At least it couldn’t be Dunston this time.
When the bell went again, she sneaked downstairs and into the dining room, where she was able to peek out the window. A figure stood in the doorway. It was too dark to make out anything except the silhouette.
The bell rang again and Ellen opened the door quickly, before the noise woke one of the children up. Her irritation turned to fear when she saw Abby Roberts standing on her doorstep.
‘Jodie?’ Ellen asked.
‘Oh gosh,’ Abby said. ‘No. I’m sorry. I just, well, I wanted to make sure you’re okay.’
‘Okay?’ Ellen asked. ‘Course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Listen, Abby, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m shattered. I was just on my way to bed, actually.’
‘Sorry,’ Abby said again. ‘I should go. It’s just, I can’t stop thinking about what happened. Yesterday, I mean.’
‘And that’s it?’
Abby nodded. ‘Some guy punched you in the face and kicked you in the stomach. It was nasty. I know because I was there. And I feel awful that I didn’t stop that horrible man before he hurt you. I can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop seeing it, over and over in my head. The big man coming for you. I tried to stop him, Ellen. I really did. But he just shoved me off him like I was, like I was a little fly or something. I’m so sorry.’
Ellen didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t occurred to her for a second that Abby would hold herself responsible for what had happened. Why should she?
‘Abby.’
The FLO looked on the verge of tears. Crying was the last thing Ellen could cope with right now.
‘Oh bugger it,’ Ellen said. ‘Come in. You look as if you could do with a drink.’
Ellen refilled her wine glass and held the bottle towards Abby, who shook her head.
‘I won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning if I have any more,’ she said. ‘I’ve no head for wine. I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Do what?’ Ellen asked.
‘Knock back the wine like that,’ Abby said. ‘I’d be on the floor if I drank that much.’
There was nothing accusatory in Abby’s voice, but Ellen felt defensive nonetheless. What business was it of Abby’s how much she drank, anyway?
‘I’m not much of a drinker,’ she said. ‘Actually, rephrase that. I wasn’t much of a drinker. Since Vinny died though, I do seem to drink more. Loneliness, I suppose.’
And depression, she thought, but didn’t say. The wine just made things more bearable. Things like finding out someone you’d worked with for the last fifteen years had a terminal illness and wasn’t going to be around for much longer.
She drank more wine without tasting it, keen for it to do its job and take the edge off the dark mood she couldn’t seem to shake.
‘Are you okay?’ Abby asked.
Ellen nodded. Then shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’m crap company, I know.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Abby asked.
Ellen wondered if Abby knew. She’d assumed the tension between the FLO and Baxter was to do with their affair, but what if Abby had somehow found out about Baxter’s illness and had confronted him about it?
‘I know so little about you,’ Ellen said. ‘Do you have family? A boyfriend? Brothers and sisters? Tell me something about yourself.’
Her eyes flickered to Abby’s ring finger. No ring.
‘I had a brother,’ Abby said. ‘But he died a few years ago. Now it’s just me. Both my parents have been dead for years. Andy, that’s my brother, he looked after me when Mum died. I was only sixteen. If it wasn’t for Andy, I doubt I’d have coped, to be honest. I adored him.’
She looked so vulnerable when she said that. Hunched up on the sofa, hands wrapped around her empty wine glass, Abby seemed closer to Ellen’s children’s age than her own.
‘How terrible,’ Ellen said.
Abby shrugged. ‘It wasn’t easy. Still isn’t. He’ll be dead four years this summer. God, even saying that. It seems so impossible that he’s gone. I went through a period of trying to understand why it happened. Trying to find some meaning in it. You see, I couldn’t accept that it was possible for him to be there one minute – so full of life and love, so vital – and then he’s just gone. I thought, I think I thought there had to be some reason for it. But there’s not, is there?’
‘Shit happens,’ Ellen said. ‘All the time, bad things happen to good people. It’s the hardest lesson to learn, I think. And I hate the fact my own kids have had to learn it at such a young age. It doesn’t seem fair.’
She stopped speaking, aware that she was babbling. The wine’s fault. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be sharing all sorts of intimacies with Abby Roberts that she would inevitably regret.
‘Andy was in a car accident,’ Abby said. ‘Like your husband.’
Vinny’s death was no accident, Ellen wanted to tell her. Billy Dunston killed him on purpose.
‘What happened?’ she said instead.
‘He was driving home after a night out. Car coming in the other direction. Driver was drunk and lost control. Crashed head-on into Andy’s car. He was dead by the time the ambulance arrived. Oh listen to me, would you? I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to talk about myself. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. That’s all. I really should be going.’
She stood up, her face flushed, although whether from embarrassment or wine, Ellen couldn’t tell.
‘Don’t go yet,’ Ellen said. ‘There’s something I need to ask you. Sit down.’ Then, when Abby hesitated. ‘Please?’
‘It’s about Ed,’ Abby said. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘I’ve heard he’s had it in for you these past few months,’ Ellen said. ‘I wanted to check if you’re okay or if you need to talk about it.’
‘Really?’ Abby asked. ‘Or is this your opportunity to gloat? You made it clear at the time how you felt about what happened. Why would you care now whether I’m okay or not?’
Fair point.
‘CID is tough for everyone,’ Ellen said. ‘Possibly even more so for women. There aren’t many of us. Not enough, in fact. The least we can do is stick together and try to help each other out. I don’t approve of what you did. You’re right about that. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and watch you be treated badly, either. We’re in the same team, Abby. And, as a more senior officer, I’m responsible for looking out for you.’
‘It’s not easy,’ Abby said. ‘But not for the reasons you think.’
‘You don’t know what I think,’ Ellen said.
‘No, but I can guess. Okay. Look. Me and the boss. It was a one-off. Well, maybe more than once, but it was never serious. A fling. I knew it. He knew it. And when it ended, we were both fine with it.’
‘So what changed?’ Ellen asked.
‘He did,’ Abby said. ‘He came up to me at work one day. A few months ago. Asked if I was free to meet for a drink. I could see something was wrong so I agreed, even though I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted. I assumed his wife had found out about us and that’s why he needed to speak to me. Except it wasn’t that.’
‘He told you about the cancer,’ Ellen guessed.
Abby’s eyes widened. ‘You know about it?’
‘Yes, but don’t ask me how I found out,’ Ellen said. ‘Christ, Abby. If you’ve known all this time, why the hell haven’t you done anything about it?’
‘Don’t you think I’ve tried?’ Abby replied. ‘We’ve had a massive argument over it. I’ve told him he has to tell someone, but he’s refusing point-blank. I thought he’d come around and maybe he would have. If it wasn’t for this case. I can’t get through to him, Ellen. He’s so bloody determined to find Jodie first and he swears that once he’s done that, he’ll step down.’
‘You’re sure there’s nothing else?’ Ellen asked.
‘Like what?’
‘Like, you’re definitely okay,’ Ellen said. Then, with the help of the wine, she decided just to come out and say
it. ‘I’ve been worried maybe you were pregnant and that’s what the fall-out with Baxter was all about.’
Abby burst out laughing. ‘Oh my Lord. Did you really? Oh no. I don’t look pregnant, do I? You’re not trying to tell me I’ve got fat. I’ve been so good recently. I thought I was losing weight, not putting it on.’
‘You look fine,’ Ellen said. ‘It was just a mad idea. Would have explained, I suppose, why Baxter was being so horrible to you. Mind you, he’s being horrible to me too and I’m certainly not up the duff, either.’
Later, Ellen called a cab for Abby and walked her to the front door when it arrived. As they said goodbye, Ellen asked about the driver who had killed Abby’s brother.
‘He served six months,’ Abby said. ‘And when he got out, the first thing he did was get in touch with me. Said he couldn’t live with what he’d done. Begged my forgiveness.’
‘What did you do?’ Ellen asked.
‘I forgave him,’ Abby said. ‘When it came down to it, I didn’t see that I had a choice. I could see he was devastated by what had happened. In his own way, he was hurting as much as I was. Meeting him, hearing how sorry he was. It helped. Really.’
Briefly, Ellen’s nostrils filled with the smell of charred flesh. She remembered the way Dunston’s blood had felt on her skin, warm and sickening.
‘I’m not sure I could do that,’ she said. ‘Forgive, I mean.’
‘I found it easier,’ Abby said. ‘The alternative, to let it eat away at me until it destroyed me, I couldn’t do that. Life’s too precious to waste it obsessing over things that have already happened. At some point, we all need to close the door on the past and focus on appreciating what we’ve got now. That’s my take on it, anyway.’
‘You think I was wrong,’ Ellen said. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Dunston?’ Abby asked. ‘It’s none of my business. You think I slept with Teddy just to get my promotion. That’s none of your business, either. Maybe we’d both get on better with each other if we remembered that.’
Ellen giggled. She couldn’t help it. Blamed the wine, even though she knew it wasn’t just that.
‘Teddy?’ she asked.
Abby’s mouth twitched, like she might smile too any second now. ‘I think he prefers to be called Baxter at work,’ she said. ‘Teddy’s what he calls himself in, um, private.’
The picture was there again now. Abby and Baxter in his office. Abby on her knees, his trousers down around his ankles. Ellen shook her head.
‘I hope to Christ it was for a promotion,’ she said. ‘I’d hate to think you did it because you actually liked the old bastard.’
‘Maybe I found him attractive,’ Abby said. ‘Or maybe he reminded me of someone. My brother, say. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Just as it doesn’t matter what really happened with you and Billy Dunston. Goodnight, Ellen. Thanks for the wine and the chat. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
And before Ellen could respond, Abby turned and ran out to the taxi waiting for her outside. She jumped inside and the car pulled away, leaving Ellen standing alone on the doorstep.
The rumble of traffic from Trafalgar Road drifted through the quiet night air. Here on Annandale Road, all was quiet. So quiet that, for a moment, it was possible to believe time had stopped and she would stand here forever. A lone figure in a darkened doorway, looking blankly into the night, unable to move or speak, her mind full of images she didn’t want to see and the silent screams of every child who’d ever disappeared or ever would. And she wished the children would disappear from her mind, but they wouldn’t. They never did, and she knew they never would.
22:10
Brian tried to lift the cup, but his hand was shaking so badly he only succeeded in spilling the tea. Not that it mattered. It was cold by now anyway. It had slopped onto the sleeve of his jumper and that felt cold as well. Cold and damp, like his trousers. He could smell the stuff on his trousers too, and when he moved it felt all sticky between his legs. Sticky and smelly. With stuff that had come from him.
Disgusted, he pushed himself off the chair, and started ripping his trousers off, right there in the kitchen. He’d have to throw these slacks away. Even if he washed them properly, he didn’t think he’d ever get rid of the smell.
He didn’t want to look but couldn’t help himself. It was all smeared along the inner legs of his trousers, little bits of it glistening on his thighs and the hairs around his you-know-what. Sticky and slimy. Like glue.
The images still flickered in his head, snap shots of what had started it. Marion on the bed with her skirt up, showing him her knickers. The feel of her soft skin when he touched her. The way she let him touch her. Smiling up at him. Whispering in his ear, her breath all hot and tickly.
‘It’s all right, Brian. You know I don’t mind.’
Abruptly, Marion disappeared, erased by other images, other memories. His hands smeared with Daddy’s stuff. The sick, salty taste of it. Daddy’s voice in his ear now, his hand on his head, telling Brian if he was a good boy, he’d do what his Daddy told him to. Except afterwards, Daddy called him a dirty little bastard and hit him.
Marion should have stopped him.
Little bitch probably did it on purpose.
No point arguing with Daddy when he was in a mood. Besides, maybe Daddy was right and Marion had done it deliberately, just to make him feel bad or something.
But it wasn’t Marion! She hadn’t even been here. It was all in his head. He looked fearfully around the kitchen, checking he was alone, that it really had just been his imagination. His dirty, monstrous mind.
Marion would never do something like that. She was good and kind and everything that was right about the world.
Except …
He couldn’t help noticing it. She was getting awful dirty, so she was, and there was a funny smell off her that seemed to be getting worse.
She’s a dirty little cow, that’s why.
‘Twinkle, twinkle, little STAAAAR.’ Another Marion favourite. Mum used to sing it when she put them to bed.
Why do you think she’s so keen for you to touch her?
‘How I wonder what you ARE.’
Marion was crying when he went to see her yesterday. Threw herself at him the minute he walked through the door, screaming and begging him to let her go. Snot running down her face. Sticky and slimy.
He shivered. It was freezing here in the kitchen. He needed another cup of tea. One he would drink this time, not let go cold while he lost himself. The Bad Thing wouldn’t happen again. He didn’t know what had got into him. It was like he’d gone mad for a minute.
On the shelf by the kettle there was a box. It had donuts inside. He’d bought them on his way home. Donuts with pink icing on the top. He was looking forward to seeing her little face light up when he showed them to her.
Outside was dark. How had it got dark without him even noticing? At this time of year, the days were so short you’d wonder how to fit anything into them at all. Night again and it felt like the last one had only been gone a few hours.
Using the dirty trousers, he wiped himself down as best he could before going upstairs to put on his other pair. After that, he’d have a nice cup of tea and take the donuts out to Marion. Donuts and a bit of the Rainbow crowd. What more did they need?
In the background, Daddy was still talking, but Brian ignored him. Just upped the singing a bit and concentrated really hard on blocking out the voice and pretending Daddy wasn’t here at all. It was a good trick that. Already Daddy’s voice was fading and the words had stopped making any sort of sense. Just random sounds, floating around the inside of Brian’s head like someone had accidentally dropped them in there.
Little tart. Dirty bastard. Like her mother. Like that, Brian. Good boy.
‘Stop!’
He opened his eyes, the sound of his own voice frightening him. When he realised what he’d done, he started laughing. Roaring like a bloody mad man in his own kitchen. Pull yourself together, mate. Shouting like
that and half-scaring yourself to death.
It was only later, after he’d drunk his tea and was carrying the donuts down to the shed that he realised Daddy’s voice had gone from his head. He smiled then. It was going to be a fine old evening, all right. He unlocked the door, pulling back the bolts one by one. A fine old evening indeed.
TUESDAY, 22 FEBRUARY
09:20
The phone call came as Ellen was pulling into the car park at work. She didn’t recognise the number and nearly didn’t answer. Changing her mind at the last moment, she flipped it open and held it to her ear.
‘Ellen Kelly.’
Silence at first, then a man’s voice. ‘I need to see you.’
It took a moment before she recognised him.
‘Kevin? Where the hell are you?’
‘I’m in Eastbourne,’ he said. ‘Can you come?’
Before leaving for Eastbourne, Ellen attended the morning briefing. The PM on Harris was back. Time of death anything between a week and ten days. Which put Hudson nicely in the frame. The report also confirmed what they already knew. Harris had been shot. Single bullet between the eyes. In Ellen’s opinion, it bore all the hallmarks of a professional hit and she didn’t see how Kevin Hudson could have done something like that. Baxter disagreed. Which was why, after the briefing, Ellen decided not to tell him where she was going. Mumbling something about following a lead, she got out of there as quickly as she could and hot-legged it to Eastbourne.
She drove south, the suburbs of South London disappearing as green countryside replaced Victorian terraces. London – there one minute, gone the next. Just like Jodie.
Ellen had arranged to meet Kevin in a café on the seafront. When she arrived, he was waiting for her, sitting on the decking area right on the beach. He was smoking and the smell of nicotine sent a surge of longing through her.
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