The Yorkshire Dipper

by Maria Frankland

  “Yes.” He comes from around his desk and slaps me on the shoulder. “You’re doing great. In fact, a little too great. But you should be with your family.”

  “You’re sounding like Ingham now.”

  “DCI Ingham.” He states, his frown serving as a reminder of what he said a few moments ago. “We’ve got your best interests at heart, that’s all. Me and DCI Ingham. What you’re having to deal with is unimaginable to most people and we want to support you. And if that means taking time off…”

  “It’s not time off I need. I keep saying this. I want to keep busy and help get this maniac off the streets. The thought of catching him is what’s keeping me going.”

  “I understand. I really do. Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

  I don’t see how he can understand. His wife hasn’t been murdered. “I’ve got time with my family tomorrow. We’ve got an appointment with the funeral director. I’m absolutely dreading it.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  I get only a few seconds of normality each day when I first wake up. Then I remember. This is my fourth day of waking without her. I keep looking for her in the night, moving to her side of the bed, feeling for her warmth. Not being able to find her anymore is a living hell.

  Alysha is back in her bed, which is where she should be, and what Lauren would want. Eva is bringing Heidi over here whilst I go with Brenda, Claire and Will to see the funeral director. Both girls are having the week off school.

  I’ve never been involved in planning a funeral before. When my brother Dean died twenty years ago, my parents did all the organising. I imagine him looking after Lauren now, wherever they may be. I wonder if they know who each other is if there’s such a thing as the afterlife - I hope there is. I can’t bear to think of her light just being snuffed out and her not existing somewhere else. Wherever she is, I hope she’s waiting for me.

  We’re offered tea and a seat around a large mahogany desk in a side room. A portly woman closes the door and eases herself behind the desk. “I’m Tracey,” she says, shaking our hands one by one as we introduce ourselves and inform her of our individual relationships to Lauren. This is an awful place to be, but it’s probably doing everybody good to get out of that house. None of us seem to know what to say to each other.

  “Let me begin,” Tracey begins, “by offering my deepest condolences for such a tragic loss. It’s never easy losing a loved one but at such a young age…”

  I place my elbows onto the shiny desk and lean forward. I feel slightly faint. I’ve not had any breakfast, and it stinks of lilies and furniture polish in here.

  “Have you seen the news reports?” Brenda dabs at her eyes. I’ve been struck by how much of Lauren there is in Brenda. So much so, I can hardly bear to look at her. They’ve got the same green eyes, the same laugh and even the same tone of voice. Lauren can’t have been much like her dad.

  “Yes, I have. I can’t imagine what you’re all going through. I hope that we can begin to bring you some comfort through her funeral service.”

  “Has Brenda explained that Lauren hasn’t been released yet? She’s still undergoing investigations.”

  “Yes. I know. And as soon as she’s ready, we’ll bring her here. OK. I’m going to start by getting some details from you. What was her full name?”

  Brenda and I speak at the same time.

  “Lauren Frances Holmes.”

  “Date of birth?”

  “Second of July nineteen eighty eight.”

  “It was Sunday when she passed away, wasn’t it?”

  “Passed away makes it sound peaceful.” Hot tears stab at the back of my eyes.

  “I know. Forgive me. It’s just the term we use.”

  There’s a soft knock at the door, followed by the woman on the front desk coming in to place a tray of tea and biscuits on the table. I immediately reach for one, knowing I need to get something in me. She then gives steaming mugs to us all.

  “Right.” Tracey’s manner is far too brisk and business-like for my liking. “We can get all the basic funeral details now and then it’s one less thing to do once her body is released.”

  I hate her described as a body. I spoon sugar into my tea. I never normally have sugar. Claire looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Will you be wanting a burial or a cremation?”

  “Cremation,” Brenda replies.

  Tracey looks at me as though checking for my agreement.

  “That’s fine by me.” Lauren and I had once discussed this, and where we wanted our ashes scattering. I thought that was going to be many years in the future though.

  “She was pregnant.” I say, a golf ball forming in my throat. “That needs to be acknowledged in the service. It wasn’t just one life. It was two.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Tracey writes something down. “How awful. How far along was she?”

  “None of us knew.” I keep my gaze down. I know I shouldn’t be breaking this news like this. I hold my breath, awaiting the onslaught.

  “Why haven’t you said anything?” Claire grasps my hand. “When did you find out?”

  “The other day. It came to light with the post mortem results.”

  “Do you not think I had the right to know?” Brenda’s face is white and twisted into a sorrowful and angry expression I have never seen before.

  “I’m sorry Brenda.” Tears are dripping down my face yet again. “Things are horrendous enough. I didn’t know how to break it to you.”

  We sit in silence, staring at one another.

  “I’ll leave you all alone for a few minutes,” Tracey rises from behind the desk and walks to the door. “Call me when you’re ready to resume. No rush.”

  “You should have let Brenda know about the baby.” Will’s voice sounds loud in this quiet room. “She’s spot on. She had a right to know.”

  “Did you know? You sound like you did.” Claire swings around in her chair to face him.

  “I heard. I’m a cop too, aren’t I?” He takes a sip of his tea. “Look, what difference does it make now? Yes, she was pregnant, yes it is all awful…”

  “Shut up Will.” I slam my cup onto the tray. “You’ve got the sensitivity of a sledgehammer. Brenda,” I reach for her hand. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Luckily, she squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry Mark. I’m not blaming you. I’m just devastated. It’s horrendous enough to lose my daughter. But a grandchild as well?” She closes her eyes and tears spill from them. “It’s like a bad dream.”

  Part of me is glad that I’ve imparted this news in a more ‘controlled’ environment. Brenda’s reaction has probably been more contained than it would have been at home. She would have probably paced the house for at least a day, weeping and wailing. Though equally, with Alysha around, maybe she would have tempered herself.

  “I don’t want Alysha to know anything about the baby. Not until she’s older. It will be too much now. The loss she’s already dealing with is more than enough for any five-year-old.” Brenda nods her approval of this. She dabs at each eye in turn, then blows her nose loudly. I frown at Will, who grimaces. “Right,” I say. “Are we ready to continue this meeting?”

  “Is everyone OK to carry on?” Tracey asks as she lowers herself back into her seat.

  “I guess so.” Claire looks around at the rest of us.

  “I’m dreadfully sorry for you all,” Tracey says again. She’s good at her job, I’ll give her that. “It’s an absolute tragedy that you’ve lost two lives here. And there’s no reason why the baby cannot be mentioned in the service.”

  “I’m not sure I want everyone knowing.”

  “It’s not just your decision.” Brenda scowls at me.

  “The celebrant from the crematorium will be in touch once we’ve brought Lauren here, and they will discuss that with you. In the meantime, be thinking about the songs you want played and the readings and any poems you may want reading out, before you meet
.”

  Songs. Readings. I can’t bear to go there right now.

  “I need to ask you a few more questions,” she points her pen over a form. “Would you like Lauren embalming?”

  “Erm. I don’t know. What difference will that make?” Brenda asks.

  “It just stops Mother Nature taking hold quite so fast,” Tracey explains, looking around at each of us in turn. “Really, I need a decision on that today.”

  “I guess that sounds best,” I reply. “Are you alright with that Brenda?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Tracey writes on her sheet. “We do that as soon as she gets here. And at the same time, we can dress her in something you want her to be wearing for her final journey.”

  That’s nearly the final straw. And then I remember her recent trip to the bridal shop. Her wedding dress. The golf ball in my throat turns to a melon. I’ll run it by Brenda later. I daren’t make any suggestions that will look like I’m trying to take over. “Can we get back to you on that? We’ll have a think about it.”

  Brenda gives me a small nod, which makes me feel as though she’s half forgiven me for not telling her about the baby. Though, Will is right, to a point. Knowing. or not knowing about the baby changes nothing. We were probably best not knowing. It’s only increased the heartache.

  We choose flowers, organise a press announcement and talk about times we can visit her in the Chapel of Rest once she is released. Then Tracey slides a brochure towards me which takes my breath away. “If you could just choose which one you would like. The wood and the lining. There’s also a choice between silver and brass handles.”

  The pictures before me swim in front of my eyes. I swallow. “I can’t do this.” I push the brochure in front of Brenda who stares, horror similar to mine in her eyes.

  “How can I choose my daughter’s coffin?” She weeps openly and Tracey pushes the box of tissues towards her.

  “If it was for me, I’d choose the white one with silver handles,” Claire says, calm as always. “Just write that on the form for now. We can change our minds later if need be, can’t we?”

  “I’ve still got our wedding to cancel.” I’m utterly drained as we leave the warmth of the funeral home for the wintery street a short time later.

  Claire looks at Will. “If you give us a list of who to contact Mark, me and Will can do the necessary with that.”

  “Yeah.” Will strides in front of us. “I’m doing some extra shifts so I’ll get Eva onto it. We will do it between us.”

  “She had a wedding organiser, some folder with everything in.” I think of her now, poring over it. I called her bridezilla once or twice. She wasn’t amused.

  “Do you want to go home or shall we take a detour for a pint?” I look at Claire, Will and Brenda, hoping they’ll feel the need too. I never normally drink in the daytime, but I need something to settle me down after that meeting. “Oh hang on, what’s this about. It’s a withheld number.”

  “Mark, DI Jones here. I need to see you straightaway. Are you free?”

  “Well, erm, I’ve just had a meeting with the funeral director so I’m feeling a bit fragile. I was just about to go for a pint with my family.”

  “I tell you what. Tell me where you’ll be, and I’ll come to see you. I have something I really need to tell you about.”

  My stomach churns with both hunger and anxiety. I’ll try to have some crisps with my pint. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep it all down. What now? “Is it about Lauren?”

  “No. Well, kind of. Where are you going to be?”

  I glance across the road. “The Black Horse,” I say, making mental calculations. It will take him about fifteen minutes to get here if he’s coming from the station.

  Will gets a round in and we sit, waiting for DI Jones. “That’s good,” Will says, wiping froth from his upper lip. “I think we deserve these after that meeting.”

  “I can’t believe what we’re having to do.” Brenda’s tears haven’t stopped since we left the funeral director. The man behind the bar seems to take it in his stride though. Being across the road from the funeral home, he’s probably used to it. “This isn’t the normal order of things. No parent should have to bury their child. Not to mention their grandchild. I’m devastated. Bloody devastated.”

  Claire puts her arm around her. “I know.”

  “You’ve been a godsend, you have,” Brenda rubs the top of Claire’s hand. “How you’ve looked after us all. ”

  “It’s all part of the job description.”

  I look at my sister, feeling a rush of warmth I don’t often feel. Lauren adored her and would be really glad of her being around for us.

  “How are you doing after that Mark?” Claire sips her wine.

  “I don’t know. Numb. Unreal. Like it’s all happening to someone else.” I follow Will’s gaze to the door where DI Jones has just appeared.

  “Hello again,” Will shuffles his chair towards me to make space for DI Jones. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Not for me thanks.” He looks at my pint.

  “Not on duty sir.” I smile despite my misery and nerves. “Neither’s he.” I gesture towards Will.

  “I’m on shift tomorrow,” Will says, as if that makes a difference to anything.

  “I’m not judging you Mark. Any of you.” DI Jones sits down next to Will. “I’d be here too in your situation. And I’d probably have a damn sight more than one pint. How are you feeling today?”

  “Pretty crap. Especially after having just been to set the ball rolling with the funeral arrangements. But I’m lucky to have these guys around me.” I take another swig of my pint. “Anyway. I’ve been on tenterhooks waiting for you to get here. What do you need to speak to me about. Is it alright in front of my family, or do you need me on my own?”

  “No, you can all hear this. I wanted to get to you before the news broke.”

  “What news?”

  He takes a deep breath. “A woman has just had a miraculous escape after she was attacked in exactly the same way as Lauren.”

  “What? Where?” My voice rings out in the silence of the pub. At 11:45 am on a Wednesday morning, we are literally the only ones here apart from the man behind the bar.

  “In the same place. A passer-by heard some commotion.”

  “The same place?” Will speaks now. “Is it not still cordoned off?”

  “No, they had concluded the search. We’d taken as much evidence as we could.” DI Jones looked pained as he continues. “The woman’s been taken to hospital. She’s been bashed around the head several times with a rock, just like Lauren was. Then she had her head held in the stream. She was probably moments away from death when a dog walker disturbed her attacker. He bloody got away though.”

  “A man?”

  “Yes. The dog walker reckons he got a good look at the assailant’s face and says he would recognise him if he saw him again.”

  “Are you going to get him to put an e-fit together?”

  “Yes. I thought we’d do a reconstruction as well. We’re so close to getting him.”

  “I’m not sure a reconstruction would work.” Will says. I want to remind him he’s a mere traffic cop, but that would sound pathetic.

  “They usually bring good results in.” DI Jones looks straight at me. “We’ll have him soon, I promise.”

  “You’ll have to let me deal with him.” Fury engulfs me. Why the hell is this man still out there, doing what he wants to women? Our force must be a laughing stock to other forces around the country.

  “You wouldn’t be allowed near him Mark. You’re too connected to the case.”

  “How is she? The woman?”

  “She was still unconscious when she arrived at the hospital. I’ve seen her. She’s a bit of a mess and bloody lucky to still be with us. I’ll be speaking to her as soon as she’s up to it.”

  “There are no cameras around there, are there?”

  “On the cycle path? No. But I’ve got office
rs looking at the CCTV in the surrounding area. I’ve no doubt in my mind that it’s the same person who killed Lauren and possibly the eight women in the river.”

  “They should bring back capital punishment for men like him,” Claire says.

  “He should just be drowned. Same as he’s done to all those women. It would cost the state a lot less to finish him off, rather than the taxpayer funding a court trial and a lifelong prison sentence.” I’ve never heard such venom in Brenda’s voice. “Did you know she was expecting another child?” Brenda looks at DI Jones.

  “Yes. I unfortunately was the one to tell Mark. I’m sorry.”

  “How come you’ve known for however many days, whilst I, her mother, have only just found out? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Erm, I’m sorry. I told Mark.”

  “Look, Brenda.” I don’t know if she’s ever going to let this go. “I’ve said I’m sorry. You know now. I should have told you. I was just so far up my own arse. Don’t you remember how much time I stayed in the bedroom? I was in bits. I still am.”

  “I’m sorry for all of you.” DI Jones rises from his seat. “I’m going to have to get back Mark, but I wanted to let you know in person. It’s going to be in the next news bulletins.”

  “Is there any word on Lauren?” I think of her eyes partially closed in the hospital mortuary. “The undertakers have said they will collect her when she can be released.”

  “Nothing yet. It might be they want to keep her there, to make comparisons with this other lady now. I’ll try and find out what’s going on.”

  “Thanks. I just want her out of that mortuary.” I can’t bear to think of my wife-to-be lying alone in a fridge. She hated being cold. “I feel like she’ll be better looked after at the funeral home.”