Children of the Revolution

by Peter Robinson

  ‘And that was how it stayed?’

  ‘That was how it stayed. I finished out the first year, then I went to stay at Buxton for the “confinement”. And, believe me, it was a confinement. We couldn’t go through official channels, of course, but Tony was a practising gynaecologist. He took care of everything. He so wanted a son. We simply made out that my sister was pregnant, and that I was there to be with her. Everyone knew we were close. Neither of us went out much at all during that last month or two. It was hot, too, but no bikinis in the garden. If Fran ever went out, she shoved a cushion down her front. It was so funny. She was terrified someone would ask if they could touch her tummy and feel the baby move. But people didn’t do that so much back then, at least not in our circles. It would have been considered vulgar.’

  ‘It seems like a complicated way to go about things, hiding one pregnancy and faking another. If they wanted a baby so much, what about IVF, or straightforward official adoption?’

  ‘IVF wasn’t available then. That didn’t come in until the late seventies. Tony actually worked on it in the early days, but they decided once they had Oliver that it wasn’t for them. Oliver was enough, and they certainly didn’t want the risk of triplets or quadruplets. And as for official adoption, that would have involved the authorities. None of us wanted that. I didn’t want my parents to know I’d had a baby, for a start.’

  ‘But why not?’

  ‘You don’t understand. You didn’t know them. I’d caused them enough … they’d have disowned me. I didn’t want that. I was very confused.’

  ‘OK,’ said Banks.

  ‘And Tony and Fran didn’t want even the slightest risk of losing the child. Fran also loved the idea of the baby being mine, family. It was the next best thing to having her own. And you know as well as I do that things can easily go wrong once you bring the social services into anything.’

  ‘So you brought it off.’

  ‘With ease. Oliver went to full term and I went back to Essex in December. By then, of course, Fran and Tony were already the proud parents of a fine baby boy. And that’s how it stayed.’

  ‘Why did Gavin Miller leave it so long to approach you?’

  Lady Chalmers adjusted the shawl around her shoulders. Banks looked down on the square and saw the local bus bouncing its way over the cobbles. ‘You have to understand, Mr Banks, that Gavin Miller wasn’t a bad person. Not by his nature. He did what he did because he was desperate. He wasn’t a habitual criminal, and he clearly wasn’t very good at it. He told me that he had always suspected from the evidence at the time, because he paid such close attention to me. He could probably even tell when I came back in December, when term had already begun, that I’d had a baby, because, as you said, the timing was right, and what possible reason could I have for missing the first two months of my second year? I also didn’t have my usual slim figure back by then, of course, so I still wore loose clothing. That wasn’t so odd in itself. Most people were neither interested nor particularly suspicious – lots of girls wore loose clothing and it meant nothing – but Gavin was still something of a stalker, though we didn’t call them that back then. But the real reason Gavin called when he did is a simple one. Oliver is tipped to be the next Home Secretary in the forthcoming cabinet reshuffle, as you know. And even if he doesn’t get the position this time around, everyone knows he’s set for great things in the future. He has the perfect image, him and his lovely wife Tania, their two beautiful children Miles and Primrose. Imagine how it would go down if it suddenly came out that he was the bastard son of a spoiled little Marxist rich girl and a striking coal miner, with connections to the Communist Party, once suspected of being a Russian spy? You see, I’ve followed Joe’s career closely.’

  ‘I still don’t see how it’s worthy of blackmail,’ said Banks. ‘Surely nobody would care about Joe Jarvis’s politics these days? He’s hardly a force to be reckoned with. Those communist connections came later, anyway, after you had parted. And none of it is Oliver’s fault. There’s no wrongdoing on his part in any of this.’

  ‘What do they say? No smoke without fire? Dirt sticks? All the clichés apply. It’s not so much the politics, not in isolation. You must know even better than I do what sort of spin an unscrupulous journalist would put on a story like that. And let’s not forget that Fran and Tony broke the law in passing Oliver off as their own son without going through the proper adoption process. Me, too, perhaps, by letting them. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d had a baby, and they wanted the world to think they had. And imagine the effect on poor Oliver, himself, after all this time.’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t let it happen. I’d never forgive myself. Perhaps Tony and I are the only ones left who know the secret, but Tony never showed that he realised how much Oliver meant to me. I was his mother. I took as much pride as Tony and Fran in his achievements. I loved him every bit as much as they did, only I could never say so, never show it. Not to him. Not to anyone.’ She sniffed and rummaged for a handkerchief somewhere inside her shawl. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need to be. I know you love Oliver. What I need to know is who killed Gavin? Was it the same person who tried to run you into the river?’

  ‘You think it was me, don’t you? That I hired someone. That maybe I drove myself into the river.’

  ‘The thought crossed my mind, and now you’ve just given me a motive.’

  ‘Gavin rang out of the blue. The phone call you came to ask me about. He told me he knew about Oliver and that DNA would prove it, as you said. He asked for five thousand pounds to keep quiet. He promised me that would be the only payment. He was almost apologetic, not like a hardened blackmailer at all, though I have no experience of such people. A desperate man, a man at the end of his tether. Even so, the call shook me to my roots. We arranged to meet on the bridge in a week’s time.’

  ‘You’d been there before?’

  ‘Never. But I knew where he meant. I’d driven through Coverton a few times on the way to Barnard Castle.’

  ‘But you didn’t turn up at the meeting.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What happened?’

  She paused, as if she were having difficulty getting the words out. ‘This is really hard, even after all that’s happened.’

  ‘Take your time.’

  Lady Chalmers shot him a glance. ‘As if that would help.’ She took a deep breath. A couple of crows set up squawking in one of the trees beyond the bottom of the garden. ‘All right. As soon as I’d finished talking to Gavin, I phoned Tony. He was livid. He had so much more to lose than I did. Or so he thought. His son – or apparent son – about to become Home Secretary, brought down by some sordid scandal. He couldn’t face something like that. He asked me the details and said to forget about it and leave it to him. Tony was always capable of handling things, the way he did when Oliver was born. I couldn’t forget, of course. The phone call was always on my mind. The proposed meeting gnawed away at me all week. People must have noticed. I’m sure Oriana did. Anyway, the next thing I heard was that Gavin had been found dead under the bridge, and then you turned up.’

  ‘What did you think?’

  She clutched the shawl around her neck. ‘I didn’t know what to think at first.’

  ‘Did you talk to Tony again?’

  ‘Yes. Several times. Especially after you came around. He was interested in how the investigation was progressing.’

  ‘I’ll bet he was. Did he say anything?’

  ‘I asked him what happened, naturally, and he told me that Gavin said this was only the first payment, that there would be more, and when Tony objected, Gavin became upset, then angry, demanding more money right there on the spot. Tony said he acted like he was on drugs or something. He grabbed Tony and tried to snatch his wallet from his inside pocket. They struggled. There was a scuffle, and Gavin fell off the bridge. Tony said he simply panicked and ran off and drove home.’

  Banks knew that it couldn’t have happened as easily as that. The side of the b
ridge was too high for Gavin Miller simply to fall over it. He had to have been at least partially lifted off his feet and bundled over. Tony Litton was powerful enough to do that. There was nothing to be gained from telling Lady Chalmers this, though. She could hardly handle the fact that Tony had killed Gavin Miller accidentally, let alone that he had deliberately murdered him, and tried to murder her.

  ‘So you believed that Gavin Miller’s death was a tragic accident?’

  ‘Yes. Of course. At the time. Tony told me that there was no reason to do or say anything. If I just sat it out, he said, stuck to the story, then everything would blow over and we’d all be fine. Naturally, I didn’t want him to go to trial, or to jail. But it worried me. And you kept coming back, kept asking questions, uncovering fragments of my past, getting closer to the truth. That’s why he tried to have you taken off the case. He said he would be able to handle the police.’

  ‘Why did you phone me from London?’

  Lady Chalmers looked away. ‘I was a bit drunk. Things weren’t sitting easily with me. Jem was back, but I couldn’t talk to him. I was confused, worried. I thought maybe if we made a personal connection, then you’d realise it wasn’t me and go away.’

  ‘So what happened next?’

  ‘When I went down for Oliver’s birthday, Oliver left for London immediately after dinner. He hadn’t seen his wife and children for some days. He had a driver waiting. Tony could see what a state I was in, and he was worried I was on the verge of telling all. I think I was pretty close to breaking point. He wanted me to stay the night in the guest bedroom, but I think I was scared that he might do something. I don’t know what, but the whole set-up was making me nervous. I don’t suppose I was entirely convinced that what happened to Gavin was a complete accident. There was always something about Tony. Something a bit cold and calculating. Pragmatic. There were only the two of us, and we were the only ones in the world who knew. I was scared. Of my own brother-in-law. So I insisted on going home. I’ve always been a good driver. The MG’s a bit leaky perhaps, but it holds the road well. I wasn’t too worried about driving home.’

  ‘Do you think it was Anthony Litton who nudged you into the river?’

  ‘I was on a narrow country lane beside the river. It was dark, no streetlights, just the car’s headlamps, and the rain was coming down in buckets. The windscreen wipers couldn’t keep up with it. Everything was blurred. I was slowing down, thinking of stopping for a while until it eased off. I didn’t see the car. I felt a bump, and then I was losing control, crashing through the fence.’

  ‘But ever since then, you’ve been terrified because you think it was Tony, don’t you, and it’s been eating away at you?’

  ‘I couldn’t accept it at first. I told myself that even if there had been another car, and it wasn’t just my imagination, me losing control in the rain, then it was still an accident, just some stranger who was having trouble staying on the road, too. Admittedly, he shouldn’t have been overtaking under such conditions, but … well, you know what some drivers are like.’

  ‘Indeed. What changed your mind?’

  ‘When I was lying there, in hospital, while they checked me out, I realised that it had to be him, that it was no accident. We were the only two left who knew. We’d argued, after Oliver left. I said Tony should tell you the truth, if it had all been an accident. He said he couldn’t. I don’t think he trusted me to keep quiet any more. He was afraid of what any kind of trouble with the police would do to Oliver’s career prospects. I was worried about Oliver, too, of course, and it was tearing me apart. But Tony had staked his whole life on Oliver, and he couldn’t bear the thought of it all unravelling, even at the expense of his sister-in-law, the true mother of his child. Can you imagine what it’s like, knowing that your own brother-in-law is trying to kill you?’

  ‘No, I can’t,’ said Banks.

  ‘Before that realisation came to me, I never would have said a thing, no matter what I suspected about Gavin’s death. That’s the irony, Mr Banks. If Tony hadn’t tried to kill me, he could have still kept everything he wanted. I would have kept his secret, even if it destroyed my sanity. Now … what are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Banks. ‘A detailed forensic examination of your car should be able to link it with the car that nudged you off the road, and tell us whether it was Anthony Litton’s. That’s not enough evidence in itself, though. A good lawyer could argue that you’d been in the same place together all evening, that you could have easily bumped into his car on your way out, for example. And it’s certainly not enough evidence to convict him of Gavin Miller’s murder.’ Even taking into consideration the height of the bridge’s side, Banks thought, this same good lawyer could still make a strong case for accidental death, manslaughter at the most. But if any of that happened, as Lady Chalmers had said, there was every chance that Oliver Litton’s promising future would be ruined, through no fault of his own. Litton was a rare politician in that he was popular with the people and most of his peers. He stood a little to the right of his party, and even the police welcomed some of the reforms he had promised to bring in if he was given the job.

  ‘Will I go to jail?’

  Banks looked out over Eastvale, its beauty spread out below him under the grey sky, his mind working furiously. A cool breeze shook the tops of the trees, and the crows flew off noisily. ‘What for?’ he said. ‘I’d be a liar if I promised I could predict how this is all going to turn out in court, if it ever gets there.’ Then he turned to Lady Chalmers. ‘There is one thing I can promise you, though. I will do my best to see that you don’t go to prison.’ Banks thought of his visit to Kyle McClusky and the sound of heavy doors being locked, weighed it against Veronica’s deceptions and prevarications. ‘I certainly don’t want to see you there. I don’t think you could have foreseen Gavin’s murder. You foolishly protected your brother-in-law, even after you came to suspect him of murder, but that would also be very hard to prove in court. Even if it could be proven, there would no doubt be a great deal of jury sympathy for you. I don’t have anything to arrest you for. Maybe we could make a case out for obstructing the police in their inquiries, wasting police time, failing to register the birth of a child, even aiding and abetting, which is a lot more serious, but then, Anthony and Oliver Litton have powerful friends. You and Sir Jeremy have powerful friends. Who knows what sort of influence could be brought to bear? As a politician, I’m sure that Oliver is also bound to have enemies and rivals, even in his own party, who will be sniffing around for anything that can be used against him. I can’t promise to keep this from the press or the courts, but it’s not my intention to make it public.’

  ‘But do you have to tell anyone?’

  ‘I have to tell my boss. She’ll determine what’s to be done then. And what I want you to do is to tell your husband and your children. Oriana, too. They deserve to know. It won’t be easy, but they’re your family. You told me you’d do anything to protect them, and it may seem like this would do just the opposite, but believe me, it won’t. They’ll stand by you. In the end, it will bring you closer and make you stronger.’

  ‘And Tony? What about him?’

  ‘I think you’d better leave Mr Litton to me,’ said Banks.

  14

  It was well after dark that Thursday evening, and the fog was thickening fast when Banks arrived at Anthony Litton’s Derbyshire manor house, which was as out of the way as it could be, in that strange no-man’s-land between Buxton and Macclesfield. Though certainly as large and impressive as Brierley, and surrounded by a high wall, the house was older and altogether more heavy and gloomy in its aspect, the dark stone, the brooding gables and squat solidity of its symmetry. Lights were showing in two of the downstairs windows, which meant Banks was probably in luck. He wasn’t entirely certain how to approach Litton, though he had been trying to work out a strategy on the drive down, amply aided by Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony playing loudly on the Porsche’s music system.
/>   Banks pulled up where the drive ended, in front of the door. There was another car parked to his right, a dark Mercedes, in front of the closed garage doors. When he got out and examined it, he noticed that there were deep scratches and a dent on the passenger side. Was Litton so arrogant that he couldn’t even be bothered to put it in the garage, out of sight? Did he have that much confidence in Lady Chalmers’ silence?

  Banks rang the bell and waited, surprised when Litton himself answered. He had been expecting a butler or a maid in a house like that. ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’ Litton welcomed him. ‘That detective who was browbeating Ronnie up at Brierley the other day. What are you doing here? What do you want now?’

  ‘I’d like to talk to you,’ Banks said.

  Litton glowered and stood his ground, a stocky, angry figure, then he seemed to relent. He looked over Banks’s shoulder, then right and left. ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought you lot always travelled in packs.’

  ‘Only when we’re hunting dangerous animals.’ Banks had considered bringing Annie or Winsome with him, but had decided he needed discretion more than company at this point.

  ‘I suppose that ought to reassure me. Come in. You’ve got ten minutes.’ He led Banks into a sitting room that probably had a beautiful view of the surrounding hills in daylight. Now the large picture windows were covered by heavy red velvet curtains. A log fire blazed in the large hearth, though it wasn’t a particularly cold evening, and its flames glinted on the oil paintings that hung on the walls, outlining their relief. Litton sat on a sofa, perching at the edge like a man with little time to spare, and offered nothing in the way of refreshments. That suited Banks just fine. ‘Out with it, man,’ Litton urged.

  Banks determined not to be goaded or wound up by Litton’s demeanour. He had the upper hand here, he kept reminding himself. ‘I notice your car has some damage on the passenger side,’ he began.