Lianna nodded. ‘Yeah, I remember. She were soft on him, weren’t she? Poor cow. She were from that school, with the — ’ She stopped, and her face lit up. ‘Oh, you. A nun. Now I see. That school.’ She giggled, and for a moment she looked very young.
‘She’s very upset.’
‘Daft bint. What did she think?’
‘That he loved her.’
Lianna seemed to age again. She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out hard in an overflowing tin ashtray. Ash spilt across the arm of the chair. ‘Yeah, well, who knows? He certainly in’t goin’ ter say now, is he?’
‘Did you know him well?’
‘Well enough.’ She dabbed at the spilt ash.
‘Do you know why anyone should want him dead?’ Lianna looked at Agnes, puzzled. She shook her head slowly.
Agnes took the photograph out and held it out to her. Lianna took it and stared at it. ‘Where’d you get this?’
‘From Allbright’s.’
‘I wanted a photo. After — when I heard, like. He lived across there, I went to have a look, see if I could find summat of him.’ Lianna jerked her head towards the window. Agnes moved to draw the curtains back, but Lianna held her arm to stop her. Agnes sat back in her chair. Lianna lit another cigarette.
‘You’ll find nothin’ there now,’ Lianna said. ‘They’ll have had it all, pipes, wirin’, flamin’ roof an’ all.’ She looked at the photo again. ‘Wasn’t he the one — that Reg something, didn’t they do’im the other night?’
‘Reg Naismith, yes.’
‘He lived here too, down Knaresborough Place, over t’other side.’
‘Was Mark still in touch with him?’
‘Dunno. Never saw ’em together. He never mentioned him.’
‘Lianna, you must have some idea — people must be talking about it. They were killed the same way.’
‘The eyes, you mean?’ Lianna chewed on a fingernail. ‘You went to the police.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘Thought I’d better. I knew him, Mark.’
‘You said you were involved with him.’
‘I was.’
‘Charlotte was upset.’
‘Poor cow.’
‘Why did you go to the police?’
Lianna took a long drag on the end of her cigarette and stubbed it out in the filthy ashtray. At last she looked up at Agnes. ‘Listen, when you live as I do, you get so’s you don’t care about owt. But I’ll tell you this, and I’ve not told a soul, ’cos no one’d give a toss one way or t’other what happens to me. But when Mark came to me, it were like nothin’ I’d ever known. It were soft and warm and gentle and — and it were like he loved me. It were fuckin’ brilliant. And now there’s some bastard out there who knows what it’s like to hear that man, my Mark, pleading for his fuckin’ life.’ She lit another cigarette, the lighter flame juddering in her trembling hand. Her eyes flickered with defiance. ‘And I’m not living with that. While I’m alive, that bastard’s days are numbered.’
Agnes watched her for a moment. ‘What did you tell the police?’
‘What I knew. Which weren’t much. About me and Mark. They asked me if anyone had anything against him. I said — ’ the light in her eyes deadened again. ‘I said no. ’Cos it were secret, right, him and me, so even if — ’ she shook her head. ‘I told them nowt.’
‘You mean there’s someone who might be jealous of him?’
Lianna laughed. ‘Jealous? Nah. If I play around, right, it’s me who gets me head kicked in.’
‘So you don’t know anyone who might be a threat to Mark?’
She drew hard on her cigarette, then looked at Agnes. ‘I were goin’ to tell them about the sports centre. Wish I had now.’
‘What about it?’
‘’Cos I’ve had it now. In for a penny.’ She smiled emptily. ‘What’s to come can’t be worse than what I’ve already been through.’ She took another drag, then said, ‘That sports centre, right, that Mark were doin’ with Anthony Turnbull, the one who owns Allbright’s Mill now. Well, they were on that committee thing, right, and Mark were in charge of t’money, and he said it weren’t right. The money. He said it were goin’ astray. But he couldn’t prove owt, ’cos all them statement things all seemed OK, but he said there were things what didn’t quite make sense. And then he’s found dead, right. And what I reckon is, only I’m diggin’ me own grave by tellin’ you, is that it’s all to do with Billy Keenan. Them Keenans always hated the Snaiths, goes back years, it do. Even his mum, Maureen, right, and she’s a nice bird, she’s sound she is, she wouldn’t pass the time of day wi’ Mark and Davey’s mum. And Billy Keenan was the last one to see him alive, right.’
‘The police already know that bit.’
‘Aye, well, someone had to tell ’em in the end.’ She put out her cigarette, twisting the stub down into the ash. ‘Perhaps someone else told ’em about the money too. But if it gets back it were me, then I’m history, me.’ She giggled. ‘Perhaps there’s a heaven and I’ll meet Mark there, and we’ll live happily ever after.’ Her face lightened, and she raised wide eyes to Agnes. ‘You know about these things, don’t you, do you think that might happen?’ Agnes looked at her open, childlike face, and for a moment it seemed possible. Then Lianna giggled again. ‘Mind you, eh, there in’t no shaggin’ in Heaven, so that’s no good to me.’
They laughed, then fell silent. Agnes said, ‘This money — would you have any proof?’
Lianna shook her head. ‘They’ve had it all, you see, Mark’s place has been done over. You’d have to search through the wreckage. They’ve probably done Reg’s place by now, I saw them police guarding it last night, but them kids get in anyhow. Do you know ... ’ her voice faltered. ‘When they found Reg he were sprawled across his hallway. His neighbour found him. He’d tried to get help. They reckon he survived for a while, after — afterwards. Strong for his age, they said.’ She glanced up. ‘Din’t help him, did it?’ She reached for her packet of cigarettes.
‘When I go to sleep at the end of a night, I think, well, there you are then. Survived another day. Another day older, another day nearer ... ’ She shook her head. ‘I gave up long ago. If it hadn’t been for Mark ... ’ She blinked back tears.
‘Do you want me to go?’ It was all she could think of to say.
‘Charlotte,’ Lianna said suddenly, ‘she were just the same as you. She visited here a couple of times, with Mark. Before he — before he came to me. I used to imagine her, sneakin’ back to her posh bloody school.’ Lianna stood up and went over to the window. She twitched the curtain back an inch and peered out. ‘It’s when you have nowhere to go. Nothin’ to do. No way out. That’s what gets you in the end. Yeah, you’d better go, don’t want you to be here when he ... ’
‘When who?’
Lianna shrugged. She let the curtain fall across the window again.
Out in the hall, Agnes held out her hand for the photo. Lianna passed it to her. The tremor in her fingers was worse.
‘Go on, out now,’ she said.
‘Who are you waiting for?’
Lianna whirled around in a dance of startling grace. ‘I’m waiting for my man,’ she said.
Agnes walked away across the estate. Once she glanced back. The windows of the little house seemed to echo Lianna’s same empty grin, the same mask of despair. Agnes pulled her coat around her against a sudden gust of wind.
Chapter Nine
‘Have you seen the papers?’ Nina rummaged in her bag, then flung a heap of newsprint on to the mahogany, narrowly missing a beery puddle.
Agnes picked up her glass in one hand and one of the papers in the other. ‘They’re going for the serial killer bit, then,’ she said, reading the headlines.
‘We’re all in danger, apparently. Random nutcase, could strike again any time, we must all be on our guard. Isn’t it wonderful?’ Nina took a large swig of wine.
‘Wonderful? Why?’
‘Because usually it
’s women, so then you get all this stuff about not going out after dark and not on our own and keeping to well-lit areas — but now it’s men, isn’t it? And they can’t say that, can they? So they don’t know what to say.’ She gulped more wine. ‘You’re a bad influence, you are. This is my second trip to the pub in less than a week.’
‘It’s not just me. You must have friends — ’
‘Most of my mates live over towards Leeds. Apart from Jay, Rosie’s dad.’
‘Are you — is he — ?’
Nina laughed. ‘We always confuse people, me and Jay. He’s a great dad, Rosie adores him. We see each other loads. But we don’t live together. That’s just how we are.’
Agnes sipped her drink and scanned the papers again. ‘They don’t seem to think Mark and Reg are connected. Other than by chance.’
‘Perhaps they’re not. Did you tell the police about the photo?’
‘I gave it to them. I’ve kept a few copies.’
‘And the tribunal?’
‘I mentioned it to Janet Cole. She was interested in Billy Keenan, they know him. Although, his involvement in the tribunal is just hearsay, isn’t it?’
‘People know who’s NF and who isn’t.’
‘And I spoke to Lianna Vickers, she lives on the estate. Mark was her lover. Sort of. And involved in the sports centre. She said that Mark thought there was money going astray from the funds for the centre. She had no proof though, and she was frightened of people coming for her if word got out that she’d told me.’
‘They’re all like that up there on Millhouse. Do you think there was any truth in it?’
‘I don’t know. I would have thought it’s quite difficult to steal that kind of money without anyone noticing.’ ‘Perhaps that’s why Turnbull keeps going on about Mark’s papers.’
‘Hmm. Another drink?’
‘You know, for a nun, you’re bad, you are. Just the one, then.’
Agnes stood by the bar. She glanced back at Nina, who was sitting quite still, her face set in an expression of anxiety. ‘What’s up?’ Agnes said, returning with their drinks. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You seem fed up.’
‘I had a hard day, that’s all.’ She drained her old glass and took the new one.
‘At Allbright’s?’
‘It’s tough there these days. To be honest, it’s not been making huge profits for years, no one is these days, but Baines knew his job, kept one step ahead. But Turnbull knows if he’s going to keep it going, he’s got to make it more efficient. In a way, I don’t blame him, but it means re-equipping, laying people off. And I’m the only one who knows about the redundancies, but the others know I know, and I can’t tell them. It’s really hard. And today — ’ She stopped.
‘What?’
Nina sighed. ‘I was all alone in the office at lunchtime, and Mr Baines came in. There wasn’t a soul around in admin, and you can’t get across to the mill floor very easily from my office, and ... I suppose I was stupid to be frightened.’
‘Nina, what happened?’
‘He’s — he seemed to be off his rocker, that’s what. I mean, you’ve met him, he was OK, wasn’t he, he’s always been in his office in the old mill, he’d bob in and say hello to the older staff, and — he was respected, you see. Even the younger lads, people he had tough words with — you knew where you were with him. He were honest, that’s what it was. Dealt with you straight. And now — ’ she laughed, uneasily. ‘Stupid of me to be scared.’
‘What happened?’
‘He wasn’t making sense, he came into the new admin block, he’s never come in since Pat and Anthony took over, and he marched in, and saw me, and it was like he was trying to tell me something really important. And I said, what is it, Mr Baines, and he said — you see, half of it didn’t make sense, he sat down opposite me and said, “It’s too late now.” But he was kind of smiling. Then he asked me the time, and I told him. And he nodded, like it made him happy. And he was filthy, really looked like he needed a wash.’
‘But he was calm?’
‘Yes. But I’m not sure he knew who I was. After a while he got up and started looking through a box of files, there’s a heap of stuff that Anthony had brought over from his office. Old bits of paper, share certificates, that kind of thing, goes back into the last century. Anthony thought he might frame some of it, you know, like people do, hang it in reception.’
‘And Baines was looking through it?’
‘Sort of. But he was smiling, and laughing. He picked some things out, looked at them, put them back, like he knew them all. He probably does, it’s his father’s stuff, and grandfather’s.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I wanted to call for help, he was so weird, in fact, it made me think there should be an alarm or something in that office, and I was just wondering whether to yell out of the window when he got up, and kind of smiled, and said, thank you, Nina. And then he walked back down the stairs, calm as can be.’
‘Did he go to his office?’
‘No, he went straight out. There’s a path that leads up to the moors from here, he went that way.’
‘On foot?’
‘Yes, he’s known for his walking, it’s a couple of miles across the moor to his place from here.’
Agnes frowned and sipped her drink. ‘Did you tell Turnbull?’
‘Yes, and Patricia, they both came back from lunch. Anthony said he should put in an alarm in the office. Patricia was really worried, and later I heard her discussing it with him, and they were arguing. But Turnbull’s terrible too at the moment, he’s been flying into rages with the staff, like he’s really stressed.’
‘Where does Baines live?’
‘In the old family pile, up by West Moorside. They’ve always lived there. Patricia said her mother wanted to move nearer town, but her father wouldn’t have it. He said the Baineses had always lived there and always would.’
‘He’s a great one for tradition, isn’t he?’
Nina finished her drink. ‘If you’ve lived through what he’s lived through — trying to keep his mill going on the old lines, with the old staff, employing the old families, and it gets more and more difficult until you’re barely breaking even — what else is there? It’s all right for Turnbull, he’s a newcomer, he can tear it all to pieces and start again. But for Baines — you see, he’d have felt ashamed to do what Turnbull’s doing. Even though it’s the only way Allbright’s is going to survive.’
‘Do you think that’s what’s driving him mad? Seeing his son-in-law change everything so fast?’
Nina took some lip salve out of her bag and applied it to her mouth. ‘I’m not sure. He always said the mill needed new ideas.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘Maybe. I’ve got to go.’
It was cold out in the street.
Agnes reached her car. ‘Do you want a lift?’
‘No ta, I live just over there. And anyway, this week’s serial killer is targeting men. Next week you can give me a lift.’
‘Nina, it’s not funny.’
‘No, probably not.’
‘Nina — could I look at the stuff that Baines was looking through?’
‘Sure, pop in next week sometime. Monday? You can help me go through it. See ya.’
Agnes watched Nina stride away. The streetlamps streaked her fake fur coat with gold.
*
At the school she found a message in her pigeon hole, sealed in an envelope. She unfolded it as she walked up the stairs to her room. It was from James.
Dear Agnes,
I didn’t mean to write this to you, but it’s proved impossible to say it any other way. Even writing it is tough. The fact is, I’m ill. Very ill. My doctors have given me two years at the most, maybe less.
Agnes let herself into her room, went straight to her desk and switched on the light.
I won’t go into detail. I first had the primary cancer diagnosed some years ago and was successfully treated. That was then. These days I t
ake what they give me for the pain, which, thankfully, is bearable. I’ve had all that modern medicine can provide, but that stage is over. Inoperable, is the word they use now. It’s a question of waiting.
I’m sorry you have to read this. I seem to find this business of dying a lot more straightforward than the people I have to tell. Perhaps with your faith, you might find it easier too, but I regret to say, the religious people of my acquaintance have
often been the worst, railing on my behalf against a God I don’t believe in. One or two have even blamed me for not believing enough, as if somehow true faith guarantees immortality. On good days I find it amusing. As you know, I have no faith to speak of, which, oddly, can be quite comforting.
I’ll close now. Again, I’m sorry. Come and see me soon.
Love, James.
Agnes sat at her desk. She read the letter again. Two years. Or less. She read it again. She picked up her phone and was about to dial his number, when there was a very faint knock at her door, and she looked up. She hadn’t closed her door and Elias now stood in the doorway, hesitant and uncertain.
‘I’m sorry — I wasn’t sure — ’ He took a few steps into the room. ‘The thing is, you’re right,’ he said.
Agnes put her hand to her forehead.
‘About compassion,’ he went on. ‘I’ve been — I was up on the moors all day. You’re right. Joanna — ’ He turned and looked at Agnes. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Not really, no.’
‘What is it?’
Agnes shook her head, then got up, went to her cupboards and poured two glasses of whisky.
He took the glass she handed him. ‘I was walking on the moors and I thought, you’re right, about taking action. So, I think we should visit William Baines.’
‘You think what?’ Agnes sat down with her glass. She wondered whether Elias was already drunk.
‘Or rather, I think we should visit his house. When he’s not there.’
‘You are drunk.’
‘No, I thought about it. Joanna has a studio there, and she might still be working. David’s saying nothing, the Turnbulls are obviously in the dark. And then, I thought, her father. Who else?’
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