by Sarah Ward
‘I saw you park your car. Everything all right?’
Matthews stood up, annoyed at the red flush she could feel creeping across her face. ‘Of course. I’ve everything under control.’
‘I’m sure you have. Don’t get too comfortable there. Sadler’s back a week on Monday.’
‘He said I could use the office.’
‘I’m only joking. It’s been a quiet week for you, which is probably a good thing. Anything I need to know about?’ He looked across the deserted Detective Room. ‘What’s Connie up to while Sadler’s away?’
‘I’ve asked her to look at a sudden death in High Oaks. Nothing suspicious but I want everything checked.’
‘Quite right. That’ll keep her out of trouble, or, come to think of it, maybe not. What about the new chap who starts on Monday? Peter Dahl.’
‘Everything’s set up for his arrival.’
‘Have you seen the note from Human Resources that I emailed you?’
Feeling on safer ground, Matthews sat down. ‘I have. Sadler mentioned something briefly after the interview but it’s good to have his exact needs in writing. We’ll accommodate him as much as we can, of course.’
‘We’re going to have to. I’m the one that goes to these bloody flexible working meetings. Keep an eye on it, will you? He’s supposed to be very able but I want to see how much his home life becomes a distraction.’
‘I’ll certainly be monitoring him.’
It came across too harsh and Llewellyn frowned. ‘Maybe give him to Connie to chaperone his first week. Despite their disparate backgrounds, I have a feeling those two will like each other.’
‘Sounds like a good idea.’ Matthews didn’t add that if Connie didn’t like him, they were all buggered.
Llewellyn was looking at Sadler’s unusually tidy desk. ‘Sure there’s nothing you need a hand with?’
‘I promise you. Everything’s under control.’
*
The weekend stretched out like a gaping hole for Connie. With few friends and no work on which to legitimately do overtime, she was left with free time to … what? The Chinese meal she’d ordered the previous evening was so salty that she’d had to get up three times in the night to drink a glass of water. It left her tired and sluggish and, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, she winced at her pasty face. Her New Year’s resolution had been to get fitter and, now at the end of October, she realised she’d done absolutely zilch.
Her apartment block, a converted warehouse sitting high above the canal, was strangely quiet. In her bedroom, she looked out onto the car park below and could see only her ancient red Clio. She had the building to herself this weekend and the thought depressed her. She opened her wardrobe door, surveyed her running shoes and, after a moment’s hesitation, put them on. Now that she’d made up her mind to go for a run, her legs were tingling with the anticipation of exercise. She took the stairs down onto the street and set off down the towpath. Eleven o’clock on a summer’s morning and this track would be filled with people and the unlicensed ice cream van that she should really report. Today, it was deserted, the summer visitors an echo of footprints and departed noise that still hung over the canal.
Connie began to run, her legs stretching out on the once familiar path and she could feel her head begin to clear. Her lungs, at first in shock at the enforced activity, settled into a shallow rhythm. When she reached Step Bridge, she turned right onto the Topley Trail, the former railway track. This was busier than the canal path, mainly dog walkers and cyclists who whizzed past her, ringing their bells cheekily. One rider, clearly liking the rear view, turned to look at her from the front but she ignored him, aware of her red face and the enjoyment she was getting from the endorphins that were pumping around her body.
She reached a tunnel and a blast of cold air rushed at her. The underpass was also busy but quieter, people reducing their noise to a hush as they entered the dark space. The lighting was adequate but nothing more, and she wished she’d thought to put in her contact lenses for this stretch. She moved to the side of the tunnel, nearer to the strip lighting, and ran on, grateful when she reached the other side. A woman was trying to coax her young son into the tunnel but his enjoyment of a former railway had come to an abrupt halt at the entrance.
‘I don’t want to go in.’
‘Don’t be silly. There’s nothing to be scared of.’
The child began to wail as Connie sped on. As she reached the viaduct, the majesty of the industrial revolution revealed in its solid construction and purposeful design, she slowed for a moment and allowed her lungs to take a few deep breaths. An old woman was sitting on a bench, her walking stick held in knotted hands.
‘That’s the trouble with running. You miss the beauty of your surroundings.’
‘It’s all right for you.’ Connie leant over and hit her solar plexus. ‘If I didn’t run, I wouldn’t come this way at all. Better seeing the sights from speed than not at all.’
‘I suppose. Where are you running to?’
Connie looked at the woman. She was wearing an old-fashioned walker’s outfit of corduroy trousers tucked into walking boots and a checked shirt. Where was Connie running to? Good question.
‘I’m trying to get some exercise. You?’
‘I come down here every day. I get my exercise by hobbling here and watching the world go by.’
‘Routine is a good idea. I’ve left it too long between exercising. This run will kill me.’
‘Routine is boring but the Peaks are never dull, I’ll give you that. I’ve seen plenty over the years.’
‘Here?’ Connie was seized by the desire to keep going. Away from the woman, away from the tunnel.
The woman wheezed with laughter. ‘A new broom sweeps clean but the old one knows the corners.’
Connie gave her a puzzled glance and sped on, still hearing the woman’s chuckle in her ear.
*
Clive had lit the fire as promised, although the flames were meagre and ashy sparks jumped in the grate. ‘I can’t get it started. The coal must have got damp sometime. We had those three weeks of non-stop rain in September. It must have been then.’
Sadler looked at the smoking embers. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’ll take the chill off the evening at least.’ He sat in his usual chair as Clive handed him a glass of wine. ‘I went up to Hathersage today.’
‘Did you? I thought I might have piqued your interest. What did you make of it?’
Unbidden, Sadler thought of the woman with a rake in her hand. ‘It’s a magnificent house.’
‘Which one? North Lees Hall? It’s a little gem. I’m good for something then.’
Sadler looked at his neighbour, a widower who missed his old solicitor’s practice, still doing a roaring trade despite his retirement. ‘Feeling the turn of the seasons?’
Clive shivered. ‘Sorry, someone just walked over my grave. I am feeling my age.’ There was a bang at the front door and he left Sadler to answer it. He returned followed by a man in his late thirties. ‘This is Max. We crossed briefly as partners in the practice but he plays a mean game of badminton. Keeps me on my toes.’
Max held out his hand and gripped Sadler’s. A masonic shake and bone crushing. Clive handed him a glass of wine and pulled an armchair into the group.
‘Sorry about the fire.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I appreciate you inviting me to drop by.’ Despite the handshake, the man appeared to be nervous. He stretched out his legs in front of the fire, trying to relax. ‘I’ve put the kids to bed so I’m in my wife’s good books. She’s sitting watching a Bear Grylls programme so she won’t miss me.’ He looked at Sadler, his gaze direct. ‘Thanks for agreeing to see me.’
‘You have something you’re worried about?’ It’s the second time today I’m a confidant, thought Sadler.
Max’s eyes drifted over to Clive’s. ‘It’s probably nothing. I just, well, mentioned it today and Clive suggested that I talk to you. You’d be able to
put my mind at rest or know what to do otherwise.’
‘It’s to do with the solicitor’s?’
‘Yes, but it’s not relating to a client, which is why it’s straightforward to talk about. It’s to do with a secretary who used to work with us and who died this week. Clive knew her. Her name was Nell Colley.’
‘How did she die?’ Sadler felt the familiar prickle of interest.
‘Well, that’s the thing. Natural causes. She had a heart problem, although while she was working with us it wasn’t particularly an issue, so I was surprised to hear she’d been ill with it recently.’
‘Was she with you long?’
Clive stirred, poking at the fire. ‘She was my secretary for years before I retired. When I first started out in practice, they all used to leave to get married. Remember those days?’ He eyed his neighbour. ‘Probably not.’
Sadler smiled. ‘Can’t say I do.’
‘Well, when I first interviewed Nell Colley, I asked her if she had any marriage plans. I have the grace to blush about it now but I was sick of the bloody women leaving me once they got hitched. What the hell was wrong with being married and working? It wasn’t my choice that they left.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said she had no boyfriend and, to be fair, she stayed with me for years. Bloody good she was too. I’d have retired sooner myself if it wasn’t for her. The pair of us soldiered on until I’d had enough but she wanted to carry on and Max inherited her.’
‘She was good?’
Max nodded. ‘Excellent as a secretary. Not brilliant with computers but I got someone else to help with that. But she knew the legal procedures inside out. She could have trained as a solicitor herself if she’d wanted to. She was reliable, kept clients happy, chased outstanding documents. Then, one day, she gave her notice.’
‘The heart problem?’
‘She didn’t mention her health at all although she had complained occasionally of chest pains. She came to me in June this year and said it was time for her to leave. She was way past retirement age anyway. She could have left with a pension years ago but she liked working so we kept her on. But, all of a sudden, she decided she wanted to go. She said she had a book in her. Don’t we all?’
Sadler grimaced. ‘I think I have more than one. Did she start the book?’
‘I assume so because I got a call from Nell the other week. It started off as a general chat, catching up with office gossip and so on, and then she steered the conversation onto libel law.’
‘Libel?’
‘Exactly. She asked me about the law surrounding memoirs and how people are represented in them.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Well, we were talking really broad terms so I said that, basically, a person could only be sued for libel if they’d written something that could be considered damaging to the person bringing the claim.’
‘Did she give any specifics? What she was writing about?’
‘Nothing at all except that it was some kind of memoir. It’s not my area of expertise but I could certainly have helped a bit if she’d been more specific. If anything, she seemed to be talking very carefully so that I didn’t recognise the people involved. I was concerned it wasn’t anything to do with the practice and she said definitely not.’
‘When was this call?’
‘A little under two weeks ago. I’ve checked my diary and I think it was around Monday or Tuesday the week before last.’
‘And she died of natural causes?’
‘Apparently so. I visited a neighbour she was friendly with.’
Sadler looked up. The eyes of the two men were on him. Clive’s relaxed, confident in his neighbour’s abilities, Max’s troubled.
‘You’re worried about the fact she died so soon after the call?’
‘It’s odd and yet, when Nell put the phone down, she seemed much happier.’
‘Then you must have reassured her. How did the conversation end?’
‘It was a throwaway comment, but I basically said that one good thing was that you can’t libel the dead. She sounded positively chirpy when she put the phone down.’
‘You can’t libel the dead?’
‘Exactly. The comment cheered her up no end, but now Nell’s dead and I can’t sleep wondering what it was all about.’
8
‘I saw her again.’
‘Oh Mum.’ Mina sat in the seat next to her mother’s bed, taking care not to disturb the drip. She’d preferred it when Hilary was in the main ward as she’d been able to talk to the other patients and visitors. Especially on a Sunday, a time of family lunches and shared activities, a hospital can feel the loneliest place in the world. Mina, over the weeks, had developed a loose friendship with some of the other long term patients and their families. Sometimes, when Mina had rushed in from a gardening job, fortified only by endless cups of tea, she’d joined a visiting relative in the hospital canteen for a bowl of soup and a chat. Mutual commiseration.
Since Hilary’s delirium, however, they’d moved her to a private room as she’d been shouting in her sleep, scaring the other patients. So now it was just Mina and Hilary, and a stultifying pressure in the room that made Mina’s head ache. Hilary’s fever hadn’t yet abated, although the nurse who came in to check on them said it hadn’t worsened. Mina picked up the clipboard on the end of the bed and looked at the figures. Her mother’s temperature was still 38.9 degrees.
‘She was standing there. She didn’t talk to me but she knew who I was.’
‘You mean you saw your friend, Valerie, again?’
Hilary nodded.
‘You said yesterday you were scared. Are you scared today?’
Hilary closed her eyes. ‘Confusing.’
‘I know it is. Listen, Mum, you asked me to find her but you need to tell me more. Can you remember where she lived?’ Mina remembered the words of the policeman. Find out more information so you can ask around.
‘In that cold place. The village. Cold Eaton.’
‘Cold Eaton? Where’s Cold Eaton? Ah.’ A memory cleared. ‘I remember. You pass it on the Matlock road. Did Valerie live in Cold Eaton?’
The nod was hardly perceptible but it was there.
‘Shouldn’t have done it.’
‘Done what, Mum?’
‘The tunnel and after everything too. The reservoir came rushing in over the village and next she has to deal with the dark. Too much for anyone.’
It was gibberish. Mina leant across to lay her hand on Hilary’s forehead and her mother stilled. After a few minutes, she began to snore lightly. Mina got up and went down to the nurses’ station near the entrance of the ward.
‘Who was my mother’s visitor today?’
A male nurse in a white short-sleeved top looked up in surprise. ‘I didn’t know your mum had a visitor. I didn’t see anyone. Did you, Sue?’
A nurse rapidly typing something into a computer looked up and shook her head. ‘I don’t remember anyone going into see Mrs Kemp. I would have remembered as she’s so poorly, it’s really only family she should be seeing. Was it a relation?’
‘No. She says she saw an old school friend in her room today.’
Sue locked eyes with the male nurse. ‘It could be her condition, you know. High temperature can be disorienting. It can even cause hallucinations. It’s not uncommon.’
Mina felt the need to defend her mother. ‘She seemed pretty sure. She said the woman’s name was Valerie.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The nurse turned back to the screen. ‘I’m pretty sure that your mother didn’t have a visitor today.’
Mina went back to Hilary who had begun to toss in her sleep, her frail body troubled. Mina put out a hand to steady her but her mother rocked underneath it. Mina leant over and pushed the button by the bed. The male nurse appeared.
‘She’s really agitated. Is there anything I can do?’
The man came forward and checked the drip. ‘She’s been like this since yesterday
when the fever appeared. We’re not really getting on top of things.’
‘Is it bad?’
‘You know her immune system is weakened by the chemotherapy. Any infection isn’t good.’
‘She seems to have a lot on her mind. I’m not sure if she’s talking nonsense or not.’
‘Bit of both, I suppose.’ The nurse looked down at Hilary. ‘Delirium is like a dream. Part real, part made-up. You must have had a fever as a child.’
‘Of course.’
But it hadn’t been her mother who had soothed her. Bookish Hilary Kemp, who had shocked her family by having a child by a married man and, refusing his offer of financial support, had brought up Mina by herself. The male figure in Mina’s childhood was Hilary’s own father, Grumps. Nothing to do with his temperament but Mina’s mispronunciation as a toddler, which had delighted him. Grumps he’d stayed until his death fifteen years ago.
She remembered that when she was ill, it was to Grumps’ house that she’d gone while her mother went to work. He’d fed her ginger biscuits and flat lemonade, his cure for all types of stomach ailments. Comfort food that she so desperately craved at this moment. Don’t think of him, she cautioned herself. Keep yourself together. She looked down at his daughter, Hilary, who had opened her eyes and was struggling to sit up in her agitation.
‘Mum!’ She reached down and held the frail body in her arms.
‘I am scared.’
‘There’s no need to be. There’s nothing to be scared of.’
‘Valerie’s here. I saw her.’
‘That’s okay then. If she’s been to see you, I’ll find her for you and we’ll clear up the confusion. She’s obviously not dead, is she, if she was here?’
‘Oh, she’s dead. Grumps told me.’
‘Grumps? He knew her?’
‘He’d heard that she was dead and wanted to tell me himself before I heard it from anyone else.’
‘Maybe he got it wrong, Mum. These things happen.’
‘Oh I know he was right because I knew Valerie was already dead.’