The Woman in the Peacock Patterned Coat

by Jennifer Jones

  ‘Darling, what’s happened?’

  ‘Oh, Neil … I’m sorry … I’m sorry for dragging you away from your work …’

  ‘Janey, what is it?’

  ‘I-I-I … I-I-I … I’ve been sacked!’ She burst into a fresh flood of tears.

  ‘Ssh, ssh …’ He held her tight. ‘Ssh …’ When she had calmed down, he made her some tea, pressed the mug into her hands. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I-I’ve been working on a ceramics project with a group of young men. They’ve all been in and out of the Young Offenders Institute, some of them several times. Well … one of them … well he hasn’t really taken to me, he makes belittling remarks, or-or contradicts me, stuff like that. I’ve tried not to let it get to me. But today … I was holding the bowl he’d made, when … when the door crashed open … and two teenage boys came in, brawling and shouting. I was so alarmed, I … I dropped the bowl and it smashed into pieces. He was furious, of course he was. He yelled at me, how it had taken him weeks to make, how I was nothing but a useless, clumsy bitch … His fists were clenched, I really thought he was going to hit me, and I … burst into tears. I cowered away from him, against the wall. I … I tried to tell him how sorry I was, but he … he laughed at me. He said, “Look at you. You’re pathetic.” Some of the other boys started laughing too. And that’s what I was – pathetic – just standing there crying …’

  ‘No, Janey …’

  ‘And that’s when Marina came in. She took me into her office, and she was very kind, and sorry, and everything, but she felt she had to let me go, that it would be best for everyone … So now I don’t have a job, and we were saving for a house …’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Anyway, you’re making money from your paintings.’ He tilted her face so he was looking into her eyes. ‘Maybe it is for the best. Maybe, while you’re going through this … difficulty, it would be better to find a job that’s more local, so you don’t have to travel so far …’ It was on the tip of his tongue to say maybe she needn’t find another job at all, they could start trying for a baby, though they had talked about that, agreeing to wait until they were settled in a house, so they could have some time together, just the two of them. And maybe it would be best not to introduce a baby into the mix, but rather to concentrate fully on her getting well.

  ‘Something will come up,’ he said.

  She nodded, smiling at him tremulously. ‘Thank you for not getting angry.’

  He was angry, but not with her. As a police officer, life was fairly black and white – you did the crime, you got locked up, you paid for it. But as a lover, whose loved one had been hurt, he felt an almost primeval instinct to exact revenge, to inflict harm. He had arrested Janey’s attacker, but he had not been present at the interview – and listening to the tapes after, the man’s sneering, unrepentant voice, he knew he had made a wise decision. The man had been sentenced to fifteen years after which he would walk free. But Janey and his other two victims – how could they ever be truly free of what he had done?

  ‘Why would I get angry?’

  ‘I … I’m worried that if there’s no reason for me to leave the flat any more, then … then I won’t.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to give you little errands to run, won’t I, to make sure you do!’

  She laughed, but still looked doubtful.

  ‘Shall I take you shopping on the weekend, so you can buy some outfits you’ll feel more comfortable in outdoors?’

  ‘But I already …’ She saw the look on his face. ‘It is pretty bad, isn’t it – that dress?’

  ‘Trust me.’

  ‘A-all right, then. Thank you.’ She clung to him. ‘Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.’

  ‘Janey, that’s not going to happen …’

  ‘N-no, I meant now. Please don’t leave now, to go back to work. Please stay.’

  There were a hundred things screaming for his attention back at the station, but he said, ‘All right.’

  ‘I love you Neil. I love you so much.’

  ‘I love you too.’ He smiled. ‘I remember the first time you ever said that to me. We were climbing a mountain in north Wales when you slipped and grabbed for my arm. We both ended up in a muddy puddle and when we managed to get to our feet you had a streak of dirt down your cheek and a spot on your nose. You ran a muddy hand through my hair and you said, “I love you Neil. I love you so much.”’

  ‘That was the first time?’

  ‘Mmm hmm. And we couldn’t get back to your cottage quick enough.’

  ‘Make love to me now.’

  ‘Yes.’ He kissed her, a deep, lingering, tender kiss. ‘Just let me make a couple of quick calls.’

  He went into the kitchen, rang Superintendent Graeme Gillespie, then Garry Stamford.

  ‘Garry, I’ve had to come home. Janey … she’s lost her job, she’s in a bad way. But Gordon Renfrew’s being interviewed tomorrow and he needs to be asked about some missing items – some books,’ he read out the titles, ‘and a pink leather document wallet. They should have been in the flat but they weren’t. Can you get on to Glasgow and let them know? Thanks, Garry.’

  He returned to the lounge. She was still on the couch but she had removed her art smock and bra. The flat was warm but her nipples were hard and erect, framed by the perfect circles of her rose-pink areolas. As he watched she stood and, stepping out of her jeans and underpants, walked towards him. Gazing on her nakedness he felt the familiar stirrings of arousal and went quickly to her, gathered her into his arms.

  Chapter 5

  The first thing the next morning Neil was shown into Marina Prescott’s office.

  ‘I hope you haven’t come to ask me to give her a second chance,’ she said, ‘because I have – second, third, fourth, fifth chances – she’s had them all. I’m sorry, Neil, sorry that this terrible thing has happened to her, sorry that she’s having such a hard time coming to terms with it … but, you know, a lot of the youth that come here have been damaged too, and they need people who will inspire them and encourage them, but who can also deal with them firmly and authoritatively, and yesterday that didn’t happen, for a while now it hasn’t been happening. Did Janey tell you about yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘Then please try and see things from my point of view. I explained all this to Janey, she seemed to accept it.’

  ‘She does. Marina, I haven’t come here to beg for her reinstatement, I’ve come to ask you for advice. You say you know she’s been having trouble coping, but do you know the full extent of it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, she’s been finding it hard to even come here in the first place. The days she’s been missing, she’s been too scared to leave the flat.’

  ‘Oh, Neil … no – no, I didn’t know …’

  ‘Well, neither did I until a couple of days ago. It’s so hard to take in – she’s fine when she’s with me.’

  Marina looked at him appraisingly. ‘And now your world’s been turned on its head. Here you are, a DCI, climbing the ranks, you thought you had a beautiful, confident young partner by your side, the perfect …’

  ‘Don’t go a moment further with that, Marina,’ Neil said coldly. ‘How could you? Is that really what you think of me? Janey needs help, professional help, and I thought you would be able to recommend someone.’

  ‘Surely the police have dozens of names on their files?’

  ‘I’m not going to just pick somebody from a hat! This is Janey. I want someone who knows what they’re doing, who’s dealt with something like this before. And – well – Janey’s not yet twenty-six – not much older than your clientele, and so I thought, well, someone who was used to working with young people.’

  ‘OK.’ Marina called up a file on her computer, wrote down a couple of numbers.

  ‘Either of these women would be excellent.’ Handing him the slip of paper, she said,

  ‘Neil … I know … I know it might be hard to face, when it’s a loved
one, but do you think … with Janey … do you think there might be some … mental instability?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s just … she did try to kill herself the night of the rape. And she told me – when she stayed with me before going up to Wales …’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘About her mother. How her mother was a paranoid schizophrenic who stabbed her husband – Janey’s father – to death when Janey was five. How she grew up in foster care …’ She looked suddenly horrified. ‘Oh, God, Neil … you do know about that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Marina, I do. And if you’re suggesting that Janey might be sick like her mother, then you’re wrong. What Janey is going through is just a reaction, a perfectly normal reaction, to a cold-blooded crime committed against her. With the right help she’ll get through this, she’ll be fine. Thank you for these numbers.’

  He turned towards the door, then turned back. Marina was staring at him.

  ‘You really are the real deal, aren’t you?’

  ‘If you mean I’m not a complete shit like that first husband of hers, then yes, maybe I am. I love her, Marina, and I believe in her. It’s that simple.’

  ‘Then … good luck. I hope things improve quickly.’

  ‘I was going to say – Janey tells me that you and Frances are having a baby. That’s lovely news. When is Frances due?’

  ‘In eleven weeks.’

  ‘Then … please let’s not lose this connection. Let us know when the baby’s born.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ***

  Later that day, Angela Havers came into Neil’s office. She stood in front of his desk, maintaining full eye contact.

  ‘Yes, Angela?’ he asked. She’s wearing far too much eye make-up for a police officer, he thought.

  ‘Well, Sir, I’ve been thinking about Katie Campbell and how Steve Kendall thought she might be a sex worker.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And also how her neighbours don’t seem to have seen her around that much. So I was thinking … maybe she works at a brothel somewhere, and only goes back to the flat when she wants a few days off.’

  Neil had already considered this – or at least, that whatever Katie’s work had been, it had taken her away from the flat for days at a time – but he didn’t want to appear discouraging. ‘That’s good thinking, Angela. In fact, Steve Kendall has been tasked with checking all the brothels in the area.’

  ‘The ones we know about,’ she muttered.

  He smiled. ‘And how would you propose we check on the ones we don’t know about?’

  He hadn’t spoken harshly but two spots of colour flamed in her cheeks. ‘Actually, Sir, I have heard of a possible brothel in Tooting Broadway – Woolmer Street.’

  ‘All right. Give Steve the details and he can look into it.’ She pouted and he said, slightly irritated, ‘I see. It’s your lead, naturally you’d like to be involved. OK, I don’t have a problem with that. You go along with Steve and I’ll square it with Inspector Gale.’

  ‘Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.’ She held his gaze a moment longer then left the room.

  As soon as the door closed behind her Neil took out his mobile phone and rang home.

  ‘Darling? Listen, I’ve been speaking with a Zara Williams, that’s Zara with a Z. She can start seeing you the week after next. The first few sessions will be at the flat, naturally, but she’d like you to give her a call this afternoon, just for a preliminary chat. Is that OK?’ He gave her the number. ‘And darling? I’ll be home at six and I’ve had an idea for dinner, but I’ll need you to get me a few things from the shops. Will you do that? Thank you. I need brown lentils, Dijon mustard, basil, oh, and we’re out of lemons.’ His voice softened. ‘I love you, Janey. I’ll see you at six.’

  Janey stepped out on to the pavement. She looked to her left. There was no-one coming, no-one who would be following behind her. She walked quickly to the corner, then turned right into the main road. The shop she wanted was only a hundred yards away, she could make it easily. Then an approaching car slowed as it neared her and instinctively she moved closer to the wall, then had to lean against it as her legs felt suddenly weak. She risked a glance behind her and saw that the car had been slowing to stop at a red light. “You’re such an idiot, Janey,” she told herself as tears threatened. She felt a tightness in her chest and concentrated for a few moments on her breathing. The hundred yards now felt like a hundred miles as she edged along the wall, feeling sick and faint. But she mustn’t let Neil down …

  Angela looked in her side mirror, then turned around.

  ‘Look at that woman, creeping along the wall. Do you think we should go and ask if she’s OK?’

  Steve turned too. ‘It’s her,’ he said. ‘It’s the DCI’s wife. Look at her. It’s pathetic. But the other day, he just got out of the car and went up to her like nothing was the matter, like he didn’t even notice.’

  No, thought Angela. He didn’t notice. But he would, she’d make sure of that, she’d make him notice her. It was a challenge, and she loved a challenge. And with a wife like that, it shouldn’t take long …

  ‘What a hideous dress,’ she said.

  Chapter 6

  Neil and Janey surveyed the numerous bags, from various department stores in Oxford Street, that lay piled on the spare bed.

  ‘You don’t think we’ve gone just a little bit over the top?’

  ‘Not at all. You’ll have a different outfit for every day of the week.’

  ‘Of the month, more like!’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll pour both of us a drink, then you, my lovely, can treat me to my very own private fashion show. Paris, eat your heart out!’

  As she paraded the outfits before him, as he watched this transformation, this new, conservatively dressed Janey, in knee-length and calf-length skirts, long-sleeved summer weight tops with modest necklines – not that she had ever gone in for anything very low-cut – all in plain, subdued colours, he contemplated how impressions are formed, memories created. If someone were to pass Janey by in the street, or speak to her briefly in a shop, or other public place, what memory would they take away of her, what feature would stand out, how would they later describe her based on that memory? Katie Campbell’s photo had been shown to a lot of people, and those who had come into contact with her invariably said, “That coat, I’d recognise that coat anywhere.” When pressed they might remember her blonde hair, her blue eyes. Rarely anything else. Someone had said, “I remember her face as being thinner”, someone else, “She seemed fatter in the cheeks”, another person again, “Of course, she was far more heavily made up.” Get Katie Campbell to stand in a room with a dozen people and how many versions of her would there be after? In his experience, most people weren’t generally that observant.

  ‘What do you think?’

  He looked up. She was wearing a slightly flared, brick red flannel skirt, which fell to just below her knees, with a charcoal-grey ribbed turtleneck sweater. She had finished the ensemble with a narrow belt.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said, and honestly meant it.

  ‘It’s not me, though, is it? None of these outfits are really me.’

  ‘They’re not bad clothes, though. They’re smart, well-made, and if they get you outside, allow you to move about in the world, well then that’s all that really matters.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is that everything?’

  She looked suddenly mischievous. ‘There’s one more thing. But you’ll have to come into the bedroom to see it. Just give me a couple of minutes.’

  When he went in she was sitting on the bed, posed like a fifties’ bathing beauty, dressed only in her underwear. Though the word “underwear” hardly did justice to the garments she had on – an orange lace underwired bra which pushed up her breasts so they appeared fuller, rounder, the matching French knickers which were completely transparent. She looked heartstoppingly gorgeous.

  ‘I don’t remember visiting the lingeri
e section,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve had these a while, you’ve just never seen them before.’ Actually they had been a birthday present the previous year from her then husband Dan, and she had pushed them to the back of the drawer. But with all this trying on of new clothes she had suddenly decided that just because he had turned out to be a not very nice person, didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the pretty things he had given her. She smiled coquettishly.

  ‘Come here.’

  He took a couple of steps towards the bed, then stopped, frowning at all the clothes that were scattered on it.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Katie Campbell. She cleaned the flat from top to bottom, then left clothes lying all over the bed.’

  ‘Who’s Katie Campbell?’

  ‘A missing person we’re trying to locate. She was going on a trip and I thought the clothes were what she’d decided to leave behind.’

  ‘They probably were. She probably cleaned first, and then packed. That’s what I would do.’

  ‘Yes, but wouldn’t you then put the rest of the clothes away?’

  She gave him a look of mock exasperation.

  ‘I’m sitting here practically naked and it reminds you of work?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I …’ he realised she was teasing and grinned. ‘Is that an arrestable offence?’

  ‘I think it is, yes.’ She pulled him down onto the bed then knelt across him. ‘You’re nicked. Everything you say will be held against you.’ She leant forward, kissed him briefly on the lips. Her hair fell softly against his face. ‘Well?’

  ‘Your mouth,’ he said hoarsely. ‘These beautiful breasts.’ He pulled her to him. ‘You.’

  Chapter 7

  Neil stared gloomily at the transcript in front of him. Gordon Renfrew had a rock solid alibi for the weekend of the thirteenth to fifteenth of May as he had been on a boat in the Mediterranean, in the middle of a two-week sailing course.