by Anne Coates
Benton felt his stomach contract. Shit! “Guv, I’m sorry… I just thought …”
“You just didn’t think, that’s your trouble.” She looked down at a sheet of paper on her desk. Her next words threw him. “What’s happening to you Mike? Don’t answer –” she added as he did a fair impression of a goldfish. “Go home. Eat. Sleep. And be ready to make an early start tomorrow.”
Sergeant Benton scraped his chair back and noticed the DI wince. “Sorry Guv. Night.”
DI Turner nodded and drummed her fingernails on the desk. So who are you really, Hannah Weybridge? She had run a check and come up with a security block. And what was Tom Jordan’s connection with her?
Hannah woke at two in the morning. For a moment she was lost in her dream, trying to snatch back the feeling of peace. It was no good. She saw Liz’s lifeless body. Was there something about her that was attracting death? Violent death? After everything that had happened with Caroline and that vile Lacon man, she was beginning to think she was cursed.
She turned the pillow over and pulled the duvet up over her face, muffling her sobs, but the horror of the evening before hovered over her. Menacingly. She was chilled to the core of her being. Sleep was elusive. She got up, wrapped herself in a heavy dressing-gown and tip-toed into Elizabeth’s room.
From the glow of the nightlight she made out her daughter’s beautiful face, eyes tightly closed, lashes caressing her chubby cheeks. Sleeping soundly she looked angelic. Hannah remembered her father’s words when Elizabeth was born.
“You feel like no one else in the world could possibly love their child as much as you do, don’t you?” That was exactly it. And he had felt it too. With her. She had felt blessed and cherished.
Now she felt lost and alone. Tom hadn’t rung back. They had been together for so short a time it now seemed unreal. What did she feel about him? He had made her feel special and cossetted. Once they had stopped being at cross purposes after the Caroline affair, they had found interests in common and she loved the way her body responded to his touch. The joy of sitting wrapped in each other’s arms in silence. No words necessary. Sometimes he only had to look at her and she would get that tingly feeling in her abdomen… But then he went away. New York. What was that all about? A few days together at Christmas was all that they’d had. And that was at her parents’ house in the Loire where they’d all celebrated Elizabeth’s first birthday. Liz had called and sang happy birthday to an enchanted one year old. It had been a joyful and relaxed time but all too brief. It seemed no sooner had he arrived, than Tom was leaving.
What was so important in New York? A good career move he’d said and it was only a job swap for a few months. But those months seemed agonisingly long. And she needed him with her now.
But she also needed to get a grip. For Elizabeth’s sake most of all. She wanted to pick her up, embrace and draw comfort from her. But that was selfish. She had to be the grown up here. She returned to her empty bed.
The next morning Hannah was still in her dressing-gown when Janet arrived.
“Don’t take your coat off.” Janet looked confused until Hannah added, “Would you mind popping across the road to the newsagent and buying all the papers?” She handed Janet some money which she had ready. Elizabeth, sitting on her hip reached out for the notes and Janet tickled her under her arm making the toddler shriek in delight.
“Right won’t be a minute.”
Hannah knew that news of Liz’s death would have made the later editions. What she didn’t know was how much information the police would have released.
Janet’s face looked grim when she returned. “Are you really sure you want to read these, Hannah?”
“They can’t be any worse for me than seeing my best friend’s murdered body.” She realised she sounded harsh. “I didn’t mean that so sound quite the way it did. Sorry.”
Janet just touched her arm lightly. “It’s okay. Look, I know it’s cold out there but if we dress you up warmly, how about a trip to the park Elizabeth? If that’s ok with you Hannah?”
“Of course.” She handed over her daughter and went into the sitting room. She could hear Elizabeth’s giggles as Janet got her ready. They both appeared round the door to say goodbye.
“Bye bye darling. Have a lovely time.”
She heard the front door close behind them and turned her attention to the newspapers. One look at the headlines made her head for the kitchen for some coffee.
“Do-gooder dentist found dead”
“The price of kindness – death”
“Death in Decay”
In fact the headlines were bolder than the story that followed which in all the papers was a brief outline of Liz Rayman’s “mission” at St John’s, the fact that she had practice in the Barbican and had recently returned from working with a medical charity in Somalia. She had been found by “a friend”. Her. She’d found her.
There were one or two quotes from the bystanders Hannah had seen as she had left the church the previous evening and that was that. For the time being at least. Nothing from the vicar who had persuaded her to work there in the first place.
The police were following several lines of enquiry. Oh yes, thought Hannah, and what were they? She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.
October 1992
Hannah had been six months pregnant when Liz told her of her plans to volunteer in Somalia. Liz would have preferred to tell her when other people were around in the hope it would have a calming effect on Hannah. But that was not to be. Hannah opted for the comfort of her own home when they met.
“But why? Why now?” Hannah was aghast at what she saw as her friend’s desertion. She could feel her eyes welling and blinked rapidly.
“I just feel it’s the right time for me.”
Not for me, Hannah thought but didn’t dare say it. Liz had made this decision and although she didn’t think her friend should have consulted her about it beforehand, she did think she’d have had some inkling. Had she been so wrapped up in herself she hadn’t noticed?
“My Barbican practice almost runs itself now and I have a good team there. What’s the point of being the boss, if you can’t take a sabbatical. And I need a change…” Liz smiled but Hannah couldn’t reciprocate.
“I need you here, Liz, do you have to go so far away?” Hannah knew she sounded like a petulant child but couldn’t stop herself.
“Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I’m sorry I won’t be here when you have the baby but you do have other friends, Hannah. I can’t run my life to your timetable.”
If she hadn’t known Liz better, Hannah would have been affronted by that comment. But she knew their closeness could be claustrophobic. If the roles were reversed, she knew what she would do. Or did she?
“I know, I’m sorry. What did your mother say?”
Liz laughed. “One mountain at a time, Hannah. That’s tomorrow’s task. To be honest, I’m more worried about what Mary will say.”
“Why? She’s your mother’s companion, not your keeper.”
Liz gave her a strange look and sipped her wine. Hannah, because of her condition, wasn’t drinking. “Oh I suppose she’s just protective of Mummy. When I was younger I always used to confide in Mary first and we’d work out a way to break the news to her. She’s really a member of the family and I don’t have many of those.”
Both Liz’s parents had few family connections. Lady Rayman, like her daughter, was an only child. Lord Rayman’s two older brothers had both been killed during the war, both fighter pilots. Lord Rayman, who had not expected to accede to the title, had worked for the Home Guard. He had disappeared when Liz was a child and she rarely spoke about him.
“Do you ever wonder about what happened to your father?” Hannah made a face as she drank her non-alcoholic wine. She pushed it away and got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
“What do you think?” Liz replied when Hannah returned. “No one likes the idea that some
thing or someone was so much more important in your father’s life than you. It’s shitty but I’ve got used to it. No one is indispensable not even fathers.” It sounded as though Liz had rehearsed those words.
“Well, I hope that’s true for my baby’s sake.”
“No news from Paul then?”
“No and to be honest I really don’t want anything to do with him. Abortion and me or baby without me isn’t an ultimatum I’d have expected. Still…” She stroked her bump and Liz watched her friend’s face transcend her anger and radiate her love for the unborn child. She felt a pang of raw envy which surprised her. Going to Somalia was definitely the right decision. And she had reasons to go there that she couldn’t confide in anyone. Especially not Hannah who tended to react emotionally at the drop of a hat these days. Hormones – and her own weren’t always that stable either.
“It’s something I need to do, Hannah. Like you and the baby. I’m not deserting you but I am doing what I think is right and important for me. And at the moment that means volunteering in Somalia.”
Hannah sniffed back her tears and hugged Liz.
“Just don’t be away for too long. I need you here”
“And what about my needs, Hannah?”
Hannah just stared. A tear welled at the corner of her eye but did not fall. “I’m sorry. I’m just being selfish. Forgive me?”
The two women hugged each other tightly but neither forgave the other. Liz departed for Somalia not long afterwards.
THREE
“You know you do have other friends, Hannah. People who love and need you too.” Linda smiled but that did not rob her words of their sharpness. She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her pony tail behind her ear. Dressed in jeans and a jumper that looked as though it could have been her husband’s, her demeanour was relaxed but the expression on her face was every bit the school teacher she was, telling off a recalcitrant pupil and brooking no dissension.
Hannah was jolted out of her torpor by the tone of her voice and the stern look. “I’m sorry..?”
Linda was aware that the cloak of grief Hannah had wrapped herself in was threatening to overwhelm her. Sometimes it seemed disproportionate.
“Look I know it must have rated as one of if not the worst experience of your life but you do have to move on. Grief has to be worked through, you mustn’t cling on to it.”
“I wasn’t aware that I am ‘clinging on to it’.”
Linda could hear the inverted commas around the phrase. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her now. “Hannah there are friends who are here for you. I can’t understand why you are not doing something – anything. You are so resourceful – go for it. Help find out who did this to Liz or at least try to make some sense of it. You’re a journalist, for God’s sake. Write about it. And you need to think of Elizabeth. She needs her mummy.”
“She has me.” Hannah glanced down at the toddler sleeping in her arms. She felt heavy and secure. A slight bubble appeared between her lips as she exhaled. Her dark lashes caressed her adorable face like butterflies. One chubby little hand clasped Hannah’s thumb. She was warm and smelled of milk and the strawberries she’d eaten earlier, a little bud of red at the corner of her mouth. “She has me,” Hannah repeated.
“Then make sure you’re the best you, you can be.” Linda licked her fingers after squeezing a lime into the sauce she was making. The scent lingered in the warm atmosphere of the kitchen above the odours of roasting chicken. Linda topped up their wine glasses. “This is tough love, Hannah. You need to listen. It’s appalling what’s happened to Liz but it isn’t your fault. Her death may be a freak coincidence and happening so soon after what happened, nearly happened with that awful shit of a man is terrible. But you are stronger than this. You’ve got to be.” Linda turned away and stirred the sauce. The wooden spoon lingered in the pan and she stared at it as though it would reveal the secrets of the universe.
“I know I have to do something.” Hannah stroked her daughter’s arm. “I just feel so powerless. I have no energy for anything.”
“That’s a natural reaction but you need to fight it.”
“Fight what?” David walked into the kitchen holding his son’s hand and cradling their four-month-old daughter, Ella, in his arms. He dropped a kiss on the top of Hannah’s head. “How’s my favourite hack, then.”
Linda kissed the latest addition to their family before David placed Ella into her bouncy seat which was then put inside a playpen – added protection against the skirmishes of her older brother.
“Lethargic and underemployed.” Hannah ruffled Joel’s curls. “However it’s a situation I have been told to rectify. And I shall. But on a full stomach.” She smiled at Linda. She was right of course but she felt so lonely especially seeing David and Linda together, a vision of domestic harmony.
“Glad to hear it. Heard from Tom lately?”
Hannah caught the furious glance Linda had shot at him. “No. I think that’s part of the problem.” Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared fixedly for a moment before beaming at her mother and pulling herself up to survey the scene.
“Jo-jo,” she squealed in delight and pulled away from the maternal embrace to slide down her legs and hug her little playmate. Hannah wished her own life could be so uncomplicated.
“I really like Tom and thought we had something going for us. But his going off to the States like that… well it’s not very flattering is it?” Hannah sipped her wine and missed the look exchanged between David and Linda. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship but it just happened and now I don’t know where I am, in any part of my life.”
“Well right now you are here with us about to have a delicious lunch over which we’ll think about life and what to do next.” David patted Linda on her bottom and moved to the fridge for another bottle of wine just as Elizabeth let out an almighty shriek. Joel had a clump of her hair in his hand and was tugging for all he was worth.
“No Joel. That’s not kind is it?” Gently Linda unclasped his hand and Elizabeth waddled over to her mother and thrust her wet face onto her skirt. Hannah picked her up and kissed the red patch on her scalp just as Joel rushed over and hugged Elizabeth before biting her cheek and leaving a deep red mark. Elizabeth screamed.
“Come on old chap, think we need some cool down time.” David lifted the child away and walked out of the room with him.
“Oh Hannah – I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what just got into him.” She sighed. “Well I do – sibling bloody rivalry rearing its ugly head.”
“They’re not siblings.” Hannah felt a double blow. She adored Linda’s firstborn but hated seeing her own child at the mercy of his outburst.
“No but he knows he shouldn’t hurt the baby – probably wants to kill her – so takes it out on Elizabeth. Shit.”
Hannah looked at her friend properly. She looked tired and sad. She put Elizabeth down on the floor then handed Linda her glass. “Nothing to fall out over especially when you were managing to give me such a hard time yourself.” Hannah smiled and hugged her friend who blew her nose noisily.
“Okay let’s get this food on the table. I’m eating for two still.”
Afterwards, back in her own home Hannah thought about what Linda had said. She knew her friend only had her best interests at heart. She had to get a grip. No one was going to do that for her. Liz was dead and nothing she could do would alter the fact but she could try to find out why. And a good place to start would be at the editorial meeting she was due at the next morning. Maybe the news desk would have some leads or at least give her some backup for her own enquiries. The police had been remarkably quiet. Please God there wouldn’t be another cover up.
FOUR
“Right, anything on the dead dentist?”
Silence, followed by a few embarrassed coughs, met this statement. Terry Cornhill, the deputy editor who was sitting in for the editor, Georgina Henderson, looked up over his half moon glasses. He looked every inch an absent-minded a
cademic with his shock of white hair, lean body and a rather eccentric sense of fashion – one day a pinstripe suit, the next a hand-knitted jumper that had seen better days – but he was a tabloid journalist to the core with newsprint running through his veins and the nose for a good story. Today he was wearing a fair isle waistcoat that looked as though it had its provenance in the forties.
“I’m sorry Hannah, no offence.”
Hannah could feel eight pairs of eyes resting on her. Shortly after her exposé of the group behind the murders of prostitutes at King’s Cross had been spiked, she’d been offered – and accepted – a retainer at The News and was invited to editorial conferences every few weeks. She was tolerated rather than accepted. But the monthly fee was worth it. With Elizabeth to bring up on her own, any high minded ideals she might have cherished, had had to take a back seat. However it soon became obvious even to her that the contract she’d signed effectively stopped her working for anyone else. She had been spiked again. Silenced. And she had walked into their trap.
“I’d like to cover this story if I may?” she said tentatively.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit too close to home, dear?” Judy Burton’s smile and saccharin tone did nothing to mask the malice in her eyes. Getting the human interest stories had been her province before miss butter-wouldn’t-melt arrived and she was not a woman who thrived on competition. Particularly not from a freelance who had no real newspaper experience. And especially not from a freelance whose large retainer or the reason for it was all rather a mystery to the staff journos.
“No I don’t.” Hannah looked directly at Terry Cornhill. “I was there just after it happened. I know... I knew Liz Rayman and I know her family. I want to find out who killed her and I just don’t accept the police version that some tramp – probably drunk or drugged – went berserk and ...”
“Why not?” Rory the news editor was watching her closely.
“For one thing –” Hannah’s voice had risen perilously high. She coughed and took a deep breath deliberately lowering her pitch. “For one thing, the people she treated respected her.”