The Loving Husband

by Christobel Kent

  ‘I found this,’ she said. ‘When I went up into the attic last night after the rats. I found, I found … underwear and all sorts. Leather.’ Karen took the card, snorted, then she gave it back.

  ‘So John Martin had to pay for it? Front page news. He wouldn’t be the only miserable bastard round here.’

  ‘They were married,’ said Fran and Karen shrugged as if to say, same difference. Was that what marriage was? An exchange of goods and services. If only she knew what Nathan had wanted out of theirs: too late now.

  ‘Everyone knew Jilly-Ann Martin – had history,’ said Karen. ‘It’ll have been how he met her. John Martin’s not much of a catch.’

  ‘Why did she leave the stuff behind?’ said Fran, stubbornly. ‘And her dog. The pig farmer, Dearborn said he got her a dog, she loved the dog, Martin had it put down after she went.’

  Karen sighed. ‘Christ knows. Maybe she just wanted out, quick. Maybe she had a better offer.’ She raised her head, questing. ‘Harry? Harry?’ A fierce bark. ‘Wait, please.’

  ‘You don’t think he would have … done something to his wife then?’ Fran said as the two small figures materialised at a fence ahead, and Karen shrugged.

  ‘I’m saying, people move on. People like her. People like me, if you like. We don’t all have somewhere safe to go back to.’

  ‘That’s me, too, come to that,’ said Fran, thinking of her mum, pottering around each new bedsit, hanging stuff up, putting pans away. ‘That house is all we’ve got. Me and Emme and Ben.’

  Karen wasn’t listening though, she was far away.

  ‘Have you heard of Black Barn?’ Fran said, quiet.

  Karen’s head turned, quick. ‘That place?’ she said, and she was pale, suddenly. ‘You couldn’t be a kid around here back then and not hear about it.’ She sat forward. ‘That was the place? Your Nathan, he was one of them?’

  ‘One of who?’ said Fran, but Karen just shook her head.

  ‘Mum told us, don’t go near ’em. Said she’d have the hide off us if she caught us there. Never mind me dad, Christ knows what he’d have done.’ Along the fence a big shaggy horse, like a mythical beast out of the fog, had laid its nose on the wire. Holding back, they let the children go along towards it.

  ‘And the police knew … what was going on there?’

  Karen turned her head sideways and rested it there, looking at Fran. ‘A while after … after they’d closed Black Barn down, some old mate of my dad’s from the force, not a bad guy, wanted to make an honest woman of Mum but she would have none of it. Anyway, he got pissed and said, someone high up in a neighbouring force had been moved sideways pretty quick after Black Barn, moved right under the radar. For being involved. For being a regular visitor.’

  ‘Are you talking about a senior policeman? What went on there, exactly?’ Feeling her throat close.

  ‘What kids get up to, I suppose,’ said Karen, and her eyes slid away. ‘Drinking, eating takeaway. Shagging whoever turned up.’ She shook her head, staring through the windscreen. ‘We imagined all sorts, didn’t we?’ Her voice sounded far off. ‘Drugs.’

  ‘Another one of them turned up last night, it’s why Gerard came round. Nathan’s friend Bez, the one I’ve never met. I was up in the attic after you left and when I came down he was at my kitchen door.’

  ‘Oh yeah, pissed, was he?’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘Everyone knows him. Everyone’s tripped over him sleeping it off in a ditch at least once.’ Karen looked around, as if he might be somewhere out there in the freezing fog, in the long grass crunching underfoot. ‘One day he won’t be sleeping it off but…’ she shrugged, ‘there’ll be no one left who cares. That’s drunks for you.’

  ‘The police don’t seem that interested.’

  ‘Well, they’re lazy sods, aren’t they?’ He’s not going to run very far, is he?’ She set her mouth. ‘Do you think he did it? My money’d be on this ex of yours over Martin Beston any day.’

  And then like a sign from her pocket her phone pinged: a message. But it wasn’t from Nick. Karen turned sharply. ‘Who’s that?’ she said, and Fran frowned down at the message.

  ‘My sister-in-law,’ and Karen’s eyes widened. ‘Nathan’s sister, Miranda,’ said Fran. ‘DS Gerard says she’s on her way from the airport.’

  ‘Better get home then,’ said Karen, and she was lifting a padded arm to the children and Harry already head down to her summons, even before she shouted, ‘Oi!’ The horse shied a little at the sound, steam coming out of its nostrils. ‘Don’t want to slow you down.’

  They marched the children ahead of them, Karen surprisingly quick on her feet for a big woman. It occurred to her that Karen was already suspicious of Miranda.

  There was no one there when they got back to the house but Karen stopped abruptly.

  ‘What is it?’ Fran said, Ben sweaty against her front with the speed of their pace and somehow jolted into sleep. Karen was standing there at the back of the car, a funny look on her face, and Fran came round her to see. Big words had been written in the fine crusted dusting of snow on the rear window. Where she’d seen YOU in the supermarket car park, now it was all there: BABY IT’S YOU.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  All she could think was, at least I’ve got a witness. I could tell Karen everything, all of it. She’d understand.

  The snow had been falling through the mist in the yard, big soft flakes invisible against the white of the sky, they fell almost like the first leaves of autumn, one coming loose here and there and drifting aimless, harmless to the ground.

  Karen followed her, through the kitchen where she set Ben down in his car seat, up the stairs, hardly breathing. She was barely aware of where Harry and Emme had got to, but she heard the television come on in the sitting room. Light-headed suddenly, she turned around only when she got to the bedroom, suddenly aware of the silence but Karen had followed her after all, there she was, standing in the bedroom door.

  ‘Here,’ Fran said, struggling with the drawer to show Karen the card where the words came from, and then abruptly it opened.

  Karen folded her arms, a guarded expression on her face.

  ‘It was there,’ Fran told her. ‘It was there.’ And for a second, as the only explanation that came to her was that he’d been back for it, he’d been inside the house while she was out, God knew how, she felt the room turn black at the edges and she had to sit. As she focused on breathing she sensed Karen there, standing on the periphery of her vision, but for a second she couldn’t be sure who the figure was. And then she saw a scattering of fine white powder and she remembered: Carswell and Gerard had been in here, dusting for prints. They had taken it.

  Then she did look up, to tell her, and Karen said of course it was before turning into the corridor at the sound of a car pulling up outside. The slam of a door and two voices, one of them a woman’s.

  From the spare room window they saw her, paying a taxi driver, his head bobbing in receipt of a tip. A small, stocky woman, dark-haired with a black nylon suitcase on the grass beside her. The taxi driver said something, pointed up at the sky, then he was back in his cab and pulling away, and Miranda Hall, turning, looked up at the house.

  Karen had already gone, and Fran could hear her heading downstairs. Alone at the window she waved to Miranda and pointed round the side of the house and saw her nod. Fran went after Karen.

  ‘The police’ll tell you,’ she said, breathless, at the foot of the stairs, the dark hall behind her, the big panelled and beaded front door that hadn’t opened all the time they’d lived here, trapping them in the dingy back quarters. ‘The card was there. That’s what it said. “Baby It’s You”.’

  ‘Harry,’ Karen called sharply from where she stood, her hand already on the back door. Ben was on the floor between them sitting wide-eyed in his car seat, alert to the presences in the room.

  ‘Something’s messing with your head,’ said Karen, stiff. ‘Something or someone.’ Her hand was on the do
orknob. ‘Harry!’

  ‘I should have known it wasn’t Nathan,’ Fran said. Somehow Karen had to understand, she wasn’t nuts. Karen was important. ‘Five years and he never once got me a Valentine. Not that I cared,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘not that that sort of thing—’

  ‘Yeah right,’ Karen said, tough. ‘Just don’t let anyone mess with you. Not Doug Gerard, not whoever’s writing shit on your car. Tell the police, get it down, get it all out there. Words is all it is. A ninety-nine pence card, in a drawer.’ And then there was the sound of feet on the gravel and the door opened, and Nathan’s sister was there.

  ‘You must be Fran,’ Miranda said, unerring, hauling her suitcase over the threshold and holding a hand out to her. She didn’t look like Nathan, she was more solid, she gave out something steadier than the jumpy restless energy he’d had even when he was sitting down. She had the same fringe as in the old family photograph and Fran saw the picture in her head: Miranda on one end of the see-saw, chubby and fierce, wiry Nathan on the other, a malicious gleam in his eye as if about to jump off.

  Behind them inside the house Emme and Harry had appeared in the dim corridor. Emme stared; Harry threaded his way between them to his mother, his little bullet head unerring. Miranda fixed on Emme. ‘Emme,’ she said. ‘Is that right?’ Emme nodded slowly, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

  ‘I’m out of here,’ said Karen, ushering Harry ahead of her out of the door.

  ‘This is Karen,’ said Fran, quickly. ‘She’s been, she’s been … I don’t know what I could have done without her.’ Miranda looked at Karen, cool, nodded.

  ‘Gimme a call,’ Karen told her, and she was gone, and Miranda was turning in the kitchen, scrutinising. She wore a suit, expensive, but crumpled with travel: she brought a different world into the room.

  ‘Christ,’ she said, stopping to look back out of the door and beyond the shed to the thin trees on the horizon, the low grey sky. ‘It’s good to be reminded why you left a place. The taxi driver said I’d been lucky to get here before the snow.’ And as she peered out, a big stray flake drifted down in the grey yard. ‘I’m not so sure.’ And closing the door, although until then she’d shown no sign of registering his presence, unhesitatingly Miranda turned and knelt beside Ben, her small hands moving to unfasten him. ‘And this must be Ben.’ He gazed at her, wondering. Emme edged into the light, gazing.

  ‘So Nathan did tell you things,’ Fran said, letting her lift him. Miranda frowned, working out how to hold him as he writhed. ‘The minimum. Threw me a bone now and again. He knew I’d cause trouble if he didn’t,’ and she sat, parking Ben on her knee.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Fran, remembering the phone message, after their wedding. ‘I wish I’d known.’

  Miranda was examining her, curious, over Ben’s head. ‘To be honest,’ she said, ‘until I knew there were kids involved, I’d have stayed away from Nathan for the duration.’ She compressed her lips. ‘The policeman said they’d be along,’ she said. ‘Gerard, that his name?’

  ‘Yes.’ Next time Gerard walked into her kitchen, she’d have reinforcements. It was a good thought.

  ‘They want to talk to me,’ said Miranda, thoughtful, and Ben’s head turned to look at her, hers to look at him and then she did look like Nathan, after all, that sharp clever look.

  ‘You know Nathan better than anyone, I suppose. Knew him.’

  Miranda made a dismissive sound. ‘No one knows Nathan,’ she said. ‘And that’s just how he likes it. Liked it.’ Gently Fran took Ben from her, and Miranda put two hands to her head. ‘Shit,’ she said, in wonder. ‘He’s really dead, isn’t he? It’s really happened.’

  The sound came from outside, and she knew it was them. Fran was getting to know the sound of the police car on her gravel. The first thing they’d see as they pulled up was, BABY IT’S YOU.

  ‘Where’s Ali?’ she said, straight away, because it was just the two of them. At the sight of them Emme had disappeared back into the sitting room, quick and quiet as a cat. Gerard held Fran’s eye, frank, open. ‘Did you want her?’ he said, earnest, fishing out a mobile. ‘I’ll give her a call if you like, was there something—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Fran, stiffly. ‘I wanted to know about Rob. What have you … have you found his … have you found anything yet?’

  An exchange of glances. Gerard examined his hands a minute then looked up. ‘The divers started first thing this morning. We think we have, yes.’ Hesitant, his eyes clear and honest. ‘Something’s trapped, it’s taking a while to free it, but when we do…’ He paused. ‘Unfortunately there’s no next of kin that we’ve been able to trace.’ Again he looked down at his hands. ‘Might you … I mean, if it comes to it…’

  She shook her head in horror, thinking of his raw hands, his pale waterlogged flesh, poor Rob, poor Rob, thinking, Why are they asking me this? ‘No,’ she managed. ‘I don’t think … couldn’t you ask someone at the hospital? A colleague?’

  ‘Yes, of course, I do understand. And I can see … yes, I’ll talk to Ali, I can see that she … that you might need her support.’ Fran felt Miranda move restlessly, impatient in her seat. ‘She’s got a bit of a family crisis herself at the moment,’ said Gerard, adopting a sympathetic face.

  ‘Someone wrote something on my car,’ she began, then Miranda was between them.

  ‘Where would you like to talk to me?’ she said, briskly. Unafraid.

  Gerard pulled out a chair. ‘May I?’ he said, and he was looking at Miranda not Fran. He sat. ‘We could just go over a few things here, if you like. As a preliminary.’ A sharp nod to Carswell, who planted himself awkwardly across the table and got out his notebook. They both glanced at Fran, then away.

  ‘I’ll be next door,’ she said, shifting Ben to her hip, ‘Leave you to it.’ Gerard barely turned his head back to acknowledge she’d spoken, so she said, ‘You know where the kettle is, don’t you?’

  Emme was cross-legged in front of the television. Fran turned the sound down so she could hear and Emme just shifted closer to the screen. Fran sat with her back to the door and listened.

  Their voices rose and fell, interrupted by chairs shifting, the kettle going on. They were talking about Black Barn.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ‘You heard it all, right?’ said Miranda, when they’d gone.

  They were in the sitting room and Emme was in the corner bent over a puzzle, apparently absorbed. Fran could see her sister-in-law eyeing the low ceilings, the big draughty grate. When she said nothing Miranda went on, conversationally, ‘It’s all right, I’d be the same. They struck me as a bit thick, those two. The police. Do you think it’s a strategy?’

  ‘Gerard’s maybe,’ said Fran, nervous, as if of a trap, but couldn’t stop herself. ‘Carswell’s thick for real.’

  Miranda sat down on the sofa and peered forward. The Helmut Newton book was there again, open on the coffee table. A naked woman with big breasts, Amazonian in high heels. Had they left it there? Fran couldn’t remember: she didn’t even know how they’d come to own it and now she couldn’t slam it shut and put it back on the shelf without looking guilty.

  But then Miranda closed it, swift and casual. Ben started at the clap of the heavy pages, and stared at Miranda in admiration. ‘Never liked Helmut Newton,’ she said. ‘Old perv.’ Fran laughed in surprise, a sharp sound, and Miranda turned to her. ‘Why did you marry Nathan? Actually, that’s what they asked, too. What I thought of you. I said I didn’t know you at all.’

  She wasn’t going to tell Miranda why she’d married Nathan: the thought made her weary. She’d married him for the same reasons anyone ever got married, fuck it. It wasn’t a crime. It had been a mistake. You had to assume you could make a life together. You had to believe you wanted the same things. Nathan had given her good reason, holding her hand at scans, stroking her hair in bed, talking about the countryside and how they were going to make a new life for their children. All lies.

  ‘They asked you about
Black Barn,’ said Fran.

  ‘He looks like Nathan,’ said Miranda, frowning at Ben.

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘We were nothing like each other,’ Miranda sighed, rubbed her eyes. ‘He was such a beautiful kid, it was my favourite thing to do, look at pictures of my big brother as a baby. I worshipped him.’

  ‘There was something about him,’ said Fran, blinking.

  ‘Oh yes, he could make you feel like you were the only person in the world. Make you believe anything. Charm, I suppose you’d call it, but it felt like being hypnotised. My dad’s a cold bastard but at least you can see it, you can stay away. Nathan had the charm laid over the top. He used it to make people do what he wanted, whatever the hell that was, power, or something, and he just walked out of their lives when they weren’t useful any more.’

  ‘Like Bez?’

  ‘Like all of us,’ said Miranda, and her mouth turned down.

  From behind the door Fran had heard her talk about Black Barn. She had opened the door a crack to hear more.

  ‘I was the kid sister,’ Miranda had said to Gerard in the kitchen. ‘Six years between us, I was twelve, playing with dolls still. I tagged along once, he was furious. I didn’t know anything about what went on there.’

  ‘Your parents didn’t discuss it? What he was getting up to at Black Barn?’ That was Gerard, she heard urgency in his voice.

  Miranda had scoffed. ‘They were the sort to keep any discussion behind closed doors.’ There had been a pause so long Fran had wondered if Carswell had got up and closed the door. ‘Our parents should never have had kids,’ Miranda had said eventually, without inflection. ‘They were cold people. I think all they were worried about was Nathan bringing shame on us. They were happier when he disappeared completely, after.’

  ‘Do you know where he went? After Black Barn?’ Gerard spoke softly but the urgency was still there.

  ‘I knew he went to London for an interview. That was all. It was Rob told me, his friend Rob.’ A murmur. Gerard to Carswell, the scrape of a chair.