The Family Lie

by P L Kane

  ‘It sounds like a touch of exhaustion to me,’ he said diplomatically. ‘You look like you need a good night’s rest.’ As patronizing as that had come across, and Bella knew he hadn’t meant it that way, she couldn’t deny that it also sounded like the most perfect thing in the world to her. A good night’s rest. ‘We can pick all this up when you’re ready, it’s not going anywhere. But I promise you, if … The people who did this, Bella. We’ll get them, don’t worry.’

  Get them, if they exist, is what he’d meant. If they weren’t just in her imagination. She wasn’t stupid. But she was tired, and she was grateful. To him for saving her, for providing a roof over her head – however temporary – and looking after her, which he was very good at, she had to admit.

  Giving her a home for the time being, because she didn’t have one anymore. Didn’t have anywhere to live.

  Had been left with no choice but to rely on this man Bella hadn’t wanted to bother.

  Chapter 25

  ‘I didn’t mean to bother you.’

  She’d said that, looking down sadly, and of course he’d caved. Mitch had been intending to just ride through the village without being seen, head home and crash for the rest of the day. For the rest of the night. Barring any excitement later, like people in his dad’s home, rocks being thrown in his general direction, people on fire. That kind of thing.

  It just so happened, though, that she’d been outside when he rode up on the bike – on his way back from Granger’s. Denise had been serving someone sitting outside The Plough on one of the tables there, a guy who looked even older than Wilkinson – skin like a prune – sitting enjoying the sun, the heat, with his collie dog who was panting. She’d placed a pint of what looked like Traditional in front of the guy, a bowl of water down for the dog, then looked up and spotted Mitch. Held up a hand, more urgently than last night, practically flagging him down. Standing nearly in the road, so that he’d had no choice but the pull up alongside her.

  Mitch had flipped the visor up on his helmet and she’d said, ‘Hey.’ Today she was wearing a low-cut yellow satin top, with another short, black skirt.

  ‘Hey,’ he replied, though his voice was muffled by both the foam inside the helmet and the engine that was still running.

  ‘You coming inside for bit?’ Might have been his imagination, but had she made that sound like a proposition? A bit of what? He tried to keep his eyes level with hers, and failed, dipping them briefly.

  ‘I …’ He shook his head. ‘I probably shouldn’t, I’m still pretty wiped and—’

  ‘I’m more or less done for the day, have a drink with me?’ Now there was more than a hint of desperation in her voice. ‘You look like you could use it. After last night, I think maybe I could as well.’

  Mitch nodded slowly; he needed to remember that something like that had affected more than just him. Others had seen it, even if it was just the aftermath. It was probably the most excitement – and he hated thinking about it in those terms – this place had seen since, well, his dad. But while that had taken place out in the woods, away from the people who lived here, this had been slap bang in the middle of the village. In the village square. You could still see the tape from here, the scorch marks if you chose to look.

  ‘I-I shouldn’t, y’know.’

  That’s when she’d said it, looked down sadly as if he’d been rejecting her. Rejecting her company. ‘I didn’t mean to bother you. Another time.’ Denise had made to walk away, and he should have just let her. Left it well enough alone. But for some reason Mitch didn’t want her thinking he was some kind of dick. If there was one thing he’d been taught growing up, it was that politeness cost nothing. He could spare half an hour for a drink. With an old friend.

  An old girl-friend.

  Denise was a friend and she was a girl, he told himself. He was allowed to have those, wasn’t he? Tammy, for example. But Tammy had a fella; Christ, he’d been out drinking with Zach himself and … The thought of those two, what they were both going through, made him actually want a drink. Not to mention this heat! His eyes flicked from the Traditional the old bloke was supping to Denise heading away from him.

  ‘Wait. Wait! Denise, hold up.’ Mitch climbed off the bike, wheeling it to the side of the pub, before kicking down the stand and securing it with the lock. The barmaid was beaming again, was doing as he’d asked and waiting for him. Mitch trotted up to her, helmet in one hand. Before either of them could say anything else, she’d slipped her arm behind his free one, linking them together to walk into The Plough. It should have felt weird, wrong, but it was strangely comforting.

  ‘First one’s on me,’ she told him, smiling sweetly, complete with dimples. It was only then that he remembered about his financial situation. They might both be on her, he thought – but he’d pay her back. Because they were only having the two, and would be even when they’d bought a round each. He didn’t want to risk any more than that.

  Again, though, it hadn’t worked out that way. Denise had got the first order in, a G&T for herself and Traditional – naturally – for Mitch. Then she’d asked if he wanted to sit outside, but he’d said no. The heat for one thing – he’d been glad to get his jacket off again – not to mention that line of sight to the monument.

  ‘Right, yeah. I get it,’ said Denise. So they’d occupied a booth instead where it was cooler, diagonally opposite to the one he’d shared with Nuttall not so long ago. Over in the other corner, and cosier somehow, or perhaps that was just the company? ‘Do we know any more about what happened?’ she’d asked him, sipping her drink.

  ‘Apart from the fact it was Neil Sheldon, you mean?’ Denise seemed shocked by the information, and he wondered then if he’d said something he shouldn’t. If she didn’t know who the victim was by now, then she was the only person in Green Acres. The moment was fleeting, the surprise passing over her face like a cloud across the sun – and then it was gone.

  ‘Such a—’

  ‘Nasty business?’ he ventured.

  Denise looked at him. ‘Horrible way to die, I was going to say.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Mitch, only realizing afterwards he’d slipped back into Green Acre talk. ‘Yeah, I mean. Yeah, it was. I saw him. His face, just before …’

  ‘Oh my … Mitch, you poor thing. I didn’t know.’ She reached out for his hand now, but he moved it away. That was the one that had been trapped in the barn door, and was still aching. When he saw she looked sad, he offered his other hand and let her take it. Let her squeeze it. Mitch left it there for a few moments, then removed it and scratched a cheek that wasn’t even itchy. If Denise was put out this time, she didn’t show it. ‘So, what do you think happened? You being with the police and all?’

  With the police? He was hardly that. Especially around here. ‘What do I think happened? The guy was trussed up like some kind of victim of the Spanish Inquisition, then set on fire. Strangely enough, I think he was murdered.’ He hadn’t meant the sarcasm to slip out, but he was getting a bit fed up with people around here just not ‘getting it’.

  ‘Well, aye. I mean, who do you think would—’ Denise stopped and looked around her, lowering her voice. ‘Who do you think did it?’

  ‘Who do I …’ Mitch touched his chest. He wasn’t sure whether to say anything about Granger, like, ‘As it happens, I’ve just come back from a run-in with my prime suspect!’ (There he went again, thinking about it like his case, muddying the waters.) Then decided against it. Instead, Mitch said, ‘I’m not sure, Denise. Do you have any thoughts?’

  The woman pondered this for a few moments, then replied, ‘Have to say, he wasn’t best liked that bloke. You saw for yourself the other night. Oh, you don’t think Granger might have something to do with it, do you?’

  Bright girl. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Honestly, though, it could have been anyone. Nobody’s happy about him coming here with his schemes. Applications for planning permission or whatever. I heard someone say he wanted to build fifty houses on one
field. Fifty houses!’

  Mitch nodded. ‘Doesn’t surprise me. There’s a reason that saying’s a cliché, “When I were a lad, all this used to be fields.”’

  ‘Hmm, not heard of that one,’ Denise admitted, drinking more of the gin.

  ‘On the other hand, and playing devil’s advocate here, where else are people like him meant to build houses? The towns and cities are overcrowded as they are. Homelessness is on the increase.’

  ‘Crime as well in those places, I wouldn’t be surprised. You don’t see the link, Mitch? First Green Acres becomes a town, then more people move in. Then the trouble starts.’

  Don’t go looking for—

  ‘From where I’m sitting, the trouble’s already here!’ Mitch said, raising his glass and taking a long draught of his beer. He went on to tell her about what had happened since he’d moved back into his dad’s place.

  ‘There you go!’ Denise said. ‘All down to more strangers appearing, those people up in that what’s-it-called?’

  ‘Commune.’ Mitch practically spat the word out.

  ‘Aye, that. What are they bloody well doing up there, that’s what I want to know. What are they really up to?’

  Now here was someone finally who was speaking his language, thinking along the same lines as him in every respect. Should he mention that there could be a possible connection to Granger, to his dad’s death … murder? As it was, Denise brought the latter up herself.

  ‘The way I heard it, those campers who found … Well, you know, who tried to help Tommy, they spotted some of those buggers hanging around the day afore.’

  ‘What?’ spluttered Mitch, almost spilling his drink.

  ‘Oh, hey – you didn’t hear it from me, though. I don’t want to get anyone into hot water. But you do stumble across things, in this job and all. Overheard conversations and such.’

  ‘Jesus,’ whispered Mitch, running a hand down his face. Why the hell hadn’t Wilkinson told him that? Probably thought it was a coincidence (was it?). More likely worried about him doing exactly what he’d done anyway, going up there and seeing what was what. Shouting the odds. He began to think about Granger again now too, about the possible link. His mind throwing up all kinds of theories.

  Like father, like …

  A relative perhaps? Hadn’t the land come into Daniel’s possession because of some kind of old family loophole? Had Granger spoken up for him, as his kin? Surely not publicly, after making such a song and dance about ‘hippy trespassers’. Unless that had all been a distraction? Had Granger helped the leader of the Commune secretly? Maybe Mitch’s dad had found that out? Had Sheldon? Or something else? God, it might be the breakthrough he was looking for. The thing that had been escaping him all this time, that caused everything to slot into place.

  ‘Listen, don’t go saying anything, will you. Only I’m not sure—’

  ‘Denise, I could kiss you!’ he said, forgetting himself in his excitement.

  Denise blushed, flapped her hand. Then replied, ‘Who’s stopping you?’

  Who? That would be Lucy, Mitch reminded himself. Lucy, you know, your actual girlfriend. Move this along, quickly! Get back to talking about your ‘case’. Denise could wind up being a goldmine of information.

  Mitch drained the final dregs of his Traditional, holding it up. ‘Fancy another?’

  Denise smiled, nodded.

  Aren’t you forgetting something, Mitchel? ‘Oh, shit.’ He put his hand to his mouth then, his aunty’s influence.

  Denise chortled. ‘You can say shit, I’m a big girl. Have been for a while.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Blame my Aunty Helen, she doesn’t like me swearing. Doesn’t care for my drinking either, come to that.’

  ‘You’re probably talking to the wrong person, working here and everything.’ Denise chuckled again. ‘Although some people you see should probably cut down.’

  Did she mean him? Mitch was being paranoid, after all she’d asked him for the drink. Denise was talking about the real hard drinkers. Those people you see in pubs when you’re having breakfast, ordering their first pint of the day at something like 8 a.m. ‘But yeah, no. The burglary, I still haven’t sorted out my money situation. My aunty and uncle loaned me some, but a lot of that’s gone on stuff like the cat.’

  ‘Oh, the cat!’ Denise said excitedly again. ‘How is your cat? You’re going to have to introduce us someday. After all, I did feed him that time.’

  ‘Sure, aye. Yeah, I mean.’ She’d tried to feed him … her … it anyway.

  Denise laughed once more. It was a laugh he could get used to. Had been a long time since he’d heard Lucy laugh like that, always stressed about his job, or her work – budgets and lesson plans – or … other stuff. Like getting married, like having a family of their own. When had they gone from being that carefree (come off it, you were never such a thing) pair to Mr and Mrs Dull-as-ditchwater? When they moved in together? Before that? Denise gave another laugh, and he looked at her – really looked at her for the first time since he’d met the woman again.

  No. Don’t.

  ‘It’s okay, just get them to set up a tab. Tell ’em I’ll vouch for you.’ More vouching, that’s how it worked here. Denise stared at him. ‘You’re not going to go running off on me now, are you?’

  ‘I, er, not today,’ Mitch promised. For one thing he had a mystery to solve, which Denise might inadvertently be the key to. Now all he needed was something concrete to go to Wilkinson and Larson with. Something they could use to bring the big guns in: CID, the works. Maybe even higher up the chain if this was to do with a cult. As much as he’d hate to see another WACO here, Mitch was determined to bring that Commune down. And maybe Granger with it. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ said Denise, placing her elbows on the table, folding her hands in front of her and resting her chin on them.

  He looked over his shoulder once as he reached the bar. She was still watching him, staring. Smiling.

  Mitch smiled back.

  ***

  Two pints had turned into three, then four, five …

  It was over the course of some time, however. Now he’d got a tab, and could ‘buy’ drinks in return (that’s it, he told himself, you’re here permanently – they own you!), the rounds had just continued, and so had the conversation. It actually turned into one of the nicest nights he’d had since he returned. Far from being a fact-finding mission, it had proved a welcome diversion from everything else that was going on.

  They talked about his dad, not just about the fire, his death, but other things. Denise had filled Mitch in about the time that he’d missed out on. A regular at The Plough, she’d told him about the time Tommy had entertained them all with an impromptu rendition of ‘I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General’ from Pirates of Penzance one evening, half out of his skull on Traditional and Brandy.

  ‘Blimey, I don’t think I ever heard my dad sing anything! Let alone Gilbert and Sullivan.’

  ‘There’s probably a very good reason for that,’ Denise informed him.

  ‘Where did he learn it, I wonder?’

  Denise had shrugged. ‘But he knew those words off by heart, let me tell you.’

  Mitch laughed, at ease for a change, and asked her for more stories – which she was happy to provide. By the time she was finished, he felt he knew his father a little bit better. Not just through the eyes of a boy, but the man Mitch might have got to know when he’d grown up – if he’d bothered to return at all. It had brought on a bout of melancholy, not solely about Tommy Prescott, but also Mitch’s sister. ‘I-I really need to make more of an effort, you know?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘With Bella. Go and see her more often. She’s my only sister. I mean, I know she left when I was … And she should be here now, with me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand why she can’t, sort of. But I do love her, Denise.’

  The barmaid nodded. ‘I know you do, sweetheart. Of course you do. Family’s eve
rything, brothers, sisters and all that.’

  Mitch thought then that Denise hadn’t really spoken about her own folks or other relatives all evening, or indeed since he’d been back, so he asked how they were doing. Not that he could remember much about them. The alcohol wasn’t helping with his memory, he supposed. Then again, it had taken him a while to even place Denise when he first saw her again.

  ‘Oh, you don’t know? But then, how would you know? Dad passed away a few years ago now.’ Denise’s eyes dipped, studied a spot on the table in front of her. ‘Mum’s doing all right, has good days and bad days.’

  It was Mitch’s situation in reverse – apart from the fact he’d lost both his parents now. Denise had been practically a grown-up when she lost her dad, though, while he’d been small when his mum went. He wasn’t sure which was worse, Denise getting to know her dad only to have that torn away – girls and their fathers, the special bond – or him being barely able to recall his mother. The sense of having been cheated, as he’d said to Helen, but not really knowing what he was missing out on. ‘I’m so sorry, Denise.’ Before he knew it, he was reaching out his good hand this time, clutching hers to comfort the woman.

  She looked up, as surprised as he was, gave him a weak smile – her eyes moist. ‘Wasn’t long after you left, as it goes. I really could have done with you being around, Mitch, if I’m honest.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. An apology this time, rather than condolences, but not really understanding what he was apologizing for. Bailing and heading off to see the world? Had he owed this girl – this woman – more than that?

  She gave him another squeeze of the hand. ‘It’s not your fault,’ Denise said, so why did it feel like she was blaming him for something? ‘I got it. Going off was something you had to do, find yourself or whatever. I got it.’ The repetition told him that she really hadn’t. Mitch wasn’t even sure that he himself had. He was struggling now to remember how they’d parted, hadn’t thought about it in years. Hadn’t given Denise a second thought when he’d been off on his adventures, when he’d come back and got the job in Downstone. When he’d met and subsequently moved in with …