‘Don’t miss a thing, Janie,’ he’d say. ‘Study it carefully and you’ll start to see everything afresh. Don’t take anything for granted. Notice all the shades of green and brown. Remember them, because next time we come they’ll be different again.’
It was a long walk and a long push for Aunt Jessica, so we only did it once with dad. A couple of times after that she took me on the bus and we left dad at home. On my return he’d quiz me for ages.
‘Describe exactly what you saw. Draw a picture for me with your words.’
I may be impetuous, muddle-headed as well, on occasion, but if my one-word descriptor was ‘observant’, it would be well justified.
I got off the No 76 bus and walked along Lower Park Road, turning left into Cromwell Avenue, which was the site of the accident. There were three cars parked along Cromwell Avenue, all bunched up together at the end of the road. There were no houses on this road, it purely acted as an intersection between the second and third areas of the park. I guessed the car owners were visiting friends nearby and decided this was as good a place as any to leave their cars. Most of Upper and Lower Park Roads had just been painted with double yellow lines, so if there wasn’t an empty driveway then you were pretty much stuck.
Joel’s accident had happened one evening in April. It would have been almost dark. The police had surmised that the hit and run driver hadn’t seen Joel as he ran across from one part of the park to the other. We couldn’t ever understand why he was out running at that time of night. He’d taken up running a few months earlier, but tended to run early morning, or at weekends. According to Zara he was constantly asking her to join him, but she was the least likely person to go running. She preferred to saunter through life; at least until the 10th April 1968.
I pulled my collar up and turned my back to the wind that had just picked up with a vengeance. Greg would be laughing at me all wrapped in the middle of August, but I was used to his teasing. The trickiest part of us being at either end of the temperature scale was finding a happy medium. The benefits were that I always had his hot back to warm my cold feet on.
I planned to retrace Joel’s steps, as far as I knew them. I walked in through the entranceway to the park, neatly created with carefully clipped box hedging. I wasn’t keen to venture too far in, but I stood for a moment to absorb my surroundings. Just beside the park entrance was a lamppost that would have thrown a reasonable light onto the pavement and the immediate part of the road Joel stepped out onto. His body was found slumped partly on the pavement and partly on the road. Looking now at the scene of the accident, I realised that as he stepped out onto Cromwell Avenue he would have the benefit of the light cast from the lamppost. Assuming the street light was working he would have been visible, despite the fact he was wearing dark clothes. I remember the police coming to our house to speak to Zara, going through it all again with her. One of the officers said how unfortunate it was that Joel wasn’t wearing more visible clothing, as though it was his fault. I remember getting angry on Zara’s behalf.
‘The driver had headlights, didn’t they? They must have seen him.’
Greg was there telling me to calm down, as I raised my voice. Given half the chance I would have screamed. This crazy person had run poor Joel down and hadn’t even stopped.
‘They would have felt his body hit the car,’ I shouted at the police officer. By this time I was verging on the hysterical and he wasn’t even my boyfriend. Zara sat silent throughout. It was as though she had lost all sense of time and place. I’m not sure she heard any of the details the police officer gave her. Even when I tried to hold her, to comfort her, she stood rigid, with her arms by her side.
‘She’s in shock,’ the police officer said. ‘It’s to be expected.’
Being here again at the scene of such a terrible trauma I was reliving some of those emotions. I reminded myself of dad’s words, stay focused. As I stepped into the park entrance I exposed all my senses. I smelt the odour from one of the nearby rubbish bins that had been left to overflow. I let my hand touch the sharp spikes of the berberis abutting the box hedging. I imagined what it would have looked like that night, any colour disappearing, leaving just grey and black.
I imagined myself into the shoes of Joel. He would have been running along the path, focusing perhaps on his timing and his breathing. Perhaps he had cramp and had stopped for a moment to relieve it and then, wanting to build up his pace again, he might have burst out through the park entrance. It was at that moment, as he stepped from the pavement to the road, the car had come from the direction of Lower Park Road and driven into him.
I stood still and looked again at the likely route of the car. My heart started to beat uncomfortably fast and I needed to take deep breaths to regain my composure. Right on cue the hiccups kicked in.
Why hadn’t anyone looked at this before and realised the absurdity of it? A car turning left from Lower Park Road into Cromwell Avenue would have been on the left-hand side of the road. But when the young police officer found Joel in the early hours of the morning, Joel’s body was laying across the road and pavement on the far side of the road. It didn’t add up.
It wasn’t possible for the car to have hit him unless he was running up from the lower part of the park. But that would mean his body would have been across the other kerb. The only other possibility was for the car to have been driving in the opposite direction, along Cromwell Avenue into Lower Park Road. If that was the case then the driver would have had longer to see him in the headlights and the streetlights, and Joel would have been alerted to the car coming towards him and stopped running or got out of the way.
I took out my notebook, drew a rough plan of the accident site and scribbled a few notes. I had no doubt I would remember all of it, but I wanted to be thorough and prove to myself, and dad, that I wasn’t just a scatty Gemini.
On the bus home I looked through my notes again. Perhaps the police had been mistaken when they explained the events to Zara, although this seemed unlikely. Policemen had to be thorough, that was their job. They would have made a detailed record of every aspect of the incident. There hadn’t been any witnesses to the accident, which is why Joel wasn’t found until the early hours of the next morning. Did Joel die instantly, or could he have been saved if someone had been there to call an ambulance?
When I got back home I said nothing to Greg about where I’d been. I let him assume I’d gone over to dad’s to help with his paperwork. I knew what Greg would say if he knew the truth.
‘You have to think of little Bean,’ he was always telling me. Sometimes it felt that Bean was more important to him than I was and it hadn’t even been born yet.
I had a sleepless night, replaying the accident scene over and over in my mind. I was so grateful when morning came. I was up, showered and breakfasted before Greg appeared, looking bleary-eyed.
‘Blimey, Janie, you’re early. Getting ready for those morning feeds? They say the body prepares you for sleepless nights, at least so Fred tells me. His wife has had four kids, with their fifth on the way.’
The subtext of his morning greeting did not pass me by. One little Bean was enough of a family for me and I certainly didn’t intend to be a stay-at-home wife. I had other plans, but this was not the time to raise them.
‘I promised dad I’d call in early, he needs help with a patient.’ I grabbed my bag before he could ask any more and called out goodbye as I scooted out of the front door.
I arrived at dad’s to find him still out, giving Charlie his morning walk. I had my own key so let myself in and was just getting out mugs for our hot drinks when I heard them arrive at the back door.
‘Kettle’s on,’ I called out.
‘Morning,’ was dad’s reply, as Charlie pushed his wet nose up against my leg. Fortunately, my knee length boots took the worst of it, until Charlie decided to shake his whole body, giving dad and I a brief shower.
‘Thanks mate,’ I said and rubbed his head.
‘Bed,’
my dad said and Charlie padded off obediently, while we sat down to our hot drinks. I got my notebook out and reported all my findings to dad, who listened without interruption.
At the end he said, ‘What’s your next step?’
‘I don’t have a clue, I was hoping you’d tell me. You’re the one who used to be a copper remember.’
‘Yes, but this time the ball’s in your court. You fancy yourself as an investigator, so investigate. Start by determining all the reasons that the scenario might not be what we thought.’
‘The police made a mistake?’
‘Well, that’s one possibility.’
‘Unlikely one?’
‘I’d like to hope so.’
‘If the car was coming towards Joel on the other side of the road the driver would have seen him, he would have had time to slow down and Joel would have time to get out of the way.’
‘Okay, so why would the car not have slowed down?’
‘The driver was distracted? The car’s brakes were faulty?’
‘Yes, two realistic scenarios. What else?’
I put my cup down and looked at my dad’s face, trying to read his expression. I knew what he was thinking, but I couldn’t bear to say the words aloud.
‘It wasn’t an accident. The driver meant to run him down,’ I said.
He nodded and held his hand out to me.
‘I think we have to count that as a distinct possibility.’
Chapter 20
‘Pardon me, madame, for recalling unpleasant memories, but I have a little idea’ – Poirot’s ‘little ideas’ were becoming a perfect byword…
The Mysterious Affair at Styles - Agatha Christie
I’d achieved part one of my attempt to protect Greg’s little sister from a threat that may have existed only in my imagination. Now I just needed to work out the best way of telling Becca the change of plan, without alerting her to the problem.
There was a chance I had dug myself into a hole for no reason. Although the image of Owen cruelly crushing the flower in his hand made me determined to see it through. There was a dark side to Owen and I wasn’t going to risk Becca finding out what was at the heart of it.
‘Let’s invite your parents round for supper at the weekend, to celebrate your new job,’ I said to Greg that evening. ‘It’ll save them worrying about organising another get-together.’
‘I thought we’d go out, make the most of being free before Bean arrives.’
‘Sounds good, but it’s ages since we invited your family round. We could ask Becca as well, talk about her plans for uni?’
‘Becca won’t want to spend a Saturday night with us, she’ll be out dancing with her mates.’
‘Well, let’s just ask. She can always say no.’
I called round to the Juke household and luckily enough caught them all in. I still felt uncomfortable calling Greg’s parents by their first names, although calling them Mr and Mrs Juke felt weird. I couldn’t get used to the idea that I was Mrs Juke too. Giving up my maiden name felt like giving up on my dad and secretly I still thought of myself as Janie Chandler.
‘Greg would love it if we had a get-together, to celebrate his new job.’
‘We can toast our new grandchild. Excellent idea. When were you thinking of?’ Greg’s mum asked. ‘I could bring a pudding, if you like.’
‘This Saturday evening?’
‘Count me out,’ Becca said, ‘I’m seeing Mel. We’re going to The Saturn Club, she’s got free tickets.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. Greg will be disappointed. He was just saying this morning how much he enjoyed your party.’ I hoped I wouldn’t be struck down for telling such lies. ‘It’s quite a big change for him, this new job. It would give him a real boost if you could be there.’
Becca tutted and looked away from me, making a point of studying her brightly painted nails.
‘Melanie can manage without you for once.’ Nell said. ‘Janie’s right, your brother needs your support. You’ll be off soon enough and then we won’t see you for months on end.’
‘Tell you what,’ I said, trying desperately to salvage the situation, ‘how about you pop in for an hour or so? Bring Melanie as well, if you like. You can have some nibbles, give your brother a hug and then go off to your nightclub and leave us oldies to it.’
Having succeeded in getting them all to come, I now needed to work out the next part of my plan. I’d never met Melanie, so I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to convince her about what I had in mind.
Saturday morning was spent shopping and cleaning, leaving the whole afternoon free to prepare the food. I have no idea how anyone can enjoy entertaining on a regular basis. Greg just laughed at my constant sighing and sat and watched as I scooted around with the vacuum.
‘At least go in the kitchen, out of the way,’ I said, ‘or go out completely?’
Instead, he just grinned and lifted his feet as I vacuumed underneath them.
‘If you don’t go out, then you can help. Peel potatoes and carrots and polish the glasses.’
‘I’m just popping out, won’t be long,’ he said, with a cheeky grin on his face.
I poked my tongue out at him as he grabbed his jacket and left. In truth it was easier to have the place to myself.
Our guests were due at 6pm. I was ready, with an hour to spare, so there was time for a soak in the bath before getting changed. Greg returned with some beers and cider and a bunch of flowers.
‘Blimey, are they for me?’
‘Well, they’re not for me. I’m allowed to treat my wife, aren’t I? Besides, you deserve a thank you. You’ve worked hard all day and I haven’t. But, I don’t feel guilty, ‘cos I work hard all week, while you read books for a living.’
‘Be extremely careful, or your dinner may end up in the bin, together with those beautiful flowers.’
I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulled him to me and planted a kiss on his lips. ‘You’re right though, about the books. And soon all I’ll be doing is having cups of tea all day, while singing nursery rhymes. And you’ll be carrying hods.’
‘Er, possibly, although I have yet to find out what a hod is. I expect it will be one of my first lessons. The kiss was nice, can I have another?’
‘No, Mr Juke, you may not, as I have to prepare myself to greet my guests.’
The Jukes arrived on time and Melanie and Becca went straight into the kitchen, while Greg organised drinks for his parents.
‘You two can help, if you like?’ I said to the girls. ‘I’m not used to feeding so many all at once. Becca, can you check the roasties, they might need basting? Use the oven gloves, our oven is pretty fierce.’
Melanie stood to one side and I handed her a tea towel. ‘It’s probably rude to ask my guests to help, but I’m hopeless at all that protocol stuff. How did you manage to get free tickets for The Saturn Club? That was a bit of luck.’
‘Yeah, friend of a friend, he knows one of the bouncers. Have you been?’
‘Aquarius is more our scene, it’s where Greg and I met.’
‘I don’t suppose you get out dancing much now?’ she said, nodding her head towards my midriff.
‘It won’t be long before I can’t, but we managed to get out recently. Just to remind ourselves we aren’t quite over the hill yet. In fact, we bumped into someone you know.’
‘Oh right, who was that then?’
‘Owen Mowbray, I think his mum is your god-mother, is that right?’
At this point Greg came into the kitchen to see what was keeping us. ‘Mum and dad are wondering if there is anything they can do to help?’
‘No, tell them thanks, but the girls are being a big help. We’ll be through in a minute. Don’t leave them on their own though, take these peanuts.’ I handed him a bowl of nuts and tried not to make it obvious that I was ushering him out of the kitchen. ‘Stay here too long and you’ll be enlisted.’
‘Don’t you like cooking then?’ Melanie asked me, as I took the joint out of t
he oven and contemplated the best way to carve it.
‘Let’s just say I’m not exactly a natural.’ I rifled through the drawer looking for a half-decent carving knife. ‘You two must be looking forward to uni. It’s ideal you’re both going to be together, are you taking the same course?’
‘Mel’s taken different options to me, she’s doing French as well,’ Becca said.
‘Owen was telling us how disappointed he was he couldn’t help you out with accommodation. Seems he might not be staying in his house for much longer,’ I said, surprising myself at how accomplished I was becoming at telling lies.
‘How do you mean?’ Becca said, anxiety making her voice quiver slightly. ‘Did you know that, Mel?’
‘No, he hasn’t said anything to me. Oh, God, now what are we going to do. We’ve only got a month or so before we start. That’s typical of him, I’ve always thought he was a bit weird. I didn’t even want to share his stupid house, but mum and Mrs Mowbray go back years and once mum has decided something then we all have to follow her plan. This is a complete nightmare, now what are we going to do?’
‘He just mentioned it to me in passing,’ I said, trying to sound reasoned and calm. ‘I get the sense he’s a bit embarrassed about it, didn’t want to let you down, but couldn’t think of a way of telling you. I suppose when he bumped into Greg and me he saw the perfect opportunity.’
‘Now what?’ Becca said, frustration evident in her expression.
‘If I were you I’d sort out digs on campus and then just let him know, without making a fuss. If you make a big thing about it it’ll only upset everyone.’
The girls stayed for the first course, made their excuses and went off to prepare for their night out. As I tucked into the roast dinner, which I had to admit had come out well by anyone’s standards, I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back. I had averted a potential disaster and hopefully everyone would come out of it unscathed. I doubted Mel or Becca would want to have a detailed conversation with Owen about the whys or wherefores and once the new accommodation was in place I was certain both families would be content. Owen certainly wouldn’t be happy, but I had to hope that the Mowbray family wouldn’t be too annoyed by my interference. It was clear that the more I got involved in this amateur sleuthing lark, the more tact and diplomacy was needed. The community of Tamarisk Bay was close-knit. Many of the families were connected, either by blood or friendship and now that Greg was planning to work for the Mowbray’s I needed to tread carefully, or I would have one very unhappy husband to deal with.
The Tapestry Bag: A gripping mystery, full of twists and turns (A Janie Juke mystery Book 1) Page 13