‘You met him?’
‘Many times. He’d been with Geoffrey for several years. Of course everyone always warned Geoffrey that he was playing with fire by employing a former client, but he believed strongly that if he wasn’t prepared to offer the man a chance, then why should anyone else?’
‘He sounds like a man with integrity.’
‘Yes, he was.’ Her eyes shone with passion. ‘Oh, he had his flaws of course, as we all do, but I think you can be proud of him.’
‘I’m sorry?’ For several seconds Mariner lost his emotional equilibrium.
She smiled. ‘You may be a police officer, but that’s not your interest in my son, is it? I know who you are. I’ve only got to look at you. You’re my grandson, aren’t you? Now, would you join me in a glass of sherry?’
Chapter Eleven
‘When did you find out about me?’ Mariner asked, having poured two glasses from a cut-glass decanter. He took a mouthful, trying not to grimace at the cloying taste of one of his least favourite drinks. He’d been tempted to ask about alternatives, but doubted that Eleanor Ryland would recognise real ale if it came out of a hole in the ground. The dog, after his period of excitement, had flopped onto the Chinese rug at their feet.
‘Oh, I’ve known about you right from the beginning, before you were born. Doing the right thing by your mother was something Geoffrey agonised about for weeks, years even, and yes, he confided in me.’
‘So he did consider making a go of it with my mother?’
‘Of course! He wanted to marry her and do what he felt was his duty. It was your mother, along with Charles, my husband, who between them managed to talk him out of it.’
‘Charles disapproved?’
‘It wasn’t so much that. It was more that he had plans for Geoffrey. Charles was a frustrated politician himself, though he never pursued his ambition further than the local council, and when Geoffrey expressed an interest early on he seized on it. He wanted Geoffrey to have the best possible chance of success, and having to support a wife and child so young would not have helped.’
‘He married six years later.’
‘Those years made all the difference. I know that’s probably hard for you to believe, and I’ll understand if you choose not to — after all, there’s absolutely no reason why you should trust the somewhat biased opinion of a stranger — but that was really the way it was. Your mother was a remarkable young woman and wholly unselfish. She knew that Geoffrey had a promising career ahead of him. Geoffrey was nineteen and still at university when you were conceived and, while he and your mother had a certain fondness for one another, neither pretended to be in love. I hope that in time you can come to that as the truth.’
What she said rang true with everything Mariner had read. ‘There were some letters, from my mother to Mr Ryland,’ he said. ‘They convey more or less the same thing. And it makes sense of what I know. I never remember Rose being bitter about our situation. I suppose I always thought that she’d had time to get used to it, but if she had been harbouring resentment I’m sure it would have emerged somehow.’
‘Your mother was a pragmatist, and independent, ahead of her time.’
‘You said “was,” that means you must know that she died last year.’
‘Geoffrey told me. He saw the announcement in the Times.’
So he had seen it. ‘I put it there,’ said Mariner. ‘I hoped he might show up.’
‘He almost did. He was devastated by the news. But he and Diana were having problems. Diana was unwell again; the past coming back to haunt them in other ways, so he didn’t feel that he could. Did your mother marry?’
‘No. She stayed single.’
‘These days, of course, no one would bat an eyelid at your situation, but it must have been hard for both of you.’
Sympathy wasn’t the kind of reaction Mariner had been expecting. ‘It’s had its moments,’ he said. ‘It got more difficult as I got older. Our relationship became very intense and I left home as soon as possible because I couldn’t stand it anymore. There were a lot of years when my mother and I weren’t close.’ Mariner rarely spoke about any of this to anyone. For it to surface so easily now surprised him.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Eleanor Ryland said. She paused. ‘I know you must have a poor opinion of your father, but it would be a mistake to think that Geoffrey didn’t care for you or think about you,’ she said. ‘The lack of contact was as much your mother’s decision as his. He used to visit you occasionally when you were young, but when he married Diana—’
Mariner nodded. ‘One of Rose’s letters to him is quite explicit. Diana didn’t know about me?’
‘No. Geoffrey could never have told her, she wouldn’t have coped. But your mother kept him informed for years and sent him pictures. He would bring them to show them to me.’ Her eyes filled up. ‘I would have so much liked to have seen you before, my only grandchild. But the decisions had been made and we had to be strong.’
The good old British stiff upper lip, thought Mariner, realising for the first time that he and Rose weren’t the only ones to have missed out for all those years.
‘The photographs were what gave it away,’ Mariner said. ‘DI Flynn came across them, along with some of my mother’s letters and cuttings. Fortunately we’re old friends, so for the time being the matter has stayed between us.’
‘Strangely enough Geoffrey spoke about you only recently,’ she said. ‘It was the first time since your mother’s death. He was writing his memoirs again, which always stirred up long forgotten feelings. It crossed my mind that he might be planning to contact you.’
‘When was this?’
‘A few weeks before Christmas.’
‘And when was the last time you saw Mr Ryland?’ Mariner was still a long way off thinking of Ryland as bearing any relation to him.
‘Two weeks before he died.’
‘And how did he seem?’
She smiled. ‘Once a detective always a detective, eh?’
‘It’s a tough habit to break,’ Mariner admitted. ‘Was anything troubling him?’
‘I keep thinking about that, of course. Diana hadn’t been well. She was always rather vulnerable emotionally. She had one of those terrible depressive illnesses that comes and goes, and had been going through a bad patch again. And you would know more than most what a politically sensitive field Geoffrey worked in. He was always under pressure at work.’
‘In what way?’
‘He knew that creating the Commission was politically the right thing to do, but once he became the chair, it was impossible to keep everyone happy. The great British public wants to see justice served and overturning wrongful convictions is popular with the people, but not with the Crown Prosecution Service, nor, would I imagine, with you and your colleagues.’
‘Nobody wants to see innocent people convicted.’
‘It doesn’t make your job any easier though, does it? Geoffrey was always aware of that tension.’
She was right. Every time a high-profile miscarriage was exposed, public confidence in the whole judicial system was undermined.
‘Was there anyone in particular he’d upset recently?’ Mariner asked.
‘That I don’t know. He never went into detail. I expect he thought I wouldn’t understand.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘These are the ravings of a decrepit old woman. You shouldn’t take much notice of me.’
‘Did you talk to the police about it?’
‘There was nothing specific to tell.’ It was too vague. She was right about that.
* * *
Mariner heard the front door slam and moments later a light knock preceded a young woman with a cloud of curly hair. ‘Would you like some tea, Mrs Ryland?’ she asked, cheerfully, taking in Mariner’s presence.
‘That would be lovely, Janet.’ As Janet disappeared, Eleanor turned back to Mariner. ‘She comes in to cook for me every evening, except for the weekends when she leaves something ready prepared.’
Minutes later Janet returned with tea and pastries on a tray, which she placed on the table nearest to Eleanor. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’ Eleanor asked Mariner. ‘It will be no trouble and I’d like to get to know my only grandson better. After all, we have so many years to make up for, don’t we? It wouldn’t be any trouble would it, Janet?’
‘Not at all, Mrs Ryland. It’ll make a nice change to feed someone with a healthy appetite.’ With a parting smile, she closed the door behind her.
‘Janet thinks I don’t eat enough, but it’s only old age. Can you stay?’
‘That would be very nice, thank you.’ Mariner reached over and took the bone china cup from her. ‘You’re here on your own the rest of the time, then?’
‘Well, besides Janet, I have Ralph who does the garden for me and once a week Ellie comes to do some cleaning, so I don’t do too badly for company. And at the moment I have Nelson, too.’ The dog lifted an ear at the mention of his name. ‘Geoffrey used to say I was vulnerable out here in the wilds. But he worried too much.’
‘I could have a look round before I go,’ said Mariner. ‘There might be some quite simple things that we could do to make sure that you’re safe.’
‘Well, if you think it would help matters.’
For dinner Mariner had expected something traditional — rack of lamb or roast beef — so while they sat in the dining room in high-backed chairs, the vegetarian moussaka with couscous came as quite a surprise.
‘I don’t eat out very often so Janet likes to ring the changes. I much prefer food cooked at home. Your father wasn’t a great fan of restaurants either, especially those awful new self-service ones.’
Mariner hadn’t heard them called that for a while. ‘We have something in common then,’ he said. ‘What else didn’t he like?’
‘Liver,’ she chuckled, continuing the culinary theme. ‘Oh, and avocados. Diana was quite a conventional sort and he got to be quite particular. You don’t wear a ring. Are you married, with a family?’
‘No.’ Mariner hesitated. ‘But my partner Anna and I are thinking about it.’ That much was true, after all.
‘How wonderful! A great grandchild.’
‘Geoffrey and Diana didn’t have children?’ Mariner hazarded, aware that he might be on sensitive ground.
‘Only Nelson and his predecessors.’ At the sound of his name, the dog who had been patiently waiting beside Mariner, staring at the floor and hoping for scraps, immediately scurried round to Eleanor’s side. ‘I’m taking care of him for the moment but he’s really too much for me. I can’t give him the exercise he needs. He’ll have to be re-homed eventually but I couldn’t bring myself to do it just yet. It was one of the cruellest ironies that Geoffrey and Diana were unable to have children, and was something that affected Diana badly her whole life. I think children might have helped her to be less self-absorbed, providing more of a balance in her life. These days, of course, they could have had some kind of treatment, I suppose, but at the time there was nothing that could be done. You must bring Anna to see me.’
‘She’s staying with friends in Hereford at the moment, but I will. She’d like that too.’
After the meal Janet brought them coffee. ‘I’ll just tidy up the kitchen and then I’ll be off, Mrs Ryland.’
‘Thank you, Janet. Lovely dinner again,’ Eleanor said. ‘Now she’ll go on to her job cooking at the pub,’ she told Mariner when Janet had gone. ‘I don’t know where she gets the energy.’
‘I should go too,’ said Mariner. ‘You look tired.’
‘One of the frustrations of advancing years,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll be out like a light and then awake again at four in the morning.’
‘I was going to check your security.’
‘Well, if you really think it’s necessary.’
‘It wouldn’t do any harm. Shall I?’
‘Yes, you carry on. I’ll finish my coffee.’
It didn’t take Mariner long to check the front and back doors and the ground-floor windows. The frames were old and some of the catches flimsy.
‘Is there anything I can help with?’ Janet came up behind him as he was testing a window. She looked a little less friendly now.
‘I’m just checking how secure the place is,’ said Mariner. ‘I’m a policeman.’ He wasn’t sure how much else Janet had overheard but he’d leave it Eleanor to tell her the rest.
‘Right.’
But he had the impression that Janet’s suspicion hadn’t been alleviated.
‘Have you ever considered having a burglar alarm?’ Mariner asked Eleanor as he was leaving.
She was dismissive. ‘From time to time I get those people round here trying to sell them, but really it’s hardly necessary. There’s nothing much to take that’s worth anything.’
Thieving wasn’t always what intruders had in mind, Mariner thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t want to frighten her.
‘I do hope you’ll come back to see me again, soon.’
‘Of course. I’ll bring Anna.’
‘I look forward to that.’ She put out her bony arms and hugged him.
* * *
Freezing fog on the motorway made driving north again slow and hazardous. From habit Mariner went back to his place where, despite the hour he found Bill Dyson unloading his car. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mariner said. ‘I didn’t know you were moving in today. I’ll try not to get in the way.’
‘No, it’s fine. You can give me a hand if you like.’ Though there wasn’t much to take upstairs.
‘How’s business?’ Mariner asked, conversationally.
Dyson’s mind was elsewhere. ‘Eh? Oh, coming on slowly. You Midlanders are uncommonly suspicious of folk from the north, and there’s plenty of competition. I may decide it’s not worth it after all.’
‘Not before the six-month lease is up, I hope.’
Dyson smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get your pound of flesh. In fact I really like this place. Even if it doesn’t work out here, should you ever think of selling—’
‘It might happen yet.’ Suddenly it appeared to be part of Anna’s long-term plan. ‘Actually I might have a customer for you.’
‘Really?’
‘I just may need to work on her a bit more. She’s an elderly lady who might need a little gentle persuasion.’
‘I know the type.’ Dyson smiled. ‘Let me know when she’s ready. ‘Oh, and thanks for those drawings you left out. They look interesting.’
‘No problem.’
His possessions moved, Dyson retreated to the upstairs rooms and Mariner heard him moving around rearranging things. It was after ten but he phoned Anna’s mobile to check that she was okay. It was immediately cut off. He tried again but the same thing happened, then he remembered that this had happened before. Becky and Mark lived in a low-lying area surrounded by hills and very often couldn’t get a signal. He risked ringing the landline hoping that he wouldn’t wake the whole household, but he needn’t have worried. The backing track of banging, clattering and wailing would have been at home on the Somme.
‘It’s Megan playing,’ Anna said cheerfully.
‘She’s still awake?’
‘She’s got teeth coming through so she can’t sleep. Becky’s a bit low so I’ve sent her and Mark off to the pub while I babysit. You should see Megan now, she’s a little darling. She’s sitting up all on her own. How clever is that?’
‘It’s great.’ Mariner hoped she couldn’t detect his lack of enthusiasm.
‘And it’s so lovely out here; green and peaceful. I might start looking at property prices, just to get an idea.’ Mariner’s stomach clenched involuntarily. ‘So what have you been up to?’
‘Oh, nothing very exciting,’ said Mariner. ‘Trying to catch up on work, all that kind of thing—’
There was a screech in the background. ‘Look, I’d better go,’ Anna said.
‘Shall I call you tomorrow?’
‘That’d be great.’
/>
‘Talk to you soon, then.’
‘Bye.’
When he’d hung up the phone Mariner sat at the computer in the lounge and logged onto the internet. The article about O’Connor’s release had mentioned the street he lived in at the time. Mariner hoped he hadn’t moved in the interim. He managed to get a good deal on a London hotel, but paid almost as much for his train ticket down there. Still easier than the prospect of paying congestion charges and finding a parking spot though. Printing off the details he closed down the computer. Then he climbed the two flights of stairs and knocked Dyson’s door. It was shut but Mariner could still hear movement and moments later Dyson appeared.
‘I’m going to grab a pint down the way at the Boatman before closing time. Fancy joining me?’ Mariner asked.
‘Ah, I’d like to but I’ve got a presentation to prepare for and an early start. Some other time?’
‘Sure.’
Chapter Twelve
On the train to Euston the following morning Mariner was aware of a strange internal exhilaration and it occurred to him that for the first time in a long while he had absolute freedom, with no one keeping tabs on him. It was a sensation reminiscent of the day he’d boarded the train to Birmingham at the age of seventeen, leaving home for the first time. He hadn’t often travelled by train since then, but it always evoked a kind of excitement, along with a deeper feeling of absolute contentment, as if this was really his natural state; independent and answerable to no one. If that was so, then what did it say for Anna and their plans for the future?
Strictly speaking he shouldn’t have been doing this at all, but this was the first time for several weeks that he’d felt any kind of buzz and he realised it was because he was doing what he liked best; following his nose. After weeks of apathy he’d at last found something that engaged him.
By the time the train pulled out there were barely any spare places, but his early start had secured him a window seat with a clear view, though his legs would suffer. The coach was in the euphemistically named standard class and was supposedly a quiet carriage. In theory only. He’d bought the current edition of The Great Outdoors from the station bookshop, but it was impossible to concentrate on the written word when the air was so frequently pierced by the trilling of mobile phones.
Killer Lies (Reissue) Page 9
