by Penny Kline
15
In spite of Kristen driving her home and meeting her family, Shannon still had the same strained expression as before, although when she caught Kristen looking at her she tried to conceal it. If there was something about the classes that was worrying her, Kristen had hoped the visit to her home would give her the confidence to tell her what was wrong, but several days had past and nothing had been said, and the other children were beginning to notice how subdued she had become.
One morning, Kristen had given them some ambiguous pictures and asked them to describe what was going on. Shannon kept putting up her hand and asking how to spell a particular word and, when Kristen suggested she look it up in the dictionary, she complained that dictionaries were no good unless you knew the first few letters of the word.
‘Shakespeare was useless at spelling,’ said Hugo, ‘anyway I’ve heard you can get computers you speak into and they do the writing for you.’
Shannon bit her lip and attention soon turned towards Jack who wanted to know how to spell ‘psycho’ and whether psychopaths always killed people.
‘Why would they want to do that?’ said Hugo. ‘My dad says the clever ones go into business or politics. They don’t care what anyone thinks of them so they can do what they like.’ He looked at Kristen and for once his self-assurance was a little shaky. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
At the end of the morning, Kristen wanted to catch Brigid before she left and, since Brigid was usually in a hurry, she finished her own class a few minutes early and was waiting in the corridor when Brigid came out of the other room, noticed her, and frowned.
‘You’re in a rush,’ Kristen said, ‘perhaps I could walk with you to the end of the road.’
‘Not really.’ Brigid’s frown was replaced by a cheerful smile. ‘My childminder’s had to go to the dentist so Alex is looking after Rebecca. Quite an achievement persuading him. When she was born I thought we’d share the childcare. Some hope!’
‘If you need a break I’d be happy to help. I haven’t much experience of small babies but I’m sure I could manage for an hour or two.’
‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘I met Shannon’s parents.’
Brigid’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Does Neville know?’
‘I gave her a lift home. I was going in her direction anyway. They seem a very nice family. Nothing wrong there.’
‘Good. Not long until you see Theo.’ Brigid was halfway through the outside door. ‘When’s he arriving, on Friday evening?’
‘Ros’s father is coming to London.’ Kristen was oddly reluctant to explain how the visit had been put off. ‘He’s coming the following weekend instead.’
‘I’m sorry. Sorry for Theo too. Still, it’s only one more week. Look, I’ll have to go, Neville’s asked me to buy some books for the classes. Oh, by the way, did Vi Pitt give you any good ideas for your thesis?’
‘Not yet, but I’m hoping to see her again.’
‘I thought the two of you would hit it off.’ Brigid sounded almost resentful. ‘Have a word with Neville about Shannon. It’ll put your mind at rest.’
What would put her mind at rest? Passing on the responsibility to someone else? When she knocked on Neville’s door there was no answer, but before she could walk away it came open and he stood there with a sheaf of papers in his hand.
‘You’re busy,’ she said.
‘Expecting a phone call that hasn’t materialised. Come along in.’
Kristen closed the door behind her. ‘It’s about Shannon Wilkins.’
‘Oh yes.’ He had his back turned, sorting through the papers. ‘Brigid said you found her rather quiet.’ His hand shook a little – or had she imagined it?
‘I gave her a lift home on Friday.’
He spun round. ‘You told her mother you were worried about her?’
‘No, of course not. Both her parents were at home, and her two sisters. I only stayed a short time and I certainly didn’t gain the impression there was anything wrong there.’
‘Interesting how such ordinary parents produced such a gifted child. You know there used to be a theory, rather an unpleasant one I’ve always thought, that a child with a markedly different IQ from its siblings almost certainly had a different father.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, I agree, far too many theories about with very little evidence to back them up.’
He was still smiling but it was a fixed smile, designed to conceal his real feelings. ‘Incidentally, don’t forget to make a date to interview Vi. She’s always keen to talk about her work and the famous Brian, the teacher who got her started in the first place.’
Instead of returning straight home after the classes, Kristen decided to walk on the Downs. The sun was shining but there was almost always a breeze because it was so high up. Leaving her car near the metal railings, she stared down the sheer drop to the bottom of the Gorge. The tide was out, leaving a narrow channel of river running between great slabs of mud. Once or twice since the Suspension Bridge had been built, someone had jumped and landed in the mud, surviving with only minor injuries, but they were the lucky ones – or perhaps the unlucky exceptions, since most of the suicide victims achieved their purpose.
The first signs of vertigo, a shivery sensation at the back of her knees, forced her to turn her back on the Gorge and start watching two boys who were attempting to fly a kite. One held the string and the other ran flat out, letting go then spinning round only to see the red and white bird drop to the grass. Beyond them a man was wheeling a pram, bending towards the baby, probably making sure it was not being bumped about too much, and as he drew closer Kristen was surprised to see it was Alex Howell. Why surprised? Brigid had told her he was looking after Rebecca but somehow she had never imagined him pushing a pram, let alone taking the trouble to walk all the way to the Downs. When he saw her he raised his hand in greeting, waiting for a cyclist to pass, and crossing the road to join her.
‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’ He fixed the brake on the pram. ‘Childminder’s away so I’ve been left in charge.’
‘You walked all this way?’
He laughed. ‘Afraid not. This contraption folds up, fits into the boot. Until we had Rebecca I was almost completely unaware of the number of consumer durables the baby goods trade had dreamed up. Slings, seats, bouncy chairs, how on earth do people on low incomes manage?’
Kristen bent over the pram and Rebecca gazed back at her. ‘She’s looks as though she's grown,’ she said, ‘even in the short time since I last saw her.’
Alex smiled. ‘She eats well enough. Not so hot on sleep. I saw you looking down at the river. Amazing the way the water rises and falls with the tide. Back in the thirteenth century, the lower park of the River Frome was diverted to join the Avon and provide a harbour, nothing like the size of our floating harbour now but quite a feat of construction for the time.’
‘I didn’t realise you were interested in history.’
‘Dry scientist, dry historian, what’s the difference?’ He was looking into the distance. ‘Brigid’s been tired lately. Yes, I know she’s bound to be, it’s perfectly normal. All the same I wondered … Has she said anything? I try to help as much as possible but…’
‘She wanted to go back to work, didn’t she?’ Kristen had no intention of becoming a go-between in any dispute they might be having about who got up in the night to see to the baby.
‘Good for her to get out of the house,’ he said. ‘Trouble is, she worries.’
‘About Rebecca?’
He touched the baby’s cheek. ‘She was three weeks premature, had mild breathing difficulties, but only for a couple of days and the doctors and nurses were wonderful. I expect all parents say the same, especially if there’s some concern about their child. That’s what I’d like to be if I could start all over again.’
‘A doctor?’ Alex, the successful academic, had some regrets about his chosen career.
‘Sounds corny, I know, but I’d like to
think I was doing something worthwhile.’
‘What about your work at the university?’
He shrugged. ‘Progress tends to be slow. My research assistants are bright enough but ever since you and William went to America …’
‘Do you know why he wanted to go?’ she said, surprising herself. ‘Surely he could have got a lectureship over here.’
‘The grass was greener.’ Alex pulled at the light blanket that had caught on one of Rebecca’s feet. ‘There’s more cash in the States, at least there used to be. I was going to ask after Theo but it must be painful talking about him. Do you have any family living nearby?’
‘Family? Oh. No. My mother died when I was sixteen and my father … He’s living in Indonesia at the moment. With a girl called Wangi. It means “fragrant”. She’s having a baby.’
‘He knows what’s happened?’
‘I’m going to tell him when the police –’
‘He might want to come back here. See you.’
‘What would be the point?’
He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Life must go on. When disaster strikes, some people fall apart. Others summon up all their strength. I admire the way you’re handling things. So does Brigid. No, we really do.’
The baby was making sucking noises and Kristen wondered if Alex had remembered to bring her bottle or if he would have to drive her home, yelling all the way.
‘No doubt the children on your courses have got parents who’ll go to any lengths to get them into the best schools,’ he said, ‘move house, convert to Catholicism. Although when the time comes I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for Rebecca.’
Kristen made no comment and he took it as a criticism. ‘Take away the window dressing and are we really different from any other species? Tell me about the girl, Shannon. Would you say the more imaginative ones have a tendency to indulge in flights of fancy so whatever they told you would need to be taken with a pinch of salt?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Had Brigid said something about Shannon?
‘I’m interested in your thesis. There’s a visiting academic in the Education Department who’s written a book about genius. Perhaps you’d like to meet him. Find out a few details, shall I?’
‘Thanks.’ Having a child seemed to have had a good effect on him. He was softer, gentler than she remembered. Maybe this trip to the Downs was a one-off. If not, Kristen wondered what Brigid had to complain about. He seemed besotted with the baby.
‘Oh, by the way.’ Alex made it clear from his change of tone that he was moving to a more mundane topic. ‘What do you think of Vi and Neville’s bungalow? An offence to someone with an artistic eye, I’d have thought.’
‘I assumed it was where Neville lived before he and Vi got together.’
‘Good heavens, no. Vi had a tiny flat in Southmead, so I suppose from her point of view the bungalow’s a palace, but when Neville’s sister was alive he had a Georgian place. Brigid told you about Jane, the accident.’
‘Jane was Neville’s sister?’
He nodded. ‘Apparently she’d taken it into her head to go up into the roof space, then coming down …’ He broke off, twisting the ring on his wedding finger. ‘A verdict of accidental death was never in doubt but … Vi gave evidence, said she’d caught Jane once before trying to climb up to the loft, and of course there was no one to contradict or corroborate this. At the first opportunity, Neville sold the house.’
What was Alex trying to say? That Neville should have allowed a longer period to elapse before he and Vi lived together? Jane had been his sister, not his wife. Or was his remark more accusatory? Was he implying Jane had become such a burden…
Rebecca was making hiccupping noises. Alex began pushing the pram backwards and forwards. ‘It was all pretty grim for Neville and Vi, but it brought them together. Tragedy has that effect.’
The baby’s hiccups turned into full-scale crying and in an instant, Alex had lifted her out of the pram and was holding her against his sweater.
‘She’s not hungry,’ he said, ‘I fed her before we came out. And it’s unlikely to be wind. They get lonely, need the comfort and warmth of another human being. Have you seen how much hair she’s got? She’s lovely, isn’t she? I’d no idea such a small baby could be so beautiful.’
‘Alex, I wanted to ask you, did William tell you about his voluntary work? Only I thought he worked at this hostel two evenings a week and it turns out –’
‘Don’t believe he mentioned it. Some problem, is there?’
‘No, not really. The police seem set on blackening his name, making out he wasn’t at the hostel when he said he was. Anyway, what difference does it make?’
Alex put an arm round her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry. If there was anything I could do. If they’re right about this dog man character it’s high time they arrested him. Still, there must be any number of pickpockets in the city.’
‘But not ones that pretend to have lost their dog.’
He gave her a rueful smile. ‘No, I suppose not. And as far as I could tell, the description of him was vague, could have applied to any number of down and outs. Come round to the house again. Fix it up with Brigid. We’re always pleased to see you. Oh, and about this hostel business. If I were you I wouldn’t give it another thought. If you want my opinion, the police are clutching at straws.’
So many people who wanted to reassure her, but none of them knew the truth. And what was the truth? That a pickpocket had got into a fight with William and he had fallen and hit his head? But the man at the bus stop, talking to Shannon, wouldn't have had a hope in hell of overpowering William in a struggle.
A short distance away, she could see Alex fastening Rebecca into her car seat. Would Rebecca cry all the way home, or would the movement of the car send her to sleep?
Alex's kindness had upset her, weakened her defences. Getting up each morning was so hard, but she had to keep going – if only for Theo's sake. Besides, what was the alternative? Soon, she would have to start looking for a full-time job. In Bristol? If she was in London she would be able to see Theo more often. Except … would that be what he wanted?
If she knew who had killed William perhaps she would be able to move on. Move on: an expression endlessly repeated in television programmes about missing people and unsolved crimes. Was it true? Did the people left behind move on?
Turning back to the Gorge, Kristen watched the cars crawling along the Portway. A large bird flew out of the woods on the other side of the river. One of the peregrine falcons that nested there? William would have known. So would Theo. For the first time, she thought about all the things William would miss out on now his life had been cut short. Birdwatching, rock climbing, swimming in the sea, watching Theo grow up. Growing old – but that was something he would have hated.
The sun felt warm on her face and, for a fleeting moment, she felt a small twinge of hope. One day, things would change.
She might even get Theo back.
16
On his way to see Alex Howell at the university, Tisdall stopped off at the shopping centre to buy a birthday present for Julie. During breakfast he had asked her what she wanted and struggled to contain his irritation when she put on a silly, little girl’s voice and said ‘A surprise.’ Surprise … if she wanted a surprise …
The store had air conditioning but the area where he was standing was chokingly stuffy with a mass of conflicting perfumes. Women, whose faces had grown hard with the effort of achieving the required perfection of appearance, re-arranged their bottles and pots and exchanged pieces of gossip as they waited for a customer to approach. Tisdall picked a saleswoman ‘of more mature years’ than the rest, asked how much the box of skin preparations that entitled him to a complimentary purse would set him back and took his card from his wallet without even listening to her answer.
‘Would you like me to gift-wrap it, sir?’
‘Sorry? Oh, yes, please.’
The woman was much as he would expect
Ros Richards to look in ten years’ time. Dark hair, probably dyed, but then most women did a bit of touching up these days. Even Julie did something she called “bringing out the highlights”.
With his mission accomplished, he returned to the multi-storey car park and set off, more or less on automatic pilot, on a route that would take him past the house he had bought twelve years ago when Serena was still a toddler. Grace would be at work so there was no risk of her seeing his car. During the week he had called round twice, once when he knew Serena would be home and again when she was out. The first time Grace had seemed pleased to see him, talked about old times, said complimentary things about him in front of Serena, but the second visit had been different. Why had he called round again, Grace kept asking, adding that even if Serena had been in it would only have confused her, let her think he was going to make a habit of it. In any case she was going out.
Changing his mind about driving past the house, he turned right at the lights and accelerated up the steep hill that led to the Downs. Liz Cowie wanted to be brought up to date on how he and Brake had been spending their time. Lately he had been finding it hard to keep Brake occupied then he’d hit on the idea of asking him to get hold of a print out of the dog man cases that had been reported to the police and start searching for a pattern. Times of day, types of victim, precise spots where the thefts had taken place. Brake, in the politest way possible, had suggested all that must have been done before, but Tisdall had brushed aside his objections telling him it never did any harm to take a fresh look, pick out a few victims that could be re-interviewed.
The traffic at the top of Whiteladies Road had come to a standstill. A van that could never have passed a reputable MOT test had broken down and two people, a man and a woman, were attempting to push it towards the kerb. Tisdall decided he had better help although, on second thoughts, turning up at the university covered in oil and grime might not be such a good idea. For reasons that would not require the insight of a trained psychologist, he disliked all places of further and higher education, and Grace’s announcement a couple of years back that she had enrolled for a course in computing and business studies had knocked him off balance, stirring up prejudices he had never known he had.