‘But, like I said, I was really down,’ Jacqui continued, ‘so I went on about why the public appeal was going to be a waste of time, how no one was ever going to come forward, not unless they were crazy or wanted to get themselves targeted. And Lizzie said, “But there has to be information out there.” And I said, yeah, but we know where that is and we’re never going to get anything from them, meaning the police. And she said, “I mean in the community.” So I said, “So what’s going to make someone come forward now?” and that sort of stuff. And then she said’ – Jacqui paused while she got it right – ‘then she said, “Listen, there’s just a chance I might have found some information. And when I say just a chance, that’s what I mean, Jacqui. Just a chance.” Well, of course I asked her what she meant, I asked her what it was, this information, a witness or some other kind of evidence, but she wouldn’t tell me. She kept saying, “It’s only a small chance,” and she’d let me know one way or the other when she had news. I thought maybe she’d just said it to keep me going. You know? But then I realised she’d never have done anything like that – said something for the sake of it. No, she must have found something, and it had to be a witness, there was nothing else it could be. It had to be someone who’d seen Denzel exactly where he said he was that evening, out Clifton way, trying to find that girl’s address.’
With the air of having reached the end of her story, she gazed intently at Hugh. Not sure what was expected of him, Hugh glanced across at John.
John said, ‘I think Jacqui wants to know if Lizzie said anything to you about this information, Hugh. What it might be.’
‘No, she said nothing to me. No . . .’
‘She didn’t talk about the campaign?’ Jacqui asked.
‘Yes. Often. But she only gave me the bare outlines.’
‘She didn’t say anything about . . . I don’t know . . . new developments? Anything like that?’
‘No.’
‘Nothing about what she was doing? Who she was going to visit?’
Hugh thought of Lizzie’s phone call from the noisy bar. ‘No.’
Jacqui cast around desperately. ‘There was no one else she could have told?’
‘Outside work? No.’
Jacqui gave a sharp sigh of disappointment and looked helplessly towards John.
In the short pause that followed, snatches of his last evening with Lizzie came back to Hugh, her talk of the Free Denzel Lewis campaign, of going to see the police about the witness protection scheme, but he saw no point in mentioning that now, when it would only raise artificial hopes.
Jacqui turned back to him. ‘Can I ask you a favour, Mr Gwynne?’ she said gravely. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask at a time like this. I know you and your family have enough on your plate at the moment. I wouldn’t trouble you, I really wouldn’t, if it wasn’t so important. But if there was any chance you could take a look through Lizzie’s work stuff, her Filofax, her mobile phone, see if there’s anything there, anything at all, that might give us some lead as to what she was talking about . . . well, we’d be so very very grateful.’
Hugh said, ‘That’s not going to be possible, I’m afraid.’
‘Just some idea of who she went to see, who she phoned. This could be our only chance to find out, Mr Gwynne. Our one and only chance.’
‘No, you see, my wife’s handbag was burnt in the fire.’
‘Oh,’ Jacqui said, taken aback. ‘And there was nothing left?’
‘Nothing like that, no.’
Jacqui sighed again. ‘I see.’
‘What about her mobile?’ John suggested mildly. ‘Was it pre-pay or billed?’
‘Yes,’ Jacqui declared, flinging him a look of gratitude. ‘Did she get bills with the numbers itemised?’
‘Yes, her bill was itemised,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘When it comes in I could have a look at it, see if there are any numbers that might be relevant.’
‘And what about the bill for last month?’ Jacqui ventured.
‘I’ve no idea if it got burnt. Everything’s in a terrible mess.’
‘Of course,’ Jacqui said, deflated again.
There was a dejected pause which prompted Hugh to say, ‘Look, if it’s any consolation I’m sure my wife would have told me if she’d come across anything as important as a witness. We talked about the campaign on our last evening together. I’m sure she would have said something.’
Jacqui’s gaze told him it was no consolation at all.
After another pause John said, ‘Perhaps at some future date, Hugh, if anything should come to light you will let us know?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Hugh stood up, and the others followed.
Jacqui gave him a card with a phone number. ‘Thank you in advance for any help you can give.’
‘Not at all.’
He was almost at the door when she called after him.
‘One last thing.’ She came up and fixed him with her fierce gaze. ‘There are some people who find it easier to believe Denzel’s guilty, that he’s just making it up about being framed to get out of prison. But they’re the people who come with preconceived ideas, a head full of stereotypes, a fixed mindset. Lizzie wasn’t like that. She came with an open mind, no preconceived ideas. She just listened. And when she got to know the facts she realised everything we were telling her was true, that the case against Denzel never added up. She recognised the truth when she saw it, and then she did everything she could to see justice done.’ Jacqui paused, as if to add weight to these last words, before ending quietly, ‘Just thought you’d like to know.’
As John walked Hugh to the church door he bent his head and murmured urgently, ‘You come by car, Hugh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could I ask you to wait there a while, till Jacqui’s gone? I would very much value a word in private.’
‘Yes . . . of course,’ Hugh said, because it seemed unreasonable to refuse.
Hugh had been sitting in the car for less than a minute when he saw Jacqui and the reverend appear at the church door, exchange a few words, and Jacqui walk quickly away into the estate.
‘Thank you for this,’ the reverend said as Hugh came back into the church. Evidently it wasn’t to be a quick word because instead of saying what he wanted to say there and then John led the way back to the vestry. When the door was closed and they had sat down again, he said, ‘The reason I asked you to return is because I am facing a dilemma and I believe you are the one person who can help me towards an answer.’
For a wild moment Hugh wondered if they were going to talk about God or the law, or some juxtaposition of both.
‘My dilemma,’ John continued in a voice so deep and soft that it seemed to come out of the ground, ‘is that Lizzie chose to impart some information to me on the understanding that it should remain strictly confidential between us. In normal circumstances it would of course remain so. But with her passing . . . well, am I to keep my vow or consider myself released from it? I have thought long and hard about this, Hugh, and on reflection I have decided that I must be guided by what Lizzie would have wanted. And I believe she would have wanted me to use the information in the best way possible.’
‘I’m sure that’s right,’ Hugh said. ‘I think you should go right ahead and do whatever you feel is best.’
‘I’m relieved to hear you say that, Hugh. Most relieved.’
Hugh waited, wondering if this was the end of it.
‘But maybe you’re ahead of me, Hugh?’ John asked hopefully, his eyes amplified by the lenses of his spectacles. ‘Maybe you can guess what I’m talking about here?’
‘No. Go on.’
‘What she told me was—’ John lifted his head to the sudden babble and whoop of high-pitched young voices outside the heavily barred window. As they began to fade, he resumed in the same low voice. ‘What she told me was that she had found a witness who could prove Denzel’s innocence. She’d gone and met up with him, talked to him personally, but he wasn’t prepared to speak out until
he got protection, and she was having a hard time knowing where to go for protection.’ Something in Hugh’s face made John stop and ask, ‘She said nothing to you?’
‘No,’ said Hugh, trying to contain his hurt. ‘No . . . only in general terms.’
‘She said she’d been to the police to ask what would happen if a witness was to come forward. She was careful not to say anything too definite, she said, not till the witness could be guaranteed protection. Same reason she didn’t want me saying anything to anyone, not even the Lewis family. She didn’t want their hopes getting raised. Most of all she didn’t want talk on the estate – talk that would get the witness running scared.’
‘She actually met this witness, you say?’ Hugh asked quietly, needing to hear it again.
‘That’s right.’
The hurt was like a small torment, eating away at him. ‘I see. I didn’t—’ But he gestured the thought away. ‘Go on.’
‘The reason she told me all this was by way of asking if I would take this witness into my home if anything should happen, if word got out and he began to run scared. I agreed. My wife and I, we often lay an extra place at our table. But I said to Lizzie I wasn’t sure our home was the best place.’ He gestured over his shoulder. ‘We live just down the road here. People come knocking on our door all times of the day and night. It wasn’t going to be a safe place. You understand me? It wasn’t as if people weren’t going to find out someone was there. But Lizzie, she said it would only be in an emergency, if there was no other place for him to go.’
Hugh gazed blindly at the wall of blue surplices. Why didn’t you tell me? he demanded of Lizzie. How could you sit across the table and talk about the campaign and say nothing? How could you look me in the eye?
‘So,’ said John with the air of reaching the end of his story, ‘as soon as Jacqui came and said she was going to ask for your help, I thought of what Lizzie would want me to do . . .’ He spread a massive hand.
‘You did the right thing.’
‘I didn’t feel it was right to tell Jacqui. You understand me?’
Hugh nodded, his mind still racing through fragments of conversations with Lizzie. After a while he became aware of John gazing at him expectantly. ‘Yes . . . I understand.’
‘I appreciate that you already have a heavy burden to carry, Hugh. One of the heaviest burdens a man can bear. I know this will do nothing to alleviate it. But if there’s anything you can do to help. Anything at all.’
Driving back, overcome by sudden exhaustion, Hugh played loud music and opened the windows to stave off the threat of sleep. I’ll do what I can for them, Lizzie, he decided emotionally, because it’s what you would want me to do. But not straight away. I have you to worry about first. I have to find out how you died, to bury you, to put you to rest, body and soul. To work out how to live life without you.
He made the turn for Oakhill with minimal hesitation. How quickly one adjusts, he thought; soon the turn would become automatic. There were two extra cars outside the house. One was Pat Edgecomb’s, the other he wasn’t sure about.
Lou met him in the hall. He put on a pantomime of weariness, a slumping of his shoulders, a blowing out of his lips, as he went to hug her. ‘Oh, Lou, I’m so glad to be back. What a day. How’ve you been? And Charlie?’
‘All right, Dad.’ Her tone told him nothing. ‘Pat Edgecomb’s here. And the vicar.’
‘The vicar? Oh . . .’
‘About the service.’
The new vicar was female with a masculine haircut, a stern manner and no discernible sense of humour. ‘You’ll help me talk to her, won’t you?’ he said, in momentary panic. ‘And Charlie too, of course.’
‘We’ll need to be finished by seven thirty. I’ve ordered an Indian and Mr Ravikumar’s delivering it specially.’
And after the takeaway, Hugh thought, will come the conversation Lou had made such a point of arranging when she brought his sandwich to Meadowcroft.
Pat Edgecomb and the vicar were in the living room. As he came in, he heard the vicar say, ‘Of course when the parents are working all hours, the children never sit down to a decent meal . . .’
‘Hello, Hugh.’ Pat smiled, getting to her feet.
‘Mr Gwynne,’ the vicar said in a voice so grave she might already be conducting the funeral.
Pat only wanted two minutes, so they went into the hall.
‘I just dropped by to make sure there was nothing more I could do,’ she said in her calm, businesslike way. ‘I understand from the coroner’s office that they’re ready to issue the interim death certificate.’
‘They left a message, yes.’
‘And the other arrangements – they’re all in hand? You don’t need any help there?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’
‘So there’s nothing else I can do at the moment?’
‘You know I went to see Steadman yesterday?’
‘Yes, he told me.’
‘And why?’
‘Yes. I only wish we could have found more answers for you, Hugh. I only wish we could have put your mind at rest as to the cause of the fire. But perhaps the insurance investigators will be able to shed more light. Was it today they came?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did they get on?’
‘Oh . . . All right, I think.’
‘Did they say anything about possible causes?’
‘Nothing in particular, no.’
‘But they’ve taken samples away for analysis, that sort of thing, have they?’
Hugh gave a vague shrug. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘If it’s a detailed investigation I expect that’s what they’ve done. Were they on site long?’
Hugh made a show of searching his memory. ‘An hour or so.’
Pat’s unassuming gaze held his. ‘They sent a team, did they?’
‘Not a team exactly, no.’
She waited expectantly for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she said, ‘But they’ll be letting you know their findings in due course?’
‘Hopefully.’
‘Well, whatever the outcome I hope it gives you the answers you want.’
They moved towards the door.
‘Shall I wait to hear from you then?’ Pat asked as she lifted her jacket off the hook. ‘I’ll be glad to come any time, any time at all. And of course I’m always on the end of the phone.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Well . . .’ Pat held out her hand. ‘Good luck. And don’t forget – if there’s anything I can do . . .’
On the doorstep Hugh said, ‘Oh, yes – I was trying to remember the name of your chief inspector. What is it . . . ?’ He circled a hand, as if to fire his memory.
‘You mean, in CID?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘It’s DCI Mitchell.’
Hugh shook his head in puzzlement. ‘No, that’s not it. Perhaps I meant detective superintendent?’
She mentioned another name he didn’t recognise.
Hugh said mildly, ‘Why did I think it was Montgomery?’
‘Oh, there’s a DCI Montgomery all right. But he’s based at Trinity Road.’
‘Nothing to do with you then?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, I remember now . . .’ Hugh said. ‘Yes, of course . . . it related to something else altogether.’
The three of them sat down to lamb rogan josh and chicken jalfrezi, with pilau rice, and onion bhajis, which Mr Ravikumar had brought up from the village in his ageing Cortina and delivered with a speech of condolence and a hand pressed against his heart. Indian food had always been a favourite of Hugh’s, preferably washed down with a cold beer, but after his performance with the wine last night he was glad there was no alcohol in the house.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘what did you think of the vicar?’
Lou glanced at Charlie before answering, ‘A bit uninspiring.’
‘Charlie?’
Charlie made a face. ‘I dunno. I mean, a vicar’
s a vicar . . .’
‘Well, forgetting the vicar bit, what did you think of her as a person?’
Charlie took his time loading his fork. ‘Sort of creepy.’
‘That’s what I thought too,’ said Hugh.
‘Mum wasn’t keen on her,’ said Lou.
‘No, Mum didn’t take to her at all. So here’s an idea – how about us having the pastor from the Carstairs Estate to do the service instead? The Reverend John Emmanuel? He worked with Mum quite a bit. They were friends.’
‘They did the Denzel Lewis campaign together,’ Lou said.
‘He’s a great communicator, and because he knew Mum he’d be able to give a proper eulogy.’
‘Sounds good,’ Lou said. ‘Charlie?’
‘Mmm.’
She nudged him into a fuller response.
Looking up from his food Charlie said more positively, ‘Yeah. Has to be an improvement.’
‘Shall I go ahead and ask him then?’ Hugh said.
Lou nodded.
‘I’m sure he’ll agree. He was very fond of Mum. He said some really nice things about her.’
‘What was the important thing he wanted to discuss?’ Lou asked.
‘Oh . . . nothing,’ Hugh said, with an obscure sense of having been found out.
They talked about the service, the atmosphere it should have, not too dismal, with a strong element of celebration, and all the time he was aware of Lou waiting for them to finish eating so she could launch the conversation she had been so anxious to set up.
Finally Lou took a sip of water and, setting her glass down, said with an air of rehearsal, ‘Dad, Charlie and I want to ask you something.’
‘Of course, sweetheart.’
Charlie, who was cleaning the last food off his plate, paused and, with a sideways glance at Lou, took his cue and put his fork down, as if to provide a united front.
‘We know you’ve been doing what you think is best, trying to protect us and all that. But we need to know what’s going on. And, well . . . we’d like to hear it from you, not from other people.’
Hugh said, ‘Why? What’ve people been saying?’
‘Oh . . . just things.’
‘Like what?’
Lou seemed thrown, as if she hadn’t foreseen the conversation taking off at quite such a tangent. ‘Like . . . well . . .’
Unforgotten Page 23
