Cruel Tide

by Ruth Sutton

  ‘It means we’re getting in each other’s way. That’s the politest way to describe her meddling in my case.’ Sam warmed to the theme. ‘I suspect like many others of her ilk she’s just after the story, whatever it takes, and I don’t like it.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Elspeth. ‘Well she’s still a friend of mine, and I still intend to invite her for supper one day soon, so you might have to arrange to be elsewhere.’

  ‘I might have to do that,’ he said. “No fear, no favours”, that’s the way it should be. Police, press, criminals, we need to keep a good distance from each other. It’s all too chummy round here.’

  ‘Has anyone ever said you sound a bit sanctimonious?’

  ‘They have indeed, and that wasn’t the word they used. But if it means I should go out while Miss Pharaoh comes to supper, that’s maybe how we have to play it. Straight. If I need to talk to her, I’ll do it somewhere else.’

  ‘She’s all right, you know. I think she’s pretty straight too, as newspaper people go.’

  ‘That’s not saying much,’ he said.

  Elspeth stretched out her hand to touch his arm. ‘And not all women are Christine.’

  He pulled away. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just forget it.’

  CHAPTER 8

  Whatever difficulties might lie ahead, the Sunday morning train ride to St Bees was as enjoyable as ever, once they’d pulled away from Barrow itself. Judith had a book to read and her notebook, but she didn’t look at either of them, preferring to watch as the familiar beauty rolled past the window, marred only by the state of the window itself and its veneer of smuts and salt. For a while the best view was across the threaded channels of Duddon Sands. After Millom the line rounded the most northerly headland of Morecambe Bay and from then on the sea to the west was grey and wild, stretching from the railway to the horizon. For a short while the line skirted the nuclear plant at Sellafield, where steel and brick and barbed wire replaced the natural colours of sea and sand and stone. It felt like another planet, but a few minutes brought a return to the sea and the beach houses down on the shore. The tide was coming in. A curlew pushed its long curved beak into wet sand.

  On the station platform at St Bees Judith swung her bag over her shoulder and waited until the train had pulled away and the traffic held up by the level crossing had dispersed. She breathed in deeply, savouring the smell of the sea, and set off to walk the few hundred yards to her parents’ house. The front door was open and she walked in as quietly as she could, dropping her bag at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘That you Jude?’ came a young man’s voice from the front room. ‘I’m in here.’

  She looked round the door of the front room. Vince was sitting on an easy chair by the window. ‘I sat here to see if I could make out any change in the light when someone came up the path,’ he said, turning towards her. ‘And I could. I could see there was someone there, but I wouldn’t have known it was you. I heard the door of course, and your bag hitting the floor. That’s the giveaway. Who else puts a bag just there when they come in?’

  ‘OK, smart arse,’ said Judith. ‘This is me giving you a hug.’ She leaned down and put her arms round her brother, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  ‘Steady on,’ said Vince. ‘People will talk.’

  ‘Nothing new there,’ said Judith. ‘Not much else to do in St Bees on a Sunday morning.’

  ‘Not true. Mam’s gone to the Abbey, Dad’s out with the dog. The place is buzzing.’

  ‘The Abbey? What happened to Mum’s obsession with Our Lady and the Holy Father and all that?’

  ‘I think she’s been seduced by the all the history and mystery of the place, but she’d never admit it of course. Keeps going to the Catholic church as well, and confession, all the same old things.’

  ‘So how have you been?’ Judith asked. The question had to be asked, even if the answer was always the same.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Vince. ‘Bit bored today but college is good. The bus picks me up and brings me home. Door to door service.’

  ‘When will the others be back?’ she asked.

  ‘Dad any minute I should think. He just went down to the beach with Sandy. What time is it?’

  ‘Just gone eleven.’

  ‘So Mum will be back in about an hour, unless she stays for coffee. I think that makes her feel more guilty than actually going to the service. Fraternising with the opposition. What would Father Price say?’

  ‘Father Price, is he still around?’

  ‘Still there, ministering to the faithful of Kells in that massive new church,’ said Vince smiling. ‘And Granny Violet still thinks he walks on water. Nothing changes. What about you Jude, keeping busy in your unladylike job?’

  ‘Mum still calls it that?’

  ‘Most of the time she pulls a face when it’s mentioned, or sniffs, like she does.’

  ‘Vince,’ Judith asked, ‘have you heard anything about a boy found in quicksand between Barrow and Ulverston?’

  ‘No, was he dead?’

  ‘Yep. Poor kid. Just eleven. That’s the story I’m working on at the moment. For as long as they let me.’

  ‘Quicksand. What a way to die.’ He hesitated, turning his head to the window. ‘I could have been killed that day, you know, but at least it would have been quick.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t make me think about that.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  John Pharaoh appeared beyond the seaward side of the bay window and turned up the path. ‘Footsteps,’ said Vince. ‘It must be Dad. I’ll get the towel for sandy Sandy.’

  John came into the room as Vince left it. ‘I saw the bag,’ John said, giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek. ‘Good to see you, sweetheart. How long?’

  ‘Got here just now and I’ll stay for lunch, if that’s OK. Walk on the beach this afternoon if the rain holds off and then train back about five. Will that be all right with you?’

  ‘Of course it will. We’re always so pleased when you come home, even for just a few hours. Your mother too, no matter what you may think. Now, important business. I’ve left Sandy in the porch. Can you hold him while I towel him down?’

  For a short while Judith had her father and brother to herself, talking, catching up with news, helping with tasks that Maggie had left for them. Judith made no further mention of the Stringer case. It wasn’t far as the crow flew between here and Attercliff but it felt like a long way and she needed the distance. The family here didn’t know much about how she lived, only what she chose to tell them. At one point Vince asked Judith if she had another unfortunate man in tow, which was his way of enquiring about a boyfriend, but Judith didn’t respond and John told Vince to mind his own business.

  When Maggie returned, the emotional climate changed, as always. Maggie’s first comment was about Judith’s appearance, her clothes and her hair. Vince followed the voices as mother and daughter exchanged the usual remarks. It was a well-worn script and he smiled at its familiarity. John patted his daughter’s shoulder, knowing it was best to keep quiet. Sunday lunch provided a merciful interruption; it was as delicious as ever and Judith ate as much as she could within the bounds of politeness. Suddenly Maggie said, ‘It’s been a while since you finished with that nice young man. He was called Paul, wasn’t he? Have you found someone more your own age?’

  Vince choked on a roast potato, giving Judith time to think.

  ‘Paul was very young, that’s why it didn’t last,’ she said carefully. ‘And there’s no one else around just now. We’re very busy at work.’

  ‘Oh, that job of yours,’ said Maggie. ‘I can never understand why you ended up working there. Why did you pay for the training, John? Might have known it would lead to something unsuitable.’

  ‘It was what she wanted,’ said John. ‘She’s always been good at writing, but you can’t make a living out of it, can you? Have to have some more qualifications, like with any job. And you are making a living, aren’t you, Judith?’

  Maggie wo
uld not be deflected. ‘Well, there are other ways to do that. Look at our Frank. He pays Granny Violet a bit for room and board, but not nearly as much as he would living on his own. He’s got his job at Marchon just down the road, and we know that Granny has someone to help her when she needs it. Work, home, family, all linked up. Judith could work with you at the plant. Always room for her here, and she’d save a lot of money too.’

  ‘I’m right here, Mum,’ said Judith. ‘Don’t talk about me as if I wasn’t. And the job’s fine, just a bit busy.’

  Maggie sniffed, and got up from the table, lifting empty plates towards the sink.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said John. ‘Judith, why don’t you and Vince go for a walk while it’s still fine, and we can have the apple pie when you get back, before you go for the train.’

  Maggie sniffed again and turned towards the sink. John gestured to Judith to go, and Vince didn’t take long to follow Judith into the hall and put on his coat. ‘Quick,’ he said, taking his sister’s arm. ‘Let’s get out before you two start again.’

  Once out of the house, Judith calmed down a little. ‘Honestly Vince, it’s no wonder I don’t come home much. In about two minutes she’s managed to insult my choice of clothes and friends and my job, and talk about me as if I’m a half-wit. I’m sure Violet never treated her that way when she was my age.’

  ‘They lived together and worked together, didn’t they?’ said Vince. ‘And Grandad Frank had this thing about families always supporting each other.’

  ‘So what happened to Mum?’ Judith asked. ‘How did she turn into such a snob?’

  ‘Maybe it was because she was a screen lass and had to hide it from everyone. Dad told me once it was ages before she admitted it to him. And then he got that big job and we moved here. Much posher than Kells, or Sandwith where Dad lived. She may feel she has to keep up with everyone else.’

  ‘She could be proud of me,’ said Judith. ‘If she saw me at work, she’d be amazed.’

  ‘So would I,’ said Vince. ‘Tell me more about the story you’re working on, and that poor boy who died.’

  ‘It’s not a proper story yet but I’m sure there’s something in it,’ said Judith. ‘We know he came from a boys’ home down the Barrow coast road. But no one knows what he was doing out on the sands. I think he may have been running away from something, or maybe he just wanted to get home to Morecambe and that seemed like the easiest way to get there.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Vince. ‘What an idiot.’

  ‘He was just a kid,’ said Judith. ‘We don’t know what was going through his head, or what happens in those homes, although the boys there seem OK to me.’

  They were approaching the beach and the wind was picking up.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Vince. ‘Do you remember when Granny Jessie lived in Seascale she had a friend who lived in Maryport who worked with kids in care?’

  ‘Hold on, too many things at once,’ said Judith laughing. ‘Jessie had a friend in Maryport, I remember that, and do you know who he was?’

  ‘Who?’ asked Vince.

  ‘He was the priest who married Mum and Dad, when Father Price wouldn’t do it. Granny Violet thought he was the devil incarnate.’

  ‘I didn’t know that part,’ said Vince.

  ‘Well now you do. His name was Father O’Toole,’ said Judith. ‘So, what about him?’

  ‘I remember Granny Jessie telling us how he helped kids in trouble. She used to say how lucky we were to have two parents who cared for us.’

  Judith squeezed her brother’s arm. ‘I know we are,’ she said. ‘It’s just … well, I can’t do right for her now, can I? Everything I do seems to be wrong.’ She paused, looking across to the sandstone cliffs and the open sea beyond. The tide had turned.

  ‘Tide’s coming in now,’ said Judith. Vince turned his face into the wind. ‘I can see a difference in the light,’ he said. ‘And I can smell it, and feel the wind pick up. I’m sure it makes a different sound when it’s coming in, but that may be just the wind.’

  They stood side by side, Vince’s head raised, sniffing the air. ‘I like the tide here,’ said Judith. ‘You know where you stand. It goes out in a straight line from the beach for six hours or so, and then it turns and comes in again, in a straight line, back towards the beach. It’s predictable and straightforward, not like in Morecambe Bay.’

  ‘I’ve never seen it there,’ said Vince. ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘Well, the bay’s massive and flat and full of river channels that wind around, and the tide follows those channels when it comes in. So it sneaks all over the place, pushing up the channels until it spills over and comes at you from all angles, not from the front like it does here. Not many big waves in the bay either. The water just pushes and surges, and then it picks up speed. Sometimes there’s a wave at the front that doesn’t break but just keeps coming, faster than you can run.’

  Judith thought of a small boy, out on the sands alone. ‘The tide’s unstoppable,’ she said. ‘And cruel. It chases people and drowns them.’

  They turned their backs to the wind and set off towards the house.

  ‘Are you coming back to stay?’ asked Vince. ‘It’d be more fun at home with you here.’

  ‘Not sure about that,’ she said. ‘Me and Mum, well you know how that is. I got on with Granny Jessie better, but she’s gone. I could talk to her and she never judged me.’

  ‘She couldn’t judge anyone really, could she?’ said Vince. ‘First she had our dad and gave him away, and then she lived with Lawrence without getting married. You should hear what our Frank and Granny Violet say about Jessie when they get started. Frank goes on as if he’s the guardian of the family’s morals. Don’t know where that comes from.’

  ‘Probably picked it up from Mum. She and Jessie got on all right at the end, when Jessie was weak, but it was always tricky before that.’ said Judith. ‘Anyway, let’s hope she’s finished having a go at me. If we go back now there’ll be just time to scoff the apple pie and then I’ll go for the train.’ Judith laughed as she remembered something. ‘Do you remember that time at Gosforth Show, when you showed us all up and Mum went mad?’

  Vince laughed too. ‘No one’s ever forgotten that.’

  ‘You were about six and you stood in the middle of the showground and said “Our dad’s a bastard,” in a very loud voice and Mum said, “What did you say?” and you said it again, even louder.’

  ‘I got a slap,’ said Vince, and Judith laughed again.

  Later, on the train, with the sky turning pink over the incoming tide, Judith got out her notebook and scribbled a list of things to do. There were a few things she could trade with Sherlock Sam if necessary. Is this the way it works, she wondered, trading information, sniffing out a story like a pig looking for truffles?

  It was dark when the train got back to Barrow. The wind had subsided and there was fog in the air. It wasn’t far from the station up Abbey Road and through the narrow streets to her flat and she pulled her coat closer to her as she walked. After the usual noise of Saturday night around the station it was quiet with not many people about apart from footsteps behind her. She turned and looked back but saw no one. As she turned the last corner, a movement caught her eye and she saw someone standing at the far end of the street. It was a man in a long coat and big hat, his head bent over a cigarette, but when she looked again he must have walked on and was gone. ‘Get a grip, Judith,’ she said. ‘People are allowed to walk about and light cigarettes in the street.’ She unlocked her front door, climbed the stairs to her newly tidy rooms and forgot about it.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Bill Skelly was in full cry when she got to the newsroom on Monday morning, yelling at young Andrew again. ‘Don’t tell me there aren’t any stories. I could sit in Bruciani’s for half an hour and come back with a dozen ideas, just by keeping my eyes and ears open. You have to get out there, lad, and ferret around. Things won’t just land in your lap.’ He noticed Judith as she sl
ipped into her chair. ‘Ah, Miss Pharaoh. A word with you, please.’

  Here it comes, thought Judith. George is back, I’m off the story and out on my ear.

  She followed him into his little office, which was a bit bigger than Cunningham’s cubbyhole but no more than a space confined by shelves and screens rather than proper walls.

  ‘Thornhill says we have to keep an eye on you for some reason. Make sure you get what you need on this story. God knows why, but he had a word on Friday and that’s what he said.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Strange but true. You’re not, you know, with him, are you?’ He made a rude gesture.

  ‘Please,’ said Judith. ‘Not every woman has to sleep her way to success. I can do this job, and I’m just getting on with it now that I’ve got something to work on other than stolen bicycles and parish council meetings. And it’s going well, thanks for asking. I’m keeping one step ahead of the CID bloke, which pleases me no end. What I need now is sight of the post-mortem report on the kid.’

  Skelly held up his hands. ‘No sign. Morrison’s always losing things, but he’s pretty helpful, most of the time. It cuts both ways of course. We scratch their backs, and all that.’

  ‘Hayward did the PM before he got hauled off to hospital.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘That’s what he told me, in the pub.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ said Skelly. ‘You’re catching on.’

  ‘But since then, nothing.’

  ‘What about that new bloke, the shortarse, who works for Morrison? Wheedle it out of him, use the feminine wiles we hired you for, the ones poor George and I don’t have.’

  Apart from the innuendo about Thornhill, Skelly’s tone was almost respectful and Judith wondered what was going on.

  ‘What’s making you and Thornhill take an interest in me all of a sudden?’ she asked.

  He shrugged again, then looked around. ‘Cherchez la femme,’ he said. ‘That’s French for some woman sticking her oar in. Now get on with it.’