THE JAGGED LINE

by Carolyn Mahony

‘I’ve been a rubbish mother and daughter. I don’t need anyone to tell me that. I thought I had good reason at the time to choose your father over you. I wanted to save our marriage. Now I’m not so sure.’

  Harry looked at her, shocked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more. ‘Don’t put yourself through it, Mum. Whatever happened, it’s history. You don’t need to explain.’

  ‘I do. I need you to understand why I made the choices I made. I was twenty-seven and you were two months old when your father had the affair.’

  Harry stared at her stunned, but straight away that simple sentence made sense of so many things.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she said quickly. ‘Your father was very apologetic – ashamed of himself afterwards … but he said it was difficult going on digs, sometimes for months on end … with no female company. I didn’t want to lose him. So I decided there and then that I’d accompany him everywhere.’ She shrugged. ‘It hasn’t always been the best of decisions – but he knew he’d brought it on himself so he had no choice but to put up with it. It was easy at first – when you were little. We could take you with us. But then we had to make choices about your education – boarding school seemed the best option.’

  ‘And it was.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. I’m proud of you, Harry – of the man you’ve become, but I’ve watched you grow up over the years and, apart from Gran, there’s no one else you’re really close to. No one else you let into your life. You keep everyone at arm’s distance.’

  ‘I’ve got good mates.’

  He thought of Phil and James from school. They’d all been close back then. But could you still call yourselves good mates with people you only caught up with once or twice a year? He had more local friends – either through work or from the hockey club where he played when he got the chance. But he was forced to accept that maybe his mother had a point. He wasn’t particularly close to any of them. But how could he be, with the unsociable hours and job that he did?

  ‘And this decision of yours to resign – I just don’t understand it. You love your job. It’s all you ever wanted to do.’

  ‘Circumstances change.’

  ‘So what’s changed for you?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

  ‘You know, fifty thousand pounds may sound like a lot of money …’

  ‘Mum. I’m quite aware that it’s not going to support me for the rest of my life. I’ll get another job.’

  ‘Just like that? When you’ve put so much of your life into the one you’ve got?’

  She stared at him searchingly, until finally her gaze dropped, and she said. ‘It’s because you know, isn’t it?’

  ‘Know what?’

  She looked back up at him, and as he stared into her distraught eyes, his own widened in dawning comprehension, even as the words fell from her mouth.

  ‘That I killed Mum.’

  A stunned silence filled the room. Harry tried to absorb her words, but he was reeling with shock, and all he could think was: Claire hadn’t done it.

  He was aware of his mother still talking – the words, fuzzy and indecipherable, coming in a rush from a long way off as she unburdened herself. But he couldn’t focus on what she was saying. It was unimportant compared to the bigger picture of him and Claire, and how this tipped their situation on its head. How was he ever going to unravel it all? It struck him that his mother had been wrong when she’d said he was so alone. Claire was someone he knew instinctively he could turn to … talk to. At least, she had been.

  ‘Harry? Did you hear what I just said? Say something, please.’

  He dragged his attention back to his mother, conscious of the muscles working in his jaw as he spoke.

  ‘Some of it. I’m sorry. I … It’s come as a shock. I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘She was obsessed with ending things herself. You know she was. At first I wouldn’t even listen. But then she told me she’d asked you … and that she knew if I didn’t do it, you would. I couldn’t let her put something like that on you. She was my mother, and if anyone was going to make that decision for her it had to be me.’

  She was looking at him with the closest thing to tenderness he’d ever seen in her eyes. They were swimming with tears, begging his understanding. Then she dropped her head in her hands and began to sob quietly.

  He moved over to the bed, sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. It triggered an unexpected memory from long ago – his first day at boarding school, when at eight years old, despite his resolve to be strong, he’d crumbled at the last minute and clung to her tightly, not wanting to let go. And it hadn’t been her who’d broken that embrace.

  He savoured the memory, holding it in his mind.

  After a minute or so, she wiped her eyes with a tissue. ‘It was awful, Harry – even though I knew I was doing what she wanted. And you realised, didn’t you? I’ve seen the anguish it’s caused you. You’re a policeman. I looked it up on the internet – it’s still illegal to assist a person to die and you can’t condone that sort of thing. So you have to either report me or resign. That’s how you see it, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve handed in your notice.’

  This last was said in such a low voice that it was difficult to catch the words.

  Harry’s arm tightened around her shoulder. ‘No, I didn’t know, Mum. But Gran was right. I was considering doing it.’

  He took a breath. ‘And I’m as guilty as you are. I knew someone had given her the pills. I saw the empty bottles when I went up to read to her. But I didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t call you, didn’t call the hospital. Just carried on reading until she slipped away.’

  His mother’s grip on his hand tightened. ‘You were with her when she died? You never said that.’

  ‘I was called out late that night if you remember? Everyone assumed I’d been in bed. When I got in next morning, you’d already found her and the doctor had been and signed the death certificate. It was simpler not to say anything.’

  ‘Oh, Harry, I’m so glad you were there. I couldn’t bring myself to go back in after I’d done it. I was frightened of what I might find. I knew if I’d found her struggling I’d have had to call an ambulance. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Nothing. I believe I made the right call in not interfering, but you’re right – it’s why I’m resigning. But because of my actions, not yours. As you said, it’s still a crime to help someone to die and if I can bend the rules once…’

  They were both silent for a while, before his mother blew her nose, straightened her back and looked at him.

  ‘I’m sure a lot more rules than that get bent. And you did it coming from a place of compassion, not evil. We need that compassion in our police force. No one wants to deal with a rigid, red-tape bureaucrat.’

  Harry half-smiled. ‘I’d like to carry on as if nothing’s happened but I just don’t think I can. My boss once said to me that everyone in the job has dilemmas to reconcile at one time or another, but the fact of the matter is, I’ve broken the very law I’m charged with upholding.’

  ‘And you think no one else in your department’s done things they shouldn’t?’

  ‘They’re not me,’ Harry said simply. ‘I’ve got to do what I think is right.’

  The sound of the doorbell interrupted their conversation.

  ‘The car,’ Harry said unnecessarily. ‘I’m glad we’ve had this talk, Mum. But now we pretend it’s never happened.’

  He stood up and offered her his arm.

  ‘Ready?’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The pub wasn’t one Harry had been to before and wouldn’t have been his normal choice of venue. It was large and noisy, making him feel more tense than he already felt. He suspected that DCI Murray wasn’t a frequent visitor here either – which was probably why he’d chosen it. He looked up now as Murray wove his way back towards him with their drinks. He felt sick with apprehension. He could guess why Murray had requested this meeting pr
ior to him resuming work on Monday, and he knew there was going to be a clash. His boss was no pushover and didn’t give up lightly when he set his mind to something. Could he tell him the truth about what he’d done?

  Probably … he somehow doubted Murray would report him – could even believe he’d understand. But he knew he wouldn’t do it.

  ‘This won’t take long,’ Murray said, placing a beer in front of Harry and settling himself down in the chair opposite him. ‘I’m sure we’ve both got better things to do on a Saturday morning.’

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the white envelope, slapping it firmly down on the table.

  ‘I’m fed up with seeing this bloody thing reappearing on my desk. But I want one more chance to talk you out of it before I pass it on. What on earth can you have done, Harry, that’s so serious you feel the need to hand your notice in?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I can’t give you my reasons, sir.’

  ‘Won’t, you mean?’ He scrutinised Harry with those sharp eyes, until Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It made him realise how a suspect must feel when Murray got his teeth into him during an interrogation. Then he gave a loud sniff and exhaled deeply before saying in an exasperated tone, ‘Harry, we’ve all done things in this job – and outside of it – that may have crossed a line or two. For God’s sake, it’s a fine line sometimes and easy to cross. And it’s inevitable that sometimes we’ll get it wrong. But I’ll tell you something. Those are the things that make you a better cop if you choose to learn from them, rather than let them drag you down. I don’t know what lies behind your decision to quit but I do know you’re one of the best men I’ve got on my team and I don’t want to lose you. You told me that time you got involved with a woman in the case we were working on, and I figure this time if you’re not telling me, there must be a good reason. But Christ, man, do you think you’re the only one ever to be in this position? I’ve made mistakes – dozens of ’em. Done things I shouldn’t have because at the time they seemed like the right answer. But I haven’t thrown the towel in – and you know why? Because I know at heart I’m a good cop – I believe in the job I do. It’s the day I lose that, that I’ll hand my badge in – and not a day earlier. It should be the same for you.’

  Harry hesitated. ‘But what if you’d been a party to something illegal?’

  ‘Parking on double yellow lines is illegal and we’ve all done that. You use your judgment. Only you can know if what you’ve done compromises the work you do – the bloody good work you do. And knowing you the way I do, I’d be gobsmacked – to use your generation’s terminology – if that was the case.’

  He downed his drink, pushed the envelope irritably at Harry and stood up to go. ‘I’m getting as sick of this yo-yo lark as you are. But I’m asking you just one more time to reconsider. Be a realist when you make your decision. Does what you did really outweigh all the good you can do in the future? Think about it over the weekend. We’ve got an interesting case just come in to get stuck into – but if that letter finds its way back on my desk again, I’ll do what you want and pass the bloody thing on.’

  Harry watched him go, despising himself for his own indecision. He’d made up his mind, hadn’t he? Was already turning his thoughts to what he could do next. But the truth of the matter was he hated the thought of doing anything else. He loved his job, harrowing though it could be, and the thought of being a private detective or security officer – or God forbid, a bodyguard of some sort? It held about as much appeal as a cup of sour milk.

  He tapped his heel repeatedly on and off the floor – knee jigging his grandmother used to call it. He needed to talk to someone. But his mother’s words came back as if to taunt him. No one you’re really close to.

  With the possible exception of Claire – had their relationship progressed – and he’d cocked that up good and proper. After his conversation with his mother he’d hoped to catch her at the funeral last week to clear the air – and she’d been there, sitting near the back. But she’d avoided his gaze and as soon as the service was over she’d scurried away. He should have made a point of going to see her as soon as he’d found out the truth. Why the hell hadn’t he?

  He suspected he knew the answer to that. Even though they hadn’t known each other long, there was something about Claire that set her apart from any other woman he’d dated – and it held him back. His history with relationships wasn’t great, but he knew instinctively that she wouldn’t put up with any crap from him. If by some miracle they resolved things and got involved, she’d expect more than he was capable of giving.

  But he’d thrown one of the worst possible accusations at her, and at the very least he owed her an apology. The cowardly temptation to do it by text was instantly dismissed. It needed to be done in person. If she slammed the door in his face, so be it, but the longer he left it, the more difficult it was going to be.

  He felt physically sick as he stood on her doorstep an hour later, and he put it down to the lack of sleep he’d experienced this last week. He braced himself as he heard footsteps.

  She looked surprised, then wary, as she half-opened her front door to him. She was wearing a grey, figure-hugging dress with grey tights and a wide, black belt, polished off with low-heeled black shoes. He’d only ever seen her in jeans or work clothes. She looked great.

  ‘Harry!’

  ‘I need to speak to you. Can I come in for a minute?’

  She didn’t budge. ‘What about?’

  ‘I want to apologise.’

  He held her gaze steadily. Now he could see her more closely, he could see the strain in her eyes. Her expression was cool as she opened the door wider and stood aside to let him enter.

  In the lounge he turned to her. ‘Thanks for coming to the service.’

  ‘I liked your gran. I wanted to say goodbye.’

  ‘You didn’t hang around, though.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Claire – I’m sorry. I was wrong to suspect you of …’

  ‘Killing her?’

  Christ, it sounded bald, put like that.

  He shook his head. ‘It was a terrible accusation to make – and a stupid one. I wasn’t thinking straight. I knew I hadn’t done it and I couldn’t think who else might have.’

  ‘Apart from me, apparently?’

  ‘You were the only one I’d talked to about it. I thought … maybe you’d done it for me.’

  ‘That’s rather flattering yourself, isn’t it?’

  His lips twisted. ‘Probably.’

  ‘But now you know I didn’t do it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Are you going to tell me who did?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Do you want me to?’

  She sighed, then said a little less heatedly, ‘No – probably best that I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Claire. I made a complete mess of that conversation with you. I wasn’t accusing you–’

  ‘It sounded like it.’

  ‘I was just trying to get at the truth.’

  The silence between them stretched. He took a breath, running his hand through his hair. He wanted to get through to her, pierce that defensive skin, but he just didn’t know how. Every instinct warned him against drawing her into his arms and just holding her, even though he was vaguely aware it was the one thing he wanted to do.

  In the end it was her who spoke, a deft change of subject to possibly give them both a breather. ‘I saw you did well on that murder case – it’s so weird to think that sort of stuff is going on all around us and we have no idea.’

  ‘It’s an ugly business, and growing.’

  ‘I don’t get how these people aren’t picked up coming through Customs?’

  Harry shrugged, grateful to be on safer ground. ‘It can be a combination of things. Sometimes it’s as simple as bribing a bent Customs official to turn a blind eye, or sometimes, as with these guys, they had a false partition in the rear of the van that enabled them to sandwich several pe
ople between there and the front. Then they packed the van full of furniture, so even if they were searched it was unlikely they’d have been discovered. It must have been horrendous being squashed into such a tiny space for so long but it’s amazing what people will endure when they’re desperate.’

  Claire shuddered. ‘I can’t bear to think about it. Talk about claustrophobic – I remember reading about those refugees who died of suffocation in a lorry last year. It was horrific. I don’t know how you do your job seeing some of the things you must see.’

  ‘Actually, I’m thinking of resigning.’

  The words were out before he was aware he’d spoken them. She stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown three heads.

  ‘What? Why?’

  He didn’t answer and it took only a few moments for her brow to clear. ‘Is it because of this business over your grandmother?’

  He shrugged.

  Claire shook her head but he knew she got it, from the way she was looking at him. It didn’t surprise him that she did – she was emotionally intelligent in a way that few other women he’d gone out with were. And now it was probably too late to explore that.

  ‘It’s your decision, Harry, but if you want my opinion – which you probably don’t – I think you’d be crazy to jack your job in over that. You didn’t give her the pills – all you did was fulfil her wishes and let her die peacefully with you at her side. If it was me, I’d be taking comfort from that.’

  ‘I’m a policeman and I was complicit.’

  ‘You’re a man and a grandson, too! You have feelings and you loved your gran. She was a hundred percent compos mentis and knew what she wanted. I think you should accept that and move on from it.’

  He felt an internal caving in of his muscles. He didn’t feel exonerated exactly, but for the first time since his grandmother’s death he felt more accepting of the situation.

  More thinking to do.

  ‘So, how are things with you?’ he asked.

  She made herself busy, tidying some magazines on the coffee table. ‘Good, thanks.’

  The reserve was back, keeping him at arm’s length.