by Ann Cleeves
‘Where were you on Tuesday evening?’
Her mood suddenly changed and she became girlish, flirtatious again. ‘Am I a suspect? How exciting!’
‘I have to ask.’
‘Of course you do. We all do our jobs. We all follow orders.’ The tone had changed once more and become surprisingly bitter. ‘I was here until five o’clock. On my own. Sharon, our main volunteer, leaves just before three most days to pick up her little girl from school and we don’t have any groups on Tuesday afternoons. Then I went home. I live alone. So no alibi, Sergeant. Nobody to vouch for me.’
Joe stood up. He still felt unsettled because he couldn’t quite place her, socially or emotionally. He guessed she must be divorced. This was no confirmed spinster like Vera Stanhope. ‘Where do you live?’
‘On the coast. Cullercoats.’
That didn’t help to pin her down much. Culler-coats had grand homes looking out over the bay, but there were also rows of small terraced houses and Tyneside flats.
They were halfway down the stairs when he turned back to her. ‘Why do you do this? Why do you work here?’
‘Because I’m nosy,’ she said immediately. ‘I’m interested in people. I’d get bored alone in the house all day.’ Joe thought that was exactly the answer Vera would have given. ‘And then there’s guilt.’ The words seemed to come out before she’d thought about them properly, because he could tell she regretted them as soon as they were spoken. She gave a sad smile. ‘Not everyone is as lucky as me.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annie got back to Valley Farm in time for lunch. Sam had been baking bread. She could smell the yeast as soon as she let herself into the house. She thought that meant he was troubled. Her memories of the bad times with Lizzie were linked with this smell and with the sight of Sam kneading dough in the restaurant kitchen. He thumped and stretched the mixture on the marble block as if he were committing torture, until the tension went from his shoulders and he began to relax.
‘I wasn’t sure when you’d be home. I thought, once you started gassing to the lasses, you could be out all day.’ There was flour on his forehead.
She took a tea towel and wiped it off. ‘I didn’t meet the girls.’
‘No?’
She’d been married to him for nearly thirty years, but she still couldn’t always tell what he was thinking. He put a long oven glove on one hand and lifted the bread out of the oven. Wholemeal. He preferred white himself, but always cooked her favourites. He turned the loaf upside down and knocked the bottom, seemed satisfied and slid it onto a tray to cool.
‘A woman phoned earlier. She works for a charity. Hope North-East. She’s visited Lizzie a couple of times in prison. She wanted to talk. I didn’t like the idea of her coming to the house.’
He closed the oven door and switched it off. ‘You didn’t say.’ No judgement. A bald statement of fact.
‘I’m sorry.’ Annie paused, took a breath. ‘We need to talk about Lizzie. She’s out this weekend.’ She felt bruised and exhilarated. As if she’d smashed a fist through the glass wall that had separated them for months.
He had his back to her, so she couldn’t see his face. He switched on the kettle. ‘I expect you could do with a coffee.’
‘Sam.’ Annie could tell her voice was desperate now. ‘We will let her come here, won’t we?’
He swung round with more speed than she’d have thought possible from him. ‘Of course she’ll come here. Where else would she go?’
Then Annie thought that everything would be all right. The two of them would stick together over this. It wouldn’t break them apart. They continued the conversation as they ate, and she felt closer to her husband than she had in years. Perhaps even since that time when he’d arrived at her parents’ house the week before she was supposed to marry another man. Her parents had both been teachers. They’d lived in the smart new estate on the edge of Bebington, close to their roots, but a little away from the pit-town. They’d had aspirations for her. She’d been away to university and that was where she’d met Michael, her fiancé. Her parents had liked Michael, who was an aspiring lawyer from Surrey. They had even forgiven the fact that his father was a Tory councillor. When Sam had turned up at their tidy modern house, still smelling faintly of the farm, her parents had let him in. He was an old friend of their daughter, after all.
Sam had taken her for a walk along the beach. It was a gusty, showery day and the wind had blown her skirt and her hair, and the waves had been tumbling onto the sand. Later she’d sat in the little front room in her parents’ house; she’d cried as she told them the wedding was off, but she’d felt a tremendous exhilaration too. Her parents had tried to understand. ‘Are you sure, pet? I mean Sam? He’s a nice enough chap, but don’t you think he’s a bit boring?’
Now, sitting across the kitchen table from him, she thought he didn’t look very different from the farmer’s son who’d persuaded her that nobody else would love her as much as he did.
‘You know I’d do anything to make our Lizzie happy.’ There was the same expression as when he’d walked with her along that beach. Stubborn and kind of soppy at the same time. ‘She’s been nothing but trouble for years, but I still love her to bits.’
‘Why wouldn’t you go and visit her in prison?’
He gave a little shake of his head. ‘I couldn’t bear it. She’s not a girl who was meant to be trapped. It’d be like seeing a wild bird in a cage.’
‘This social worker says she’s changed.’
‘Oh, aye?’ His expression said that just because he loved his daughter, he hadn’t lost his senses.
‘Lizzie’s talking about going to college.’
‘Well, she’s talked about that before.’
‘The woman who works for the charity. Her name’s Shirley. She’s going to keep an eye on things, support Lizzie once she’s come out of prison.’ Annie reached out and touched his hand.
‘Aye, well, Lizzie’s had social workers before too.’
‘Young things, always rushing to be somewhere else. Thinking more about their careers than the folk they’re supposed to be helping.’ Annie was dismissive. ‘When you meet Shirley you’ll see she’s different. She seems to know what she’s talking about.’
‘When will I get to see her then?’ He frowned. He didn’t like meeting new people. Even their neighbours in Valley Farm made him feel a bit awkward until he’d had a couple of beers. Then he could be the life and soul.
‘She’s coming here on Monday. She said that’d give us a day to get settled with Lizzie, a bit of time to get to know each other again.’
Sam nodded. ‘That makes sense.’
‘We’ll need to tell the others.’ Annie nodded in the direction of the houses along the courtyard. ‘That Lizzie will be coming to stay with us.’
‘Why?’ For the first time in the conversation he sounded angry. ‘What business is it of theirs who lives in our house?’
Annie didn’t answer. She knew they had to tell their neighbours that their ex-offender daughter would be landing up in the community. They’d never met her, but Lizzie’s face had been all over the Kimmerston Herald when she got sent down. Even if she wanted to, Annie couldn’t pretend this was a different young relative who’d turned up out of the blue. ‘It’s none of their business, but best that they’re prepared. It’ll make things less awkward.’ She thought she’d go and tell them this afternoon. Friday night was when they got together for drinks and a shared supper. To mark the start of the weekend, for people who didn’t have any other structure in their lives. She didn’t want to blurt it out then.
Sam shrugged. ‘If you think that’s best. You’re better at this sort of thing than me.’
She cut another slice of the bread that he’d baked for her. It was still warm and the butter melted and dribbled over her fingers.
‘You could be married to that lawyer,’ he said suddenly. He’d been thinking of the day when he’d turned up at her parents’ place too. Th
e walk on the beach. ‘A big house, perfect kids.’
‘Nobody’s perfect.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say, then added, ‘But you come pretty close.’
Annie went to Janet’s first. She thought Janet would be easier. She’d been a sort of social worker, a bit like Shirley Hewarth. John was in the study they’d made for him at the top of the house, so the house was quiet apart from Radio 4 burbling in the kitchen. The Carswells’ dogs were asleep in the sun near the French window at the back of the room. Janet was reading one of the heavy newspapers they always bought. Her glasses had slid to the end of her nose.
‘He moved downstairs to work when he got that cold.’ Janet switched on the kettle. ‘What a nightmare! I had no peace. He kept calling for hot drinks. And there were papers everywhere. I was so glad when he took himself back upstairs. You don’t think of that when you retire – that you don’t have any space to yourself.’
‘So he’s feeling better?’ Annie didn’t really care, but she supposed she should show some interest.
‘Much.’
The Archers theme tune came on and Jan turned off the radio. ‘I heard it last night. John says that the programme’s drivel, but I never miss it.’
‘Lizzie’s being released this weekend.’ Annie hadn’t meant to be so abrupt, but perhaps there was no other way to pass on the information. ‘I thought you should know. She’s coming to live with us for a while.’
‘Of course she is,’ Janet said. ‘You’ll be so pleased to have her home.’
‘Yes, I will.’ And Annie thought she really meant that. It would be exciting to get to know her daughter properly. Perhaps for the first time. She pushed her anxieties about Lizzie getting drunk and wild, and causing a nuisance to their new friends, to the back of her mind.
They drank their coffee sitting next to the dogs. ‘I’ll miss them when the Carswells get back.’ Janet was stroking the back of the old female. Annie could tell she was just waiting to hear whatever Annie had to tell her. She wouldn’t ask intrusive questions.
‘I’m scared too,’ Annie said. ‘That we’ll get it wrong again and she’ll storm away and get mixed up with all those dreadful people. That she’ll get bored and cause bother for you. She was always a nightmare as soon as she was bored.’
‘Maybe she’s just grown up a bit.’
‘I do hope so.’ But Annie couldn’t bring herself to believe that people ever changed that much. ‘We won’t be hosting drinks next Friday,’ she said. ‘I know it’s our turn, but we thought it’d be a bit much for Lizzie. First weekend out.’
‘Well, she’s a bit young for the retired hedonists!’
Jan laughed. ‘Anyway, of course you’ll want to be on your own for a bit. Nigel and Lorraine can come here. I can’t imagine Nigel wanting a Friday night without a bit of a party. And we’ll all be getting together as usual tonight.’ She was still stroking the Labrador at her feet. ‘Do you want me to tell next door about Lizzie?’
‘Nah.’ Annie was feeling more confident now. She was thinking how lucky they were to have chosen to live at Valley Farm, where they’d made such good friends. ‘I’ll go round now.’
‘Have you heard any more about the murders?’ Janet threw that out just as Annie was at the door.
Annie shook her head. It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought about the dead men all day.
Nigel let her into the farmhouse. ‘Hiya!’
He always sounded just a little bit too jolly. He tried too hard to fit in. Perhaps that was because he and Lorraine didn’t come from the North-East. Jan had a Scottish voice, but she’d lived and worked in Newcastle for years.
‘Can I get you something? One of my famous coffees? A cup of tea?’ He had a fancy coffee machine. One of his toys.
‘A cappuccino would be lovely, Nige.’ Because that was what he wanted to hear. ‘Is Lorraine in?’ Annie thought it would be easier talking to them both.
‘She’s working upstairs. I’ll give her a shout.’
Left alone in this part of the house, Annie looked around. This was by far the grandest home of the development. She wouldn’t want to live here. She thought Nigel had furnished to impress rather than because he liked each of the items. Another sign that he lacked confidence, she thought. He’d obviously been terrific at running a business because he was minted, but once he’d given that up he didn’t have anything to define him. A bit like Sam, who still baked bread in their tiny galley kitchen. She did love some of the paintings, though. There was a tiny one of a door leading through a wall into a garden. It held the promise of adventure. Once you walked through the door anything might happen. She’d stood up to get a closer look when Nigel came back with the coffee.
‘That’s one of Lorraine’s,’ he said. ‘I tell her she should sell them.’
‘I’d buy this!’
‘You can have it.’ Lorraine had been following and Annie hadn’t noticed. ‘As a present, of course.’
‘Oh no, I wasn’t hinting.’
But the watercolour was taken from the wall and Annie sat with it beside her, feeling awkward, but still delighted to have it in her grasp.
‘I’ve come to tell you that we won’t be having drinks at ours next Friday.’ Pause. Big breath. ‘Lizzie’s coming out of prison this weekend. We’ll want her to ourselves for a bit.’
Lorraine was still standing, holding a mug in both hands. ‘She’s coming to live with you?’
‘Of course she will be.’ This was Nigel, hearty and kind. ‘And of course we understand, don’t we, Lorrie? We wouldn’t want to intrude on your first couple of weeks together. It’ll be very special for you all. We’ve never had kiddies, but we can see how important it must be for you and Sam to be a family again.’
‘Thank you.’ Annie realized she was close to crying. She looked at Lorraine, expecting something more from her too. She’d thought that Lorraine, with her arty clothes and her easy laughter, would be the least fazed to hear that a convicted criminal would be moving in next door. But Lorraine said nothing. She drank her coffee with her eyes half-closed as if the taste and the smell of it were the most important things in the world. Annie wondered if her friend might once have been the victim of a crime. That might explain her wariness. She saw that it wouldn’t be so easy to forgive, if you were the person who’d been scarred after a drunken encounter in a bar. Annie had never heard what had happened to Lizzie’s victim and didn’t like to think about that.
The silence stretched and grew uneasy. At last Lorraine set her coffee mug on a slate coaster on the table. ‘Aren’t you a bit nervous? About Lizzie offending again? I mean, when she’s living with you.’
Annie remembered then that Lorraine had run art classes for people in trouble. Of course she wouldn’t necessarily have a rosy opinion of offenders. All the same, Lorraine seemed so upset that Annie wondered if she’d had a more personal encounter with crime.
‘We’ll get help.’ Annie realized her voice was a bit desperate. ‘She’ll have a probation officer and a woman from Hope North-East, a charity, will be visiting. We won’t have to do it all ourselves.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ Lorraine seemed to have recovered her composure. She smiled. ‘With you and Sam to support her, what could possibly go wrong?’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lizzie Redhead lay in bed. Her head was exploding with the prospect of leaving prison. The space beyond this place seemed to stretch forever. Scary, and dizzying with its possibilities. Plans fizzed and jolted like she was wired to a power supply. She knew she wouldn’t sleep at all. It was because she was so freaked out, and she was frightened of the dreams that seeped into her mind when she was half-awake. Sodding Jason Crow. You won’t leave me alone even here.
She shared her room with three other women. There was one set of bunks and two single beds. All with flowery duvets, as if pretty linen could turn them into civilized people, good wives and mothers. Lizzie had a bed, the one closest to the window, which was an odd shape beca
use it had been cut in half when the grand house had been turned into an institution and extra partition walls had been built. Outside there was a big tree. When Lizzie had first come to Sittingwell it had been bare and when the wind blew the branches creaked, making her think of an old-fashioned ship in a storm. In moonlight the tree threw strange shapes on the ceiling. It was as if outside had come into the prison.
Now the women were all asking her what she’d do when she first got out. Two were recent arrivals and she hadn’t got to know them well, so she ignored their suggestions.
‘You’ll go into toon, man. A night on the lash. That club in the Bigg Market, where they do cocktails. A lass like you will pull a fit bloke in seconds.’ The two were cousins and had been charged together with a series of thefts from stores. After so many convictions the court had described prison as the only option left, even though they both had babies. The kids were being cared for by grandparents. Lizzie had seen them at visiting time.
The cousins went on to throw out a menu of drinks that they’d go for, when they got let out: lethal cocktails that got crazier and crazier. Lizzie thought she’d moved beyond that. There was more to life than getting pissed. Prison had given her a different perspective. Her world was bigger. She lay on her bed and pulled the curtain aside to see the stars. An owl called somewhere in the garden, and immediately Lizzie was back in the place where she’d lived as a child. The valley at Gilswick. Then it had seemed to her a community of old people. A strict social hierarchy, with the major in the Hall at the top. The only other kids had lived at the big house. Lizzie had been at school with them, until they’d been sent off to private prep schools. She hadn’t thought much of Catherine, who’d been dainty and girly, but she’d got on okay with Nicholas. He hadn’t boarded until he was older and she’d still played with him at weekends. They’d built dens in the woods and dammed the burn. It should have been idyllic, but it had never been enough for her. She’d still been bored.