I feel a faint wobble of tension. I don’t want to talk about my parents, my upbringing, the stepmother I despise. Strangely I’ve thought about my dad and his wife quite a bit in the last few days, about the argument when Pops gave me the money and how much their anger hurt me. It feels distant, though. Remote. I wonder if the doctor is trying to find out if there is anyone else I can turn to. Perhaps he thinks I have been here long enough. Somehow, I manage to stutter out the story of my dysfunctional family, avoiding his eyes. I don’t want to see pity there.
‘And friends?’
‘We moved up here to be close to my grandfather, so I could be with him for those last few months. I thought I’d make new friends here. It didn’t quite work out like that though.’
‘Judith, people travel to their jobs from every corner of the city. At the end of the day they go home to their own friends and family. It’s not the way it’s painted on TV, you know. Work is not all fun, laughter and forming new and exciting relationships.’
I think that is the longest speech I have ever heard from the doctor, who is leaning back and no longer looking at me. Sipping his brandy, his naturally vacant scowl melts into something a little more benevolent as he turns his head back towards me.
‘So what value do you think you bring to the world, Judith?’ he asks.
‘I’m sorry?’
What sort of a question is that? My brain feels muddled, and I take another sip of the sherry.
‘We all need to leave something of value behind,’ he carries on. ‘What do you hope your contribution will be?’
I have no idea. I’ve never thought of life like that. I’ve thought it was something to be endured or enjoyed – depending on the circumstances. What value am I to anybody?
‘I’m not sure I have any value,’ I find myself saying, realising I have nobody to love, nobody whose life is made better by my presence.
‘Thea tells me there’s a man involved, and that he’s making your life miserable. Is that true?’
‘Yes. I want him gone, but he won’t move out,’ I answer, almost sobbing at the thought. I’ve been managing to suppress all thoughts of Ian for the last day or so, but now they burst to the surface with renewed pain. I take another gulp of the sweet sherry. It must be going to my head because I start to feel slightly woozy. The doctor’s black eyebrows seem to be zooming in and out of focus. I shake my head in an effort to see clearly.
‘Is he worth anything?’
‘What do you mean?’ I have to concentrate really hard to answer. ‘Financially he’s not worth a penny, but that never bothered me.’
‘No, is he worth anything as a person? If he were to die today, would anybody miss him? Would he leave a hole in this world?’
I feel I should be shocked at such a terrible question, but I’m not. I’m struggling for an answer when the doctor speaks again: ‘If he is of no value, he’s taking up unnecessary space. You have to find a way to rid yourself of him.’ He downs the rest of his brandy and smiles.
The session with the doctor has left me feeling completely disorientated. After his initial comments I just wanted to get out of there, but as I sipped my sherry and listened to him talk, I found myself mesmerised by the deep, rasping tone of his voice, although I am embarrassed to find myself unable to remember much of what he said.
Thea was waiting outside the door when I left. ‘Was that helpful, dear?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, trying to be honest. ‘It’s left me feeling a bit disturbed about who I am and where I’m going, but more convinced than ever that Ian needs to somehow be eradicated from my life. I just don’t know how.’
Thea’s eyes glowed. ‘You’ll work it out. The doctor’s so clever, isn’t he?’
I’m not sure what to think. I don’t feel capable of coherent thought, and everything seems muddy and confused. I need to get some direction back into my life, and I don’t believe I’ll be able to do that while I’m staying here, lulled into a false sense of security. For all its beauty and comfort, there is something oppressive about this house, and when I go back upstairs after my session with the doctor, I force myself to think. My mind keeps wandering, so I grab a pen and paper to capture any constructive ideas I have.
I decide to go into Manchester tomorrow morning and explain my situation to the mortgage company. I might have enough money in the bank to meet this month’s payment, but after that I’ll be in trouble. And after sorting – or trying to sort – my finances, I might brave a trip to see Ian. We have to agree a way forward, and perhaps he will have calmed down by now. I need more clothes too. I brought the bare minimum with me – the things I was wearing plus another pair of jeans, a pile of underwear and two jumpers.
Then a thought hits me: How am I going to get out in the morning? I’m confined to my floor until the cleaners have gone, and the door isn’t unlocked until they leave. I’ve still never seen them, and I never hear footsteps or the sound of talking, laughter or singing. Maybe they are told to be quiet. There’s only one thing to do: I need to find Thea and ask her how I can go out without the cleaners seeing me. I also need to say that it’s probably time I left, although I may have to ask if I can stay for a while longer – at least until either Ian moves out or I manage to get a job so I can afford to rent a room in a house somewhere.
I’ve never been down to the lower floors of the house without Thea to escort me, other than to go out of the side door if I feel like a short stroll. She normally pops up in the afternoon with a dish of something she thinks I might like for dinner – stew or soup – ready to be reheated, and often suggests I have a walk around the garden. But most of the time I can’t be bothered. The only part of the grounds I’m not supposed to walk in is the rose garden. That seems to be a special place for Thea, and from my window I have seen her sitting out there, hunched in a thick coat. I made a token effort to go outside earlier and had a short stroll around the lawn, but I really don’t have the energy for anything more strenuous.
With renewed determination to beat the lethargy that’s plaguing me, I push open the door to the staircase and start to make my way down. For some reason I feel I have to walk on tiptoe, but as I’m only wearing socks I’m unlikely to be heard. When I reach the first-floor landing I don’t stop. I know this is where Thea and Garrick sleep and I wouldn’t dream of going into that part of the house, so I head down to the ground floor.
I have no idea where they will be. I’ve been given the impression that they only use the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks, but there are so many doors and corridors that I don’t have a clue. Thea did mention the kitchen to me on the first day, but I can’t remember which closed door it hides behind. I listen for voices, but everywhere is silent, all sound deadened by the thick walls and solid oak doors. I pause at each one in turn, listening. If I hear talking, I’ll knock and ask to have a word. It’s not until I get to the third door on the left that I hear a murmur. It’s hard to make out what Garrick is saying, as his voice is so deep, but I can hear Thea plainly.
‘I think she’s ready to move on, my dear. Do you?’
I have no idea who she’s talking about. It could be a relative – I still don’t know if they have children of their own – or it could be one of the cleaners. But I have a horrible, sneaking suspicion that they might be talking about me. What does she mean, move on? She wants me to leave, that’s all I can think.
I don’t want to interrupt them in case they are talking about me, so I creep back along the corridor, grateful now that I walked on tiptoe. I feel the need to hurry in case they catch me, but I’m being ridiculous.
I don’t know what time the cleaners arrive, but if I get up early enough I might be able to get out before Thea locks the door at the bottom of the stairs to my room. The only obstacle then might be the side door, the one I always use to go out into the garden.
I make my way towards the narrow passage and the small lobby that leads to the door, and I’m relieved when I see it has a Yale lock with bolts
at the top and bottom, all of which can be opened from the inside. Making my escape in the morning won’t be a problem as long as the door to the stairs isn’t locked when I come down. Sighing with relief, I turn, but out of the corner of my eye I see the shoe rack. And that’s when I realise I won’t be going anywhere.
The shoe rack is empty. I wore my boots earlier in the garden, and I know I left them here, but they’ve gone.
24
Despite the fact that Jack’s old friend Nathan Gardner was waiting back at headquarters, Tom decided to delay his return. Becky had spoken briefly to a sergeant at the local police station who remembered the attempted suicide at the Flash, and it seemed an opportune moment to look into the incident, although Tom had neither hope nor expectation that it would lead them to the identity of Penny.
‘It wasn’t reported,’ the ruddy-faced sergeant told them, ‘but everyone knew about it. The poor kid was obviously determined to kill herself, and managed it in the end. The sister – the one you were told had to be carried out of church – was actually the girl’s twin.’
Tom knew only too well how devastating it was to hear that a sibling had died, and he could only imagine how much worse it might be if it was both a twin and suicide.
‘Do you know anything about the family – where they are now, how they coped?’ Tom asked.
‘There was quite a fuss because the surviving twin blamed her parents. She said they had made no effort to understand the one who died – Esme, she was called. The other one, whose name I can’t remember, by all accounts walked out of the house without a backward glance. One of my colleagues lives not far away, and it was the talk of the area. Eventually the parents upped and moved to Scotland.’
They tested the sergeant’s memory for a little longer but finally accepted that there was no more to learn. Tom asked him to get in touch if anything else sprang to mind, and in the meantime to check the details of the girl’s family, including the name of the surviving twin. The twitcher at the Flash who had attended the funeral might well call in with it, but Tom preferred to have the facts confirmed by the sergeant.
Tom had felt a tingle at the back of his neck as they discussed the twins. There had to be some reason why Penny, as they continued to call her, had chosen to die where she had, assuming it was her choice. The Flash may have had some significance for the girls. On the other hand, the prickling feeling could be because Nathan Gardner was waiting to see him. Was it something to do with Jack? Why else would Nathan want to talk to Tom after all these years?
Tom had called Keith Sims to say he was delayed and he was hoping that Jack’s old friend would have gone by the time they finally arrived back. But as he and Becky made their way into the office, Nathan was still sitting there.
Tom felt unaccountably irritated. He wanted time to process all they had learned that day, and he could really have done without talking to this man right now. Given how long he’d been waiting, though, Tom didn’t really have much choice.
‘Nathan,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait.’
Nathan stood up and shook Tom’s hand, both men quietly weighing each other up. It was at least twenty years since they had seen each other, and Nathan was almost unrecognisable. When he and Jack were friends they had both had long, wild hair – in Jack’s case dark, in Nathan’s a mousy colour. Now he was almost bald, and what hair he had was neatly cut. But the nose and eyes hadn’t changed.
‘Tom, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I need to talk to someone and you were the first person I thought of.’
‘Let’s go to my office. Do you want a coffee or anything?’
Nathan shook his head. ‘Your guys have looked after me well, thanks. I’m just about coffeed out.’
As they walked along the corridor, Nathan briefly touched Tom’s arm. ‘I was sorry to hear about Jack. He’d done so well, and then to die in a crazy speedboat accident. To be honest, I couldn’t believe it. He was always reckless, but he wasn’t stupid.’
Tom said nothing until they were through his office door. ‘Thanks, Nathan. It was a shock to us all.’ He felt uncomfortable. Any mention of his brother automatically put Tom on edge.
‘I don’t suppose Jack ever told you that we stayed in touch right up until he died,’ Nathan said. ‘I know when we were kids I was wild and probably wasn’t a particularly good influence on him, but he was his own guy, you know. He did what he wanted, and I don’t think being friends with me was as bad for him as you thought.’
‘It’s all so long ago now, Nathan. We’re both very different people. What have you been doing with yourself?’
Nathan sat back in his chair and folded his arms. He looked Tom straight in the eye. ‘I’m a professional gambler. I’ve lived in the States for many years now, mainly Atlanta, but as you can hear I’ve kept my Manc accent. They think I’m some hick with no idea half the time, and that suits me.’
Tom looked at Nathan’s clothes and shoes, and surmised that gambling must be a profitable business for him. ‘What’s your game?’
‘Poker. I don’t play the tables, or rarely. Maybe a bit of blackjack, but never roulette. I like to feel at least an element of control. It seems to have worked for me, and I like living over there. It’s a long time since I’ve been back to Manchester.’
‘So what brings you here now?’
Nathan leaned forward, his expression hardening. ‘Do you remember that I had a kid sister?’ he asked. ‘She was a lot younger than us – fifteen years younger, in fact. She was a baby when I knew Jack.’
‘Sorry, Nathan. That detail escaped me. I remember your parents, though.’
Nathan barked out a laugh. ‘I bet you do. They were always round seeing your mum and dad to see what could be done to curb the excesses of their boys, weren’t they? But Jack did brilliantly, and although you might not think much of gambling as a profession, I do well enough.’
‘So this is about your sister, is it?’ Tom wasn’t interested in comparing success stories; he wanted to get back to the job and then go home.
‘Yes, it is. I’ve been a crap brother on the whole. She was just a tiny thing when I left home, and my parents were glad to see the back of me. Then they fell apart too and ended up divorcing. Anyway, I heard from her – she’s called Hannah – completely out of the blue. She wrote to me while she was away on holiday. Things hadn’t been going too well for her, and I think I was a last resort. I was at a poker event in Vegas when the letter arrived, and by the time I got back to Atlanta I wasn’t sure what to do.’
‘Why not?’ Tom couldn’t imagine a time when he would have turned down an opportunity to get in touch with his brother.
‘I don’t know. Guilt, I suppose. She had a tough time when my parents split, and I’d already moved out by then. I should have been more supportive. In the end, though, I decided not to write but to come over and surprise her.’ Nathan leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. ‘But here’s the thing, Tom. She seems to have disappeared. No one knows where she is.’
Tom asked Nathan a few more questions about his sister and then excused himself, ostensibly to make a cup of tea but in reality he wanted to think carefully about what to say. Was there a chance it was Hannah’s body that had been found at the Flash? She was the right age, and Nathan had confirmed that he hadn’t reported her missing yet.
‘She’s an adult,’ he had said. ‘As far as I know she’s not vulnerable in any way, so she’d just get added to a long list of non-urgent cases. I couldn’t see the point. I thought I’d ask you what I should do.’
Tom was torn between hoping for Nathan’s sake that Hannah was alive and well, and wanting a name for their victim.
He brought his mug of tea back into the office and sat down behind his desk. ‘Can you describe Hannah to me? Height, weight, hair colour, that kind of thing?’
‘Why do you want to know all that stuff if you’re not in charge of missing persons?’ There was a puzzled tone to Na
than’s voice, as if he suspected Tom of keeping something from him, which indeed he was.
‘We’ve had an incident recently, and I’d like to rule out any connection with Hannah.’
‘What sort of an incident? Don’t bullshit me, Tom. Just tell me.’
Tom sighed. ‘Have you seen the news since you’ve been back?’
‘No, I just got back from following what I thought was a good lead but was probably a wild-goose chase. I decided to come straight to see you. Anyway, I don’t watch the news if I can help it. What have I missed?’
There was little choice but to tell him. ‘We found the body of a young woman at Pennington Flash. Do you know where that is?’
‘Course I do. Do you think it’s Hannah?’ Nathan might be good at controlling his facial expressions, but his voice had risen in pitch.
Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to worry. There’s no reason at all to think it’s Hannah. Thousands of people go missing every week, but I’d like to rule her out. What can you tell me about her?’
‘That’s a bit of a hard question, given what a crap brother I’ve been. I couldn’t tell you if she’s fat or thin, or whether her hair is long or short. I told you – I haven’t seen her for years. Her hair is naturally very dark, but if you’re going to ask me about tattoos or scars, I don’t have the first idea. Sorry.’
‘Don’t you have any pictures?’
Nathan sighed. ‘I know it sounds pathetic, but no, nothing recent. I might have been able to dig out something from when she was about ten if I was back home in Atlanta. She has a Facebook page, but the privacy settings are high. Her cover image is of the sea, for some obscure reason, and her profile picture is a girl in a Halloween mask. I presume it’s her, but it’s no help.’
Come A Little Closer Page 11