by Kerena Swan
‘No one’s asking you to bloody live here.’ Mum looks at me like a teenager who’s been grounded.
When did I become the parent? I sigh deeply. ‘It won’t take long if we both do it. I’ve bought cleaning stuff and some food for dinner.’
Mum grasps the arm of the sofa and hauls herself up. She wobbles slightly and I look around the room. Has she started drinking already? I straighten the cushion, exposing the vodka bottle.
‘Jesus. Drinking out of the bottle now?’
Mum sniffs then moves another cushion to expose her favourite glass tumbler. She glares at me with pursed lips then turns and shuffles out of the room.
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ I call after her. ‘We wouldn’t want your standards to slip.’
Once I’ve managed to motivate Mum into getting the hoover out, I tackle the washing-up and clean the bathroom. With the floor swept and mopped, rubbish taken out and my washing hung on the clothes airer, the place is beginning to look and smell better. The stains on my jeans haven’t quite washed out but I’m short of clothes so they’ll have to do. The marks will fade the more I wash them. I make us both a cup of tea and switch the television back on.
‘Where did you get so muddy?’ Mum asks, eyeing my footwear by the door.
‘I went for a walk in the woods to clear my head.’
She looks at me and frowns. ‘Who hurt you this time, Sarah?’
‘No one you know and don’t worry; I won’t be seeing him again.’ I slump into the chair and my thoughts turn to Dad. ‘Mum,’ I say. ‘Do you think I choose the wrong men because of the way Dad treated me?’
Her gaze slides away. She’s always avoided difficult conversations. ‘He was just disciplining you, love. You were too cheeky.’
‘Rubbish. He was always aggressive and cold. How can you make excuses for him? Why did we stay with a man who didn’t love us?’
Mum gets up and fetches her vodka, waving the glass at me. ‘You’re driving me to drink with your incessant questions.’
‘I’m not driving you anywhere. You arrived there a long time ago and it wasn’t my doing. Blame Dad, if you want to blame someone.’
‘He didn’t intend to kill Colin. It was only one punch.’
I jump to my feet. ‘Why are you sticking up for him? Dad was a violent, self-centred prick who didn’t have a kind cell in his body. He gave me a shit childhood and he was a bastard to you, but do you know what? I think you probably deserved it. I think you did have an affair with Colin, despite what you always say. Maybe we should have moved in with him instead.’
For a moment I’m back in the school assembly, standing at the front with the rest of my year group and scanning the crowd. Where was Dad? Mum promised me he’d come. The place was full of dads for the Father’s Day celebration but I couldn’t see mine. The crushing disappointment stole my voice and I was unable to join in the singing or even raise a smile.
When we filed back to our classroom my so-called best friend, Amy, lifted her eyebrows, pursed her lips and, with a flounce of her head, said, ‘Told you he wouldn’t come!’
I couldn’t stop myself. My fist flew out and hit her squarely on the nose. The sight of the blood running down her face and the shock in her eyes had been surprisingly satisfying.
‘You’re the reason Dad was like that,’ I say to Mum now. ‘You’re the reason he didn’t love us.’
Mum lets out a low moan and clenches her fists into her hair then hangs her head forward, crying silent tears. They drip off her nose and chin onto the worn carpet. ‘Why does no one believe me?’ she whispers, rocking. ‘I didn’t have an affair. I swear on my life, I was faithful.’
She’s such a liar.
Chapter 10
February | DI Paton
Paton sat at his desk, opened his lunch box and stared in surprise. Inside was a simple drawing of a man with a fat stomach and a cross drawn through it. He moved it aside and saw a chicken salad and chopped fruit in smaller containers. Starvation rations. This must have been Tommy’s doing. He’d been told to watch his weight by the dietician at school due to his weak heart so he’d decided his dad must diet as well. Paton looked down at his flat stomach then got up and walked over to the vending machine for crisps and chocolate to supplement his lunch.
Back at his desk he opened his team’s reports on the HOLMES 2 computer system and started to read as he munched on the tasteless salad. After extensive questioning of firms within a100-miles of the cabin it seemed no one called Richard Newman had booked any taxis or car hire locally. Neither was there any record of that name on passenger lists from flights into Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen. The only reported abandoned vehicle was a burned-out old Skoda, which they’d traced to a teenage owner.
No one fitting Richard Newman’s description had yet been reported missing. Maybe the man lived alone, which threw out the cabin owner’s theory that he was having an illicit affair. Or perhaps they should have considered whether the person he was with might be the one having the affair. There was nothing from house-to-house enquiries. No one witnessed cars approaching or leaving the cabin. No one noticed cars travelling at speed or being driven erratically nearby.
Paton sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Who was this man? How did he get there? According to the cabin owner, Richard Newman had booked the lodge several times over the past two years and always used the same courier company, Surefast, to deliver the cash in a plain envelope.
The courier service said they’d met with a man named Richard Newman in a café in Leeds. He’d paid the courier in cash and handed him an envelope to deliver. The courier didn’t ask what was in it. The description of their customer fitted that of the victim.
Paton took a bite of his chocolate snack, leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. It seemed as though everything they looked at hit a dead end. Now the best they could hope for was a link between DNA found at the scene and the DNA Database. Paton had spoken on the phone with forensics yesterday to gather preliminary findings.
The most surprising thing was the pathologist’s report. What were the exact words Frank had used? Defence wounds – that was it. The victim had defence wounds on his forearms, meaning the killer had attempted to stab him several times. No accident, then, and unlikely to have been struck in retaliation to an attack by Newman himself, given that the only blood appeared to be his. Murder, then. Cold blooded murder.
Chapter 11
The Following June | Jenna
‘Faster! Push that water away from you.’
I’m going as fast as I can but these huge, webbed mittens are making my arms ache. The other women in the pool are laughing with their friends as water splashes in their faces and I’m conscious that I’m alone in the class. I look across at Mum, lying on a lounger, watching me take part in the aquarobics class. She gives me a fleeting smile then lowers her head to her book again. I’m disappointed she hasn’t joined in but I knew a spa day wouldn’t be her thing. I told Lucy so, but as always she wouldn’t listen.
By the time the class has finished I’m knackered and need a drink. We go to the coffee shop upstairs, and I fetch Mum a cup of tea and myself a soda and lime, then slip outside to call Lucy.
‘I don’t think this is Mum’s scene,’ I say, thinking, I knew she wouldn’t like it, but you wouldn’t bloody listen! I’d rather have bought her flowers and bath stuff but Lucy had insisted we buy a Henlow Grange spa day to keep Mum out of the way while she set up the party.
‘What have you done so far?’ she asks.
‘Mum just lies on the lounger and doesn’t want to sign up for any exercise classes. She didn’t even fancy a swim in the fantastic pool.’
‘Give her time to relax. Maybe she’ll do something later.’
I curl my feet under me on the plush sofa and turn to Mum. It’s a rare treat for us to spend time together without work or chores getting in the way but she looks tired and ill at ease. Perhaps reminiscing about the past will bring a smile to her face.
&nbs
p; ‘Do you remember when I made perfume out of rose petals and sold the brown liquid to the neighbours?’
Her mouth twitches. ‘They were too polite to say it smelled like rotten vegetables. You always managed to charm the adults because you were so outgoing and cute.’ Mum gazes out of the window as she talks. ‘I think we all indulged you too much, especially your dad, but you were our little miracle baby. We tried for months to have Lucy and had given up hope of a second child when you came along.’
‘I bet that was a shock for her. Did Lucy and I squabble much as kids?’ She was constantly ordering me about, I recall.
‘All the time! Lucy wanted the sort of little sister who’d look up to her and be led by her but you were too rebellious for that. When she wanted to play schools and be the teacher you’d scribble on the books or run off laughing and she’d get cross. You broke her toys too, lost pieces of her puzzles and ruined her art sets.’
‘Not on purpose.’
‘You were just mischievous and liked winding her up.’
And she used to pinch me or pull my hair when no one was looking.
‘We’re all grown up now but Lucy still seems… hostile,’ I say.
‘I don’t think she ever forgave you for her rabbit.’
‘That was an accident.’ Well, sort of.
‘You did let him out of his cage, Jenna.’
‘Only because I thought he’d be happier in the garden. I’d seen that television programme about animals in captivity and wanted him to have a better life.’
‘Instead, he had no life at all.’
He’d hopped round to the drive and been run over by our neighbour. Lucy didn’t speak to me for a week, even though I was devastated by what had happened.
‘I was only six,’ I remind Mum. ‘Lucy shouldn’t be holding a grudge so many years later.’
‘It wasn’t only the rabbit. She thought you caused us a lot of worry as a teenager by staying out late, bringing so many friends home and borrowing money. She used to say we were too lenient with you, but your father said he just wanted a quiet life. I think he’d run out of energy to deal with you.’
‘But that was years ago.’
Mum only shrugs and I feel guilty suddenly. I’d meant to cheer her up, not depress her.
‘Come on,’ I say. There’s a relaxation class on in ten minutes. Let’s try that.’
‘Can I get you anything else, Mum?’ I stand and pick up my plate to collect another helping from the delicious buffet. I’m really impressed with this place. The pool is beautiful, the exercise classes fun and the food is perfect for a vegan like me. The buffet of colourful salads, vegetables and pulses makes my mouth water. If only I could eat here every day. I just need to avoid the peanuts or I’ll swell up like a puffer fish.
‘I’m full,’ Mum says.
‘But you haven’t eaten enough to keep a mouse alive.’
Mum has artfully piled food to the side of her plate to make it look like she’s eaten more than she has. She tells me she needs the loo so while she’s gone I pile my plate with second helpings of cous cous, beetroot and chickpea salad. By the time I’m halfway through eating it she still hasn’t returned. Maybe she’s got a dodgy tummy or maybe she’s fed up because she’s realised we’re planning a party and are keeping her out of the house so everything can be got ready. We’ve tried hard to keep it a secret, but it’s been difficult to hide the frustration and irritation Lucy and I have felt towards each other during the whole planning process.
My phone lights up and I see I have a call from Lucy. I refuse to answer it in a restaurant, especially in one where people have come to relax and retreat from the world, so I wait for it to go to voicemail then send a text.
Can’t talk now. In restaurant. I add a rolling eyes emoji for good measure. I spoke to her two hours ago. What more is there to say?
Go outside then. I need to speak to you.
I’m not leaving the table now. Mum will be back any minute and she’ll wonder where I am. Later, I message.
The phone lights up again.
Answer the bloody phone!
Ignoring it, I return to the buffet for a fruit dessert. Mum reappears and slips back into her seat. She looks wan and the white dressing gown isn’t flattering her complexion.
‘Are you all right, Mum? Do you feel unwell?’
‘I’m fine, love.’ Mum tries to reassure me with a smile but I’m not fooled. She’s far from fine.
Oh God, what if she wants to go home early? Lucy will go mad. ‘Shall we go for a stroll around the grounds while the sun’s shining?’ I ask. ‘There are some lovely gardens.’
‘Good idea. I’ll just have a coffee first and relax for a bit.’
‘I’ll get it for you.’ I jump up and go to the coffee machine. ‘Here. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need to make a quick call.’
Mum looks at me in surprise but doesn’t ask who I need to call. She takes a small sip of coffee then leans her head back against the wall and shuts her eyes.
I take a deep breath and call Lucy. ‘What’s up?’
‘Finished your leisurely lunch now? Don’t spare a thought for me and Grace, rushing around sorting out the party.’
‘Don’t make me feel guilty. It was all your idea, remember?’
‘My idea to make Mum happy. Just answer your bloody phone next time. You know how much it winds me up when you ignore my calls and texts.’
‘This is a retreat, for fuck’s sake. I can’t answer my phone. Why were you ringing?’
‘Don’t get back before seven. Some of Mum’s friends can’t get here until then.’
‘Our booking finishes at six and it’s only a thirty-minute drive. What am I supposed to do for the other thirty minutes? To be honest I don’t even know if I can drag this out until six. Mum’s barely eaten anything and she doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself.’
‘Book her a treatment or something.’
‘Have you seen these prices?’ I hear her sigh and my irritation mounts. ‘I really don’t think Mum wants to be here. She doesn’t look well.’
‘Maybe you’re not trying hard enough to keep her entertained.’
‘I should bring her home. The party will still be a surprise and she’ll at least have time to get herself prepared for it.’ Both physically and mentally.
‘No way! I haven’t done all this preparation for you to blow the secret now.’
‘This isn’t about you. Lucy. I’m putting Mum first.’
‘Are you saying I don’t care about her as much as you do?’
I don’t answer, and suddenly the line goes dead. I stare at the screen in surprise. We’ve argued in the past but she’s never hung up on me before. A few seconds later a text appears.
Don’t be back before seven.
She always has to have the last word. I slip my phone into the pocket of my dressing gown and go back to the restaurant.
‘Shall we go to the treatment area before we go for a walk, Mum, and see if there are any appointments left? How about a head massage or a facial?’
Mum frowns. ‘Isn’t it a bit pricey?’
‘My treat,’ I say, thinking of my dwindling savings.
Chapter 12
The Previous February | Sarah
I push open the heavy door of the local kebab shop and wrinkle my nose at the smell of grease. I’ll stink if I work here. Still, I can’t afford to be choosy. I’m struggling to find anything that pays weekly.
‘Can I speak to the owner or manager?’
‘That’s me.’ An overweight man whose hair has migrated from his head to his chest and arms is half-heartedly wiping the counter.
‘I’ve come about the job,’ I nod back at the card in the window.
He bends to drag the unrinsed cloth around the inside of the display unit, flicking away a dead fly as he does so. I smother a grimace. He looks me up and down, sees my expression, then says, ‘It’s taken.’
‘Can I work a few hours as well? I could cl
ean that for you right now – and the rest of the place.’ I look around at the dusty floor, filthy grill and greasy tiles to emphasise my point. ‘I can cook too.’
‘I don’t need two people,’ he says.
‘I’ll work for cash. You won’t even have to put me through the books.’
He stops cleaning and straightens for a moment, then bends forward and carries on. ‘The new girl starts next Monday. I forgot to take the advert down.’
‘I’ll accept less than the minimum wage and I’ll work hard.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He stands upright and lifts his hands in the air, but now he’s smiling as though he won the negotiation. ‘You win. I need some time off. Come back tomorrow at two. I’ll show you what to do. It may only be for a few days, though.’
My step is lighter as I enter the library and breathe in the smell of books. I’ve offered to volunteer for a couple of hours two afternoons a week and today’s my first day. I’m looking forward to an oasis of peace and calm, away from Mum’s television blaring daytime rubbish and the neighbour’s dog barking, and I’m keen to indulge my love of books.
The first task the librarian sets me is to put away all the returns, a job I enjoy as it’s fascinating to see what people have chosen to read. I wheel the trolley to the next aisle and stop abruptly. The man with dark, curly hair and large nose is staring at me. It’s too awkward to turn the trolley and avoid him, so I give him a brief smile then bend to check the book numbers.
‘Sarah, isn’t it?’
‘I… Er, yes.’ My stomach tenses. Who the hell is he? He can’t be a policeman because they’d use my surname if they’d tracked me down.
‘I’m Mark Hudson. Remember?’
I stare at him blankly.
‘We were at school together. I was in the year above you, so you probably don’t recognise me.’
