The Anna McColl Mysteries Box Set 1

by Penny Kline

  ‘How did it make you feel?’

  ‘Well, shocked, I suppose.’ She stood up and walked towards the piano, lifting the photograph of Thomas and running her finger along the frame.

  ‘And when did you find out who it was?’

  ‘I beg your pardon? Oh, next day, whenever the name was given to the newspapers. Helen says his skull was smashed. Crushed by the weight of a heavy blow. Think of it.’ She closed her eyes, clenching and unclenching the muscles in her jaw. ‘D’you suppose he died instantly or could he have been lying there, in agony, only half a mile away and none of us knowing what had … ’

  Her voice was steady but her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘I should sit down,’ I said, taking the photo from her hands and guiding her to a chair. ‘Tell me how you’re feeling. Now. This precise moment.’

  She looked up at me, her eyes open wide and beads of sweat on her upper lip. This wasn’t an act. She was terrified.

  ‘What can I do?’ she whispered, wrapping her arms round her body and swaying from side to side. ‘Please tell me what to do.’

  *

  As I rounded the comer of the house two people came out of the ground-floor flat and started walking towards the dark green jeep I had seen parked in the drive earlier on. The man was of average height, with broad shoulders and a round amused-looking face. His hair was dark and wiry, sticking up on the top of his head.

  ‘Hi.’ He walked towards me, holding out his hand. ‘You must be Anna McColl.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ It irritated me a little that he knew my name. Sandy must have told everyone, even his tenants, that I was coming to see Geraldine.

  ‘Bryan Sealey. I don’t believe I’ve ever met a psychologist before, although God knows plenty of the people I come across could do with some of your expertise.’

  The woman, who I assumed was Helen Sealey, stood by the jeep, biting her lip impatiently.

  ‘Sandy warned us you were coming,’ said Bryan, ‘in case we thought you were an intruder. Can’t be too careful these days, and with what happened in Leigh Woods … ’ He stretched out an arm in the direction of his wife. ‘Helen, come and meet Anna McColl.’

  She moved towards us slowly, reluctantly, and shook hands without applying any pressure. ‘You’re helping Geraldine.’

  It was a statement, not a question. Our eyes met briefly and against my better judgement I felt a twinge of envy. She was beautiful, with soft dark hair and large brown eyes, spaced wide apart like a baby seal. Since giving up modelling she must have put on a little weight, not that anyone would ever have described her as fat.

  ‘I saw your baby,’ I said, ‘she’s lovely.’

  ‘Chloe.’ She glanced at Bryan, then back at me. ‘She’s called Chloe.’

  ‘Seven months,’ said Bryan, ‘we’ve had her since she was a week old. It’s all official now, thank God — the adoption order I mean.’

  ‘Must be a relief.’

  He smiled. ‘You have children?’

  ‘No.’ I turned towards the gate then, since he seemed in no hurry to leave, turned back deciding to try and extract a little more information. ‘I met your nanny — Miss Halliwell — the first time I came to the house.’

  ‘Really? Good old Rona. She’s out at the moment, taking the baby for a walk on the Downs. For some obscure reason she dislikes crossing the Suspension Bridge but she can hardly walk right down to Ashton Gate and up the other side.’ Turning to Helen he put his arm round her neck, attempting to draw her into the conversation. ‘We’re so lucky, aren’t we, my darling? It’s near impossible to adopt a tiny baby these days. They try to persuade you to take on a disturbed adolescent, very worthy of course but hardly the same proposition.’

  Helen’s expression altered a little but it couldn’t be called a smile. Then she turned and walked across to the jeep, pulling open the passenger door and climbing inside, where she sat staring straight ahead, waiting for Bryan to join her.

  ‘Interested in the theatre?’ he said, not in the least put off by his wife’s rudeness. ‘If so I’ll give you a couple of tickets — you and your husband.’ He glanced at my left hand. ‘Or whoever you want to take. The play opens in just over two weeks’ time.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He frowned. ‘Your work — what kind of people would you see? Not the bad ones, I assume, not full-blown schizophrenics. Just ordinary people who have problems they need to sort out, am I right?’

  ‘It depends.’

  ‘On what? I’m not so ignorant I imagine there’s a sharp division — between the mentally ill and the — well, the psychologically disturbed I suppose you’d call it. Tell me this, if someone had nightmares, recurring ones that woke them up night after night, would that warrant a visit to one of your profession?’

  ‘It might.’

  ‘What if someone had repressed all their feelings and it was affecting their health, really getting them down?’

  ‘You’re interested in that kind of thing. For one of your plays, is it?’

  He laughed. ‘Right you are, no more questions. ’Bye for now. If I don’t see you again I’ll give Sandy the tickets.’ He started walking away, calling over his shoulder. ‘Amnesia, is there really such a condition? No, I don’t mean from a blow on the head. I mean from something psychological like a nasty shock?’ Then he climbed into the jeep without waiting for an answer, raising his hand in a brief wave as he started up the engine, and reversed out into the road.

  Rona Halliwell was pushing the baby’s buggy across the grass. I watched as she forced her way between two bushes, elbowing away the brambles that were catching her hair and the collar of her dark blue jacket. The jacket was smart, almost like a proper nanny’s uniform, but her cotton skirt was flowered, reaching to just below the knee, and part of the hem had come adrift. She was approaching where I was standing, presumably on her way to the children’s playground although the baby was far too young for swings and slides. Perhaps she had made friends with some of the mothers, although this I doubted. She looked like a loner, the kind of person who puts up with the presence of other human beings as long as she can keep them at arm’s length.

  ‘Miss Halliwell?’ I expected her to stare at me blankly.

  ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘I’ve just come from the house. I felt like a walk on the Downs.’

  She nodded. ‘I expect you did.’ Sitting down on one of the wooden seats she patted the space next to her.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘Why should I? You’ve been seeing Mrs Haran, have you, trying to throw some light on her self-imposed imprisonment? If you want my opinion someone should set fire to the place.’ She had her tongue in her cheek — literally. ‘Well, perhaps not actually set it alight. Just call “Fire!” and see if that got her down the stairs.’ She rubbed her hands together as if the thought of seeing Geraldine running into the garden gave her a certain satisfaction. ‘If you want my opinion, talking to people’s a waste of time. Action — that’s what gets results. If you want to understand a person don’t listen to what they spout, just observe their behaviour.’

  Inside the buggy, protected by a white lace parasol, the baby slept fitfully, opening her eyes now and again to stare at the trees. She was a pretty little thing with thick brown hair and colouring not unlike her adoptive mother. I remembered reading how they tried to match the baby to the parents — physical appearance and general background — although with the shortage of babies up for adoption these days that was probably a thing of the past. I wondered if the Sealeys had pulled strings to find a child available for adoption. As far as I knew private adoptions were illegal, but perhaps there were ways round the law if you knew the right people.

  Rona was easing the baby into a more upright position. ‘You live near here, do you?’

  ‘Cliftonwood.’

  ‘Don’t know it.’

  ‘The down-market end of Clifton.’

  She yawned, covering her
mouth with both hands. ‘You like Bristol?’

  ‘Yes, how about you?’

  ‘Oh, I just go wherever Helen and Bryan go. I looked after Helen, you know, when she was a little girl. Both her parents were professional people — doctors. Dead now. Cancer and heart disease, the usual.’

  A boy of about six with a red and white track suit and untidy fair hair was talking to a young man who was leaning against a tree, eating a bag of crisps. I wondered if the boy was on his own, if the young man had an unhealthy interest in children. Then a woman, who looked like the boy’s mother, joined them and the three stood together laughing and talking. That was the trouble with all those television programmes and newspaper articles, they turned perfectly innocent people into potential child molesters.

  ‘It must seem strange,’ I said, ‘looking after Helen all those years ago, then coming back to look after her baby.’

  The sun had come out. The baby turned her head away from the bright light and Rona leaned forward to adjust the parasol. ‘Good girl, there’s a good girl. Like talking to a dog, isn’t it, but I’ve never thought there was much difference. Dogs don’t smile of course, but they wag their tails so it comes to the same thing. Live alone, do you?’

  ‘Yes — yes, I do.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’re on foot. I thought you people went everywhere in cars.’

  ‘I like the walk. Besides I’m on holiday, apart from seeing Mrs Haran.’

  ‘As a favour to that husband of hers.’

  ‘You were with the Sealeys in London?’ I asked, changing the subject, determined to avoid any further discussion of Geraldine’s state of mind.

  ‘Sorry, what did you say? Oh, London. Yes, London, and before that … a flat in Sutton. I’ve kept it on just in case.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘Hay fever, nothing to worry about. Not the grass, the pollution.’

  ‘Yes, it’s bad round Cumberland Basin. Better up here.’

  She wasn’t listening. ‘Of course Bryan drives everywhere in that ridiculous military-looking vehicle. Looks as though it’s designed for the outback although on closer inspection it’s fairly obvious it wouldn’t stand up to a bumpy field let alone a stretch of rough moorland.’

  ‘I met them when I was leaving the house.’

  ‘On their way to the antiques fair, were they?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Could be off to somewhere Helen wants to photograph. She doesn’t drive so Bryan has to act as chauffeur.’ She looked away, fiddling with the brake on the buggy. ‘When he’s free, which isn’t often now they want more re-writes on the second act.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d like to drive that thing,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, it’s not that.’ Rona looked surprised as though she thought everyone knew. ‘Helen hasn’t driven for nearly two years.’

  ‘Really? Why’s that?’

  She was watching the traffic queueing up to cross the bridge. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, my dear, your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘Perhaps Bryan likes to do the driving. Crazy as it may seem some men refuse to be driven about by a woman. It undermines their self-esteem.’

  She snorted, leaning across to undo the top press stud on the baby’s pink and white suit. ‘Yes, well, you know best.’

  Across the other side of the grass a tall thin girl was arguing with the old man selling ice-cream from a dilapidated van. The sun was in my eyes but I recognized her at once.

  Rona Halliwell half stood, screwing up her eyes. ‘Isn’t that Lynsey?’

  ‘Lynsey? The Lynsey who helps with Geraldine’s shopping?’

  ‘Looks like her, and since she’s giving that man what for I should think that just about clinches it. You haven’t had the pleasure of making her acquaintance?’

  ‘No. Yes. I’ve met her but I didn’t realize who she was.’

  ‘Dreadful creature, can’t think why they took her on. Not that she’ll be needed long now you’re going to cure Mrs Haran of her agoraphobia.’ She pronounced the word slowly, accentuating each syllable with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘I get the feeling Lynsey may have had quite a hard time,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, you do, do you?’ Rona Halliwell’s eyes blazed. ‘That’s what she’s told you, is it, or do you lot have magic powers that enable you to see the inside of other people’s heads?’

  Chapter Six

  She was standing near the main road, at the bottom of Ambra Vale, a tall familiar figure dressed in black shorts that reached just below the knee and made her legs look absurdly long and bony. She saw me out of the corner of her eye but turned, pretending to be reading the graffiti on a row of garage doors.

  ‘Lynsey?’

  She looked up but said nothing, just waited until I drew level, then took hold of Aaron’s lead. When I asked how she had found out where I lived she jerked her head in the direction of the dog. ‘How d’you think? Like I saw the address on his name tag. Where you taking him?’

  ‘Down by the river.’

  She bent to re-tie one of her boot laces. ‘How d’you know my name?’

  ‘I saw you yesterday, up by the playground.’

  ‘I know. You were with that cow that looks after the baby.’

  Since it was nearly nine thirty the worst of the morning rush hour was over but the lights for the pedestrian crossing had failed and we had to wait some time for a break in the traffic. On the other side of the main road the greengrocer was putting out trays of petunias and tobacco plants. An old actor I knew by sight emerged, bare chested, from the newsagent’s, his stomach bulging over the top of his tennis shorts, his feet flopping out of a pair of leather slippers with the backs stamped down. I nodded to him and he raised an arm.

  ‘Know a lot of people round here, do you?’ said Lynsey, staring at me, her face as near expressionless as she could make it. ‘S’pose they tell you all their problems. I can’t stand do-gooders.’

  ‘I’m not a do-gooder.’

  ‘Didn’t say you were. Anyway if you don’t do any good what’s the point?’

  ‘Now you’ve put me in a double bind. If I say I’m not a do-gooder you’ll say — ’

  ‘I know what a double bind is,’ she said scornfully. ‘Come on, the dog wants to go on the grass.’ She ran across the road, then walked ahead of me, with Aaron on her left, well away from the traffic. Every so often she glanced over her shoulder to make sure I was keeping up.

  ‘So you work for Mrs Haran!’ I shouted, my words half drowned by the noise of a bus pulling away from the stop in Merchant’s Road.

  ‘What if I do?’

  ‘When I asked if you knew where the house was you never said you worked there.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  I sighed and she laughed, pulling on Aaron’s choke-chain, waiting for me to catch up. ‘Sandy said he had this friend, a psychologist. I put two and two together, took real brains that did.’

  So she called the Harans by their Christian names. That was typical of Sandy. He hated all divisions — sex, age, social class. It was something that had come up on the counselling course and led to quite a heated argument about the necessity or otherwise for hierarchies and professional relationships.

  We crossed the bridge over the floating harbour and turned right past the overgrown railway track and old tobacco warehouses.

  ‘Seagulls build nests up on those roofs,’ I said, passing on a recently acquired piece of information gained from Chris’s son, Jack, who had been watching a programme about bird migration.

  Lynsey shrugged. ‘If you stand looking up it’s like the whole building’s leaning forward. Go on then, do it!’

  I did as I was told, staring up at seven or eight storeys of sheer red-brick wall. ‘How long have you been doing Geraldine’s shopping?’ I said.

  ‘Why? Just since they found the stiff. Like I felt sorry for her — and I needed the money. It’s not just the shopping, there’s cleaning too, and Thomas. He had a wart on his hand so I took him to the doctor’s to have it
frozen off.’

  ‘Why couldn’t his father take him?’

  ‘Thomas said he’d rather go with me.’ Two people were walking towards us. They looked very young, still in their teens, but the man was pushing a twin buggy and when they drew closer I could see that the children were different ages, one about two, the other younger, perhaps nine or ten months.

  Lynsey stared at them with interest. ‘Poor sods,’ she muttered, ‘the parents not the kids. Poor bloody sods.’

  We had reached the path by the river-bank and I started worrying in case Aaron jumped in the mud. I asked Lynsey to keep him on the lead but she ignored my request, releasing him as soon as we were well away from the traffic. When he looked down at the river she spoke his name threateningly and he returned to her side.

  ‘Got more sense,’ she said, reading my thoughts. ‘They’re like kids, if you trust them they behave OK.’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’ I was torn between wanting to ask questions — what had she been doing before she worked for the Harans, why had she come to live in Bristol in the first place — and a feeling that it would be advisable not to become too involved in her life.

  ‘You married?’ she said, swinging her leg, kicking an imaginary ball.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Live with someone?’

  ‘No.’

  She laughed. ‘Good. People who live on their own aren’t so settled down. Have you noticed how couples sort of merge into one? Then they don’t need anyone else.’

  Fifty yards ahead two boys were throwing stones into the water. Lynsey saw them and started running flat out. I watched her catch hold of one of the boys, shouting at him until he wrenched free showing her two fingers.

  ‘Bastards!’ She hurled herself at the second boy and the two of them fell on the grass, rolling over and over. Then Aaron appeared, barking loudly, and the boy who was still on his feet threw a stone that bounced off the dog’s hind quarters.

  ‘Stop it,’ I yelled, trying to catch hold of Lynsey’s T-shirt but only ending up with a kick on the back of my hand.

  The boy on the grass lay still, with Lynsey standing over him, breathing hard. For a horrible moment I thought he had been badly injured, then he struggled to his feet, rubbing his cheek, and moved off calling over his shoulder, a string of obscenities that faded in the distance as he ran down the path towards the allotments.