“Right.” Clare fished in her bag for a pen but Seaton held up a hand.
“This is off the record again, I’m afraid. Strictly for your ears only.”
Clare sighed and waited.
“There was what you might call an ill-judged attempt to get Jason Craig to confess to killing Jamie Donnelly.”
“In what way?”
“Those young officers on attachment here. They stunted something up to see what reaction it would get.”
“Stunted something up? What, exactly?”
“They dropped the body of a baby pig over the stairwell. When Mr Craig got highly distressed, they thought they were on to something. They tried to calm him down and lock him in a cell, overlooking almost every procedure under the sun, which is why he was allowed in there with the means to harm himself.”
“Hold on, go back a second. They dropped a baby pig down the stairs?”
“Not a live one, obviously. It was wrapped in a sheet and it’s entirely possible that it would look, at first glance, like a baby.”
Clare sat back, with her mouth slightly open. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I was.” Seaton took out a white handkerchief, the sort only used by men over a certain age, and blew his nose with a loud trumpeting noise. “Excuse me. I need a holiday, Miss Jackson.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“The officers involved have been suspended pending disciplinary action. Four of them, before you ask. Two of them from this station. You can imagine how I’m feeling about all this happening here. Just because I wasn’t on duty that night doesn’t mean it doesn’t stop at my door.”
Clare nodded. “And what about the families?”
“We’ve been in contact with a lawyer representing Steven Simpson. We’re discussing some form of compensation. Coupled with a confidentiality clause, I have to warn you. Jason Craig’s relatives are proving harder to find. He was in council care until a few months ago.”
“Right.” Clare breathed out. “Poor kid.”
“It gets worse. I had a young… I’ll say a young lady, although it’s stretching the term, who came to see me yesterday. She claims she was with Jason Craig the afternoon young Jamie was killed. And her evidence suggests that it couldn’t have been him.”
Clare bit the inside of her lip. “Go on.”
“She was with Jason in his flat. But she shouldn’t have been. Her boyfriend was sleeping off a hangover and she was playing away with his best mate. According to her, they spent a couple of hours in bed together. And she’d just got back to her real boyfriend’s house when all the shouting started, because baby Jamie had gone from his pram.”
“Right. Do you believe her?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. She was scared to come and see me and only did it on the understanding that her evidence wasn’t made public. Her boyfriend, by the way, is Steven Simpson.”
“So neither Jason nor Steven were around when Jamie was killed?”
“It would appear not. The hangover story tallies with what Simpson told us when we arrested him, as it happens. And there’s more. This young lady said almost no one was about that afternoon as she made her way home. It was a very hot day, you may remember, and the kids were still at school. But she did see one or two people.”
Clare wished she hadn’t let her tea go cold. Her mouth was feeling dry. “Who did she see?”
“She saw a couple of men wearing Support the Miners badges, walking off the estate. She didn’t know who they were, she said, but we’ve already tracked them down. They were dropping leaflets off about some sort of strike meeting, that’s all. We don’t think they had any involvement in what happened to Jamie. But this young lady also saw someone running away from the bins area where Jamie’s body was found. A child, who she did know.”
Clare looked down at her fingers. “Amy?”
“We think Amy Hedley might know more than she’s told us so far. And we’re sure that what she said about those two lads being responsible was completely false.”
“What are you going to do? I’m sure she told you what she thought she saw, even if she got it wrong.”
“We’d like to talk to her again, obviously. But there’s no one at the flat. What’s more, the officers reported that the place was not fit to live in. There was no food in the cupboards, there was dog mess on the floor and the kid’s bedroom was a health hazard. Mildewed bedding and swarms of flies. We’ve sent a report to social services. Amy’s mother is going to have to answer to them, when she turns up. We’re wondering if she’s taken the kid away on holiday somewhere.”
Clare nodded. She didn’t volunteer that Amy was staying with her. She decided that she could chat to the child first, bringing the subject up as gently as possible. “Annie Martin always said she thought it was some sort of payback for Rob Donnelly breaking the strike.”
“I remember.” Seaton rubbed his chin. “That still doesn’t make any sense to me, though.”
“No. Me neither.” Clare twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “But then there’s Debs Donnelly, too. Someone had it in for the family, I think.”
“There’s been a development there,” said Seaton. “We got the reports. It turned out she did take an overdose, after all.”
Clare sighed. “She wasn’t suffocated?”
Seaton shook his head. “We looked into it. That wasn’t the cause of death. She died because she took too many tablets. Simple as that.”
“Poor Debs.” Clare was about to get up. “Can I ask, why are you telling me this, if so much of it is confidential?”
“Couple of reasons. One, you helped me out, trading some of your information. I got to the bottom of what happened here a lot quicker thanks to you. And two, you’re quite friendly with Amy Hedley. I thought I should just put you in the picture.”
“Right.” Clare hoped Seaton didn’t know any more about her friendship with Amy than he was letting on. “Thanks.” She stood up.
“And three, when I’ve wrapped this up I am definitely going to retire. You can come to my send-off. Add a bit of glamour to the proceedings, eh?”
Clare gave a little laugh. “I’m not sure about that. But I’ll be there to buy you a pint.”
Clare constantly checked her watch for the rest of the day, longing for Finn to call and wishing it was time for Amy to come back. Poor Amy. She’d obviously been much more traumatised by baby Jamie’s death than anyone had thought. Maybe in her child’s mind she was confusing the teenagers who were causing trouble on the estate at nights with the two Support the Miners men spotted walking around at the time of the murder. It seemed almost unfair to ask her anything about it, dredging the whole thing up again. She worried about whether Amy was enjoying the trip, and hoped the other kids hadn’t isolated her for not being one of them.
But at five-thirty, as the coach opened its doors, Mary beamed at Clare. “Your Amy was something of a godsend for us today.”
“She was?” Clare gave Amy a look.
“She’s so good with younger kiddies, isn’t she? She just organises them and plays with them and distracts them when they’re feeling travel sick. Quite the little mother, isn’t she?”
Clare felt irrationally proud. “Hey, well done, Amy.”
Amy jumped up and down on the spot. “It’s been brilliant. The splash park was am-aaaazing. I ate so much at the picnic I thought my belly would burst.”
“Good, so you’re not hungry?”
“Yes, I’m hungry again now. That was ages ago.”
Clare thanked Mary.
Mary shook her head, smiling at Amy. “I gather she’s staying with you for a few days, is that right?”
“Er, maybe. Nothing’s really been decided. We need to speak to your mum, don’t we, Amy, and the phone doesn’t seem to be working.” Clare touched Mary’s arm. “Has Finn been in touch yet?”
Mary gave an exasperated shake of her head. “He does this from time to time. I never get a straight answer about where h
e’s been. If he turns up, I’ll send him your way.”
Clare drove Amy back to her flat. She found herself glancing furtively around as she turned her key in the door, hoping that as few people as possible had noticed that this long-time single woman had suddenly acquired a child.
She’d got food in, although she rarely cooked. But the last thing she wanted was for some police officer to spot her out for dinner with Amy. The little girl seemed to have had such a good day, so Clare didn’t want to spoil it by insisting that she went back over what she’d said in her statement. And she knew that Amy was a little afraid of the police, thanks to Tina’s unhelpful attitude. She just couldn’t help feeling like someone who was harbouring a fugitive.
“I figured you’d had quite a long day, so I thought we might just watch some TV and play cards, if you like.”
“Yeah. And what will we do tomorrow? It’s Sunday. You won’t have to go back to work yet, will you?”
Clare skimmed the listings page of the paper. “Not much on. Born Free, again. Even I’ve seen that a thousand times.”
“You should get one of them VCRs, though. Then you can buy films to watch.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Mickey has one. He brought it over to ours once. But he just has dirty films.”
Clare curled her lip. “I hope he didn’t let you watch them.”
“Not really.”
Clare decided not to probe what that meant.
By around nine, Amy’s eyelids were beginning to droop and Clare suggested that she had an early night, for a change. Amy didn’t object. Clare was busy closing all her curtains when she noticed a figure standing on the other side of the road. It was Finn.
He half-turned away, but she waved at him. He crossed the road towards her, almost reluctantly.
She opened the door and held it wide. “Where’ve you been? Your mum’s worried. I’ve been worried. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Finn stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it. “No. Never mind me. Are you feeling better?”
“Come in. Let’s have a drink.” Clare led him by the hand to the kitchen, where she leaned up to kiss him. “I’ve missed you, that’s all.”
“Clare.” Finn took the glass out of her hand and put it back on the bench. “I have to talk to you.”
He took both her hands. “I… I know we haven’t known each other very long. But you mean a lot to me. I want you know that.”
Clare squeezed his fingers. “Good. I feel the same. You don’t have to say anything. We can just see how things go.”
Finn screwed up his eyes as if he was in pain. “We can’t. I’ve done something, something I’m not proud of. And when people get to know about it, I can’t be here.”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. I should know.” Clare put Finn’s arms around her back. “Whatever it is, we can just work through it. It’ll be fine.”
“Not this. I need to get away from here. But I wanted you to know why.”
Clare felt her blood pulsing through her. She wanted to stop the conversation before Finn said anything he couldn’t take back. “Tell me later,” she said and pushed her mouth against his.
A moment later, a loud gagging noise made them jump apart. Amy was standing in the kitchen doorway, pretending to put her fingers down her throat. “Bleaaagh. I hope you’re not going to start doing stuff.”
They both laughed.
“I’d better go,” Finn said.
Clare made a pleading face. “When will you come back?”
“Take care,” Finn said. “I’ll call. Soon.”
Shortly before midnight, Clare woke up from a deep sleep to the sound of running water. It took her a few moments to work out what it could be. She went into the kitchen to find Amy kneeling on a stool next to the sink, trying to shove a bedsheet under the tap. She jumped when Clare spoke.
“You okay? What’s happened?”
In the bright light of the kitchen, Amy’s face went a deep pink. “I spilled something on the bed.”
“Oh, right. What was it, just water?”
“Erm… juice.”
“Juice?” Clare didn’t recall Amy having any juice. She guessed that Amy had wet the bed and was too embarrassed to say so.
“Okay, but you don’t need to wash it under the tap. I’ve got a machine, look.”
“I know. But I didn’t know how to work it.”
“I’ll show you.” Clare squeezed water out of the sheet and pushed it into the machine. She taught Amy how to add the powder and which setting to use. “And now I’ll get you a clean sheet. Feeling better now?”
Amy nodded. “Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Accidents happen. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
Amy perched on the stool. “My mam goes mad with me when I do it at home. She says I have to take the sheets to the launderette myself, but I never have the money. So sometimes I just have to try to dry them out.”
“I don’t want you to worry about it here.” Clare wondered if she should ask Amy directly, but decided against it. “Does it happen very often? You, um, spilling something on your bed?”
Amy looked shifty. “Can we stay up for a bit? I don’t want to go back to bed yet.”
“Go on then.” Clare made Amy’s bed again, then filled the kettle. “Is it too warm for hot chocolate?”
“Nahh.”
Amy moved to the sofa and hugged her bony knees. “Shall I tell you a secret?”
“If you want to.” Clare wasn’t sure what to expect. “Is it a good secret?”
“Not really.”
“If you want to,” Clare said again.
“I think my mam and Mickey might’ve gone on holiday.”
“You’re kidding? What makes you think that?”
“I heard them talking about it. Mickey said he could get a good deal to go to Spain, but not if they had to drag a kid along with them.”
“So all that stuff about you being a target?”
Amy sniffed. “That did happen. I think they were just going to go away and let me stay on my own, only when people started banging on the door and calling me a grass, they got worried.” She darted a glance at Clare and then back down to her mug. “It was my idea to come here.”
Clare resisted the urge to swear. “So why didn’t your mum just tell me? At least then I would have known how to get hold of her. Now I haven’t a hope of talking to her until she comes back. Tell me they’ve booked a week and not a whole fortnight?”
“I think it was a week. Sorry, Clare.”
“It’s not your fault. But Tina should’ve put me in the picture.” She looked over at Amy’s hunched little figure. “I bet you’d have liked to go to Spain, though.”
“Mmm.” Amy pouted. “Not with that Mickey.”
“You really don’t like him, do you?”
“Nuh. He just… he does stuff I don’t like.”
Clare suddenly felt her skin crawl. “What do you mean?” She swallowed. “I know about the Walkman. That was awful. But is there anything else? He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”
“Yeah, sometimes. Sort of.”
Clare waited. She didn’t want to press Amy for any more details. She wasn’t sure if she could cope with what the girl might tell her.
“Your turn to tell me a secret,” Amy said, suddenly, her face brightening.
“Oh.” Clare ran a hand through her hair. It was a very warm night and she was finding it hard to cool down. “I’m not sure I have any interesting ones.”
“You must have. Anyway, I know one of your secrets already.”
“You do? You tell it to me then.”
“You’re having a baby.”
Clare gasped, as if she’d been hit across the face. It took her a moment to recover. “No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. You’ve got baby clothes and nappies and stuff in your bedroom. I found them when I was tidying up for you. And there’s a baby b
ed on top of your wardrobe, all wrapped up in a bin bag.”
“I’m not sure how you managed to find that, Amy. You must’ve climbed up and had a good root around.”
“I peeked inside the bag, that’s all. Just to see what it was.”
“You’re very nosy.”
“I know. But you said it’s good for reporters to be nosy, right?”
“I suppose I did.”
“So, are you having a baby? You look sort of skinny if you are. You should be getting a big belly.”
Clare swallowed hard, fighting the lump that was hurting her throat. “I’m really not having a baby. That stuff is waiting to go to a charity shop.”
“So where’s it come from, then? It’s new. Whose is it?”
Clare put the knuckle of her index finger in her mouth and bit on it. She was going to have to say out loud the thing she didn’t want anyone to know.
“I was having a baby. But I had a miscarriage, a couple of months ago. Do you know what that means? It means I lost the baby, before it got big enough to be born properly.”
“Oh.” Amy took a sharp breath in. “Ah! Was it in my bedroom? Where the baby came out?”
“Well, it wasn’t really a proper baby. It hadn’t grown enough. But yes, it happened in my spare room, where you sleep. It happened on the day I was supposed to be having a job interview at work. The one that man Chris Barber got instead. Everything seemed to go wrong after that.”
“Right. That’s what the ghost is, then. I thought it might be Jamie following me all the way here, because I suppose a ghost can do that, can’t it? But it’s the ghost of your baby.”
“I’ve told you, there’s no such thing as ghosts. You’re imagining all that.”
“I am not.”
“Amy, please.” Clare reached for a tissue and wiped at her eyes. “I don’t really like talking about it.”
“Okay.” Amy patted Clare’s leg. “Don’t cry. I don’t think your baby’s ghost is sad. Not like Jamie’s.”
“Amy, this stuff about ghosts…”
“Jamie’s ghost is really angry with me.”
Clare sighed. “That’s daft, in all sorts of ways. But let’s imagine there is a ghost. Why would it be cross with you?”
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