Disordered Minds

by Minette Walters

  She didn't expect a reply because she wasn't even looking at Sasha. Instead, she twined a strand of hair about her fingers and concentrated determinedly on the carpet. "The trouble is, there's nothing specific. Billy never saw anything-it's just stuff he heard and things that Louise said ... like she hated her mother's cleaning job because it meant their dad had to get them ready for school. Eileen did offices from six to ten in the morning and the kids'd be left to sleep till Robert came off his night shift around seven. Billy was never woken till eight, but Louise was always up and her dad'd be giving her breakfast and laughing with her. He didn't do it with Billy ... just whacked some food at him and told him to get a move on." She paused. "You could say it was a daughter-dad thing-opposites attract and all that-but a few times Billy woke early and heard his dad talking to Louise in her bedroom. As a kid, it made him jealous because Robert never bothered to talk to him, but now..." She lapsed into a troubled silence.

  Sasha watched her for a moment. "It doesn't prove he was an abuser, Rachel. The daughter-dad thing is just as likely,"

  The woman sighed. "I know, that's the trouble." She clasped her fingers in her lap. "It's why Billy keeps surfing the Net. There are other things that are just as vague-but nothing that proves abuse. They just look suspicious when you put it all together."

  "Try me."

  Billy returned with a tray of cups while Rachel was talking and resumed his seat without interrupting her. He appeared relieved that she'd taken a lead and after a while began to interject memories himself. To Sasha, watching him, it was clear that some of these memories were coming back to him even as he was speaking. Did that make them true? She had no idea, but the picture he painted of his childhood was a disturbing one.

  "You try to make sense of things when you're a kid," he said at one point, "so I thought Dad only liked ladies. He called Mum and Louise his 'beautiful girls,' but it was always Lou got the attention ... never Mum. She used to make me plait her hair in front of him, then push me away the minute he left the room." He smiled rather crookedly. "She said if I got a taste for it, I'd turn into a pansy. I thought she was talking about flowers."

  On another occasion: "It was Lou started the Cathy McGowan thing. Dad slipped her some money and she came back with a miniskirt and loads of makeup. She was prancing around the sitting room in front of him, and Mum went completely crazy. Lou had this black eyeliner all round her eyes and pale pink lipstick, and Mum called her a tart and started hitting her. Dad just laughed...

  "...He gave Cill money as well, so she could buy the same stuff as Lou. He called them his princesses. That's when Lou started getting uppity and saying she didn't want to be friends with Cill anymore. She was really jealous. I mean, she was skinny as a rake. You'd have to be blind not to see that Cill looked better than she did...

  "... I don't know if my father abused Cill. You don't think about things like that when you're a kid. All I know is he liked her. He'd sit her on his lap when Mum wasn't around and play with her hair."

  "Why did your mother go out if she was worried about him?" asked Sasha.

  Billy buried his head in his hands for the hundredth time that morning. "I don't know if she was. I don't even know if I'm imagining all of this."

  Rachel squeezed his hand. "Eileen worked in the evenings as well-four to eight. She was only at home when the kids were at school and her husband was asleep."

  "She hated being a mother," said Billy. "It was Dad looked after us."

  "Perhaps they needed the money," said Sasha.

  "Then why didn't she work in a supermarket? That's what Rach does."

  "Perhaps it was the only job available," the woman said; "Did Louise have any other friends who came to the house?"

  "A few."

  "Did your father sit them on his lap?"

  "Sometimes, but Cill was the only one who'd let him play with her hair. I think she did it to make Lou jealous." He shook his head. "He can't have done anything really bad to her because I'm sure she was a virgin when those bastards raped her. There was too much blood on her legs."

  "He may have been grooming her. That's usually how child molesters work."

  Billy stared at her with a sick expression in his eyes. "It was never talked about in those days. There were kids like Cill who were given a larruping by their dads every time they stepped out of line, but this other stuff..." He shook his head. "There was Ian Brady and Myra Hindley, but they were psychopaths and went for other people's children. It's as if sex in families only started in the last ten-fifteen years."

  "It's been going on for centuries," said Sasha, who'd researched the subject in depth. "It's society's attitude that's changed. We know now that if a child's forced into a relationship where the balance of power is unequal, the damage is irreparable. They tend to replicate that imbalance in future relationships, which is what Louise seems to have been doing."

  Jonathan shielded his own eyes against the sun. "Louise persuaded Andrew not to look at it with the benefit of hindsight, but to keep in mind that no one knew Grace was going to die. In those circumstances the only thing the Burtons were guilty of was failing to ensure that Cill returned home. They'd have been as shocked as anyone when the police continued to report her missing."

  "Why didn't they say something then?"

  Jonathan shrugged. "They were worried about what the neighbors would say."

  George pulled a disapproving face. "I can't believe any parent would behave so irresponsibly."

  "You're looking at it with hindsight again. As far as they were concerned, it was perfectly straightforward. Cill was alive, she was streetwise, her house was round the corner, she promised to go straight back to it. They probably thought she'd be spotted before she even reached the end of the road."

  "Why wasn't she?"

  "Pass."

  "Dear, dear, dear! You're expecting me to swallow more coincidences than I ever offered you. It's complete nonsense, Jon. You must see that."

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm simply playing devil's advocate on behalf of the fat controller. I said I'd run it past you and I have."

  "Do you believe it?"

  Jonathan considered for a moment. "Andrew's looking for anyone other than Howard to be guilty ... and he prefers Mr. Burton or Mr. Trevelyan because he likes the symmetry of child abuse running through the story."

  George pulled a face. "You're supposed to be bringing a critical eye to bear on the evidence."

  He grinned. "Then I'll tell you what I do believe. When Louise told Andrew she looked through Grace's window on the Tuesday, it was done deliberately to implicate Roy and his friends."

  George squinted at him again. "Why?"

  "I don't know ... unless it's the truth..."

  "She always picks blokes who're violent," Rachel said. "The one she's got at the moment gave her a black eye a few weeks ago. That's why Billy's worried about her. You could argue it's bad luck, except that, for a while, she was married to one of the boys who raped Cill. We don't understand that at all, because she must have known what she was getting into. She'll tell you she didn't know their names and couldn't identify them, but she'll be lying."

  "It wasn't an accident that we all hooked up on the the day of the rape," said Billy. "Cill and Lou knew where to find them, so they must have been with them before. There's no way she wouldn't have recognized Roy when she saw him."

  "Who's Roy?"

  "Roy Trent ... manages a pub in Highdown. He's the one Lou married." Billy shook his head. "He's a right bastard ... raped Cill twice then kicked her. So why would Lou want to marry a man like that? I can't get my head round it at all."

  Sasha smiled slightly. "Better the devil you know?" she suggested. "She'd have had more power in a relationship where she held a bargaining chip. Secrets are powerful weapons. You made that point yourselves in reference to the way your parents treated her."

  "Then why leave him for someone she can't control?" asked Rachel. "It doesn't make sense."

&n
bsp; "Only because you're assuming a rationale behind her behavior which probably doesn't exist. If Roy was an inadequate lover, she'd move on to a man who was better."

  "'She can't go on doing it forever," said Rachel with a moue of disapproval. "She's no spring chicken anymore."

  "I shouldn't think age has anything to do with it but, in any case, you said she's trying to look like Cill at thirteen, so perhaps she wants to act thirteen as well."

  "That's pathetic."

  "Yes," Sasha agreed soberly, "but, if your husband's right about his father, then she's a very damaged woman. Louise would have learned at ten or eleven that orgasm equals relationship ... so how can a relationship exist without it? It would explain why she cut Billy out of her life, and why she isn't interested in you or your children. She lacks the skill to handle nonsexual relationships."

  "She hasn't spoken to Dad in years," said Billy, "just took money off him."

  "I expect she felt she'd earned it." There was a brief silence while Billy and Rachel digested this.

  "God!" said Rachel abruptly. "I hope we're not wrong about this. It's a hell of an accusation against a seventy-year-old."

  Billy looked at Sasha. "What do you think?"

  She hesitated, wondering how blunt she could be. "I'm no expert," she warned, "but you've described a common background for abuse. Absent mother, touchy-feely father, secretive behavior, taboo subjects-he certainly had the opportunity."

  "Is that a yes?"

  "I'd certainly like to talk to him about Cill. As far as I know, he wasn't interviewed at the time of her disappearance." She watched Billy's expression turn to anxiety. "It's what you suspect, isn't it? That he knows what happened to her? Your mother, too?"

  He looked devastated, as if he'd wanted her to say the opposite. "Yes," he admitted. "And Louise."

  "It certainly sounds as if he was using your sister as a procurer, although I wouldn't think she understood what role she was playing until she brought Cill into the house. You said she was jealous and uppity, so I'm guessing she realized that your father was getting bored with her." She paused. "As a matter of interest, how did she react when the boys paid more attention to Cill on the day of the rape?"

  "She teased them about being virgins. It's what got them steamed up."

  "So she contributed to what happened?"

  Billy covered his eyes again. "She made Cill come back to help her, and that's when they jumped her."

  "What did Louise do?"

  "Curled into a ball," he said harshly. "Me, too, if it comes to that. Neither of us did a damn thing ... just let it happen."

  Sasha exchanged a glance with Rachel. "What happened after the boys had gone?" she asked. "How did Cill clean herself up?"

  "She didn't, not then. Lou sneaked off and got her clothes so she could cover up, then the girls left." He paused. "I've never been so scared in my life. I tried to go after them, but Lou said she'd drop me in it if I did."

  "Did they say where they were going?"

  "No."

  "What time was it?"

  "Afternoon ... two-ish."

  "What did you do?"

  He raised his head. "Hid in the park till school ended, then went home. I felt ill from the vodka, but no one noticed. Dad was in the garden, so I went to my room and stayed there till Lou came back. I was shaking like a leaf ... kept thinking Cill had died or something and the police were going to come. Then Lou waltzes in as if nothing had happened- it was weird."

  "Did you ask her where she and Cill had gone?"

  "I didn't need to," said Billy flatly. "I guessed where she got the clothes from, because she couldn't go to Cill's house or ours in case she was caught. Grace Jefferies," he explained. "Had to be. She came back with some trousers that were way too big for Cill. She had to bunch them at her waist to stop them falling down."

  The sun was so strong that George decided they needed hats. Her face had turned the color of beetroot and she reappeared from upstairs with a pink straw confection on her head. "Friend's daughter's wedding," she said succinctly. "Total waste of money. They were divorced years later. Here!" She plonked a cap on his head. "This was my father's postman's hat. At least it'll keep the sun off your face."

  Jonathan turned it round so that the peak was shading his neck. "It's the boiling brain that's the problem. The face was bred for this sort of weather."

  She giggled as she sat down. "You look as if you've got a saucepan on your head."

  He eyed her with amusement. "And you look great, George! I've always thought red and pink were the perfect combination."

  She giggled again. "Wasn't it a terrible choice? Some wretched shop assistant told me it suited me, and I believed her!" She tapped the table. "Here's a question. I was thinking about it upstairs: why did Grace allow the girls to truant in her house? I don't believe that nonsense Louise told Andrew about bruises. Grace was a mature woman. If she was concerned about the girls, she would have phoned the NSPCC, or social services, or the school, even the police ... and she could have done it anonymously. So why didn't she?"

  "For the same reason she didn't rat on Howard."

  "And what reason was that?"

  "She felt sorry for him."

  George pondered for a moment. "Any normal grandmother would have busted a gut to find him some help, particularly when he was younger."

  "Perhaps there wasn't any to be had."

  George ignored him. "The only person who did anything for him was Wynne. She may not have been very effective, but at least she had a go. She dragged him to school by his ear, beat him up to make him stay there, went out to work to support him, took a two-day sickie to help him find a job, tried to get help from the GP." She raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think it's interesting that as soon as the two-day job search was over, he went straight back to Grace's house?"

  "Not really. It's where he always went."

  George wagged a finger at him. "Exactly."

  "So?"

  "Grace kept undermining Wynne's efforts. Every time Wynne got him up to the mark, Grace seduced him back again."

  "She wouldn't have needed to seduce him. He preferred it there."

  "Then she should have made it uncomfortable for him. It explains why Wynne never went to see her. They probably rowed all the time about Grace ruining Howard's chances. I'd have blooming well rowed with my mother if she'd kept my son from school." She smiled at Jonathan's continued skepticism. "Oh, come on! At least try to be objective. She did the same with Louise and Cill ... reinforced their truanting against their parents' wishes. But none of us volunteers for anything unless it works to our advantage. Grace was a recluse. She hardly ever went out, didn't have a job, rarely saw her daughter, couldn't socialize with her neighbors because she had a speech impediment. What does that tell you?"

  He shrugged. "She was difficult? Unlikeable? Divorced from reality?"

  "Probably all of those things ... but why did children like being with her?"

  "She let them watch her television."

  More finger pointing. "Right. And why did she do that?"

  Jonathan shook his head. "Pass."

  "She was lonely, Jon. I'll bet Louise could have had a party in there, and Grace would have baked the biscuits."

  He stared thoughtfully down the garden, more taken by one of her earlier points. "Howard was supposed to be starting a job at the local dairy that Wednesday afternoon," he murmured. "Perhaps he was intending to do it until he found Grace's body."

  "Why go to her house at all?"

  "To see if Cill was there?"

  *23*

  SANDBANKS PENINSULA, BOURNEMOUTH

  THURSDAY, MAY 15, 2003, 2:45 P.M.

  Sasha Spencer drew up outside the Fletchers' house in full view of a CCTV camera on a lamppost and reached into the backseat for her briefcase. Whether she was being monitored or not, she could see no point in pretending to be anything other than she was. She stepped out of the car, smoothed her skirt and took stock of the adobe facade before ope
ning the gate. She had taken the trouble to consult an estate agent before she drove onto the peninsula and had discovered not only that Palencia was a rented property but also that the present tenant had announced his intention not to renew the lease. Was Ms. Spencer interested in taking it on?

  There were no cars in the driveway and no answer to her persistent ringing of the doorbell, A garage to the left of the house was also empty. She looked for cameras but, if they existed, they were well hidden. Ostentatiously consulting her watch, she followed a path down the right-hand side, looking in windows as she went, before knocking loudly on the kitchen door. There was no response. Indeed, the only sign that the house was inhabited was a sun lounger on the lawn with a towel over it.

  According to Billy Burton, Louise had said her husband was in his study the day Billy called, but Sasha had seen only a sitting room and a small dining room. With another quick scan for cameras, she moved past the kitchen and peered through the next set of windows, shading her eyes to cut out the glare of the sun. This room, too, was unoccupied but she could see the back of a computer console on the desk and a large flat-screen television on the wall behind it. Light flickered across its surface and she wondered if it was active until she realized it was a reflection from the computer monitor. She narrowed her eyes to see if she could make out the image but, even as she watched, the reflection vanished.