Julia spotted a slight tremor in his hand and had a fleeting pang of pity for him. She had the feeling he was doing his damnedest to impress her, as though one false move might be his undoing. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she said. ‘I always char the outside and leave the middle bits red raw, or frazzle it completely. I never really got round to cooking.’
’So, I noticed,’ Ben said. ‘Shame, in my view. For me it’s one of life’s joys.’
She gave him a sheepish look. ‘First it was Jessie who spoilt me, like no real mother ever would. Then Simon’s mother, Natalie the perfect. She never allowed anyone in her kitchen. Now it’s Wendy. I simply never learned to cook. And most days I’m just too tired to bother.’
They laughed together quietly, not wanting to waken Nicky whose bedroom window was just above the barbecue patio. Half an hour ago Julia had gone upstairs, leaving Ben to clear away the dishes while she put Nicky to bed with a chapter from The Wind in the Willows. And then there’d been Paul’s strangely disturbing call, which was still preying on her mind.
‘Coffee?’ she suggested, when they’d finished their drinks.
Ben nodded. ‘But aren’t you going to eat your chocolates?’ He pointed to the large black and gold box lying unopened on the table.
Julia hugged her arms. All evening she had kept her eyes averted from the chocolates.
Eat these, my dear. Hide them and don’t say a word to anyone . . .
The smell of chocolates was enough to make her ill but it had been impossible to refuse his gift. ‘I’ll save them for tomorrow,’ she said, looking up at the sky where the clouds were rushing away from the moon.
Julia prepared the tray while Ben took the glasses to the kitchen.
Back again on the patio he poked at the fire, then poured the coffee. He handed Julia a mug. ‘I couldn’t mention this in front of Nicky, but what did you really think of Smith’s escape? You didn’t seem angry or frightened, or even surprised when I told you.’
She moved her chair closer to the fire. All evening she had managed to conceal her concern in a smokescreen of idle chat but it was still uppermost in her mind. With her best legal deadpan face she looked straight into Ben’s eyes.
‘I suppose it doesn’t surprise me. The more serious the criminal the more likely he is to plan his escape.’
‘A clever bastard.’
‘In some ways, yes. Like being charming and accommodating throughout his period of custody. Not much bad language either. Not like most of them, effing and blinding every second word. But then again, returning to the scene wasn’t very clever, was it? There was nothing to tie him to Joanne Perkins except her resemblance to his foster mother Ada, and no one knew about that until by chance I saw a photograph of Ada long after his arrest. Joanne was a random victim he just happened to see in that pub. If he’d stayed away they’d still be looking for him.’
In the sudden silence she saw another scene:
blood, a broken lamp . . .
She closed her eyes tightly. A broken lamp? The details trickle through to me. Fragments. Fleeting glimpses. Leaking into my consciousness. But as usual they ebb away before I can grasp them, before a clear picture can emerge.
She stirred her coffee. Keep your mind on Smith as a psychopath, she told herself. Don’t think of him as a person to feel for, or who feels for you. God help me if . . . no, there’s that gut-wrenching thought again.
‘And don’t forget poor Jennifer Dunn.’ She heard the agitation in her voice but couldn’t stop it. ‘Jennifer looked like the foster mother too. She might have been the first victim if something hadn’t stopped him at the crucial moment.’
‘What, you think he’s a serial killer now, do you? He’s not a serial killer, for God’s sake. Serial killers are loners. Smith’s no loner. He’d never have pulled off that escape on his own. What makes you think he’s a serial killer?’
‘You’ve been watching too many movies,’ she said. ‘Serial killers come in all shapes and sizes - loners, party types, shy ones, extroverts. We still don’t know much about serial killers. Perhaps Smith’s problem isn’t really about sex, but revenge. And he’ll keep going until he’s settled the account. I think he is a loner, as a matter of fact. Except when he needs to manipulate people.’
‘Julia . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Why are you stirring your coffee like that? What’s eating you? You never used to have these nervous habits.’
She leapt up and marched over to the fire. Duke followed and pushed his nose against her leg. She stroked his velvet head, and then when she’d finished composing her face she swung round and faced Ben.
‘You asked me what I thought about Smith escaping. Well, it bloody annoys me. And it scares me to think what he’ll do next. But don’t worry about me. Of course I’m angry he’s escaped, but as far as I’m concerned the case is closed. And I just don’t happen to think there is any serious likelihood that Smith is going to cause me any problems. You know damn well I don’t fall into his category of victim.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Ben said. ‘He threatened you. Jesus, you’re in danger and it’s no use pretending you’re not.’
Julia shook her head. He moved closer. ‘You told me you didn’t want police protection, but don’t worry. I could move in here for a while.’ He smiled. ‘To Hillside House. My suitcase ─ I mean ─ my things are in the car.’
- 16 -
Paul gulped the remainder of his coffee.
Just then there was a faint knock on his door, as though the intruder was afraid of disturbing him. ‘Come,’ he said. He would never get home at this rate, especially with half of Friday’s paper work still in his in-basket, but his voice did not reflect any of his irritation.
Sergeant Avril Scott peeped around the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Sir.’
He hadn’t seen her often lately, but since moving to the firearms unit she was turning up everywhere. He had bumped into her just after the briefing on tonight’s plan of action and had asked her to pop in when she had a spare moment as he’d just received the report on her promotional appraisal.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said and pulled out a chair for her, remembering the days when he’d been a young aide to the CID and she had been a keen young policewoman. Even then she had shown promise. And if he hadn’t been transferred from the division things might have turned out differently between them.
She sat down on the edge of the seat. Paul thought how calm she appeared. Most people would be exhibiting some kind of apprehension as they waited for their assessment, but Avril as always displayed her restraint.
‘How’ve you been?’ he asked, taking her file from the basket.
‘Just great, Sir.’
He was pleased that she was making progress. He had known her husband, Bob, an outstanding officer in the firearms team. He’d been shot dead when entering a house in Salford, and Avril’s determination to emulate her husband’s achievements had been intensified by his killing.
A few years after Bob’s death he had taken her out a few times, but then he’d met Julia and things had fizzled out between him and Avril. Nevertheless, she was one of the people he most admired in the police force, with a great spirit of dedication and total commitment to her job.
He looked at her now. She was in superb physical condition. When she was out on a job she never drew attention to herself by looking out of place. She could look like a million dollars in one of Manchester’s top hotels, but if the assignment was in Cheetham Hill or Moss Side, the transformation was astonishing. And then she always wore black.
Paul dropped his gaze and leafed through the file.
‘The appraisal went well, Avril. You’ve been pretty successful on all these interviews.’ He’d been tempted to tell her the good news about her forthcoming promotion, but now decided against it. It would be better done through the proper channels and at the proper time. ‘All in all a very good assessment indeed,’ he said instead.
‘Thank you, Sir.’
Still smiling, she stood up to leave.
‘No, please sit down, will you. I’ve just had a thought.’
He picked up his pen, wrote down a number and the name of a street, tore off the piece of paper and pushed it towards her.
She frowned. ‘Joe Sagoe’s house. Moss Side. It’s where I’ve been assigned for the dawn raid.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve a hunch Smith might try to hole up there tonight.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she said. ‘But hardly likely in the circumstances. Joe Sagoe’s a possible suspect in the Smith escape. Smith wouldn’t dare go near the place. He’d know it was being staked out.’
‘Smith thinks he’s invincible,’ he said. ‘He takes great delight in goading us. We must be prepared for the unexpected.’
‘Is that all, Sir?’
He nodded. With her voice so gentle, her eyes so kind, it was difficult to believe she had consistently displayed the outstanding physical and mental qualities to have merited her forthcoming new rank of inspector in the firearms unit. He had great faith in her.
‘You’d better go home now and get a couple of hours rest before the raid,’ he said.
He walked with her to the door.
‘Avril, let me know as soon as he’s arrested, will you?’
She hesitated. ‘But what if you’re not on duty?’
‘When something urgent comes up I’m always on duty. Call me immediately, please.’
- 17 -
Julia gaped at Ben. She felt her cheeks hollow as her mouth dropped open. Quickly she turned away. So that was it. The unexpected barbecue was Ben’s way of setting up an easy forum for his latest ploy: protection. Initially he had underplayed the news of Smith’s escape, but Ben Lloyd never missed a trick. He was always looking for surreptitious ways of courting her and this was his boldest so far. Identify her as the damsel in distress, he as knight in shining armour and her heart would at last be won. Bless him - a plan so simple in its concept and so unlikely to succeed. She wondered when the penny would drop with Ben. They may have the chemistry to work together but it was never going to lead to love and romance.
‘What if I were to tell you there are already police patrols going back and forth outside, watching everything that moves in and out of here.’
‘Are there?’ Ben asked. He appeared to be startled by Julia’s remark - half question, half announcement.
‘That would be for me to know and you to guess,’ she said. Knowledge is power. ‘The truth is, Ben, I feel perfectly safe.’
Julia saw the crestfallen look on his face as though he thought his chance was slipping away.
‘You mustn’t think I’m trying to use this as ─ ’ he began.
‘Oh, come on, Ben, but I do. You’re a very sweet man, my friend and my business partner, and I know your feelings for me too. I know they are very genuine, but really ─ ’
‘Julia!’ He looked at her as though she was mad. ‘How many times must I remind you your life is in danger?’
‘Oh, don’t exaggerate. He thought I’d let him down. They all think that when they go down for life.’ She flopped into her chair, hoping he would accept her refusal as final, but read it also as indicative of how far he was from ever winning her affections.
Her words were met with a stony silence. It was for Ben to clear, not her, Julia thought. At last he spoke. ‘Don’t underestimate him. He managed to organise a brilliant escape and after what was said he’s obviously marked your card.’
Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Ben, please. We’ve had a lovely evening. Your cooking was wonderful and you’ve been helping me, at least until now, to get over it all. So can we just, you know, let it drop? All he’s going to do now is get the hell out of town, out of the country if he knows what’s good for him. So, no more, okay?’
He stared at her for a few moments, then clasped his hands together. ‘Shall I tell you why you’re so uptight at the moment?’ he said.
She looked at him sharply. ‘Thanks for changing the subject, but me, uptight?’
‘Definitely,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and it’s all to do with the fact that you’ve never resolved your true identity. I remember Simon telling me about it, not long before he died. He said one of the things he loved about you, but which also infuriated him, was that sometimes you were like a lost little girl. He said he thought you fell short of your true capacity to give yourself in love because of it.’
Julia could almost feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Well really! She had heard Simon say the same thing ─ Ben wasn’t making this up ─ but why now? She felt as though he was reading her mind. There’s no point in fighting it, she thought. Time to confess and deny. ‘And I’m sure Simon also told you I still miss my twin brother. And that I’ve never been able to summon up the courage to ask my adoptive parents what they know about why he died, and who my real parents were.’
Ben stood up, moved over to her and sat down on the arm of her chair. ‘Why don’t you, though? Get it all out in the open. Who knows, they might still be out there. You could have a whole family, brothers, sisters, cousins.’ He put his hand gently over hers. She pulled her hand away. Ben wasn’t letting go so easily ─ this was just another tack.
‘There’s just no way I’d ever have wanted to upset David and Jessie. I never called them Mum and Dad, those were not words in my vocabulary. But they did love me, you know. In their own guarded way.’
‘I’m sure they still do.’ He was edging towards her. ‘But it’s a mistake to always put other people’s needs before your own. What about you, Julia? What do you want?’
Right now she wanted to forget what all her life she had longed to remember. She also admitted to herself she wanted a father for her child, but one she wasn’t afraid to love, if that was ever possible. I want . . . oh, if only she really knew what she wanted. So far in her life she had coped with the void, the emotional deficit, and felt she had not been as crippled as some might have been. Like Smith. And now Smith had changed everything.
A breeze fanned the fire, sending a flurry of sparks into the cool night air, rustling the trees and the shrubs and sending her thoughts flying back to Simon.
Ben kept his eyes on her face, waiting for her reply. She could feel a clammy sheen breaking through her pores and wiped her hand across her cheeks. She saw his rapt expression and edged to the other side of her chair. She decided to ignore his question. ‘It would break their hearts if I tried to find my real family. David and Jessie have been wonderful to me. Even though they never made a fuss of me. Never hugged or kissed me.’
‘You’re rather like that yourself. Aren’t you, Julia?’
Back off, Ben. Stop pushing. ‘Am I?’ she responded coldly. She raked her fingers through her hair, thinking it had been a long time since she’d been to see David and Jessie in their retirement home in Southport. ‘Poor David and Jessie. I wouldn’t know where to start. I would cringe just to ask them what my real name was.’
‘I would be too inquisitive not to,’ Ben said.
She twiddled Simon’s ring. She saw Ben watching her and stopped. ‘I am inquisitive. But something tells me I should leave things as they are.’
‘You must miss your brother,’ he said.
Little do you know, Ben. Oh how little. She pressed her palms into the sides of her head and clamped her eyelids closed against a sudden intrusion, so contrary to her thoughts that it almost took her breath away . . .
Hairy tobacco-stained fingers . . . pinning me to the bed. The treacly voice . . . then flashes . . . more flashes . . . and his voice ─ Run Julia run . . . I’ll look after you now . . .
‘It’s hard to think he’d be thirty-six now,’ she managed to say, bewildered as always by the bizarre mixture of memories that zigzagged through her brain like a tangle of crossed wires. All triggered by Smith’s sudden appearance in her life, all linking the present to her hazy past in a crazy chain of half-remembered thoughts.
‘I’m so sorry, Julia, I’ve upset you and I had no business . . .’ Ben rested his hand back on hers. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was just curious. Forgive me.’
Slowly she withdrew her hand again. ‘Come off it,’ she said, as light-heartedly as she could. ‘I’m glad you did. I never get a chance to talk about it.’ How long can I keep this up, she asked herself. ‘More coffee?’ she said, getting up and taking her own mug to refill it from the percolator. He shook his head.
As she poured the coffee she became aware of Ben standing directly behind her. He was so close she could feel his body heat radiating against her. His warm breath brushed against her neck and for a fraction of a second she couldn’t move. Then she slammed the percolator down firmly on the coffee tray. She stepped sideways to her left, turned to avoid the kiss and blurted out, ‘Ben, Jesus, please, what the hell are you doing.’
Ben almost fell over. He launched himself towards her now, hands reaching for her hips, only to be defeated as she darted sideways again.
He steadied himself, looking like a small boy caught with a pocketful of cream cakes. ‘Oh God, Julia, I’m so sorry. I’m really not good at this, am I? My feelings for you are completely honourable and I’ve made myself look like a fool. You must have realised . . . I mean, after Simon died I’ve seen your pain, and then I’ve been through my own. We could be so good for each other, and there’s me behaving like a lecherous bastard. I think, I think I ought to go.’
Ben looked lost and pitiful, his eyes downcast as he turned and headed to the kitchen to retrieve his barbecue apron and jacket. ‘I don’t want to make you feel guilty or anything, if there’s no hope for me. But . . .’
Julia followed him to the kitchen door and laid her hand gently on his right shoulder. He stopped dead but did not turn towards her.
‘Ben, please don’t beat yourself up about it, I understand, really. But I hope you realise that we just aren’t going to work as anything but business colleagues ─ good, close friends too ─ but nothing else.’
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