1911021494

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘I would have loved to have met him and to have been able to refer to him as my father-in-law. Tragically, that was not to be. You probably all know the story, that he parted from Susan on a street corner and made his way to the station to return home for Christmas. And you are all aware of the terrible sequence of events that followed. He never knew that Susan had just become pregnant. Indeed, she didn’t suspect for several weeks herself. He never got to know his wonderful daughter and his two equally wonderful granddaughters.

  ‘We still live in a sometimes harsh world where terrible things can happen. This was a terrible thing, but for James and Florence, after more than forty years of unimaginable loss and lonely heartache, the recent discovery that they have a granddaughter has brought great comfort. And the fact that they could finally meet Susan, and discover for themselves just what force of nature had captivated their son all those years ago. Because Susan Carswell is an inspiration to everyone who meets her, and through my feelings for Sophie, I can imagine exactly what Graham felt about Susan all those years ago.

  ‘On behalf of the family I would like to thank you all for attending. To those members of the police force here, particularly those investigating the nature of his tragic death more than forty years ago, I’d like to offer our gratitude. To those who have travelled so far to be with us today in order to offer comfort to James, Florence, Susan and Sophie I say a heartfelt thank you. Now Hannah and Jade will read to you.’

  Sophie reached across and squeezed Jade’s hand as the teenager left her seat and followed her older sister to the front of the congregation.

  ‘My great-grandparents, James and Florence, have kept a little notebook all these years. It’s titled, “Poems For Susan” and we’ve chosen five of them. We think they were written in the autumn of 1969. Our grandmother, Susan Carswell, wants us to read them to you today. We will read them from the notebook, written in our grandfather’s hand. Jade will read “Two Haikus for Susan”. I will then read “Three Poems for Susan.”’

  She took a step back, as Jade lifted the small, old notebook. Her clear voice carried across the silent room.

  ‘Two haikus for Susan.’

  ‘The scent of your hair

  Like roses in the moonlight

  Weeping as you leave’

  She waited for a short while. Sophie sat between her mother and her grandmother, and held both their hands.

  ‘We live in a dream

  You and I are so perfect

  The universe sleeps’

  Jade bowed her head and took a step back. Sophie watched tears trickle down her daughter’s face. Jade left them there, glistening on her cheek.

  Hannah took the notebook and stepped forward.

  ‘Three poems for Susan.’

  ‘Your skin is like soft gold

  That I hesitate to touch.

  Your breath is like mountain air

  That I am unworthy to taste.

  Your hair is a silk web

  In which I long to be ensnared.

  Your arms are pale shadows

  In which I find true joy.’

  ‘I came to you in friendship;

  You gave me hope.

  I spoke to you about life;

  You brought me companionship.

  I reached out to you in passion;

  You taught me patience.

  I expected so little;

  Yet you brought me love.’

  ‘What can I offer you, my sweet love?

  How can I put into words what you have brought to my life?

  The honey touch of your lips thrills my heart,

  Washing cascades of emotion through my veins,

  Rippling pulses of delight through my body.

  I dare not ask for more;

  What you bring to my life is more than I could ever hope for,

  Ever dream of.

  You are everything to me, and everything I will ever need.

  Susan. You have altered my world.’

  Hannah, too, was in tears by the time she finished. The two girls walked back to their seats and Martin reached across and touched them both.

  The rest of the memorial service went by in a blur of which Sophie was barely conscious. The final piece of music, chosen by Florence and James, was Va Piensero from Verdi’s Nabucco, the crying out of trapped spirits for freedom. The congregation remained silent for a long time after the music stopped. A cold wind was blowing across the courtyard outside the crematorium. As the family moved across to the reception room, one wreath in particular caught Sophie’s eye.

  * * *

  ‘I realised I’d be expected to wear uniform, ma’am, but I didn’t think you would. But it’s exactly right.’

  ‘I’m proud of who I am, Lydia. And what I do. The police force is people’s main hope for justice. We have to live up to that expectation. My uniform is part of that. You should be proud of it too.’

  They were standing in a corner of the function room that formed part of the crematorium complex. Martin had urged Sophie’s grandparents to use it today, realising that if they had the social gathering elsewhere, many people would slip away. Sophie saw Archie Campbell talking to Jim Metcalfe and the chief constable. He beckoned her over, so she slipped her arm through Pillay’s and started to walk across.

  Pillay held back. ‘No, ma’am. They don’t want me.’

  ‘I need another woman with me, Lydia. I know what they’re like.’

  Campbell greeted her. ‘I was just telling your present lords and masters how much it broke my heart when you left, Sophie. Professionally, of course.’ He winked.

  ‘You haven’t changed, Archie. Always the teaser.’

  ‘But seriously, you know I’ll do anything I can to help this investigation along. I’ve already told that to the crew here in Gloucester.’

  ‘Thanks. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.’

  ‘You might be able to help us, Sophie. Billy Thompson has refused to tell us anything new. He was happy enough to give us the location of your father’s body, and how the incident happened, but he clammed up after that. I suppose he’s cleared his conscience, and that’s that as far as he’s concerned. He’s only got weeks to live, maybe only days. It’s possible he knows more, but he claims not to remember who the killer was, just that he was kicked out of the gang immediately after. We haven’t told him that Graham was your father. I just wonder if you want to pay a visit and speak to him. It might shake up his memory a bit more.’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes. I had a couple of run-ins with him when I was still with you. I wonder if he’ll remember me. He sent some flowers, by the way. I was puzzled when I first saw them.’ She turned to the chief constable. ‘I could stay here with my grandparents overnight and visit him tomorrow. Sir? Matt’s down with us at the moment, and I’d be back for the afternoon. Would that be okay?’

  ‘Of course. You must go and speak to him. You and your young DC here seem to be getting good at clearing up crimes in Campbell’s kingdom. Maybe we should bill them. And if Archie’s mob finds whoever did it, assuming he’s still alive, then I want to be involved. I want to be there when he’s charged.’

  ‘And I’ll be there as well, Sophie. In fact I’d like to read the charge sheet. You need to know how much we value you, and how much we’re all behind you on this,’ said Campbell.

  ‘Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to me. I was just telling Lydia that we must always be proud of what we do. She reminds me of me when I was younger.’

  Campbell looked at the young officer.

  ‘In that case, anytime you want a change of scene, contact me.’

  ‘You’re pushing your luck, Archie Campbell. She stays with us,’ said the chief constable. He turned to Sophie again. ‘This must all have been pretty traumatic for you, Sophie.’

  ‘That’s an understatement, sir. I feel as if I’ve been through a mangle. I feel stretched, squashed and reshaped. And it’s not over. I feel it in my bones. But to discover my grandparents a
fter all this time has been wonderful. Just look at them.’

  Jade was holding Florence’s hand and was introducing her to some of Martin’s family who’d attended the funeral. Martin, Hannah and Susan were standing with James at the bar, supping beer.

  ‘I can’t imagine what it must be like for them, discovering a family after all this time, one they didn’t know they had,’ Pillay said. ‘It’s one of the most moving things I’ve come across, ever.’

  ‘Do you want some leave, Sophie? You should spend time with them,’ said the ACC.

  ‘I know. And yes, I do, but only once the present case is over, or reaches a lull. I can’t leave it yet, hanging like it is. It’s school half term in a few weeks and I want to take that off with Martin and Jade. And the Easter break, maybe. God, time is just shooting by too quickly for me.’ She watched Hannah hold up her beer glass to the light. ‘We may have to move on to a proper pub. It’s not real ale in here.’

  ‘I’ve heard of this real ale stuff. What exactly is it?’ asked the chief constable.

  Archie Campbell nearly choked on his drink. ‘Christ, Bill. You never change, do you? I can’t believe you’ve just said that. The chief constable of Dorset, of all places, and you don’t know what real ale is? Don’t you remember that night out we had, all those years ago in Nottingham? I made you taste every cask beer they had.’

  ‘Well, I remember setting out, but the rest of it’s a bit blurred.’

  The group erupted in laughter.

  Sophie steered Pillay away. ‘You see, Lydia? They’re human underneath. As mad as hatters.’

  She spoke to some of the other guests, then navigated her way across to Florence.

  ‘Gran, can I stay with you tonight? Change of plan.’

  ‘Of course, my dear. And Martin as well? But don’t you both have work tomorrow?’

  ‘Just me, Gran. There’s someone I need to visit in hospital in Wolverhampton, and I’ve only just found out. It’ll be easier to get there from your place.’

  ‘It will be lovely to have you with us for an evening, Sophie. We’re both getting on and we don’t have too much time left. We want to make the most we can of every day left to us. And that means seeing you and Martin and the girls as much as possible. It’s a blessing that’s come totally out of the blue.’

  Chapter 20: Visit to a Dying Man

  Friday, Week 2

  Billy Thompson was a pale shadow of the man Sophie remembered. He’d been a thickset, fleshy individual with an intimidating manner. Little of that remained now.

  He lay partly propped up in bed, and opened his eyes when she sat down. He looked her up and down. His eyes still have that shrewd, calculating glint, she thought.

  ‘Hello, Billy. Long time no see.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

  ‘You’re certainly not bound for the better place, that’s for sure.’

  He cackled and reached for the oxygen mask that lay beside him on the bed.

  ‘I hear things aren’t so good. Lung cancer, is it?’

  He nodded. ‘Too many fags for too many years. Bloody death sticks, that’s what they are.’

  ‘I also heard that Bobby died last year. I’m sorry about that, Billy.’

  ‘Car crash. He always was a lousy driver. Trying to get away from you lot, apparently.’

  ‘So the old days are over, Billy. It’s the end of an era, isn’t it?’

  ‘Seems that way. Not that you’ll be sorry. It’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, Billy. What I wanted was both of you put in front of a jury and locked up. Not dead.’

  ‘So what are you now? No longer a sergeant, I’ll bet.’

  ‘No, I’m a DCI. In Dorset. Down at the seaside.’

  ‘Archie Campbell will be missing you. He’s up near the top now. All change, eh?’

  He coughed, gasped and continued. ‘What brings you all the way up here then?’

  ‘To thank you for the flowers. To see you. To ask you one last favour. I’m calling on your sense of family, Billy. I desperately need some information that only you can provide. And you owe it to me.’

  ‘I don’t think I owe you anything, little Miss Prim.’

  ‘Yes you do. Your gang stole my father from me.’

  ‘What the fuck do you mean, stole your father? What kind of crap is that? And what flowers are you talking about? Is this Campbell’s doing?’

  ‘Billy, everything I’m going to tell you is God’s own truth. I had no father. He disappeared before I was born. And I hated him. I despised the man who was capable of getting a young girl pregnant and then walking out on her. She was only sixteen when I was conceived. As a small girl, when I said my prayers each night, I’d go through a list of people for God to bless. I’d leave him out. I even cursed him. Every single day. Because he’d left my mum and me to fend for ourselves. I could never understand why he did it. My mum was lovely. Everyone said so. I was lovely. I knew that because all my teachers told my mum.’ She paused. ‘I knew it anyway. I tried so hard to be good. And my mum was a naturally kind person. So why would any man choose to walk out on us? He must have been no good, that’s what I thought. He must have been a nasty one, to do something like that. Disappear and never come back. So I hated him with all my being. It became part of what I am.’

  By now her tears were welling up. She’d never told anyone this, not even Martin.

  ‘But he hadn’t walked out on her, had he, Billy? He’d gone to Gloucester to visit his parents, and late at night one of your gang shot him. You dumped his body down a disused shaft where it’s lain for forty long, cold years. And I’ve spent those forty years hating and cursing a man who didn’t deserve it. Do you know how that makes me feel? Have you any idea what this is doing to me? All that hate? I feel sickened at myself. I despise myself, because I let him down. My own father. He got nothing but loathing from me all that time, and now I discover he didn’t deserve any of it. He only ever deserved my love and sympathy. And where does that leave me? I want that killer, Billy. I want the man who did it. I want to feel his life in my hands because of what he’s put me through.’ She breathed deeply for a moment. ‘That funeral was my father’s, Billy. And I saw the flowers you sent.’

  He coughed again. Then he regarded her, silent. It was a long time before he said, ‘Charlie. His name was Charlie. He was tall and skinny, a youngster with sandy-coloured hair. I can’t remember anything else about him, because he never worked for us again, not after that night. I didn’t even know he had a gun with him. I couldn’t be doing with crazies like him. He fucked off out of the area once I’d finished with him, and good riddance. Stupid, unreliable bastard.’

  ‘How come he was working for you that night, Billy?’

  ‘I think Andy brought him in. I can’t remember why.’

  ‘Who’s Andy?’

  ‘My brother.’

  ‘But I thought there were only two of you. You and Bobby. I never came across any Andy, and I was up against you for quite a few years.’

  ‘Andy was the youngest, our step-brother. Our Dad remarried after Mum died, and Andy was the result. But he had no common sense, no savvy. He could be a right fucking nuisance at times.’ Thompson wheezed. He took a sip of water. ‘He should have stayed up here with us. But he kept saying two was enough and he was just getting in the way. He was chummy with a bloke he met at a young offenders’ place he spent time in as a teenager. They headed down to the South Coast area together, and he only came back for Christmas. Then he vanished completely. We could never trace him. Bobby even tried to get his pal Blossom onto it, and he couldn’t find him either.’

  Sophie felt a tremor run down her spine. ‘Blossom? A woman?’

  ‘No. He was a short, thickset, ugly bloke Bobby knew from school. God knows why he was called Blossom. He spent a lot of his time along the South Coast, running rackets, so Bobby asked him to find Andy. But no luck. There was no trace.’

  ‘Do you remember anything else about this Blos
som?’

  ‘I’ve given you what you wanted. You won’t get anything else out of me. I’ve still got my pride, even if the rest of me’s rotting away.’ He coughed.

  Sophie leant forward and squeezed his hand. ‘Thanks for telling me, Billy. Maybe you’ve a slight chance of the better place after all.’

  ‘I suppose you’ll tell that bastard Campbell now.’

  She looked at him and shook her head.

  ‘You’re not going to? You’re gonna go after him yourself? Fuck. I’d take my hat off to you if I had one on.’

  He dissolved into a fit of weak coughs and took another draught of oxygen. Sophie got up to leave.

  ‘I hope you find him. That’s if he isn’t already dead. And if you do, will you come back and tell me?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ll stay alive for that. And I won’t tell anyone. Trust me. Maybe you’re not little Miss Prim after all.’

  ‘No. I never was.’

  Sophie left the ward, passing a well-dressed young woman who was on her way in. The woman sat beside the bed and smoothed her dark ponytail.

  ‘Who was that, Uncle Billy?’

  ‘A copper, Jennie. A very clever copper from down your way. I gave her more information than I meant to. Just be careful, will you? And make sure you find him first.’

  * * *

  Where should she go from here?

  Sophie was sitting at her desk in the small office in Swanage. It was mid-evening and most of the team had gone home, apart from Barry Marsh. He was still logged on to his computer out in the main room, writing up a report on the day’s activities. Sophie looked at her own screen, seeing nothing. All she knew was that the killer’s name had been Charlie, and that he had been a relatively inexperienced youngster when he’d shot her father. It didn’t seem very much to go on. Well, it was more than she’d known before, she supposed. All she had to do was apply some logic, think about the problem rationally.