by Sarah Ward
Kat suddenly caught sight of a purple pattern on the cloth. ‘What’s that?’
The boy’s expression changed from mock lust to fear. ‘Lena gave it to me.’
‘Lena? It’s got nothing to do with her.’ Kat reached forward and grabbed the cloth from the boy’s hand. He stood in consternation, holding the knife uncertainly in front of him.
Kat made a bolt for the front door, pulling it open. ‘You tell my sister that this scarf has nothing to do with her. I’m sick of the sight of you and your presents. Tell her to come and see me herself or just leave me alone. Do you hear? Now get of out of my room.’
He left without looking at her. Kat inspected the scarf. This she did recognise. It was hers. From a long time ago. The eighties? Definitely not that old but maybe from twenty or so years ago. It had been a favourite then. By that time the fracture between her and Lena had been complete. There was nothing this scarf symbolised that could be described as a shared experience.
63
Sadler watched through the window as Palmer and Connie walked across the lawn outside the station. Palmer took off his dark-blue jacket and laid it carefully on the grass before sitting gingerly on it. Connie plopped herself down next to him, making herself comfortable, before lying down with her hands behind her head. Palmer ignored her, untwisted a paper bag, took out what looked like a sandwich and started to eat it. Sadler felt the urge to join them.
The phone on his desk rang, an unwelcome distraction. ‘DI Sadler? I’ve got Julia Miles from Shallowford House in reception. She’s looking for DC Childs or DS Palmer but I’m not getting any response from either of their phones.’
Sadler looked back out through the window. The two were laughing together, and Palmer looked like he was trying to stuff part of his sandwich into Connie’s mouth. ‘I’ll come down and get her.’
Julia Miles looked composed when he came towards her. She also looked familiar. Perhaps their paths had crossed at some point in the past. It wouldn’t have been surprising. He saw a gleam of recognition in her eyes too.
‘You don’t remember me?’
In these instances, the truth was usually preferable to obfuscation. ‘You look familiar. It’s just I’m struggling . . .’
She smiled and looked away. ‘You nearly arrested me once. When they were pulling down the old swimming baths to make way for the housing development. Do you remember? About ten years ago? I chained myself to a drainpipe. The constable was going to arrest me for trespass along with the others there. You stopped your car and intervened.’
Sadler did remember. The building had been beautiful. Made from Derbyshire stone, it had been a solid square building with a small pool. Too small by modern standards and with tiles that were chipped and stained with age. And no heritage listing, which meant that developers had been free to do whatever with it when they acquired the land. Four executive homes with postage-stamp-sized gardens had been squeezed onto the tiny plot.
Sadler had sympathised with the protesters, but they were breaking the law. He’d stopped the car because he spotted a red-faced young constable getting increasingly out of his depth. ‘Any other near-brushes with the law?’
She smiled at him. ‘I rely on you lot these days. In my job, I mean. It was a one-off, that protest. I swam in that pool as a child.’
‘Didn’t we all? You wanted to see one of my detectives? They’re out at the moment.’ He didn’t mention the fact that they were sprawled on the lawn the other side of the building having lunch.
Julia Miles’ face creased into a frown. ‘I’m worried. About Mary Alton. Steph’s daughter. DC Childs mentioned that she’d interviewed Mary. Was she okay then?’
Sadler rubbed his face. ‘I don’t think there was anything significant. What’s the problem?’
Julia continued to frown, looking at the floor. ‘It’s probably nothing. It’s just I’ve been around to Mary’s flat a couple of times to check that she’s okay, and I’m not getting any answer.’
‘You think there might be a problem? Is she a vulnerable teenager?’
‘I’d say so, although she’s technically off the radar of Social Services now she’s nineteen. Given her age, I guess it’s probably none of your business either.’
‘If you think something might have happened to her, then she definitely should be on my radar.’ He took a step back. ‘Why don’t you take a seat? This shouldn’t take long.’
It would have been quicker to go out the front door and walk around to the back of the station. But Sadler, keen to maintain an air of professionalism, both for himself and for his colleagues, instead traced the route Palmer and Connie must have taken after their visit to the canteen. He passed through the warren-like corridors of the station and finally made it to the lawned area.
They were still on the grass. Connie looked like she was having a snooze. Palmer was checking his phone. He looked up, shocked, as Sadler approached. ‘We were just having a spot of late lunch or afternoon tea, given the time.’
Connie opened her eyes and looked unabashed, but she was the first to stand up. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘I’ve got Julia Miles in reception. She’s concerned about Mary Alton. When you interviewed Mary after her mother’s death, how did the girl take it?’
Connie frowned. ‘She was upset from what I can remember. She looked like she’d been crying. But she was lucid. Told me that her mother had ups and downs. She seemed keen to defend Stephanie but not suspiciously so. Is there a problem?’
‘Ms Miles can’t get in touch with Mary. She’s concerned about her.’
‘She seemed okay when I spoke to her. Ask the family-liaison officer who brought her here. She sat in on the interview.’
‘What happened afterwards?’
‘Afterwards? Nothing happened after. She was given a lift home, that’s all. Given that we’re treating her mother’s death as suicide, there wasn’t much else I could do. We’re not Social Services.’ The sentence was a step too far. Even Connie seemed to have recognised it, and a flush of colour spread across her cheeks.
‘Fine. However, there’s a possibility that Mary Alton may also now be missing. I don’t like what’s happening to the women of Bampton. Can one of you try to track her down?’
He noticed Palmer looking at his watch. ‘Perhaps I can leave that to you, Damian.’
Back at his desk, Sadler’s mobile rang. He was about to switch it off. Nearing the end of the day, he had a number of admin tasks that wouldn’t wait until the morning. Looking at the name on the screen, he changed his mind and pressed the answer button. ‘Is everything all right?’ Camilla never rang him during the day. She treated his job as sacrosanct. In fact, she rarely called him on his mobile, preferring late-night calls when she knew he would be relaxing at home.
‘Everything’s fine with me. It’s just there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘To do with the kids?’
‘The kids?’ She sounded surprised. ‘No, of course not the children. They’re also fine. It’s to do with . . . Look, I don’t want to do this over the phone. Can you meet me?’
‘Will later do? Or is it urgent?’
Camilla sighed down the line. ‘Not urgent but it’s to do with work. Should I come in and see you?’
‘For God’s sake, Cam. There’s no need to do that. I’m coming around now. You’ve got me worried stiff. Stay where you are.’
‘Can we meet at Hale’s End?’
‘Hale’s End?’
There was a brief silence at the other end of the phone. ‘I think it might help.’
He disconnected the call and looked out through his window into the incident room. Palmer and Connie were back in the office, still laughing together. Something about their stance put a niggle of doubt in his mind. He frowned, but grabbed his coat and walked across to them. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so. Call me on my mobile if anything comes up.’
The evening was approaching, that time between daylight finishing a
nd the encroaching night. The gloaming, his mother used to call it. An old-fashioned word, seldom used any more. But for Sadler it encapsulated the mystery of the early evening. There was a nip in the air, and he felt a reluctance to visit Hale’s End. Perhaps because of its past history. It had always been a place of the dead. A place of sorrow. In the twenty-first century it had remained so, although he had seen precious little distress in response to the death of Andrew Fisher.
At the entrance to the path to Hale’s End he saw his sister’s white Nissan parked haphazardly on the grass verge. If he’d had the keys he would have at least straightened it. As it was, its back jutted awkwardly out into the road. Camilla was nowhere to be seen. She clearly didn’t share his apprehensions about approaching Hale’s End at dusk.
He walked quickly towards the old building, and, as he turned the corner, he saw a blurry shape that coalesced into two tall figures. His sister he recognised straight away. She had his leanness and, although she had put on some weight after having the children, she was still slender. The other he thought at first was Kat Gray. She had the same shape as his sister, but it was only as he got closer that he saw, with a start, it was the Manchester solicitor, Anna, who his sister was so keen for him to know.
Sadler wasn’t so crass as to think that this was a contrivance to set him up on a date. One glance at Camilla’s face would have put paid to that anyhow. He finally made it to them and acknowledged Anna with a nod.
‘Thanks for coming, Francis. You remember Anna.’
‘Of course.’
Anna was trying to smile at him but not succeeding. She did manage to look him in the eye. ‘Maybe I should explain why we’re here.’
‘Are you sure you’re all right? We don’t have to stay here – I know this place well enough’ said Sadler.
‘So do I, unfortunately,’ said Anna. ‘But it’s better that we’re here. This place is important for what I want to tell you.’
Some of the warmth from earlier in the day had held. It didn’t entirely dispel the gloom of the place, but it was trying.
‘Anna came around today for lunch. We got to talking about Hale’s End. I hope I didn’t betray any confidences. It was general stuff about what we talked about when we were last together. About you coming here to lark about and about my ex bringing me here for a bit of teenage fumbling.’
‘I remember.’
‘Well, Anna has her own story about this place. I think you should hear it.’
He looked across to Anna, who was pale but determined. ‘Okay but I’ll say it again. It doesn’t have to be here.’
Anna shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s call it expelling old ghosts. Although I hardly know where to start.’
Sadler was on firmer territory. ‘Let’s move into the clearing there. We can look at the building while you tell me what you want to say.’
They moved across, slightly out of the trees.
‘I’m a bit younger than you both. This place has become overgrown, but how you describe it, that you used to be able to get a car down the track, that’s how I remember it too. I can remember when you used to be able to come down here in a car.’
Sadler said nothing. Just nodded.
‘I had a boyfriend. When I was in my mid-teens. It was a big secret really. He was older than me. Seventeen. And he had a car. Well, it wasn’t his. He used to borrow his mother’s, and we used to go driving. I was too young to get into a pub. Although I was tall, I looked my age. So the local pubs were out. Instead, Adam would go to an off-licence and buy a bottle of cider or some beer, and we’d park up here and have a drink.’
‘Where did your parents think you were?’
‘I had a friend, Paula, who also had a boyfriend. We basically used to cover for each other. I’d say I was going out with her, and vice versa. Of course, my parents weren’t daft. They could smell the alcohol when I got home. They just thought I was drinking with Paula.’
‘And how old exactly were you, Anna?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, one day things got a bit out of hand. Further than I wanted. You know . . . It was stupid. But when I suddenly said that was it, I didn’t want to go any further, he just didn’t listen to me. Carried on.’ Camilla moved a step forward towards her friend. ‘The thing was, it wasn’t really that bad. I mean, I didn’t want to have sex with him, but it seemed easier just to, well, let him do it. That’s what happened.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes. Wherever the track ended. There was a small turning circle, wasn’t there? Sometimes we had to go elsewhere because there was a car already here, but often we just had the place to ourselves.’
‘So you associate this place with where your assault took place.’
Anna flinched. ‘Yes, it was an assault, wasn’t it? I can see now. It took me a long time to accept that. But my parents, they knew it for what it was straight away.’
‘You told your parents?’
‘Well, my mum, initially. I was an emotional wreck. I needed support.’
‘And did she help?’
‘She was absolutely fantastic. I went to the doctor, and she told my mum that we should go to the police. She seemed really angry. She was the old-school type. The mother of that woman who went to prison for her husband’s murder.’
‘Lena Gray?’
‘That’s her. Her mother was a fantastic doctor. She was angry when I told her what had happened. She told me to go to the police.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘It was the biggest mistake of my life.’
64
The boy had gone. Her empty consulting rooms, a refuge for so many of her clients, felt soiled. Her shock at seeing the scarf, an item that she recognised as belonging to her, had blinded her to the fact that he had deposited something else on the table when he left. A large brown envelope, thin and neatly gummed shut. For an instant, Kat had an idea of tearing it up into tiny shreds without even looking at the contents. Wasn’t that part of taking control of your life? She didn’t actually have to open the packages, to play the game that her sister was drawing her into.
She slid her finger under the gummed flap and reached inside for the contents. It was a glossy photograph of a pub. Kat frowned. There was a dated feel to the image, reinforced by the car that was passing when the photo was taken. The shot had to be at least ten years old. She squinted at the building. In large letters were the words, ‘Ups ’n’ Downs’. A terrible name for a gruesome pub.
She wafted the photograph at her hot face. She remembered the place, of course. It was where she and Lena used to go in the days when they were still socialising together. She could have sworn that the bar was now derelict. In fact, she was pretty much sure of it. It was up by the canal. Not the nice bit with the warehouse that had been converted into flats, but the other end of town. A place that had never managed to be regenerated. It had been a slightly dodgy area when she and Lena had gone there, but safe enough if there was a gang of you. She hadn’t been there for years though. Surely the pub couldn’t still be open?
Still slightly shaky on her feet, she pulled on her jacket. She didn’t feel up to driving, and the distance was just about walkable. The fresh air helped alleviate the anxiety she could feel insinuating itself around her body.
She found Mark’s number on her phone and called first his mobile, then his home. No answer from either of them. Men, she thought, are just useless. You had to rely on your own resources.
When she reached the canal, it was as she’d expected. The pub that had once been Ups ’n’ Downs was derelict. The windows and doors were boarded up, and there was just a small slot in the front entrance to post whatever junk mail the postman was inclined to deliver. Even the name had been removed. Just a red strip across the building indicated that there had once been a sign present.
The pub brought back no significant memories for Kat. It had been a place t
o go out for a sly drink in the days before she’d really been allowed to go to bars, but that was just about it.
She pulled out the photograph from her pocket and compared the image to the present state of the building. Definitely the same place, but that was all that could be said really. A pub she had once frequented. What the hell was Lena up to?
She could hear footsteps coming up behind her and turned sharply. Lena stood opposite her. ‘You always were slow on the uptake.’
That stung. Her sister always had the capacity to hurt her, and nothing had changed.
‘Where have you been?’
Lena was like a spectre from one of those films they’d watched together long ago. The grey in her hair seemed to have multiplied. Her shoulders were hunched over her thin frame. She didn’t answer Kat directly but turned to look at the derelict building. ‘Don’t you remember this place? What it was like?’
‘Of course I remember it. Bloody awful place it was. So what? This is Bampton. You want somewhere decent for a night out when you’re eighteen, go to Manchester.’
‘We weren’t eighteen though, were we? You were fifteen, me sixteen.’
‘So? We weren’t the first teenagers to go out drinking when we shouldn’t have. Mum and Dad weren’t bothered. They were happy to turn a blind eye.’
At the mention of their parents, Lena’s eyes filled with tears. Kat stared at her unmoved. ‘They weren’t just your parents, you know? They were mine too.’
Lena moved forward, and Kat got a familiar whiff of sweat. She recoiled. ‘You smell like that boy. The one who’s been leaving me all those presents from you. Are you sleeping with him?’
Lena moved back away from her. ‘He’s been helping me. I needed it.’
‘Helping you? You’ve implicated someone barely out of childhood in your schemes. Who the hell is he? Are you going to ruin someone else’s life as well as your own?’