by Anita Waller
‘Bethan Walters,’ Doris said, ‘I do not tell lies. I did the grade six months ago while you and Kat were fussing over Martha. I had no intentions of telling you, because as you know I’ve held back from taking it because I’m so proud of you having reached it. I was quite happy at brown belt, but one day I knew I had to do it. So I did. Okay?’
Kat was the first to hug Doris. ‘Congratulations, Nan. Did it hurt Ewan more to be pole-axed by a black belt than it would have done to be kicked in the balls by a brown belt?’
‘Nope, it’s just as painful, no matter the colour of the belt.’
Mouse walked round the desk and hugged her nan. ‘Congratulations, old woman. I’m so proud of you. We need to celebrate.’
Doris laughed. ‘No problem. Let’s go out for a meal or something at the weekend. Decide amongst yourselves who’s going to be the designated driver, because I certainly will be enjoying a tipple or two. And bring Ferrero Rocher.’
There was a lightness in Doris’s step as she returned to her own desk, and it felt good to look out of the window and not see Ewan’s car. What did she want with a boyfriend at her age anyway? Mind you, if Tom Hardy were footloose and fancy free…
Carl leaned back in his chair and waited for Leo Kenwright to speak. Instead he sighed.
‘I knew something was going on. We’ve had a couple of minor complaints that weren’t really complaints officially, about Jeremy Peterson. He name drops. I know that’s nothing in itself, but it’s constant. And he does silly things like sending new home cards to celebrities. We have lots on our books, but he particularly likes footballers. Now it seems he likes money as well.’
‘I will be having a word with him myself, Mr Kenwright, but he hasn’t actually committed a crime so I won’t be taking it further. However, I think you may need to take action.’
The two men stood and shook hands.
‘I’ll speak to him,’ Carl said, ‘and then you can have your five minutes with him.’
Carl escorted Peterson outside to his car, and held the door open while the quaking man climbed inside.
The DI then talked for some considerable time, telling Peterson what they knew, the proof they had, and warned him in no uncertain terms that he was receiving a caution, but if any further stalking came to light, he would be arrested.
Peterson’s words came out in a rush; his promises were wide but not varied. He would never approach the lottery winners again, he would forget he had ever heard of Manchester United and their players, and he would never do anything like this again no matter what he heard or saw in the office.
Carl let him go, and Peterson walked back into work.
Five minutes later, he was out of a job and heading to his car, prior to driving home.
Later that day a huge bouquet of flowers arrived at the Connection office, bearing a card with the immortal words “Thank you! Sorted!”. They had to raid Mouse’s flat to find a vase big enough to accommodate the stunning display.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Zoe Williamson stared out of the window at the pouring rain, although not seeing it. The day she had been dreading had arrived, and finally saying goodbye to Mandy was going to be so painful. Too painful.
She had lost everything that had ever meant anything to her. The man who had fathered Mandy was gone… and she had loved him breathtakingly. It had been hard not being able to talk about it when he died; to find out by accident, as she had, had been the worst thing ever. They had spoken every month on the first day ever since they had decided to part, and ringing on that first of October and hearing his wife’s voice had been traumatic.
His wife had explained through tears that he had died two days earlier; a stroke had taken him. Even now, two years later, she felt sick thinking about that phone call. Everything was unbearable; Mandy had left her too, and that was the hardest of all.
Zoe felt a mug being pressed into her hand, and she turned with a grateful smile. It was Kat Rowe.
‘I didn’t know if you would be able to come,’ Zoe said.
‘Of course I can come. I told you, I’m here whenever you want to talk, or cry, or anything. You’ll get through today, Zoe, and it will get easier.’
They stood side by side, each cradling a mug of tea, staring at the rain.
‘A damn miserable day all round,’ Zoe murmured, her eyes misting with tears and not for the first time that morning.
‘It is but look at how many are here supporting you. Your little house is full to overflowing. Stay strong, Zoe. Will somebody be with you tonight?’
‘My sister. She says she will stay as long as I need her, but she has a husband and family of her own, she can’t be with me, no matter what she says.’
‘Good. Let her stay a few days, until you start to recover some form of normality. You will eventually want to be on your own anyway, it’s a natural progression.’
‘You’re a wise lady, Reverend Rowe.’ Her sigh was heavy. ‘I’d better get my coat on. Mandy will be arriving any time.’
The hearse left for the short two-minute drive to the church, with a snake of friends and family following on behind. A sea of umbrellas covered heads, but Zoe walked without one. She knew her tears were heavier than any rain.
Tessa Marsden and Hannah Granger were standing by the church door when the procession arrived, and both slipped into the back of the church, alongside Kat.
The church was full, with mourners having to stand along the back. Steve Barksworth spoke. The service was warm, all-encompassing, and the choir paid their own special tribute to Mandy by singing her favourite hymn, Be Still, for the Presence of the Lord. It was almost too much for Zoe as the last notes of the hymn died away, and her sister held tightly to her, and whispered in her ear.
The coffin was carried around to the newly dug grave, and ten minutes later it was all over. A distraught Zoe was helped back home, and Kat, after having a few words with Tessa and Hannah, returned to Eyam.
‘That was a shitty morning,’ Kat said as she walked through reception, and slammed her way into her own office.
Doris half-stood, then sat back down again. She’d give her a few minutes to calm down, then take her a coffee through. Maybe she would be ready to talk by then.
Andy Harrison spotted DI Marsden and DS Hannah Granger as he walked home after going to collect the morning paper. They drove through Castleton, so he hoped it meant they were going to the church for Mandy’s funeral, and not going to be visiting him and Marnie. His wife was fragile, too wiped out to take much more.
He almost felt jealous that Zoe Williamson had her answers. They seemed to be always in limbo, every phone call a jolt to the system, a scream inside his head, because that call could be the one saying we’ve found the person responsible.
Marnie was sleeping deeply every night thanks to the ministrations of her doctor, but Andy had nothing to help close his mind down. And his mind drifted continuously to the night that had ultimately resulted in killing Orla – he had no doubt that her pregnancy had been the reason behind her death. Had somebody suspected they were the father of the baby? Or was it that somebody would have liked to have been the father and felt let down by Orla?
It wasn’t only during the night-time hours that Andy’s mind couldn’t switch off, it was all the time. He had no idea whether Orla knew who the father was. If she had slept with the man she intended sleeping with, how quickly after their night of passion had it happened? If it was only a couple of days, then maybe she would have thought her lover was the father…
His heart ached for her. She wouldn’t have known where to turn, and when she did turn to the person she expected to have been supportive, he had strangled her. He. It had to have been a he, there was no reason for it to have been one of her girlfriends, no reason at all.
Andy walked into the hallway, took off his coat and fished the soggy newspaper from his inside pocket. If things had been different, they, the three of them, would have been attending Mandy Williamson’s funeral. He towelled his hair, and
went into the lounge expecting to see Marnie staring vacantly at daytime television. She wasn’t there.
He ran upstairs to their bedroom, the one she was refusing to share with him, but the room was empty. He glanced through the window and saw her. She was down in the garden, in her nightie, standing by the swing that Orla had refused to have removed, gently pushing the seat. Marnie was drenched.
Andy grabbed her dressing gown, ran downstairs and out of the back door. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even look at him as he draped the dressing gown around her shoulders.
She let him lead her up the path and into the kitchen. He sat her at the table, sickened that her face should be so devoid of expression. She shivered and he clicked on the kettle. He needed to warm her, to get her dry.
In his panic to go upstairs to get some dry clothes for her he fell up the top step and took a tumble onto the landing. It hurt. It would bruise. The same as his heart felt bruised.
Picking himself up and rubbing his shin, he went into the bedroom and got her a clean nightie and two towels from the warm airing cupboard.
She let him dry her and change her nightie, then she sat at the table once more, all without speaking. He placed a cup of tea in front of her.
‘Drink this as soon as you can, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘You need to warm up.’
She gave a slight nod and picked up the mug. Cupping her hands around it, she took small sips.
It was when she was halfway down the drink that her brain unfroze. She cried, said her daughter’s name over and over again. Andy moved round to sit by her side, and pulled her towards him.
She sank into his strength and he held her. They cried together, and he knew things had changed. Finally they could face this tragedy as one, not two halves.
Kat gave a weak and watery smile as Doris handed over a mug of coffee. ‘And I got the big mug. Did I look as though I needed it?’
‘You looked as though you needed a bucketful,’ Doris said. ‘Want to talk?’
‘Yes, but not about anything too deep. I think my brain will implode. Tell me something good.’
‘Okay. Mouse has gone to Manchester. She took a phone call last night from a friend of a friend of a friend – I think I’ve got that right – who runs one of the big player companies. His base is Manchester. They’re looking to recruit a lot of new people, and the main place will be in IT. Connection was recommended to them as being excellent at background checks and recommendations, specialising in IT, so she arranged to go over and see him today. If this goes through, it may be that we have to put Mouse exclusively on that, and we stick to the investigative side. I know Ewan was a pretty big case, but we pick up lots of minor ones like our lottery winners. I would hate to lose that kind of work, and I really think we can manage that side of the business between us. It may even free you up a little more, so that you get some time with Martha during the week, and not only at weekends.’
‘You think we can do it?’ Kat looked a bit livelier. ‘You know my lack of skills in the Internet department.’
‘Stop running yourself down, Kat Rowe. You have improved a hundred per cent since I started to sort you out. But you don’t need to worry your head about that, you’re our sensible one, the one that sees things that we don’t see, the level head we need. I’m the IT expert, remember? I’m certain we can manage and leave Mouse to bring in the big money. We might need to employ a receptionist if I have to start going out more, but the business is doing remarkably well, so it could carry an extra member. We’ll make sure we have weekly meetings so that we’re all aware of what is happening in general, and of course Mouse needs to come back with a contract for any of what we’ve discussed to be viable anyway.’
‘You’re right, but I have every faith in our Mouse,’ Kat said, her smile a bit brighter than earlier. ‘We’ve no idea what time she’ll be back, I assume.’
‘No, she said she’d see us when she saw us.’
Kat sipped thoughtfully at her coffee. ‘Tessa said she might call in for a kick-about this afternoon.’
‘I’ll set up the goal posts then,’ Doris said with a laugh. ‘I guess she’s not after a game of football.’
‘No, I can’t imagine Tessa would understand the offside rule. She might not even understand the principle behind a net, a ball and eleven fit men. She does seem to get something from talking to us though, it’s like she throws everything into the ring, we look at it with civilian eyes and make what we probably consider half-hearted remarks, but she digests them, thinks about them and something gets triggered in her brain. She’s a smart cookie, is Tessa, and Hannah looks at her with utter admiration.’
‘I know, bless her. It doesn’t matter what Tessa asks her to do, she does it. She might grumble a bit, but she’ll always do it.’
‘Have we got chocolate biscuits? They’ll be disappointed if we can only offer them Rich Tea Fingers.’
The smile on Doris’s face faltered. ‘We’re quite low on biscuits altogether. Please don’t bring Garibaldi, we won’t be stocking them anymore.’
Kat stood, walked round to where Doris was sitting, and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
‘No Garibaldi,’ she whispered. ‘And we’ll wipe that man out of our lives. He hasn’t contacted you?’
Doris shook her head. ‘No, he may not be able to walk or speak yet. I… hit him quite hard.’
Kat hugged Doris. ‘I know. We watched it happen. And we’ve viewed it about six times since then, you were amazing. The control… I would have gone for a killer blow, I know I would, but you, no you hit his throat perfectly, and the knee to his balls was perfection. You think he’ll contact you?’
‘I think he got the message, but will his ego let it go? He was hammered by a woman, a woman he didn’t know was a black belt in karate. I told him I went to a dojo, but I think he thought the little woman likes to exercise. It never occurred to him for a minute that this little woman could kill him with one well-placed blow. That’s not going to sit well with him, I can assure you. I think I’ll have to be on my guard for quite a long time, but it was worth it. He ruined the last fifty years of Helen Fairfax’s life, it impacted on his son’s life and business – he’s a bad ’un, and I want nothing more to do with him.’
Chapter Thirty
By lunchtime, supplies had been restored to their former glory in the cupboards of Connection, with not a Garibaldi biscuit in sight.
Kat typed up the full report into Alyson Read and Ed Danvers, but didn’t file it away in the completed drawer; she wanted Carl to check through it first, ensuring she had all the facts for the part he had played.
She was aware of how quiet Doris had been, and knew the reason had to be Ewan Barker. Kat hoped she wasn’t scared, more angry that she had been taken in by him. She had started to leave her office door open when they had no clients in. She didn’t expect Ewan to have the balls to come back to their offices, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t. She figured he would be more protective of the said balls in the future.
She was mulling over the difficulty, and wondering how they could find the real Doris again, when she heard the ping of the shop doorbell, followed by Tessa Marsden’s voice.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Good Lord, are you here to arrest us?’ Doris didn’t sound too concerned.
‘Why. You done something wrong?’
‘Sort of. A little bit wrong. Maybe a tad.’
‘Doris Lester! Tell me more.’
Tessa had long suspected that Doris was the muscle behind the three Connection ladies, and wasn’t convinced by their denial that Leon Rowe’s absent hand was anything to do with them. ‘What have you done?’
‘Self-defence,’ she said. ‘Totally self-defence, and it’s all on film, so if you ever get a strange man in that police station of yours saying I beat him up, I can prove two things. The first one is I did, the second one is he went for me first. I stopped him. Effectively. But he can’t have been in to see you because I don’t think he’ll be w
alking yet,’ she finished with a smile.
‘Can we see the film?’ Hannah asked.
‘Not if you’re going to arrest me.’
‘If we promise not to arrest you, can we see it?’
‘Maybe. Later. It’s coffee time. Do you want to go through to Kat’s office?’
Kat tried to stifle her laughter at the conversation she had heard, and went to her office door to usher them in.
‘You done anything we can arrest you for?’ Tessa said, with an exaggerated wink at Kat.
‘As if,’ Kat responded. ‘I’m a church deacon.’
‘And Mouse? She done anything?’
Simultaneously it occurred to both Kat and Doris that even Tessa had taken to using the name Mouse for Beth.
‘She’s in Manchester, she could be doing anything in that den of iniquity.’
‘Then we can safely leave her to the Manchester lads. What happens in Lancashire, stays in Lancashire. We got chocolate biscuits?’
Doris handed around four coffees and placed a plate of biscuits on the table. ‘You’re here for a specific reason? Or is it a friends dropping by sort of visit?’
‘Friends dropping by for a biscuit,’ Tessa said. ‘And to talk.’
‘Orla French?’
‘Orla French. We’ve interviewed everybody at least once, some twice, some even three times, but I’m leaning towards the random stranger theory. Maybe it was simply a case of Orla being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do I think she would be so naïve as to accept a lift from a stranger in the pouring rain? Yes, I think I could see that situation with her. However, we’ve covered every house along that stretch of road between Castleton and Hope – and there aren’t many – checking CCTV cameras and not one has showed an image of a young girl walking in the rain. Either she never started to make that journey, or she was actually offered the lift in Castleton, but from her leaving work it seems she disappeared. Nobody saw her once she walked out of that café door.’