Dead and Buried

by Anne Cassidy

  ‘I’ve got to go. See you guys later.’

  Rose walked towards Henry. She edged around groups of students who were on their way to classes. When she got to him she could barely ask. She didn’t need to. He took her elbow and steered her to the edge of the thoroughfare.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Wendy Clarke? That detective from East London? She’s arrested Joshua.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘In connection with the death of Daisy Lincoln.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why? Because he couldn’t remember anything from that time? Because he was a bit off with her?’

  ‘Rose, it’s more serious than that. She’s had him picked up and brought to the station in Bethnal Green. He’s there now. She’s talking to him about the death of Daisy Lincoln.’

  Rose stared at Henry in disbelief. She started to say something but then his words seemed to fall into place. Joshua was being questioned as a suspect. Wendy Clarke thought that he had something to do with Daisy’s killing.

  ‘Oh no! This is not right,’ she said. ‘Joshua was fourteen. He was not capable of anything like that . . .’

  She pulled her phone out of her bag. There was a missed call from Joshua. She tutted. She’d had it on Silent for the lesson and not turned it on again. Henry was still talking.

  ‘Wendy Clarke rang me this morning about this. She said that her officers had been re-interviewing the family and friends of Daisy, trying to jog their memories, and a couple of them mentioned a local lad who Daisy had said had a crush on her. The newsagent’s who she worked for said it was the boy from your address. He knew because he came into the shop to pay the paper bill and he used to see him mooning after her.’

  Rose remembered Joshua’s story about being in the shop as Daisy was finishing a shift. She was looking in the mirror, using her fingers to do her hair. Then she turned round to Joshua and put her lipstick on in front of him. He’d liked her, Rose knew that. He was fourteen. Maybe he spent more time looking at her, seeking her out, than he knew himself. But Joshua was a soft boy who liked fixing bikes. He would never have hurt anyone.

  ‘Have they stopped looking for the older boyfriend?’

  There were fewer students in the corridor, most having gone to their classes. Rose’s voice sounded loud.

  ‘No. They’re not doubting that that there was someone else involved. Her sister confirmed that. They’re looking at the fact that she was buried in the garden of Joshua’s old house. How would this older boyfriend have had access to someone’s house? And then there’s his father’s tie.’

  And the pendant, thought Rose.

  ‘The way in which she was buried throws up questions as well.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t done in a hurry. They’re thinking it was dug by someone who had all the time in the world. Someone who knew they weren’t going to be discovered. Someone who lived there?’

  ‘This is just mad!’ Rose said.

  ‘The police in Bethnal Green have gone through your parents’ work records and it looks as though they were independently off work for holidays and on work courses that summer. So the house was empty from time to time and Joshua made the point to DI Clarke that he stayed at a friend’s house during those times. So it was possible that one of those times Joshua could have used the empty house to bring a girl back. Perhaps Daisy Lincoln.’

  ‘She was eighteen. He was fourteen.’

  ‘It has been known. Fourteen-year-old boys can father babies,’ Henry said, looking round in an embarrassed way.

  ‘This is insane!’

  ‘I’m not saying I believe it but it’s the reason he’s been pulled in for questioning. DI Clarke is right to pursue it. She suggested that I let you know.’

  Rose tugged at the lace scarf. Was DI Clarke serious about suspecting Joshua? Or was she just punishing the two of them for not being more forthcoming in their interviews? Did she really think that Joshua could have done this? Or was she trying to get him to let something out about his father and Daisy? Whatever it was Rose felt completely exasperated. What else was going to happen to her and Joshua?

  ‘I have to go,’ she said.

  ‘I’m seeing one of the staff here about another matter. Otherwise I’d walk along with you.’

  She shook her head. ‘You’ve been a real friend, Henry. More than a friend. Don’t think I don’t know that.’

  She walked off towards the exit. She made her way to the station, her head down, unaware of people passing by. She sat alone on the platform waiting for her train. All the while she was picturing Joshua in an interview room, Wendy Clarke asking him if he’d tied Daisy’s hands up with his father’s tie and killed her. Joshua would be angry and upset. His best friend had died in his arms and yet the policewoman would be asking him if he was capable of such a thing.

  Yet the most unexpected people were capable of murder. Her own mother was at that moment in the possession of an American gun that would kill Macon Parker later tonight.

  The train came into the station. Rose got on. The journey went by in a blur but still she noticed the cemetery as they slowed down to stop at Parkway East. St Michael’s RC Cemetery. It had been opened in 1868. It was twenty-three acres of gravestones, mausoleums and plaster angels and saints. Rose had spent time there the previous autumn. Then she thought she’d seen enough death.

  She half walked half ran down the street towards her grandmother’s house. She pulled out her key and opened the door. Her grandmother was in the drawing room at her desk. She looked round. Rose hiccupped out a sob.

  ‘You have to help me to help Joshua,’ she said.

  Her grandmother stood up, puzzled.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You have to get a solicitor for Joshua. They’re going to try and charge him with the murder of that girl who died at our old house. He didn’t do it. He couldn’t do such a thing. Please, Anna . . .’

  ‘My dear . . .’

  ‘I have no one else to turn to,’ Rose said.

  Rose stepped across and put her arms around her grandmother. Anna seemed surprised, ambushed by this emotion. She was stiff and awkward and Rose felt her reluctance. She held on, though. Anna softened, bit by bit, her back and her shoulders becoming fluid. Then she lifted her arms and encircled Rose, hugging her back.

  ‘Of course I’ll help you, Rose.’

  Once Rose was sure that her grandmother’s solicitor was on his way to the police station she went up to her room. She paced up and down.

  ‘Think, think, Rose,’ she said under her breath.

  Daisy had an older boyfriend, Sandy had said. Wendy Clarke had also said it. Joshua had seen her getting into a Saab car. A Swedish car, not something that a younger driver would have. Her hands were tied up with Brendan’s tie. Rose’s mother’s pendant was found on or near her body. She had been with this man to a cottage in Norfolk. These were things that pointed to Brendan.

  Except Brendan didn’t own a Saab car. Rose wouldn’t have noticed at the time but Joshua would have known and when he told the story about Daisy getting into the Saab he would have said, a car just like my dad’s. But he didn’t.

  Was the Saab car nothing to do with it?

  Could it have been Brendan who was Daisy’s older boyfriend? Could he have borrowed a car to take her out, fearful of being seen in his own car?

  Rose sat down at her desk. She didn’t know.

  She got her mobile out. She’d taken Sandy’s number on the day she went to visit her. Sandy hadn’t had any information about the older boyfriend. She remembered her words. I wasn’t a close friend. Her sister, Esther, might have known. Rose scrolled down her list of contacts. She stopped when she got to Sandy’s name. She composed a text. Hi Sandy, I’d like to talk to Daisy Lincoln’s sister. Which school does she work at?

  It was twenty minutes before she got a reply. St Peter’s Primary in Walthamstow. She’s nice. Hope you r well!

  Rose looked at the time. It
was two o’clock. She could get there in time for the end of the school day.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The school was five minutes’ walk from Walthamstow Central tube station. When Rose got there the children were still inside the classrooms but there were small groups of mothers dotted around the playground waiting for them to finish. On the pavement outside the gates a couple were standing apart smoking. It was three thirty. She wondered what was happening at the police station. How long would it be before Joshua was allowed to leave?

  One of the women in the playground was holding a small black dog which looked a poodle. She was older than the other mums – possibly someone’s grandmother. She had blonde hair pulled up in a bun at the back. Another woman was saying something to her and pointing at the dog.

  Just then there was the sound of children coming out of the building and some big wooden doors opened. Children came running out, holding coats and bags and making loud end of school noises. Rose expected them to run across to their parents but they didn’t. They went to the far side of the playground and lined up. Rose watched while class after class spilled out of the building followed by teachers.

  Rose wondered which of them was the sister of Daisy Lincoln.

  When it seemed as though the whole school had lined up parents began to walk towards them.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Rose asked a nearby parent, ‘do you know which is Miss Lincoln?’

  The woman shook her head and then it occurred to Rose that Daisy’s sister could be married and have a different surname. As the ranks of children were dismissed Rose looked from teacher to teacher. She would have to go over and ask.

  But then the older woman with the small dog in her arms called out to her.

  ‘Miss Lincoln is the dark-haired lady on the end. The pregnant one. Now she’s called Mrs Beatty. But she used to be Lincoln.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Rose said.

  Daisy Lincoln’s sister was a tall slim woman with a tiny bump at her middle. She had on a blouse and narrow trousers. Her hair was long and dark with a heavy fringe. Most of her class had been claimed and she was left talking to a small girl. Rose walked towards her as a man came from the car park end of the playground and took the girl’s hand and spoke briefly to Mrs Beatty before leaving.

  Rose paused for a moment then she went across to her.

  ‘Are you Esther, Daisy Lincoln’s sister?’ Rose said.

  The woman’s face hardened. ‘Are you the press? I’m not speaking to any press about anything.’

  ‘I’m not. My name is Rose Smith and I lived in the house in Brewster Road when your sister was . . .’

  Rose couldn’t quite bring herself to say murdered.

  ‘Rose? The kid who Sandy babysat for?’

  Rose nodded.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Look, Esther, what happened to your sister was a terrible thing. I . . . obviously had no idea and of course it makes me feel terrible . . .’

  Rose raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. She had deliberately not mentioned Joshua, unsure whether the police had told the family of their intentions to question him.

  ‘You’re the girl whose parents disappeared?’

  Rose nodded.

  Esther let out a sigh. She placed one of her hands on her bump.

  ‘This is a mess. Why have you come?’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about her. The police have asked us . . . me, if I can remember anything from that summer. All I can recall is that it was the last summer before my mother vanished. I think if I could talk to someone who was around . . . I’ve already spoken to Sandy.’

  ‘I’m not sure what more I can say but you might as well come into my classroom,’ Esther said, walking off and pulling Rose in her wake.

  It was on the ground floor of the building. Outside was a line of hooks and a big wooden shelving unit divided into squares with names on each one. Above it were handwritten signs that said Coats, PE Kit, Cooking, Science Aprons. Rose went inside and was faced with tiny tables and chairs, a playhouse and a reading corner. Esther pulled her chair out and sat down, straightening her blouse over her expanded midriff.

  ‘When’s your baby due?’ Rose said.

  ‘June. I finish work at the end of this term.’

  Rose sat on the corner of one of the tables nearby.

  ‘It’s your first?’

  Esther nodded, looking proudly down at her stomach.

  ‘Boy or girl?’

  ‘Girl. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know but then I asked a couple of weeks ago.’

  Somehow that seemed sad to Rose. Just now, when her sister’s body is discovered, she finds out the sex of her baby. Esther smiled at her, giving a shrug of her shoulders, as if she thought the same thing.

  ‘I didn’t know your family at all when I lived in Brewster Road,’ she said after a moment. ‘It was only when they went missing that I remembered that Sandy had babysat for some police officers. My family, Daisy, all of us had moved to Chingford in the summer – you probably know – so we were away from the street when the news of your parents’ disappearance hit the newspapers. I rang Sandy to see what had happened. She said you were really sweet kids. At the time I remembered feeling that we had a kind of link even though both cases were completely different. You lost your mother, I lost my sister. Of course your parents’ disappearance made the national newspapers. When Daisy left home she took a case of belongings with her. She had a history of storming off, staying at friends’ houses. She’d told friends that she was going to run away with her lover. Everyone, my parents, me, our family, we all expected her to turn up any day.’

  Rose listened to Esther with a growing feeling of sadness. She had wanted to dash in and out of this school, to pick up some piece of information that would prove that Joshua had nothing whatsoever to do with Daisy’s death. But Daisy’s story had to be heard.

  There was the sound of children from the playground. A name bring called over and over – ‘Gerry, Gerry, GERRY!’

  ‘Daisy’s disappearance was like a slow burn. For the first few days we expected her to turn up shamefaced, saying sorry. Then weeks went by. The police kept in touch but there was no search for her. Why would there be with bits and pieces of evidence that said she went of her own accord. You know she took her passport? And all her jewellery and her favourite clothes. She took five pairs of shoes. She loved shoes. She had tiny feet, size three, and she bought shoes in charity shops and sales. She loved heels. What do you think of these? she’d say. I laughed at her. It wasn’t even possible to walk in some of those shoes.’

  ‘I didn’t know her,’ Rose said, trying hard to pull together the one image she had of Daisy walking along Brewster Road. Possibly Rose had been getting out of her mother’s car and seen her with Sandy. ‘I only knew Sandy because she babysat for me.’

  ‘In the first couple of weeks after she left she used her cash card, or at least we thought she had. Someone used her cash card five times in places around London. That told my family that she was still alive. Then it stopped and there was nothing. After that we didn’t know what to think. We thought maybe she’d gone abroad. The police just shrugged their shoulders. People go missing, it’s a fact of life. They don’t like the life they’re leading, they find a different life. Teenagers especially. They told us to keep abreast of the Missing websites and organisations, and that maybe Daisy would try and contact us. I remember the last time I spoke to a detective. It was on the one-year anniversary of when she left home. After that nothing.’

  Rose didn’t know what to say.

  ‘But this isn’t helping you to remember things from those days!’

  Rose couldn’t go on pretending. ‘Look, I’m not going to lie to you. I am trying to remember that summer but the real reason I’m here is that the detective in charge of the case made it clear that she suspected that Brendan Johnson, my mother’s partner, was involved with Daisy. Now she’s questioning his son, Joshua. He was fourteen at the time and he admitted to
me that he had a crush on Daisy but this police officer is actually questioning him about her murder.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I know it doesn’t matter to you and the family who they question. You just want the guilty person put away. But Joshua, my stepbrother, is not guilty of anything other than having a crush on someone who was older than him and out of his reach.’

  ‘And his father?’

  ‘I can’t say. He was my mother’s partner and I cared for him a lot but whether I really knew him or not I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, you are being honest. What do you want to ask me?’

  ‘Sandy mentioned that Daisy said her boyfriend was older. Do you remember anything about him?’

  ‘I don’t know if it was this Brendan. I never met this mystery man. No one did. I wasn’t around much that summer. I’d just graduated and was on holiday some of the time and working the rest. I saw Daisy lots of course but it was unremarkable. Just sister stuff – chats, arguments, swapping clothes. She’d been out of college a year and was working in the newsagent’s.’

  ‘Near Roman Road.’

  ‘Just part-time at first. Early mornings, some half-days. Then it was full-time. She was a bright girl, Daisy, but she had no ambition. She could have done better. I spent a lot of time that year helping her to apply for jobs.’

  ‘Wendy Clarke, the detective, told me that you said she’d gone away for a weekend with him.’

  ‘No, I said she told me she was going to go away for a weekend and she wanted me to cover for her. Look, Rose, I’m not sure how this is helping you but Daisy could tell a few fibs and I never really knew if there was an older boyfriend or whether she was making it up. She’d come in and tell me stuff, like the plans for the weekend away. He’d got this cottage in Norfolk, she said. They were having sex, she said, and she’d had to go and get the morning after pill from the chemist once. She showed me the pendant she said he bought for her.’

  ‘I know about that.’

  Rose pictured the pendant hanging round her mother’s neck.

  ‘It looked like something an older person would buy. Not something I would have worn. I was surprised she liked it. She did tell me he had a tattoo of a butterfly. I thought it was an odd thing for an older man to have.’