The Loner

by Rachel Ennis

  The door opened and Paul Griffin came in. Jess caught his quick glance at the tumbler and his wife and read concern behind his smile. ‘Hello, Mrs Trevanion.’

  ‘Drink, darling?’ Claire invited him. ‘Tea’s still hot.’

  He touched her shoulder lightly. ‘I’m already awash. “Cup of tea, vicar?” is usually the first thing people say after “hello,”’ he told Jess. He turned to his wife. ‘Any lunch?’

  ‘I was just about to get it,’ Claire pushed herself to her feet.

  ‘I won’t keep you,’ Jess said. ‘I wanted to ask about a burial plot and funeral service for –’ Her discoveries weren’t proved and would take too long to explain. ‘For John Preece.’

  ‘The parish council manages the cemetery. Talk to Charlie Spry, he’s the new chair. Do you know when Mr Preece’s body will be released?’

  ‘The coroner promised to ring me. As soon as he does I’ll phone you. Gerry and Sandra in the shop have started a collection to cover the cost.’

  ‘I saw the jar. It’s already a quarter full. People are being very generous.’

  Jess simply nodded. If he believed the donations were spontaneous he had never seen Gill and Sandra in action, which was probably just as well.

  Chapter Nine

  Letting herself into her cottage after a brisk walk that had loosened her up, Jess breathed in the scents of cut wood and fabric conditioner. Home.

  She made up the fire, washed her hands, put on an apron, and took out the ingredients for saffron buns, smiling as she thought of Tom.

  While the buns were rising she washed up and did a few other jobs. Once the trays were in the oven she set the timer, opened her laptop, and typed Mark Edward Kirby with his date of birth into the browser.

  She felt her eyes widen as she read. Searches in newspaper archives brought up lurid headlines and scathing articles. She compared the press photos of the clean-shaven Royal Navy submarine officer and her memories of John Preece – bearded, with long, bushy, grey hair, and a deeply lined and weathered face. A man who avoided eye contact and spoke only when circumstances demanded.

  Even allowing for the twenty-five years difference she couldn’t be sure. Was it the same man?

  Tom piled their dirty plates together and took them to the draining board. ‘Come on then,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘What did you find?’

  Jess opened her laptop and brought up the page she had bookmarked. ‘After a court martial, Lieutenant Mark Kirby was dismissed from the Navy and served time in prison convicted of gross negligence that resulted in the deaths of three crewmen and life-changing injuries to several more.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Here,’ Jess turned her laptop. ‘See for yourself.’

  ‘I aren’t doubting you, Jess. It’s just – dear life! If that is him, no wonder he changed his name.’

  Jess opened another page. ‘I’ve cut and pasted bits from several papers to get all the details.’

  ‘’Course you have. What do it say?’

  ‘The submarine was on its way to a rendezvous point to take part in an exercise. But due to technical problems it was already behind schedule. With the captain confined to his cabin with gastric ’flu, Lieutenant Kirby, 36, had worked extra hours and at the time of the incident was officer of the watch. Already under stress because of marriage problems, he had taken Benzedrine to help him stay awake and alert.’

  Jess broke off as the kettle boiled.

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Any one of those things would have been bad enough. But all coming at once? It’s like the perfect storm.’ He opened the fridge for milk. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Please.’ When he had set the mugs on the table and resumed his seat, she continued reading. ‘Under pressure to arrive on time for the planned operations, he ordered a new route plotted that would cut five miles off the original. He also ordered the sub to dive deeper because colder water would allow it to travel faster. But the seabed in that area was rocky and uneven.’ Jess’s throat was dry and she paused to swallow a mouthful of tea. ‘The submarine collided with an underwater pinnacle.’

  ‘What? How hadn’t he seen it on the charts?’ Tom demanded.

  ‘Because it wasn’t marked. During his trial it came out that several of these pinnacles were highlighted on more recent charts. But because these hadn’t yet been approved, he didn’t use them to check the new route.’

  ‘Dear life!’ Tom muttered in shock. ‘Didn’t the Admiralty think it was urgent?’

  ‘You took the words out of my head. But if he’d kept to the original route he wouldn’t have gone near them. Do you want to hear the rest?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry. Go on.’

  ‘The shock of the grounding led to a reactor shut-down and water for the emergency cooling system had to be drawn from the ballast tanks. In the galley the cook was badly scalded and died before he could be taken to hospital. The hull was breached and three internal compartments, including sleeping quarters, flooded. Two men drowned in their bunks. An electrical fire caused arcing of the main power cables and the flames rapidly spread.’ Jess’s voice cracked and she paused to drink more tea as nightmare images filled her head.

  ‘Lieutenant Kirby sent various teams to deal with the fires, seal the leaks – or the compartments if the leaks couldn’t be stopped – and make sure the reactor was safe. After informing the exercise commander and the admiralty, he handed control to his deputy. Then he went to his cabin and drank himself unconscious.’

  ‘He’d have known it was the end of his career,’ Tom murmured. ‘How long was his sentence?’

  ‘Twelve years. His wife had filed for divorce during his court martial.’ Jess covered her mouth with her fingertips. ‘Then his parents were killed in a car crash on their way to visit him in prison.’

  Tom simply shook his head.

  ‘In prison he was beaten up several times. He also received threats from relatives of the men who died.’ Jess clicked on another book-marked page. ‘Following his release in February 1999, after serving eight years of his sentence, he was attacked in the street and ended up in hospital. After that I couldn’t find any mention of him. He must have decided that his only chance of surviving was to become invisible.’

  ‘So he came to Polvellan and took his dead uncle’s name.’

  ‘Tom, you don’t think –?’ Jess broke off, shaking her head.

  ‘Think what, bird?’

  ‘What if a relative of one of the men killed on the sub found out where he was living?’

  Tom didn’t say anything for several moments and she wanted to hug him for taking her question seriously. He finally shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t have let a stranger in so there would have been some sign of a struggle. You said yourself the police was thorough when they went over the place. If there’d been anything to find, they’d have found it. It was an accident, bird. Just a sad, stupid accident.’

  She nodded. Tom was right. ‘I’ve been wondering about Briar Cottage. Did he inherit it, or was it on a lease? If it was leased, how was he paying rent?’

  ‘You said his wife divorced him,’ Tom reminded. ‘If they owned a house and it was sold, or she bought out his share, he’d have had money from that. Maybe his solicitor looked after it and paid the rent.’

  ‘It’s a thought.’

  ‘Plenty more where that came from.’ He smothered a yawn. ‘Sorry, bird. Come on, let’s get they dishes done.’ He levered himself off the sofa.

  ‘I’ll do them when you’ve gone.’ She opened one of the kitchen cupboards and handed him a cake tin. ‘Your saffron buns.’

  Tom prised the lid off and inhaled deeply. ‘Look at that. Proper ’andsome.’ Jamming the lid back, he dropped the tin on the sofa and reached for her. ‘You’re some rare maid, Jess.’

  As his arms went round her she rested her hands on his shoulders. ‘Because I made saffron buns?’

  ‘Well, it don’t hurt that you can cook. And you’re a lovely looking woman. But I was thinking how
you discovered all that about John Preece. Now you know who he really is, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He drew her close. ‘See you soon?’

  ‘I hope so. I want my tin back.’

  His kiss was long and lingering. When he raised his head it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to stay. She hesitated and the moment passed. That was a major step and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it yet. There was plenty of time.

  He lifted his jacket from the hook. ‘’Night, my lover. And thanks.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Tonight. I like your company.’

  She kissed him. ‘And I like yours.’

  After doing the dishes she looked up various reference numbers in the Record Office’s online catalogue, then turned off her laptop and went up to bed.

  On Wednesday morning Jess took two trays of chocolate brownies out of the oven. As the main course for the over-sixties lunch that day was cottage pie, there wouldn’t be room in the oven to cook dessert.

  Viv was bringing two apple crumbles. Annie was bringing clotted cream and jugs of custard. Jess sliced the brownies and put the trays on wire racks to cool.

  A tap on the kitchen door made Jess glance up. Through the glass she saw her next-door neighbour. ‘Come in, Elsie. It’s open.’

  ‘Sure I aren’t disturbing you?’

  ‘’Course you aren’t. Are you coming down to the hall? Shall I save you a brownie?’

  ‘I can’t, bird. Look, I’ll see you again. You got enough to do –’

  ‘You’ve only just come.’ Jess studied the short sturdy woman. Apart from more lines on her face and a slight curve to her spine, Elsie had changed little in thirty years. Her straight grey hair was still cut level with her jaw and held back by two grips. Today she wore a tabard apron of pink checked nylon over her brown skirt and green jumper.

  ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘I don’t want to put you to no trouble –’

  ‘I’m having one anyway. I haven’t stopped all morning.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Sit down.’ Jess gestured towards a chair tucked under the table, then filled the kettle. ‘Now tell me what’s wrong.’

  Sinking onto the chair, Elsie rubbed the crease between her brows. ‘I know you can keep a secret. Tegan, my granddaughter, she’s in trouble.’

  Wary of assuming in case she was wrong, Jess asked, ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘She’s in the family way. And she won’t tell her mother whose it is.’ Elsie heaved a sigh. ‘I aren’t surprised it’s happened. My Carol was in labour three days with Tegan. After she was born Carol didn’t want nothing to do with her. Worried me awful it did. The nurses all said Tegan was the prettiest baby in the unit. ’Course, Carol liked that. So she started taking an interest.’

  Jess set two mugs on the table and sat down facing Elsie.

  ‘Tegan had to have the best buggy, clothes, toys.’ Elsie’s hand trembled as she drew the mug towards her. ‘But Carol was never one for showing affection. As soon as she finished her maternity leave she put Tegan in a nursery. Bert and me had her every weekend. Carol said she and Alan needed “quality time” together.’ Elsie snorted, her anxiety pierced by a flash of irritation. ‘I never heard the like. If you have children they should come first until they’re old enough to look out for theirselves. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘That’s the way Gran brought me up,’ Jess said.

  ‘Good as gold, your gran was. Anyhow, Carol and Alan put Tegan in private school. Once she started there she didn’t want to know Bert and me.’ Elsie’s chin wobbled as she raised the mug to her lips and swallowed. The tea steadied her. ‘I’d be lying if I said that didn’t hurt.

  ‘I warned my Carol she was storing up trouble. She wouldn’t have it. She said that what with school, and homework, and seeing her friends, Tegan didn’t have a spare minute. She had to have one of these here smartphones because all her friends had one. She had wardrobes full of clothes and she went on every school trip.’

  ‘When she called in after Easter I tried talking to her. She said I didn’t understand anything.’ She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and blew her nose.

  Looking at Elsie’s hands Jess saw skin mottled by age spots, veins like cords, and swollen knuckles.

  ‘She’s a pretty girl and looks older than sixteen. She thinks she’s so grown up, but truth is she’s still a child.’ She glanced up at Jess. ‘I wouldn’t say this to no one else, but I blame my Carol. She and Alan threw money at Tegan, but I can’t bring to mind them ever giving the girl a hug or kiss. If there was no love at home, stands to reason she’d look for it outside. Easy meat she was, Jess. It do break my heart.’ She covered her face with her hands and rocked.

  Jess got up, tore two sheets off the kitchen towel roll, and pressed them gently into Elsie’s hand. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Straightening up, Elsie wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘No, my bird. Thank you for asking. I just needed – I’m better for getting it off my chest.’

  ‘You’re welcome any time.’

  Elsie drew a shaky breath. ‘I’d better get back. Poor little maid got awful morning sickness.’

  ‘She’s staying with you?’

  Elsie nodded. ‘When she realised she was expecting she was too frightened to tell her mother. She turned up on my doorstep. But she isn’t letting on who the father is. She didn’t want me telling her mother where she was. But I wasn’t having that. So I phoned Carol and told her Tegan had a stomach bug and it was best if she stayed with me so she didn’t pass it on. I know Carol will have to be told and there’ll be hell to go then.’

  ‘How far along is she?’

  Elsie shrugged. ‘Three months, maybe four. She’ve never been reg’lar, so she can’t be sure. I told her the sickness should stop soon.’

  ‘When I was expecting the twins I wasn’t sick but I had horrible queasiness. Gran put me on ginger tea with a spoonful of honey. It’s brilliant for an upset stomach. I drank buckets of it, hot and cold. Sandra might have some in the shop. I know they stock herbal teas.’

  ‘I’ll go down and get a box.’ Standing up, Elsie drank the last of her tea and put her mug on the worktop. ‘I’m some glad I come by.’

  ‘So am I.’ Jess put an arm around the older woman’s shoulder as they crossed to the back door. ‘If there’s anything I do can do, Elsie –’

  ‘I know where you are. Thanks, bird.’

  Chapter Ten

  The following evening Annie, Gill, Mor, and Viv were in Jess’s cottage. It was just after eight but low cloud had brought darkness early. Drawn curtains shut out a blustery night and dancing flames behind the woodburner’s glass door made the room cosy. On the coffee table patterned china mugs held the dregs of tea, and crumbs were all that remained on two cake plates.

  ‘So John Preece was really former Royal Navy submarine officer Mark Kirby,’ Jess finished.

  ‘Does anyone else know?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Only Tom.’

  Mor nodded. ‘We all know how to keep a secret.’

  ‘But now I’m wondering if I ought to tell someone what I’ve found out.’

  ‘You just did,’ Viv said. ‘You told us.’

  ‘No, I mean someone official. But if I do – You know how fast gossip flies round this village. You can bet someone would tip off the newspapers. What good would come of dragging it up again? He’s dead.’

  ‘So it can’t hurt him,’ Annie said. ‘Come on, Jess. What’s really bothering you?’

  ‘I don’t know if I should be doing this.’

  ‘Doing what?’ Viv asked.

  ‘Digging up people’s pasts.’

  ‘Don’t be so daft,’ Viv got up and refilled the kettle. ‘You’re brilliant. Got a gift for it. Tell her, Mor.’

  ‘Viv’s right,’ Mor nodded. ‘When I asked you to look for my father, I didn’t know what you’d find. In the end he wasn’t up to much. But one great-grandf
ather is on a poster in Marigold’s and another turned out to be a hero. I wouldn’t have none of that past history without you.’

  ‘That was different. You asked me to do it.’

  ‘Viv is right,’ Annie said. ‘You’ve got a nose for research. You discovered who John Preece really was. Only Mark Kirby knew the truth and he’s dead. Anyway, who would you tell? The police? They’re satisfied his death was an accident. That’s an end to it as far as they’re concerned. They got plenty more things to worry about. Like Gill said, the man was no bother to anyone. I think he should be buried as John Preece.’

  ‘If you’re worried about the collection for his funeral,’ Gill said, ‘that was Sandra’s idea not yours. In any case, the poor man paid dearly for what he did. Not just prison. I mean, living here in the village all those years and never daring to make a single friend.’ She shuddered. ‘I never really thought about it before, but he must’ve been some lonely.’ She lifted a hand before Jess could speak. ‘I know you tried, taking plants down to him and all. It was his choice to shut hisself off from everyone like that. What happened with that submarine was terrible. But ’t wasn’t like he done it on purpose.’

  ‘Make a fresh pot shall I, Jess?’ Viv asked as the kettle boiled.

  ‘Please,’ Jess gathered up their used mugs and carried them to the sink. ‘What if there was family – ?’

  ‘What family?’ Gill demanded. ‘Coming on sixteen years he lived here and no one ever asked for him.’

  ‘Running the post office counter she would know,’ Annie said.

  ‘He was divorced, his parents were gone and there wasn’t no other family mentioned,’ Mor reminded.

  ‘I agree with Annie,’ Viv said.

  ‘Me too,’ Mor added. ‘Leave him rest in peace.’