by Chris Curran
She just sat rocking herself, driving him mad with her silence.
‘Hannah, please, for God’s sake. He might have killed Lily.’
Hannah stopped rocking, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.
He waited.
She turned to him and took his hands, looking down at them, moving them slowly back and forth as she spoke. ‘Do you think I’d have kept quiet if I had thought for one minute he might have done it? He couldn’t have. He just couldn’t. No more than you could, Joe.’
‘Well who else, for God’s sake?’
‘I don’t know: the boyfriend or some stranger.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘Joe, I don’t know. Truly, I don’t.’
‘So, why the hell don’t you name this man, the father, and let them concentrate on finding the real killer?’
The bed creaked as she moved away from him, her voice almost a whisper. ‘I know you don’t understand; you can’t understand. I loved Lily so much, but I didn’t deserve her. I realize that now. Maybe that’s why it happened. It was my punishment.’
‘That’s rubbish. You sound like that lot at The Children of Light. It wasn’t your fault. And you’ve got to move on, try to make some kind of life. We both have. But we can’t do that if we have secrets.’
It was as if he wasn’t there. As if she was talking to herself. ‘Nothing can bring Lily back. And it’s my fault,’ she said. He went to speak again, but she put her hand on his knee with a quavering breath. ‘Oh, Joe, I wish I could tell you everything, I really do. But I can’t. It would hurt you too much – other people too. And you’d end up hating me.’
Rosie
Rosie was surprised that her hand was shaking a little as she poured two glasses of white wine. ‘Thanks for coming over, Lisa. You’re the only one of Alice’s friends I’ve had any contact with since she died.’
Lisa Griffiths raised her glass and took a sip, glancing around at the garden, not meeting Rosie’s eye. ‘We were a load of bastards, cutting you off like that, but it was so awful, none of us knew how to deal with it except by pretending it never happened. Every time I’ve seen you recently I’ve wanted to apologize, but I thought you wouldn’t want to be reminded.’
‘You were right. I didn’t want to think about it, and I certainly don’t blame you for anything.’
Lisa taught at a local primary school and they’d been at some of the same meetings. Neither of them had acknowledged their past acquaintance and Rosie had half-expected her email, via the school, to be ignored, but Lisa had answered right away.
Now she smiled and stretched in the sunshine. ‘Well, this is lovely. I’m usually still in the classroom under a pile of marking at this time of day. Must be nice doing supply.’
‘It’s convenient for me with Fay. Being able to work flexibly and as much or as little as I need.’ They both looked down to the end of the garden where Fay was having a picnic tea under the trees with her friend Harriet. Far enough away that she couldn’t hear them.
Lisa patted her already substantial stomach. ‘We’re trying for a baby, so I shouldn’t really be drinking, but just this once. I hope we get one as lovely as Fay. She’s beautiful and I can see a bit of Alice there too.’ She fumbled in her bag. ‘Sorry.’
Rosie waited as Lisa sniffed a couple of times, pushed the tissue into her trouser pocket and looked up with a small smile. ‘I’m so glad you asked me over, Rosemary, because I’ve never stopped feeling guilty. I came to the funeral, but didn’t know what to do after that.’
‘Of course you didn’t. You were just a kid.’
‘So were you. Even younger than us, but you had to face it.’
Rosie took a drink. ‘I had no choice.’
They were silent for a while then Lisa shifted in her seat and Rosie pushed a bowl of nuts towards her. Lisa took a handful and spoke as she popped nut after nut in her mouth. ‘I don’t suppose it’s something you can ever get over.’
Rosie lifted her glass, but put it down again; had to get this said. ‘Look, Lisa, I wanted to ask you if you’ve remembered anything over the years. Something you might not have told the police. Things Alice said, or …’
Lisa stretched her hand across the glass table and touched Rosie’s ‘No, I’m sorry. That’s what those TV people wanted and I couldn’t help them either. I think I’ve blanked most of it out.’
Rosie glanced at her watch. Plenty of time till Oliver got home. She’d told herself it was better to keep him out of it for now, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty. ‘My mum seems to think there’s some evidence that casts doubt on Dad’s guilt.’
Lisa stopped, another handful of nuts halfway to her mouth. ‘Oh, God, really?’
‘It’s nothing definite, but, well, do you remember the kids Dad used to take for extra music at our house?’
A head shake as Lisa chewed on the nuts, her fingers deep in the bowl, picking up more. ‘I never had much to do with them and I haven’t come into contact with any of them since then. Apart from Dave Crawford, of course. Have you asked him?’
Rosie frowned – the only Dave Crawford she could think of was the head of music at one of the schools where she often worked.
Lisa laughed. ‘You must know him. You do supply at Gladedale, don’t you? Well, he teaches there. His wife works with my husband and we go out for a meal with them now and then. I didn’t recognize him until she happened to mention Dave had been taught violin by your dad.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I’ve never connected him either. Even though I talk to him all the time.’ He must have been at their house often when she was young. She might have opened the door to him.
Lisa’s chewing slowed, she took a long drink. ‘Alice was my best friend, but you know as well as I do that she could be a bit of a cow sometimes. Like we all could at that age. She loved your dad, though, no question. And she was always complaining about those charity cases, as she called them. Said he spent too much time with them.’
Rosie nodded.
Lisa’s gaze was steady as she went on: ‘But we both know that kids who are sexually abused often adore the parent who’s responsible and get jealous when they give anyone else attention.’
Rosie couldn’t prevent her hand from going to her mouth.
Lisa’s cheeks flushed pink. ‘Sorry.’
Rosie waved her on, shaking her head. ‘It’s all right.’
‘And Alice moaned about your mum quite a lot too. I think most of us were angry with our parents at that age, but it must have been harder for you two. Alice said that since your dad had to give up the orchestra, your mum was either working all the time or making cakes for the charity cases.’
‘It’s so strange that I can’t remember any of those kids and didn’t even realize Dave Crawford was one of them. But then, I spent a lot of time in my room.’
‘Hiding out from us lot I should imagine. It couldn’t have been much fun for you.’
It had been the music she’d hated most. The house was never quiet. Booming rock when Alice and her crowd filled the place, or stuttering violin and piano when Dad was teaching. If she was at home her mum sometimes called up to ask if she wanted a drink or some cake, but she mostly pretended not to hear.
Lisa was still talking. ‘I remember there was a girl using the piano when we got there, once, and Alice was furious. This girl said your dad had given her permission to stay after the lesson to practise, but Alice really let rip and she left in tears. Alice went on for ages about what a nerve she had.’
‘What was her name? The girl?’
Lisa rubbed her hands together, brushing bits of nut and salt away. Come on, get on with it. ‘Let me think. She was good, played really well. Pretty, too, with long blonde hair. A couple of us sat listening till Alice came in and went mad.’
‘Do you remember someone called Natalie?’
‘No, I didn’t know any of their names, but you could ask Dave Crawford.’
When she had gone, Rosie sat for a while thinking. It was strange but there w
as a short time, when her dad was on remand and she was still telling herself he would soon be released, that she’d been almost happy at home. It was quiet with just her and Mum. She could wander around without worrying about Alice’s friends making fun of her, or stumbling on any of the kids her dad taught, practising in the living room or eating biscuits in the kitchen.
She took out her phone and searched through for Dave Crawford’s number. Her mouth felt dry and she had to swallow before she could speak. ‘Hello, Dave? It’s Rosie Weatherall.’
A pause. ‘Oh hi, Rosie. I didn’t think you were booked to work with us any time soon.’
‘No, sorry, Dave, it’s not about work. It’s, well, I never realized until today that my dad taught you violin, and I wanted to ask you something.’
She waited, listening to him breathing, not sure what she was hoping for.
Eventually, he spoke. ‘Whoa, that’s going back a long way. Why do you want to talk about it all of a sudden?’ He obviously wasn’t keen on this conversation.
‘It’s nothing to worry about, but he’s just out of prison and—’
He interrupted. ‘Are you seeing him?’
‘No, not really, but he’s staying with my mum.’
‘So she’s taken him back, has she? I’m not surprised. She was such a kind woman. So good to us poor little scruffs. She made us all really welcome and I just loved being at your house. It was so different from where I lived. I fantasized about having a place just like it when I grew up. With all those books and the piano. I can still see myself sitting at that big kitchen table eating your mum’s homemade cake…’ He stumbled to a halt. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t want reminding about all that, do you?’
There was a longer silence this time as Rosie thought how different the reality had been from his memories. Eventually, she said, ‘I feel awful, but I hardly noticed any of you. Dad’s illness, and our money troubles, made things really difficult. The papers were right about one thing. We weren’t the happy family people took us for. And I can imagine Mum loved spoiling you lot because you probably appreciated her in a way Alice and I didn’t anymore.’
Dave coughed and said, ‘Look, Rosie, I don’t want to be difficult, but the whole thing with your dad was, well, let’s just say I try not to think about it. It was obviously a nightmare for you, but I found it horrible to come to terms with too. I idolized the man. And your mother. But then, I suppose you’re right, we were only seeing what your parents wanted us to see.’
‘So you didn’t hear any talk of him abusing girls?’
‘Not a thing. But I wasn’t in the loop for gossip. Too much of a nerd; too keen on working for my exams and practising my music. In the school I went to, and the area I lived in, that pretty much guaranteed you’d be Billy no-mates.’
‘I wanted to ask you about one of the girls you might have known who came to the house to practise like you did?’
‘I’ve told you, I didn’t really have many friends back then.’
‘Please, Dave. I just need to know if there was a Natalie. Probably there for piano rather than violin lessons.’
Rosie heard him sigh, and waited, biting hard on her bottom lip.
‘Honestly, Rosie, I couldn’t say.’
‘And you haven’t kept in touch with any of the kids from back then?’
‘No, like I said, I wasn’t popular and if the rest were the same as me they wanted to forget about it all after what happened.’ Another of those pauses. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I need to get on.’
‘OK, but if you think of anything that might help me to trace this Natalie, will you let me know? I only want to talk to her.’
He agreed so quickly she knew it was hopeless and she rang off, throwing the phone down so hard on the garden table that it bounced onto the grass.
Fay came running up and grabbed it.
‘There you are, silly Mummy,’ she said, and Rosie forced herself to smile.
Loretta
Loretta was grateful that at least the station was quiet. She’d had a call first thing this morning to tell her to come in to see Philips before she went over to Hannah and Joe’s and she guessed it wasn’t for a friendly chat. Mick, one of the DCs, was on the phone and he looked up as she passed, raising his eyebrows and jerking his head towards Philips’s office. So, she was right, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Better get it over with.
He didn’t tell her to sit, just held up a newspaper. ‘What’s this?’ She’d seen the headline:
Cult in Frame for Lily Murder.
It went on to claim an exclusive.
The Children of Light’s spacious headquarters in the depths of the Wiltshire countryside was raided in the early hours. The cult’s leader, charismatic preacher Pastor Jerome, refused to comment on reports that files and computers had been seized amidst speculation that Lily Marsden’s boyfriend, a long time cult member, remains the prime suspect.
Philips’s thin face was always pale, but today it had a yellow tinge, which didn’t bode well. ‘So, Constable, any idea how this got out? There hasn’t been time for anyone who didn’t know about it in advance to tip off the paper.’
‘Sorry, sir, I’ve no idea.’
‘Well, that’s not good enough, Peterson. We’re getting nowhere fast with the case. And just when the tabloids were losing interest, this blows up. If we don’t get a result soon … well … we’d better get a result.’
‘I think I’ve made some progress with the dad, sir. He seems to be loosening up with me and trying to get Hannah to be more communicative.’
He snorted, throwing the paper to one side. ‘What’s up with that woman? Doesn’t she want us to find the killer? I can’t make out her attitude.’
‘Nor me, sir.’
‘Maybe we need a fresh perspective. I’m thinking about bringing in another FLO.’
Loretta swallowed. ‘Please don’t do that, sir. I am getting close to her and the husband. I’m sure it won’t take much longer.’
Philips rubbed his hand over his face. ‘OK, but bear in mind that time is something we don’t have.’ She turned to go. ‘And Peterson …’ He flipped the newspaper with his pen. ‘If I find you had anything to do with this shit. Anything at all, mind.’ He flapped his hand at her. ‘Go on, get on with it.’
And, of course, Maggie was lurking outside the office. Talking to the DC, pushing back her bleached blonde hair and giggling as she leaned on his desk. When she saw Loretta, she kissed her lips at the DC. ‘Thanks for that, Mick, you’re a star.’ Chest bouncing, she walked beside Loretta. ‘Hiya, Lorry. How’s it going?’
‘Fine.’
‘Oh, really? Mick was just telling me Philips is none too pleased.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Fuck off and leave me alone. Loretta walked faster, towards the door, but Maggie kept pace.
‘Bet he’ll be mad as hell when he hears what your boyfriend’s been up to.’
Loretta turned to face her in the narrow corridor, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your Joe Marsden. Neighbour called us. Apparently, he set on a young lad outside the house. Looked to me like he’s losing it. You should have been there.’
Just walk away, don’t give her the satisfaction. ‘What happened?’
‘The boy was gone and the old woman was half gaga, so there was nothing we could do this time. But you need to keep the guy under control. If the papers get wind of anything like this, I reckon it’ll be your job on the line. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?’
Loretta thrust her hands into her pockets, determined not to react this time. When they reached the glass doors, Maggie walked down the steps with her, right up to her car, holding the top of the driver’s door as Loretta got in. ‘Not bad looking in the flesh, is he, your Joe? We were saying on the way back that we wouldn’t mind that job.’
Loretta started the engine, but the bitch held onto the door, the smirk still plastered on her face. ‘Mind, he’s probably not your type, is he?’
Lor
etta pulled the door and Maggie let go with her trademark, ooh someone’s pissed off, expression.
As she drove out, Loretta watched Maggie strolling away, her backside swaying back and forth. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to wear trousers. She switched on the radio, tuned to something loud and raucous, the kind of thing Pearl loved, and turned it up full blast.
When she drew up at the house, she was glad to see Joe’s van was missing. Good, she’d have Hannah all to herself. This time, she’d get the whole story and sort out this mess. She walked round the back. She usually came in that way because it seemed friendlier, but the kitchen door was locked. She tapped a few times then went to the front again. No answer. She took out her mobile and rang their landline. She could hear ringing inside, but that was all.
The likely explanation was that Joe had finally persuaded Hannah to go out for a bit. Round the back she noticed the gate to the little lane was open and so was the garage door. Hannah’s car was gone.
Sitting in her own car she called Hannah’s mobile: it went straight to voicemail. Joe’s phone now. Pick up, pick up.
‘Loretta?’
‘Yes, Joe, what’s going on? Where are you, where’s Hannah? You promised to tell me if—’
‘Hannah’s gone. I’m looking for her. I was in the shower and when I came out she had gone.’
Chapter Thirteen
Joe
Joe told Loretta that Hannah might have gone to confront Samuel at the farm, but he didn’t really believe that. And as he pulled up next to the wood where Lily had died, he saw he was right. Hannah’s car was parked at the edge of the trees.
She wanted to be near Lily. Of course. Needed time alone to think about it all; to begin to come to terms with it. Then maybe she’d finally open up to him.
He should probably wait here in the van till she came back. Or at least call out, before going to look for her. But he couldn’t stop himself heading through the trees, trying to avoid stepping too heavily on the dry bracken or crackling leaves.
He stopped at the edge of the little clearing.