Child's Play

by Alison Taylor

  ‘I believe she saw her killer staring her in the face,’ he said bluntly. ‘Your speculation about pregnancy is completely without foundation.’

  ‘But, is it?’ she countered. ‘How can we possibly understand what was in her mind?’ Frowning, she added, ‘Matron shares my feelings and she is, if anything, better placed to recognise when a girl is troubled.’

  Refusing to be sidetracked, he said coldly, ‘Your feelings, Dr Scott, do not allow you to withhold information that may well prove vital to our investigation.’

  ‘I fear that information could well mislead your investigation, Superintendent. Both girls were well on the way to a full coming to terms.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘No, I’m not sure. I’ve studied psychology enough to know there are no certainties in human behaviour, but one must still assume that people have the capacity to gain insight and to move on from the past.’

  He was fast losing patience. ‘Has it not occurred to you that someone might have decided to avenge Imogen?’

  ‘All anyone knows, apart from myself and my deputy, is that Imogen was involved in a car smash. We relied on natural reticence to stop people demanding the gory details, and we haven’t been disappointed. And,’ she went on forcefully, ‘I trust you’ll be equally sensitive with her.’

  ‘You can trust me to do my job, Dr Scott.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt I can,’ she replied rather tartly. ‘You seem inordinately efficient. I understand you’ve had the top-floor door alarms reactivated.’

  ‘Had they been left alone in the first place,’ he commented, getting to his feet, ‘someone would have heard Sukie leave the building and she might still be alive.’ About to make for the door, he stopped and, looking down on her bowed head, asked, ‘Wasn’t it naïve to think knowledge of the accident could be contained? Sooner or later, someone was bound to come across an old newspaper report.’

  ‘Didn’t Hester tell you? There were no reports. Her father made sure of that.’

  4

  Driving past the school gates on his way to interview Sean O’Connor, Jack saw that a media encampment had mushroomed overnight on the opposite side of the road. People with microphones, clipboards and video cameras milled around four mobile broadcasting vans spouting antennae and trailing cables that looked like spilled entrails, while newspaper reporters and photographers sat half out of various cars, ready to move at the first sign of a chink in the watching police defences.

  By eight thirty he was knocking on the front door of a house in the long terrace that flanked the village street. The opposite terrace was broken by a Spar mini-market, chip shop, post office, newsagent’s, craft gallery and two public houses. Standing back, he surveyed the double-glazed windows embellished with faux leading and snowy net curtains, then looked at the windowsills and the worn slate doorstep, all filthy with dust thrown up by passing traffic.

  As the front door opened, a bus roared by in a cloud of diesel fumes, carrying its cargo of underprivileged local youth to school. He felt the ground shake under his feet.

  The woman who stood in the doorway wore a fancy knit, short-sleeved black jumper and black skirt, and he thought she must be in her late forties. A thin gold chain bit into her ample neck like a garrotte and her hair looked unnaturally black.

  ‘Mrs Avril O’Connor?’ he asked, as the smell of frying bacon curled tantalisingly under his nose. ‘Is Sean in?’

  ‘What kept you?’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘Been expecting your lot to come kicking the door in since that poor girl was pulled out of the water.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ she said haughtily. Leaving him to close the door, she walked along the spotlessly clean hall towards the kitchen, yelling up the stairs, ‘Sean? Cops!’

  Jack followed her into the kitchen, looking around approvingly at further evidence of excellent housekeeping. ‘Do I know you?’ he asked, as she attended to the bacon.

  ‘No.’ She kept her back to him. ‘But if you’re wondering how I know you’re a copper, go and look in the mirror. There’s one in the front room.’

  ‘That obvious, is it?’

  ‘It’s that obvious.’ She nodded. ‘D’you want a bacon sarnie and a mug of tea?’

  ‘I shouldn’t, really.’

  ‘Why not? A bacon sarnie’s not going to get you done for corruption.’

  ‘I had a big breakfast and I’m on a permanent diet.’ She turned to look him over, her pursed lips inside the fat cheeks like a dimple in a big, soft peach. ‘I’d say your diet’s doing about as much for you as mine does for me, then. Is it worth it? That’s what I keep asking myself. Is it worth the trouble and the misery?’ Leaving the bacon to sizzle gently, she began buttering thick slices of white bread. Every time she reached inside the packet, the wrapping crackled, reminding him of his childhood when all sliced bread came in greaseproof.

  ‘It’s years since I saw bread wrapped like that,’ he said.

  ‘I get it from the shop across the road.’ She smiled at him. ‘Tastes as good as it looks. Our Sean won’t eat any other sort.’

  ‘Does Mr O’Connor like it, too?’

  ‘I haven’t had chance to ask him lately. He’s been six feet under for the past five years.’ She put three slices in a row, butter side up, reached for the frying pan and placed two handsome, well-browned rashers on each slice. ‘Did you know,’ she went on conversationally, topping and cutting the sandwiches, ‘that the day our Sean got into trouble was the day we buried his dad?’ Two sandwiches went on a sheet of white greaseproof, the other on the plate she pushed towards him. ‘There. Eat that up quick before our Sean comes down, then nobody’ll know, except you and me.’ Her eyes twinkled.

  She was washing dishes when her son came into the kitchen, and Jack was licking butter and bacon grease from his fingers.

  The scent of deodorant or aftershave had preceded Sean down the stairs and he brought a cloud of it into the kitchen. ‘Know you, don’t I?’ he commented, pouring himself a mug of tea. ‘Saw you on telly when the CCTV went up in the city centre. You were saying how it’d stop vandals and muggers.’ He looked up. ‘Has it?’

  ‘Let’s say it’s made them a bit easier to catch.’

  ‘You should keep quiet about that,’ Avril remarked. ‘Else they’ll start wearing Hallowe’en masks and balaclavas to stop you getting mugshots.’ Glancing fondly at her son, she picked up a tea towel and began drying dishes, smiling when Jack caught her eye.

  More used to hostility, if not outright aggression, from overprotective mothers, he felt completely wrong-footed by her easy amiability. Turning to Sean, he said, ‘I’m surprised to find you still living at home. You’re nearly twenty-six.’

  ‘What’s surprising about that?’ Avril demanded. ‘Young men often stay home these days until they get wed. Apart from the fact that they get their washing and ironing done for free, it saves money.’

  ‘Dewi Prys lives with his mam and dad,’ Sean pointed out, ‘and he’s older than me.’

  ‘And I dare say he could afford to get himself a flat,’ his mother added. ‘I’m sure the police pay better wages than that Dr Skinflint.’

  ‘Know Prys well, do you?’

  ‘They both went to Ysgol Tryfan, didn’t they?’ she said. ‘They meet up now and then, anyway.’ Smiling again, she added, ‘Dewi’s made sure a few times our Sean got home in one piece.’

  ‘So you still like a pint or two?’ Jack remarked.

  Sean grinned. ‘You look like you do, as well.’

  Jack searched for the signs of alcoholism that so coarsened John Melville’s features, but saw only a bloom to Sean’s face that was clearly a maternal legacy. He was lean and muscular from head to toe, his eyes a soft, dark blue, his hair jet-black, his ancestry unarguably Irish. Wondering if there were not more Irish in Wales than in Ireland, he asked, ‘What time d’you usually go to work?’

  ‘Nine,’ Avril replied. ‘That’s why I was making up his lunch box.
So if you want to ask him about the school, you’d best get on with it. Dr Skinflint’ll only dock his wages if he’s late.’

  ‘I wanted to ask him how much contact he has with the girls,’ Jack said, responding unconsciously to her.

  Sean grinned again. ‘That depends on whether the staff are looking. OK! OK!’ he said, seeing Jack’s expression. ‘I was joking.’

  Avril glared ferociously at her son. ‘He’s only here,’ she told him, with a nod in Jack’s direction, ‘because that poor girl could’ve been murdered. And you’ve got form, so think twice before you open your mouth.’ Turning her attention to Jack, she added, ‘And as to whether he has much to do with the girls, he isn’t even supposed to talk to them. Anyway, what with only the two of them working the grounds, he hasn’t got time to spare for any shenanigans. But that’s Dr Skinflint for you, isn’t it? Get blood out of a stone, she would.’

  Sean elaborated. ‘We had enough on our hands before the horses arrived. Now, there’s the arena to look after and the grazing to maintain, and that’s still in very poor shape. It was only seeded out last summer and you don’t get decent grass after just a few months.’ Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his long legs. ‘It doesn’t help matters,’ he concluded, ‘that nobody apart from one of the sixth formers knows more about horses than you could write on the back of a stamp. The staff are hopeless.’

  ‘Which sixth former?’

  ‘Torrance Fuseli. Weird name, even though she’s American.’ Uncrossing his legs, he leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. ‘I do talk to her, when there’s nobody about to shop her.’ He smiled. ‘She’s a real stunner, especially on horseback, but she doesn’t do anything for me and most likely all I do for her is provide a bit of normal company.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because he’s already spoken for,’ Avril said. ‘And even if he wasn’t, Torrance wouldn’t try to get off with him because she’s not one to flaunt herself in front of men. A lot of them do and some of those that don’t would rather look elsewhere, if you get my drift.’

  Jack gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘Is she one of those who’d “rather look elsewhere”, then?’

  ‘Oh, really!’ she exclaimed. ‘Trust a copper to think like that. I just meant she doesn’t behave like a hussy.’

  ‘How come you know so much about her?’

  ‘Because until Dr Skinflint sacked most of us a couple of years ago, I was one of the cleaners. There were twenty-odd of us doing the school and the classrooms, and now there’s four, plus any old Tom, Dick and Harry that comes in with the contract people.’

  ‘It’s supposed to “make better economic sense”,’ Sean told him, perfectly imitating Freya Scott’s cultured tones. ‘It doesn’t, though. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. They don’t know the place, they’ve no idea what they’re doing and, worst of all, they don’t care.’

  ‘Autumn last year,’ his mother added, ‘Dr Skinflint got probation to send a bunch of dead legs to prune the shrubs and they cut down some magnolia trees by mistake. Ruined them, they did. They won’t grow again.’

  Jack, thinking that Sean, doing his own community service, might have been among an earlier bunch of ‘dead legs’, asked, ‘How did you get the job?’

  ‘I got it for him,’ Avril announced. ‘He’d just finished at Glynllifon College when the old groundsman died — probably,’ she remarked caustically, ‘from overwork. The assistant got promoted, so I told Dr Skinflint about our Sean, she said “send him to see me”, I did and she took him on. Pays a pittance, mind, even though he’s qualified.’

  ‘At least I’m doing what I want,’ he said. ‘There isn’t much in my line of work around here.’

  ‘There isn’t much in any line of work,’ Jack commented. He watched Sean’s eyes. ‘Did you know Sukie Melville, too?’

  ‘We’d pass the time of day when she was out on her horse, but that’s about it.’ He shifted again in his seat. ‘Look, even if the girls try and talk to me, I avoid them. Torrance got into trouble the other day because she was seen with me.’

  ‘Did she?’ Jack frowned. ‘I mean, did she actually get into trouble, or did she just get reminded about the rules?’

  ‘Matron gave her an ear bashing, on Scott’s orders, and told her if she didn’t toe the line she wouldn’t be allowed to stay on another year to try for Oxford, which would make her father livid. Last time, Scott threatened to send her horse away.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not coming on to her? Because if you’re not, the headmistress is overreacting, to say the least.’

  ‘She just won’t let those girls have any truck with the locals,’ Avril broke in. ‘Doesn’t want them contaminated, does she? It was the same when I worked there. We weren’t allowed to talk to them and if they tried to talk to us we were under orders to tell the teachers.’ She took the kettle off the cooker, stuck the spout under the tap, then switched on the gas. ‘She could easily take day girls, but she won’t, in case they muck up her ideas about keeping her girls “pure”. And I don’t need to tell you,’ she went on, rinsing out the teapot, ‘that she wouldn’t let a Welsh girl through the gates, no matter how much family money there was. Nor an Irish one, come to that, though there’s been quite a few Scottish girls over the years. So that’s why Torrance got the big stick waved in her face.’

  ‘You must have known Sukie,’ Jack said to her. ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Nice enough,’ Avril replied. ‘A bit flighty and not very bright, in my opinion, but no harm in her.’ She sat down at the table while the kettle boiled and folded her arms. Her skin was as pink and clean as a baby’s.

  ‘Did she have any particular friends?’

  ‘The Oliver girl, the one who lost her leg, poor thing. They were closer than two peas in a pod. Went everywhere together and did everything together.’ As she dredged her memory, her face creased into a frown. ‘She looked up to young Torrance, as well. Mind you, a lot of them did. That must be how she got to be house captain — Torrance, I mean. The house captains get voted in by the girls. At least, they did when I worked there.’

  ‘Why d’you say Sukie was flighty?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Well, you know. The way she came over.’ She smiled. ‘I found some dirty books under her mattress one day when I was changing the beds.’

  ‘What did you do with them?’

  ‘Put them back, of course. They were harmless enough. What?’ she demanded, seeing the expression on his face. ‘You think I should’ve snitched? If I had she’d have been held up to ridicule in front of the whole school.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Jack said. ‘Teenagers and mucky books go together. Dr Scott must know that.’

  ‘She probably does,’ Sean said, getting up as the kettle began to whine, ‘but that wouldn’t stop her making a meal of something.’

  ‘Don’t you get on with her?’

  ‘I make a point of keeping out of her way, but it doesn’t always work.’ He brewed the tea and put the pot on the table, topping it with a cosy. ‘She interferes. She messes with everything.’

  ‘I don’t see how she can interfere with the grounds,’ Jack said.

  ‘The job involves long-term planning and you’re always at the mercy of the weather. At the moment we’re up to our ears trying to catch up on ourselves after all last month’s rain and before the next lot comes. On Tuesday Scott decided she wanted the field mown where the marquee goes up on Open Day, which isn’t for another three weeks. I told her the grass would’ve grown again by then, but she said if I didn’t do it there and then, I’d be looking for another job.’

  ‘She actually said that, did she?’

  Sean smiled crookedly. ‘What she actually said wasn’t what you expect from any lady and I wouldn’t repeat it in front of Mam.’

  Avril patted his arm. Her eyes looked moist.

  Looking from mother to son, Jack asked, ‘What do you and Torrance discuss? It must be important if she’s willing to risk getting into bo
ther.’

  He shrugged. ‘The horses, mostly. The state of the grazing. Things like that.’

  ‘Does she talk about the school?’ Jack persisted. ‘And what goes on there?’

  Sean’s eyes flickered and his sudden unease was almost palpable.

  Avril grabbed his arm. ‘If you know something you’d better tell,’ she ordered. ‘You can’t afford to get mixed up in other folks’ troubles. Not when there’s been a death.’

  ‘I’d only be causing trouble for Torrance.’

  ‘If you don’t talk,’ Jack pointed out, ‘you’ll cause a lot more for yourself. And for your mother,’ he added, playing on the relationship. ‘Dr Scott won’t know, I promise.’

  ‘What’s a copper’s promise worth, though?’ Sean asked wryly. He stared into Jack’s face for several moments, before letting out his breath in a long sigh. ‘What the hell! You’ve probably sussed her out already.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Viv Wade in the sixth form. She’s a user and Scott knows all about it but she won’t lift a finger to help her.’ He paused, mouth tight. ‘Or try to stop her. Torrance asked me to find out where Viv’s getting the stuff from so she could force Scott’s hand. You know? Do something about it, or we’d tell the cops she was deliberately covering up a criminal offence.’

  ‘We’d tell the cops?’

  Sean nodded. ‘I said I’d back her up. Go with her to Scott or the cops. Whatever.’

  ‘I see.’ Jack watched Avril look at her son as if he had slain a dragon.

  ‘When Viv went out, Torrance let me know,’ Sean went on. ‘So I could follow her.’

  Jack stopped him. ‘How did Torrance let you know?’

  ‘She’s got a mobile, of course. So has Viv. That’s how she orders her taxis. They pick her up near one of the wicket gates on the Treborth Road side.’

  ‘I see,’ Jack said once more. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Usually she does a few pubs, but doesn’t speak to anybody, then gets a taxi back. But last Tuesday week, after she’d done the rounds, she walked up High Street and sat on a bench outside the cathedral. Ten minutes or so later this car arrived, she got in and they drove off.’