‘Why does Dad have to be so bloody rude?’ She slumped down in the nearest chair.
‘You were listening at the door,’ Gwen teased.
‘I just wanted to know what the police are going to do about the letter.’
‘Listen, love, if you are worried then I can drive you to school and pick you up.’
‘I’m not worried.’ Ariana twirled a strand of hair around her finger. ‘I think you should do the reconstruction. It might help you remember some more.’
Gwen poured two cups of tea and handed one to Ariana before sitting down. ‘Whatever I decide I want you to promise me you will be careful. Stay with your friends and if there’s no one to catch the late bus with, call me. Just don’t go with anyone, even if you think you know them well. Just me or Dad.’
‘That’s a bit extreme!’
‘Not really, please, Ari, just until things calm down.’
‘OK, if you will go ahead with the reconstruction.’
‘Why are you so keen? Does it have anything to do with the young DC Edris?’
Ariana blushed. ‘Hell yes, he was so hot I think I burst my ovaries.’
Gwen couldn’t help laughing. ‘He was kind of cute.’
‘The other one isn’t bad either. When he came to the hospital you called him Winter. Why?’
‘Because that’s his name.’
‘Winter Meadows?’ Ariana laughed. ‘Who the hell calls their child Winter?’
‘It’s not that bad. His family came from the commune.’
‘Hippy Hill?’
‘It’s called Peace Valley. His younger brother was ill, asthma I think, so they moved here.’
‘You seem to know a lot about him,’ Ariana grinned.
‘We all went to school together, your dad, Winter, and me. Only I was two years younger.’
‘Did you shag him? And that’s why Dad doesn’t like him.’
‘No, I didn’t!’ Though I wish I had. ‘He was nice to me after the attack. Everyone else treated me like a freak apart from your dad and Winter.’
‘So were he and Dad friends?’
‘God no, your dad hated him.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, probably because he was different. Kids can be cruel sometimes. Poor Winter was bullied relentlessly.’
‘By Dad?’
‘Yes, he was a bit of a bully back then.’
‘He still is.’
‘Ariana!’ Gwen scolded.
‘But it’s true. Don’t think I don’t know what goes on. I’m not a kid anymore.’
‘I know, but he’s your dad. Don’t let village gossip fill your head. You know that Granddad died when I was eleven. I would have given anything to have a dad like my friends. No matter what, your dad loves you.’
‘He has a funny way of showing it.’ Ariana stood up. ‘I’m going to my room, I’ve got homework to do.’
Gwen watched her daughter leave the kitchen. An image flashed across her mind. She was stood in her childhood home, screaming at her mother. ‘I hate you, I don’t care if I never see you again.’ Gwen concentrated hard on the memory. She could feel the anger boiling through her veins. Her mother was wearing a short-sleeved pink cotton shirt, her hair pinned up on top of her head. She held out her hand towards Gwen, her tear-filled eyes pleading. ‘I’m sorry, love.’
The memory slipped away, leaving Gwen feeling frustrated. I don’t remember ever speaking to my mother like that. It must have been that day, that’s why I didn’t want to go home.
What were we arguing about?
Chapter Thirteen
Meadows sat at his computer typing an update for Lester. It was Monday morning, one week since Lester had agreed to re-open the case. Not a lot to report. He scanned the document. Some more flashbacks and the letter, better than nothing. At least it shows that the killer is still local and is aware of Gwen’s recovered memory.
He finished the email and pressed send, then turned to Edris. ‘So what have we got so far?’
‘Gwen and Ariana came in to give their prints. I’ve just received the report. No other prints were found.’
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting any. It also rules out the theory that one of the kids at school put it in there. It would look odd if they were wearing gloves at this time of year.’
‘So that leaves someone outside of school.’
‘Or a member of staff.’ Meadows leaned back in his chair. ‘I think you should go down to the school this morning. Speak to the headmaster and see what security measures they have in place. I’ll go this afternoon and talk to Catrin Evans, Ariana was in her house last week. I want to know if she had any other visitors. She was also in the same year at school as Gwen and Bethan. Let it be seen that we’re taking an interest in the school.’
‘Shall I ask uniform to drive by at home time?’
‘Good idea, maybe they could also set up a school visit. Give a talk on stranger danger. That should keep the kids alert to anyone out of the ordinary lurking around. I’m going to see Doreen Hopkins this morning, there’s still a time gap from when Bethan left the house until Sam Morris left Gwen at the cattle grid. Assuming he was telling the truth and the girls didn’t meet up until after four, where was Bethan for three hours? Someone must have seen her or Doreen Hopkins was mistaken about the time she left the house.’
‘I ran a check on Jack Hopkins. He died of a heart attack three years ago. There’s nothing on him. Not even a speeding fine. So that rules him out.’
‘OK thanks.’ Meadows stood and grabbed his jacket. ‘I’ll meet you back here this afternoon.’
Doreen Hopkins still lived at the same address. Meadows parked the car and took a few moments looking at the house. Blue paint was flaking around the dirty windows. A short path led to the front door with weed-covered concrete on either side. Looks neglected, no husband to help with the upkeep. Probably lives alone. As he approached the house the door opened and a frail grey-haired woman peered out.
‘Doreen Hopkins?’
She nodded.
‘I’m DI Meadows. Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ he smiled down at the tiny woman.
‘You better come in.’ She didn’t return the smile, just turned and led the way silently to the sitting room.
Meadows’ eyes wandered around the room: a tattered sofa with a faded throw sat in the centre, next to it a matching armchair with a large ginger cat curled into a ball on the seat. The coffee table was strewn with unopened letters marked with dark rings and ash that had spilled from an over-flowing ashtray. The walls caught Meadows attention, every available space was covered with photographs of Bethan. Baby pictures, Bethan as a toddler, primary and secondary school pictures. Her short life had been catalogued and preserved on these four walls. Her face beamed from every direction.
‘Please sit down.’ Doreen sat on the edge of the sofa and took a cigarette from an opened packet. She lit it and inhaled deeply before letting the smoke snake out of her mouth. She looked around the walls. ‘I know some think it odd that I keep so many photographs of Beth, but just because she was snatched away from me I refuse to act like she never existed. This way I keep her alive.’ She took another drag on the cigarette as she continued to stare at the wall.
Meadows considered the woman that sat in front of him. He guessed her to be about sixty-five but grief had taken its toll and she looked closer to eighty. The pain etched deeply on her face pulled at the wound in his own heart. I bet she doesn’t bother to cook a meal for herself.
‘Mrs Hopkins, I’m sorry to have to rake over the events surrounding your daughter’s death after all this time. I don’t know if you are aware that recently Gwen Thomas has experienced some recovery of her memory. In light of this we have re-opened the case.’
‘Please call me Doreen.’ She looked at the wall again and sighed. ‘You don’t have to apologise. I’ll never have any peace until the monster that did this to my daughter and Gwen is caught and made to pay. I was thinking that I should go and
see Gwen, poor girl. I guess it must be the same for her, not knowing what happened and the fear that the person responsible is out there.’
‘I think it would be a good idea for you to go and see Gwen. I understand from her doctor that looking over old photographs and listening to music from that time period may help to fully recover her memory. Perhaps you could talk to her about Bethan, share some of your memories.’
‘I’ll try, but it’s not easy. I see Gwen with her family and it brings home what Beth lost. What we all lost. She was our only child, I never got to see her grow up and have children of her own. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad that Gwen survived but I can’t help wishing that it wasn’t my girl that died.’ She ground the cigarette into the ash tray and took another from the packet.
Meadows could feel the smoke tickling the back of his throat and resisted the urge to cough. ‘I know it is a long time ago but I would like to go over your statement.’
‘It may be a long time ago but I’ve been over that day so many times it feels like it could’ve been yesterday.’
‘You said in your statement that you didn’t see Gwen that day, but Gwen now remembers calling at your house that morning.’
Doreen’s brow wrinkled in concentration. ‘Yes, she did call that morning, but I only saw her for a few moments.’
‘Gwen said that Bethan was ill, but there is no mention of that in the statement.’
Doreen rubbed her hand over her face. Tears pooled in her eyes. ‘Bethan wasn’t ill. Those first weeks were so hard. I couldn’t think straight. I know this is going to sound heartless but I didn’t care about Gwen at the time. I couldn’t even bring myself to visit her in the hospital. Bethan was gone and there was still hope for Gwen it didn’t seem fair.’
‘Why would Gwen think that Bethan was ill that day?’
‘Beth asked me to tell Gwen that she was ill, she didn’t want to see her.’
‘Didn’t you find that odd?’
‘Not really, you know what teenage girls are like, always having some falling out. Beth had seemed a bit down for a few days before, staying in her room playing music.’
Meadows wanted to ask about what he had seen on the post-mortem but it was unlikely Doreen would be able to shed any light on it and would only cause more upset. ‘By all accounts the girls were inseparable and they were found together that day. Did Bethan give you any indication of where she was going that day?’
‘No, it was a few hours after Gwen called that she came downstairs, she said she was going for a walk. Told me she wouldn’t be long, kissed me on the cheek, and that was the last I time I saw her.’
‘Bethan had a boyfriend at the time?’
Doreen’s face darkened. ‘Sam Morris,’ she hissed.
‘Yes, from what I understand he was questioned but there was no evidence to suggest that he was responsible.’
‘Just because there was no evidence doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.’ Doreen’s hand shook as she put the cigarette to her mouth.
‘Why do you think that Sam Morris would have attacked Bethan?’
‘I don’t know, maybe he wanted more than she was willing to give. You know what boys are like at that age. Only one thing on their mind and they do anything to get it.’
Not all boys. ‘Is there anyone else you can think of that would want to hurt the girls? Was there a boyfriend before Sam Morris?’
‘No,’ Doreen bristled. ‘She wasn’t that type of girl.’
‘I’m just trying to build up a picture. Talk to everyone that knew the girls. Did you see anyone near the house when Bethan left?’
‘No, I was in the kitchen.’
‘Was her bedroom at the front or back of the house?’
‘The front, would you like to see?’
‘Please.’
Doreen led the way to the staircase where they ascended under the watchful gaze of Bethan, smiling from pictures hung at various angles. Doreen stopped at a white painted door and inhaled deeply before turning the handle. Meadows stepped inside and surveyed the room. The walls were painted a pale lilac with matching bedspread, a nightdress lay folded on the pillow surrounded by various soft toys. The mirrored dressing table was positioned against the wall with make-up, perfume bottles, and jewellery. All the surfaces were dust-free and a faint smell of polish hung in the air.
‘I didn’t have the heart to change anything in here. I put a lot of her things into the attic but I never use this room.’ Doreen ran her hand over the bedspread.
Meadows walked across the room to the window and peered out. There was a clear view of the pavement on both sides of the road. He opened the latch and looked out; this gave a further view of the street, leading down towards Quarry Road. If she had seen someone she knew outside she could have easily called out to them, or they could have waited outside the window and no one in the house would know that they had met. Meadows closed the window. ‘Thank you. I appreciate you talking to me.’
‘You will come and tell me as soon as you make an arrest?’
‘Of course.’
Meadows was glad to step outside into the daylight away from the oppressive sadness of the house. He stood and looked in both directions. The entrance to Quarry Road could be seen from where he stood. If she headed straight to the footpath that would explain why there were no sightings. But what would she be doing up there for three hours alone? She had to have met someone.
He sat in his car for a few moments fighting a strong desire to visit Gwen. He felt his stomach fizzle at the thought. He started the engine and drove to his cottage in the next village. Inside, he made a snack then stood gazing out of the window as he drank his tea. He tried to focus his mind on 1987. The memories were fragmented. If I’m going to ask people to think back that far I’m going to have to do it myself. The reconstruction is going to have to have some prompts.
He switched on his laptop and searched for music and news items from that time period. He wrote down a list: Terry Waite kidnapped, Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister, and it was the year of the Pet Shop Boys and Rick Astley.
Meadows laughed out loud. ‘Rick Astley, I don’t think so.’ He searched for AC/DC on YouTube. I used to have all their albums. He sat down in an armchair and closed his eyes as the lyrics for ‘Hells Bells’ blasted out of the speakers. That’s more like it. Dad hated this music, I could only play it when he was out of the house. He let his mind drift back to the past …
He was sitting in his bedroom, his record player turned to full volume as he studied for the upcoming exams. It was late and he was cramming as much information as he could before his mother came up to insist he turn off the music and get some sleep. As the song came to an end he heard raised voices drifting up the stairs. Great, Dad’s pissed again.
He put down his text book and opened the bedroom door. His younger brother Rain was on the landing peering over the banister.
‘Go back to bed.’
‘No,’ Rain looked defiant. ‘He’s been drinking again.’
‘All the more reason to stay in your room.’
A crash followed by a scream sounded from below. Rain ran down the stairs, Winter followed, his heart thudding in his chest. In the kitchen he quickly took in the scene. A smashed plate on the floor, his father’s face contorted with rage, his mother cowering by the sink.
‘Win, take your brother upstairs.’ She pleaded with her eyes.
‘Rain, go upstairs now!’ he ordered before stepping in front of his mother. He pulled back his shoulders and glared at his father. ‘Why don’t you leave her alone and go and sleep it off?’
Kern Meadows narrowed his eyes. ‘Get back to your room, you moody little fucker, before I teach you a lesson.’
‘Please, Win,’ his mother begged as she stepped forward, eyes darting wildly between her husband and her son. ‘Look after Rain, I’ll be fine.’
Winter stood his ground. He could feel his body trembling, and clenched his fists. ‘No, Dad, I think you better leave.’
‘Kern, stop!’ he heard his mother scream.
A crack rent the air and Winter pulled his head up in time to see his mother crash to the floor. Rain stood, his eyes wide with shock. ‘Run! Go and get help,’ Winter shouted.
Rain looked from his brother to his mother then pulled a knife from the block and waved it at Kern. ‘Get away from them,’ he shouted.
‘Rain, no!’ Winter struggled to his feet, pain shot through his head and his body felt on fire.
‘You threatening me, boy?’ Kern laughed. ‘You put that knife down now or you’ll get a hiding you’ll never forget.’
Rain lunged forward and as Kern held up his arm in defence, his son plunged the knife into it.
Kern yelped as blood spurted from the wound. Winter stood paralysed as Rain dropped the knife and ran. He watched his father take chase.
‘Go after them,’ his mother sobbed.
The song came to an end and Meadows felt his heart thudding as he brought himself back to the present. Rain shouldn’t have been the one to protect us, forced to use a knife on his own father. I should’ve been the one, if I was stronger back then I could have fought him. He stood and paced the room trying to disperse the feelings of anger and regret. It wasn’t long after that Bethan was murdered. He walked to the sink where he splashed cold water over his face, hoping to wash away the memory of his father. Poor Gwen, the last thing I would want is flashbacks of the eighties sneaking up on me.
A cool breeze ruffled his hair as he drove with the car windows open. He was tempted to turn up the music but didn’t want to appear pretentious. He pulled into the school car park and stood outside the car looking at the building. All around was silent and through the ground floor windows, he could see pupils hunched over their desks as they scribbled the afternoon lesson. A feeling of apprehension hung over him like a dark cloud, threatening to rain down memories of his school days. I hated this place, the daily taunts.
The Silent Quarry Page 8