by Jo Allen
As she drove, she found herself reflecting uncomfortably on the funeral. It wasn’t Jude’s fault she’d been so upset. It wasn’t his fault that whenever she met him she couldn’t control her bad temper and ending up abusing him in a way she’d never dream of doing to anyone else. It wasn’t his fault she’d made a fool of herself when he’d taken her home, either.
Now, at least, she knew his patience had an end. She could hardly blame him for losing his temper with her on the way back from George’s grave. He was a good man, one of the better ones. It was just a pity that his goodness and his attention were focussed on other people, on the never-ending pursuit of what he thought of as justice, rather than looking out for those who were close to him. You couldn’t live like that.
She wasn’t prepared to admit she’d been wrong about Adam, though she allowed that Jude’s motivation, which had been Mikey’s welfare, had been a noble one. She knew he wouldn’t give an inch on the morality of it, but he didn’t have to. She’d let it go.
Jude lived on the same street, half a dozen doors up and on the other side of the road, and the closest parking space she found was always outside his house. Sometimes it struck her as vaguely sinister, that Adam took so much pleasure in being so very visible to his former friend, though at other times, most notably when she herself was feeling particularly inferior under the shadow of Jude’s high-mindedness, she understood it a little better. It took a moment before she nerved herself to get out of the car, as if she was afraid of being spotted, but the house looked well and truly empty.
It was a Sunday afternoon. Jude would be at work. He always was, even without the additional stresses of a murder to deal with. She’d always pressed him to lighten up, to try a little self-care, but in vain.
Adam’s house fronted the street and through the bay window she could see the telly on. He’d been watching golf. She could have stood and watched him for ages without being seen, just as he must have watched her before he’d called at the cottage after George’s death. Now the source of Jude’s accusation, which had struck her as unjust, became clear. She walked briskly up to Adam’s doorstep and rang the bell.
‘Hey, Chica.’ He opened the door and kissed her when she stepped over the threshold. ‘I thought you weren’t going to come by.’
‘I nearly didn’t. Lunch went on a long time.’
‘I had a narrow escape then.’ He grinned at her. He’d been invited and had excused himself, on no real grounds whatsoever, but no-one minded. He had no obligation to spend a Sunday afternoon with her family.
‘I think so. It turned into a second wake for poor old George, as if we hadn’t had had enough of that yesterday.’
‘Give the old boy his due.’ Adam snapped the telly off and flopped back down in his armchair. ‘He’s that old, you’d never have got through all the stories about his life in a couple of hours. Have a seat. I’d offer you a beer, but I know you’ll want to drive. Unless you’d rather stay.’ He winked.
Turning down the beer, she sat down, ticking off the things she liked about him, as if she needed to justify having chosen him as her boyfriend. Adam was good fun, undemanding, and ready enough to make time for her. In this respect, he far outscored Jude. He wasn’t intellectually challenging and he knew the value of a companionable silence. And, rather more to the point, he wasn’t burdened by a dysfunctional family or the impulse to take on other people’s problems.
He had his faults, too. Right at that moment the one that troubled her most was his tenacity for a grievance, his inability to let an old sin die. In her own way, Becca had as strong a sense of justice as Jude, and her conscience was troubling her. ‘Adam. Do you mind if ask you something?’
‘Ask away.’
‘After George died.’
‘What about it?’ His look was challenging.
‘Someone complained to the police about Jude. He thinks it’s me. Because it was about what happened when he brought me back home. Was it you?’
He stiffened, but he didn’t look away. ‘You weren’t going to.’
She drew in a long, furious breath. ‘Right. I don’t know what you think you saw, but whatever it was you were wrong. He didn’t do anything.’
‘I trust my own eyes. You were in a distressed state and he tried to take advantage of you.’
It was never a good move to lose your temper with Adam. ‘Stop talking about me as if I’m a teenager who’s been drinking too much. I was upset. I tried to hit him. I’m in the wrong. Not him.’
‘You wouldn’t have tried to hit him if he hadn’t done something to upset you.’
She thought back to the moment, to the upwelling of fury that had almost drowned her at the loss of George, at her failure to help him. Her feelings, she was sure, were mostly directed at herself, but she didn’t think she’d have hurled herself at Adam in the way she’d tried to vent her anger on Jude. ‘I was upset and he was there. That was all.’
‘When I walked in it didn’t look like he was fending you off. Far from it. That’s not okay.’
‘I hugged him, too.’ A deep flush crept upon her. She had a vague memory of kissing Jude at Mikey’s party a couple of months before, when she’d had a drink or two too many. He’d been more receptive to that kiss than to the hug. ‘It wasn’t him who started it. And do you know what? Even it had been him, even if he did behave inappropriately, it’s none of your business. It’s for me to decide whether to report him.’
A vein of old, vengeful fury beat at this temple. ‘I thought you’d understand.’
‘I do. You haven’t forgiven Jude for what he did. I get that. But it was over three years ago and it’s done. And he was only doing his job.’ She’d always believed that Adam had no-one to blame but himself. No-one had made him shift drugs, or resist arrest and end up with a longer sentence than he would have done as result. At the time she thought — still did think — that Jude should have dealt with Mikey differently, but that was nothing to do with Adam. ‘You’ve redeemed yourself. Let it go.’
‘He put me in prison.’
‘He didn’t know you were involved. He turned in Mikey, that was all.’ Mikey had got away with a slap on the wrist, because of his age, because his crime had been possession rather than supply and because he’d expressed public remorse, though she knew there was no remorse in private. ‘You need to let it go, and you need to stop harassing him.’
It was impossible to have a row sitting down, so she stood up. but as soon as she did so she knew it was a mistake. He bounced to his feet as well, and that was when she remembered he’d broken a policewoman’s collarbone in his struggle to escape from the law. Adam was no respecter of anyone, regardless of gender, regardless of the relationship. She picked up her bag and headed for the door.
He came after her, clamping a hand on her shoulder. ‘Right. Now I’ll tell you something. Something you might not want to hear. Prison’s hell. Do you want to know what hell it is?’
‘No.’ Shaking him off, she made for the door, wrenched it open and stepped out into the fading sunshine. Thank God. ‘I’m not Jude’s biggest fan. You know that. But you’ve got to take responsibility for your own actions and you can leave me to take responsibility for mine.’
‘I’ve done that. I’ve done my time. You said. I’m rehabilitated. But don’t think I’m ever going to forgive him for what I went through.’
She’d thought he was he redeemed, but maybe not. Drugs ruined people’s lives, sometimes killed them, tortured and tormented their loved ones. ‘I don’t want to see you again. I can’t trust you.’ Worse than that: suddenly, he scared her.
He leaned on the door frame and laughed. ‘He won’t take you back, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s got someone a whole lot better than you, now. Better looking. Hot as hell, too. Someone who speaks his language the way us ordinary people never will.’
‘I don’t want him back.’ She turned her back and stalked up the street to her car, her heart beating faster than it ought to. God knew
she wasn’t an idiot. She’d always suspected Adam’s interest was more to do with Jude than herself and that the relationship would fade into insignificance as it had just done, an unofficial ending after which the two would barely speak. Adam’s deliberate choice to rent a flat opposite Jude’s house now looked creepy and his determination to achieve some kind of satisfaction seemed downright sinister.
She got into the car and watched as Jude’s Mercedes drew up opposite. She should apologise for Adam’s actions, tell him she’d contact the Professional Services department and withdraw the allegation she hadn’t made.
The time for an apology had been at George’s funeral when he’d told her about the complaint, but he’d caught her by surprise and so she’d missed the opportunity. She looked across the road. Jude got out of the driver’s seat and Ashleigh out of the passenger side. Both of them were in their work suits, dark and sober, but his expression was one of lurking amusement and she was obviously giggling. So he’d managed to do what he so rarely did and leave the job to someone else for a few hours. Now he’d be looking forward to a cosy evening in with Ashleigh O’Halloran, no doubt. She watched as he unlocked the door, as she very obviously pinched his backside and he pulled her inside and snapped the door shut like a prim novelist ending a chapter to spare a reader’s blushes.
When she’d told him he should allow himself a little more self-care, that hadn’t been what she meant. She sighed and dialled Doddsy’s number instead. ‘Doddsy, it’s Becca. Can I have a word?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
There was a muffled sound. In the background, a male voice called out something and Doddsy called back. ‘Just a second. I need to deal with this. Sorry, Becca. What can I do for you?’
Even the long-celibate Doddsy had finally found love. Suddenly she felt very alone. ‘It’s just a quick call. Someone made an anonymous complaint about Jude on my behalf. I want it withdrawn. What do I do?’
In the silence, she imagined him crinkling his brows as if it were a trick question. ‘Just email. It’s pretty straightforward.’
‘Thanks. I’ll do that. See you sometime.’
Doddsy would think her a fool, but anything she said to him would get back to Jude sooner rather than later. It saved her the embarrassment of approaching her ex directly, and it was important to her he only thought badly of her for the things she’d done to hurt him. She sat for a while, until an unseen hand whisked the bedroom curtains closed in the house over the road. Feeling too much like a voyeur, she started the engine and drove off.
Twenty-Three
Aida turned up at Waterside Lodge at nine on Monday morning and she and Robert retreated into his study. The twins had been up at a reasonable hour and headed out for a brisk walk, more to get away from their father’s scowling fury than because of any sudden enthusiasm for the outdoors, or so Miranda thought. After that, silence enveloped the house.
Miranda had made chicken pie and had just covered it with foil when Aida popped her head round the door. ‘Mr Neilson has asked me to go down to the post office in Penrith, Mrs Neilson. Is there anything I can get you while I’m out?’
Miranda sighed. Aida was as bad as Luke had been, refusing to accept any kind of familiarity and instead treating her with a rigid formality which made her feel subtly marginalised in a place where she had every right to be. With Aida it was worse, because this was her own home. ‘No, thank you.’ She opened the fridge and slid the pie inside it.
‘I expect I’ll be about an hour.’
‘That’s fine.’ Her phone pinged. She looked down at it. A message from Ollie. Miranda, we need to talk to you. Don’t tell Dad.
Not again. Surely they hadn’t got themselves into yet more trouble? Conscious of Aida’s presence, she reached for her phone.
In the few seconds between Aida leaving and Robert emerging from the study, Miranda managed to flip a text back to Ollie. Will it do later?. ‘Robert. Would you like a coffee? I was just going for a walk, but it can wait.’
Soon! Ollie pleaded.
Jesus. Her heart raced. What was it now? Were they going to tell her that somehow, after all, it was they who’d killed Luke? Or Summer? She turned her back on her husband, pretending to watch Aida’s car heading down the drive and disappearing into the green dale and using that as a shield to cover her texting. Where?
Old George’s house. As soon as you can.
‘A walk? I’ll come with you,’ said Robert, cheerfully. ‘Just for ten minutes, to clear my head. Aida found a mistake in some numbers, and thank God she did, but I think we’ve sorted it. I have time. And I daresay you’ll be much happier with some company.’
Normally she’d have treasured a moment like that, because they were so rare, but today the last thing she needed was his presence as she set out to handle the twins. Since confession of her fears to Robert, he’d been carefully solicitous of her, looking out for her wherever she went. This was ironic, because telling him of her fears had liberated her from them in a way she didn’t understand. ‘Are you sure you have time? I thought I’d take a walk up Martindale.’
‘I can come with you as far as the bridge, at least.’
The police had finished there. Luke’s body had been taken away, the threatening white tent had been removed and you’d never know it had been the scene of so violent a death. ‘I’ll be all right. You know I will.’
‘Call me over-cautious, but I’m still a bit uncomfortable about you being out. Things being what they are.’
‘You mean Luke? It’ll have been to do with his private life.’ Summer’s death, not just unexplained but somehow inexplicable, troubled her more than Luke’s. She’d seen for herself how quick Luke had been to anger, and his reputation went before him. There were plenty of people in Pooley Bridge who didn’t like him, and you never knew how long or how deeply people could bear a grudge. ‘His former girlfriend’s new partner is ex-army I think. There’s more than a bit of needle there. I imagine that’s where the police are looking.’ Though she vaguely recalled hearing someone in the post office saying that the man was working out on what was left of the oil rigs and so in the clear.
‘I still don’t like the idea of you being on your own.’
‘I won’t be. I’m going to walk up and meet the boys. They were out early.’
A shadow passed over Robert’s face. ‘I hope they’ve had enough sense not to do something else stupid. They’re getting out of hand. Their mother spoils them. I’ll have to get more involved.’
They let themselves out of the house and walked down the drive, hand in hand, past the newly-installed CCTV cameras. It had been another rainy night and a dull morning but the May sun had crawled out from its nest in the clouds and gathered strength. Steam rose from the wet tarmac and the smell of the countryside, fresh and clean, lifted her optimism. Of course Ollie and Will wouldn’t be in any more trouble. They’d just be wanting her help to get Robert to relax his attitude.
‘The trouble with Luke,’ said Robert, as they approached the bridge, ‘is that he antagonised everyone.’
‘Yes.’ Miranda hesitated. She knew she’d have to cross it at some point, but she wouldn’t look down. Not this time. ‘It was horrible finding him, but do you know the strange thing?’
‘What?’
‘I wasn’t afraid. Even though I could see he was dead and I could tell that it had happened so recently and it was so obviously deliberate, I never felt in any danger. It made me think. If someone wanted to kill me they’d have done it by now. They’ve had so many opportunities.’
‘Yes. And now you’ve told me I’ll make damned certain you’re looked after. You’re safe enough here. We’ve got the CCTV. But even in London, or anywhere else. You’ll be safe. And anyway the police are floating around. Up at Howtown, I think, still asking questions about what someone might have seen. So if you need any help, all you need to do is shout and they’ll come running.’
‘Oh, Robert. I wish I’d told you the truth years ago.’
&n
bsp; They stood on the bridge and kissed like teenagers, and after a moment he stepped back. ‘I’d better get back. I don’t want Aida to find out I’ve been playing truant.’
‘I don’t expect I’ll be long.’
Leaving him behind her, she summoned her courage to cross the bridge and walked past George’s house and up to the church, where she stood beside the rolls of turf that barely covered George’s two-day-old grave, and stood there paying silent respects until she was sure her husband was out of sight. Then it was time to sort out whatever mess the twins had got into.
Robert was right. They were getting out of hand. Going into George’s house was too bad, and even if they didn’t want to be seen they could surely have found somewhere a little more respectful. She supposed she’d have to try and reason with them and hope they listened, because if their father decided to come down hard on them there would be trouble and misery all around. She’d no doubt he’d take the fight all the way if he had to, cutting off their allowances and only breeding resentment. She wanted neither to take the blame nor to be too obviously on their side. Tricky, but something she was confident she could solve.
They wouldn’t have forced entry to the cottage. Everybody in the dale knew under exactly which loose flagstone George kept his spare key. Miranda went up the path and put her hand to the door, opened it and stepped inside. She closed it carefully behind her so as not to attract attention. She, too, was trespassing. Someone — one of the family, presumably — had been in and closed the curtains as a mark of respect for the funeral and had yet to come in and open them. The place was oppressively dim and smelt of plain food and stale tobacco. ‘Ollie? Will?’
There was silence, absolute stillness. She must have arrived before them; but if so, who had unlocked the door? ‘Ollie?’
A movement behind her, the sharp click as if a safety catch were being released on a gun. She turned and saw only a black shadow among the greyness. ‘Ollie?’ she whispered.