mind.’ Ashleigh cut the cards one final time and then dealt them out. ‘I’ll be down when I’ve had my bath.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on. We both need cocoa.’ Lisa turned and whisked out.
Without thinking, Ashleigh had laid the cards out in two rows of two. To get anything out of a reading you needed to think beforehand about what you wanted to from it. Still, she’d started, so she’d carry on, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk interrogating the cards, or anyone else, on the subject of Scott Kirby.
She turned the first card up. ‘What’s worrying me that shouldn’t?’ she asked, the first question that entered her head.
The Four of Pentacles, a beast of an image if ever there was one. An old man, clutching treasures to himself, was the representation of avarice and possessiveness, of materialism and manipulation. No-one could ever accuse Scott of being materialistic, she thought outraged, then remembered it wasn’t about him. ‘Good. I don’t need to worry. So if there was anything, it’s behind me, right?’ So what did it mean? Faye perhaps? Or just life. But it was heartening advice, and if she was going to draw the Four of Pentacles anywhere, it was in a position where it stood for the past.
‘Next. What’s over and done?’ She hovered her hand over that one for a moment, not sure which part of her life she was so keen to find closure in, and then she turned it over. A calm feeling came over her as she did so. The Two of Cups, one of the better cards. Two lovers, smiling at each other. Normally she’d have been delighted to find it. ‘I’d have liked to see this one in the future,’ she remarked, aware that she was only talking to herself, that she lacked even the gratitude to be grateful for the good things she’d had. ‘And where do I go from here, then? I wouldn’t have minded that card next up. I’m not going to lie.’
She turned up The Sun with a beaming smile. It was the most positive card in the deck, one that highlighted communication and positivity, everything good, everything focussed on herself. ‘No mention of a relationship, thank God.’ It would be churlish to reproach the fates for not offering her that.
And to move from the past to the future, from bitterness and corruption alongside the completed happiness, towards the promise of a sunny future, there was a final card. She turned over the Hanged Man.
It wasn’t a bad card, certainly not in the way that the uninitiated always seemed to think it was, though when she’d turned it up on previous occasions it had never proved particularly auspicious. But if you were to read it in the context of emotions, as she was inclined to do, it fitted very nicely with everything else she’d read and — irritatingly — with everything Lisa had just been shouting at her. Let go of your emotional baggage.
But she’d done that already. She had Jude as a lover and surely she could afford to keep Scott as a friend?
Twelve
‘I appreciate the favour.’ Ryan gave Becca his best, broadest outback smile, white teeth shining in his tanned face. ‘I don’t deserve you. But it’s the last one I’ll be asking.’
‘Tha
t sounds very dramatic.’ If she was a betting woman Becca would have put a couple of pounds on the fact it wasn’t the last, because Ryan had a unique assumption that it was normal to turn up without notice on the doorstep of family members he’d never met and then expect them not just to put him up but to cater for his every possible need. He might well justify it to himself on the grounds that he’d pay them all back if the situation was ever reversed, but he must know it never would be.
‘Nah. But I was thinking about what George said.’
‘I hope you didn’t take it too much to heart.’ Becca tucked her Fiat 500 in behind a caravan as they passed the turn for Howtown and Martindale, and dropped down the hill in to Pooley Bridge. She couldn’t see any signs of police activity, so the drama at Howtown must all be over. A sensitive soul, she spared a thought and a prayer for a young woman she’d never met.
‘What, that he shouted at me? No. I do get it. I forgot he’s old, and he doesn’t have that attitude we Aussies have. Just take it as it comes, roll up and someone will look after you.’
‘I know he can be difficult. I suppose I’ve known him so long I’ve just learned to deal with his idiosyncrasies.’
‘Must be it. But I’ll not bother him again. Shame, because he’s family, but that’s the way. But I do want to get to know the country, and it was a smart suggestion of his. I’ll get a tent.’
‘And camp down at Howtown? You might get a bit bored in the dale.’
‘There’s a lot more to see of the old country than Martindale. I thought I’d take a couple of weeks and bum around the fells a bit. Walk the Coast to Coast route, maybe. So I can say I’ve walked across a country.’
Becca tried not to show her relief. If Ryan disappeared for a week or so she’d have her evenings back, without being obliged to operate as his personal chauffeur or keep him occupied when all she wanted to do was sit down with a glass of wine, something on the telly and Holmes curled up her lap. There was a downside, and that was that Adam would be looking to occupy her free time and so she’d have to make her mind up about what to do about him, but she’d have had to do that sooner or later. ‘How long will that take?’