by Chris Curran
Then he looked at the photo of the orchestra and, sitting at the piano right at the front, there she was.
He sat for long minutes trying to take it in. She was not his Hannah, never had been. She was this stranger: Natalie Grant. Someone who was a brilliant swimmer and could play the piano. All these years had been a lie.
He’d been such a mug. Had thought it didn’t matter that she never talked about her past. All she ever said was that her parents were dead; she’d grown up in a children’s home in London and got pregnant just after she left.
And now he remembered something. She’d told him her name was Hannah Leigh, but when they got married, the registrar called her something different. A different first name. It must have been Natalie: Natalie Hannah Leigh. Hannah just said she’d always been called by her second name and he’d thought no more about it. Had forgotten it completely and he was sure he’d never heard the Grant bit.
God only knew what effect finding all this must have had on Lily. Did she think he had known about it too? What was it Samuel said? ‘Lily and her mum had a big fight.’ Well, he could understand that now.
He leafed through the papers again. Was there anything here that might have helped Lily to trace her biological father? If there was he couldn’t see it. He pushed the stuff back in the envelope and shoved it under his sweatshirt to take to the house.
Rosie
Oliver had taken the afternoon off so they could spend the evening on the boat. He’d promised to meet Fay from school and shop for some picnic food. So, Rosie went straight to the address she had for Natalie Grant after she finished work.
Oh, no.
Grinning in at her as she parked the car was Dean Warner, a 15-year-old illiterate who made her life a misery every time she taught at his school. He gestured for her to open the window, swinging back and forth on his bike as he spoke.
‘What you doing round ’ere, Miss?’
She smiled at him. ‘Hello, Dean. I’m just visiting someone. Don’t worry, I haven’t come to see your mum about you.’
He laughed, apparently delighted to see her. When she got out he looked across the road to where music belted out from a battered car; a pair of jean-clad legs poking from underneath.
‘That’s me bruv. We’ll keep an eye on your motor. OK, Miss?’
As she pulled open the gate and walked into the overgrown front garden, she was very conscious of Dean’s eyes on her. She knocked several times and was just turning away from the door when she heard a cough inside. She knocked again, almost hoping nothing would happen. The door opened a crack: a thin hand heavy with rings.
‘Mrs Grant?’
‘I’m not buying anything.’ A smoker’s voice, and the door beginning to close again.
She spoke softly, still aware of Dean swinging his bike up and down on the footpath. ‘It’s about your daughter: Natalie. I’m a friend of hers.’
The woman was small and thin. Younger and less raddled than her voice suggested. Late middle-aged, but still attractive. Tanned, blonde, and fully made-up, in tight jeans and a frilly blouse, with lots of jewellery. She leaned on the door frame, sooty eyelashes half-closed against the smoke from her cigarette. ‘You know Natalie? What’s she want?’
It was obvious she wasn’t going to be invited in. ‘I used to go to school with her. Wondered if you could help me get back in touch. An address, maybe.’
The woman laughed, losing interest. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, darling.’
‘You don’t know where she’s living?’
Natalie’s mother took a deep drag on the cigarette, her eyes grey slits behind the smoke. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Rosie had this prepared. ‘We’re thinking of organizing a school reunion.’
A laugh, like the crack of a gunshot, carrying a waft of nicotine. ‘Should think you’d all want to forget that place. It never did my Nat any good, much as she loved it.’
It was cold in the shade of the rickety porch and Rosie wanted to move back into the sunshine, but her legs felt like stone. There was a smell of damp from inside the house overlaid with wafts of the woman’s smokey breath, her musky perfume. ‘I seem to remember Natalie was a really good piano player. Is she still doing that?’
‘Bloody waste of time that was. Always wanting me to pay out for music books. Going on about that fucking Mr Pritchard: that murderer. How he told her she could get her piano exams, go to university. And the swimming club, that was him too. And we all know what that was about now, don’t we?’
It was difficult to breathe. ‘What do you mean?’
The woman flicked her cigarette onto the path and ground it out with the toe of her slipper. ‘You must have heard about what he did to them girls.’
‘Did Natalie complain about him?’
‘Nah. She thought the sun shone out of him, didn’t she?’ She rubbed her arm and made a move to close the door.
‘Do you have an address for her?’
‘Look, love, I haven’t heard from her for years and I don’t want to. She ran off and I was glad to see the back of her.’
‘What happened?’
‘Got herself knocked up, of course. No surprise there. And I told her, my mum didn’t give me no help, but I managed. You make your own bed and better be ready to lie in it.’ She started to close the door. ‘Now, do you mind? I’ve got someone coming round any minute.’
Rosie nodded and walked back to her car.
The radio was still on as she drove home, but she found she was talking to herself. ‘She was pregnant. Natalie Grant was pregnant; And what had the mother said? “She thought the sun shone out of him”.’
Loretta
Loretta left Raj to sit with Hannah, who was sedated again. He complained he was tired of babysitting. ‘We need to split the duties,’ she said. ‘One of us has to keep an eye on Joe.’ Raj raised his eyebrows and she laughed. ‘Believe me it won’t be much more entertaining over there.’
‘Well, let me go then. We could do a bit of male bonding,’ Raj said.
‘Next time, maybe. For now, I need to talk to him. It was me who upset him before and I’m worried about the way he charged out of here.’
When she got to the house, Joe took his time coming to the door. He let her in without a word, but stood in the middle of the hall, not encouraging her to go any further.
‘Are you OK?’ she said.
He nodded, looking down at the hall carpet.
‘Hannah’s still asleep, and my colleague, Raj, is with her. He’ll let us know if we’re needed.’
‘OK.’ He didn’t move. ‘Look, Loretta, I’m very tired and I was just going to take your advice and get some sleep.’
‘Oh, right. Fine. Then I’ll leave you to it.’ At the door, she touched his arm and this time he didn’t pull away. ‘Try not to worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to see her soon.’
He nodded and closed the door on her. She stood for a moment or two, wondering if she should really leave him.
In the car, she called Raj, but he said there was no change. ‘You go home for a few hours. I’ll ring you if anything happens here.’ She looked back at the silent house. ‘Thanks, Raj. My daughter just texted me to say there’s food in the oven, so maybe I’ll do that.’
As she turned into her street, she saw Will’s car parked in front. Dex was just getting out.
She fixed on a smile as she drew up behind them, sliding the window down and calling, ‘After some of your sister’s cooking, eh?’ At least he grinned at her, so he hadn’t come just because he thought she’d be out.
He and Will waited at the door for her and, when she put her arms round her son, he leaned into her for a split second, letting her rub his bony spine. He seemed to have grown taller in the couple of days since she’d seen him and would soon be close to his dad’s height.
Willard bent to peck at her cheek. ‘Hi, Loretta. You look tired.’
‘Thanks a lot. That makes me feel better.’ She had meant it to sound jokey, b
ut it didn’t.
He just tilted his head to one side and smiled that slow smile of his.
As Pearl opened the door, a waft of something delicious floated out. She flashed them all a grin. ‘There’s loads of food. I thought we could eat in the garden, but it looks like rain again. You’re staying too, aren’t you, Dad?’
Loretta walked into the kitchen, dumping her bag and jacket on a chair and peering into the pan bubbling on the stove. She heard Pearl speaking again and the rumble of Will’s reply. As they came into the kitchen, Pearl was saying, ‘’Course it’s all right with her, isn’t it, Mum?’
What could she say? ‘Yeah, fine.’
‘Well, it’s lucky I brought this then.’ Willard held up a bottle of wine. ‘Sit down, Loretta, and I’ll get you a glass.’
‘Thanks, but I can’t. I may have to go back later on.’
Pearl said there was nothing she could do so Loretta went into the living room. She leaned back on the sofa. She was so tired, but it wouldn’t do to relax too much.
She was almost asleep when the door opened and Will came in carrying his wine and a mug. He passed her the coffee and sat at the other end of the sofa, looking at her with that crooked half-smile of his.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Have you forgiven me?’
She tried to look as if she didn’t understand, focusing on her coffee to avoid his eyes.
‘I know you were upset about Dex,’ he said, ‘but Pearl told me how busy you are with this case, so maybe it’s working out well. This way you can focus all your energies on work for a while.’
She didn’t want to get into this. ‘Dex looks better, which is all that matters. Does he seem all right to you? At home, I mean.’
‘Fine. It’s still the honeymoon period, of course, but I called the school and they said he seemed a bit happier.’
Loretta felt a twinge of guilt, wishing she’d thought of doing that. Will was still looking at her.
‘It’s just till we get him over this phase. Then he’ll be desperate to come back home to you.’
‘Is Sandra all right with it?’
‘Oh, yeah, she likes Dex. She’s out a lot anyway, so it’s nice for me to have company. But what about you? This case sounds as if it’s getting heavy. Pearl tells me they’ve brought in another FLO.’
‘He’s OK. I couldn’t get away at all if Raj wasn’t there.’
‘But they’re suspicious of you because of all the leaks, are they?’
She’d have words with Pearl. What else had she been saying to him? As always, he seemed able to read her thoughts.
‘She’s only concerned for you.’
Too tired to be annoyed, Loretta took a sip of coffee then put down her mug and rested her head on the cushion behind her, closing her eyes with a sigh. Will’s voice was low and soothing. She’d always loved the way it sounded. It was the things he said she didn’t like.
‘From what I’ve read this case is a real mess. I reckon they’re lucky to have someone like you involved.’
He was trying to be nice, but she didn’t want to talk about this with him. Her job was one of the main reasons they’d split up. When they were students, they were both very left wing and had some bad experiences with coppers at protests and demos. As a young black man, it had been worse for Will. So, when she first talked about joining the force he laughed at her. Until he realized she was serious.
They had been sitting on a sofa just like this and he’d spilled his coffee as he stood to look down at her, his face contorted. ‘You don’t honestly believe all that claptrap about combating prejudice from the inside, do you?’
‘It’s worth a try.’ That remark, and maybe the fact that she smiled as she said it, seemed to make him really mad and he slammed out of the door. It wasn’t the way she really felt about it, of course. She was terrified of what she was getting into, but it was the only way she could see of changing things.
Willard still thought she was sleeping with the enemy. ‘You’ll never change them, they’re the tools of a corrupt state,’ he used to say. ‘And I’m scared you’ll end up getting hurt.’ What he really meant was that he thought she would become corrupt too.
Her mobile was ringing from the kitchen, and Willard touched her knee. ‘Don’t move, I’ll get your bag.’ She brushed the place where his hand had rested.
When he passed her the phone she expected it to be Raj, but it wasn’t. ‘It’s Andy from work,’ she said, wondering why she was telling Will.
Andy said, ‘Has Davis been in touch with you yet?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I’ve just heard this and I thought you should know right away. There’s been a development with your lady, Lily’s mum.’
Loretta’s breath caught in her throat. She sat up. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s her alibi for the time of the murder. Apparently, it’s shot to pieces.’
Rosie
Rosie watched as Fay leapt from the deck into Oliver’s arms. It was a lovely evening and the sea was millpond calm. Fay was a real water baby. Had been able to swim almost before she could walk, but Rosie was always on edge when she swam from the boat. They never let her do it alone, of course, and Oliver was a strong swimmer, but Fay looked so tiny out there.
Rosie was fine in a pool, but she wasn’t confident in the open sea. Although this was hardly open sea. She could see the buildings of Rye Town just a short way back and hear the noise of people on the beach at Camber Sands.
Oliver was holding Fay above his head in a glittering shower of water and hysterical laughter. Then he brought her back down and bounced her in and out of the ripples. He looked up at Rosie, shouting, ‘She’s fine. Stop looking so worried and get that food out. We’re starved.’
It was warm in the little cabin and Rosie hurried to fill a tray with salads, bread, and cold meats. As she came back out Oliver was lifting Fay onto the swim ladder. He clambered after her, throwing a towel at Fay and grabbing one himself. With his own towel wrapped round his waist, he rubbed at Fay’s hair as she squealed and told him to stop. Rosie put down the tray and gave Fay her towelling robe.
‘I’m hot, Mummy. I can stay like this.’
‘Put it on or go down and get dressed,’ Rosie said.
As Fay struggled into the robe, Oliver came up from the cabin with a bottle of wine and some of Fay’s favourite cherryade. It was a lovely evening, the sea a misty blue that blurred into pink as it met the sky where it signalled the approaching night.
Rosie leaned back sipping her cold wine. Fay sprawled on her tummy on the padded bench opposite, bare feet waving in the air, and Oliver reached over and rubbed Rosie’s knee.
‘Good idea of mine, or what?’
‘Very good.’ She met his smile, wishing she could feel happy too.
She closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, vaguely aware of Fay and Oliver’s voices and the rattle of plates and the clink of glass.
Natalie Grant was pregnant and, according to her mother, she adored Rosie’s dad. So, was the child his? She obviously still cared for him and believed in him, which explained the letters, but did she actually know anything about Alice’s murder?
It was a shock when she felt Oliver’s cold lips on hers and she jumped.
‘Careful, you nearly spilled my drink,’ he said.
‘Just as well if I had.’ She picked up the bottle. ‘You’re driving back, remember, and don’t you dare go in the water again after the amount you’ve eaten.’ She made herself laugh, but he obviously wasn’t fooled and, when Fay went down to the cabin to change into dry clothes, he pulled Rosie to him.
‘Come on, sweetheart. Cheer up. Just let’s enjoy ourselves.’
‘I want to, but …’
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Dad. I don’t know what to think.’
Oliver twisted to look into her face. ‘I thought we’d got past all this.’
‘All this what?’
‘This feeling
bad because you’ve had to accept that he did it. It’s only natural that you remember how much you used to love him. So you shouldn’t feel guilty about that either.’
They’d been through it many times before and it had helped her to come to terms with everything. But it was different now. ‘In my heart, I’ve never really believed he abused Alice, you know.’
‘I know. And there was no real evidence that he did, just innuendo based on gossip. We both know what kids can be like. I can imagine one of Alice’s friends coming up with that just to get in on all the drama. The killing was probably some horrible moment of anger and frustration. Something that could happen to anyone.’
He took her hands. His were damp from his swim and warm. ‘One terrible burst of madness doesn’t make your dad evil, and he’s served his time now. I know you can never forgive him, but you need to try to forget.’
Rosie swallowed. He couldn’t help her if she kept him ignorant. ‘But Mum showed me these letters from someone called Natalie who seemed to think Dad was innocent. She didn’t say anything definite, but she was one of his pupils, those deprived kids Alice called his charity cases and …’
Oliver dropped her hands, looking at her with something like horror. Of course, she hadn’t told him any of this. She ran her fingers through her hair. It was difficult to breathe but she needed to tell him everything. ‘Mum believes her and that’s why she’s taken Dad back.’
Oliver sank away from her. ‘Does this girl say anything definite?’
‘No, just that she knows he didn’t do it.’
‘Right.’ Oliver was looking down at the deck, his head nodding in time with his breath. Thinking about it. ‘She doesn’t say she knows who actually did it?’
‘No.’
‘So, it doesn’t change anything.’
‘Maybe if I could talk to her it would help, but I can’t do that because she’s left the area.’
Fay came up from the cabin and sat fiddling with her iPad. Oliver held out his hand and she pulled a face and passed it to him. He glanced at the screen. ‘OK, just one game, then you can read your book or even talk to us.’