He ate in the almost empty dining room, reading a book on local shipping disasters that he’d found on a shelf in his room.
‘I’ll be leaving early,’ he told reception. ‘Will there be anyone on the desk before seven?’
Finding it was unlikely, he settled his bill, using a card in the name of Anthony Blake. Gregory slept well that night and by six in the morning was on the road again.
TWENTY-TWO
Sarah was dreaming. She ran across the field towards the barn, Jack’s little body heavy in her arms. She tried to hold Jack tight but her right arm wouldn’t grip and as the rain beat down on both of them, drenching her to the skin and stinging her face, she was afraid that Jack would just die of cold if she didn’t find shelter soon. And each step she took towards the barn seemed more slippery than the last. Her feet were frozen and the wet earth sucked at her toes. When she looked up and peered through the torrential rain, the barn seemed as far off as it had ever been.
Desperately, Sarah struggled forward, but her little brother was a dead weight dragging her down and her feet could find no purchase in the mud. No matter how hard she fought, she could not seem to move forward.
In her dream, Sarah began to cry, desperately, anguished, her tears streaming down her face and on to Jack’s tiny head.
Sarah woke, still sobbing. A soft voice spoke to her and someone held her hand and for a precious moment Sarah thought her mother was there. Then she opened her eyes and saw Trudi, one of the nurses who’d been looking after her, and the green walls and funny ceiling tiles, and she remembered where she was and that it couldn’t be her mum who was talking to her.
‘She’s never coming back, is she?’
Trudi bent close, trying to catch the words. ‘Oh Sarah, I am so, so sorry.’
Trudi held her hand and stroked her hair and Sarah wanted her to keep on doing that but at the same time she wanted to pull away, to yell at Trudi that she wasn’t her mum, that she wasn’t Vic or Jack or anyone Sarah cared about.
She wished Joey were there. But Joey had to go. He wasn’t allowed to stay. Sarah turned her face away from Trudi and buried it in the pillow and she wept until exhaustion won and she fell asleep again.
Sarah dreamed of rain.
TWENTY-THREE
Steel apologized for disturbing Maggie at work.
‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘My boss knows what’s going on. Did something urgent come up?’
She led Steel through to her office and offered him a seat, coffee. He sat down but declined the offer of a drink. ‘Not urgent, no. But I wanted a word with you alone and that seems not to be something you manage very much.’
She laughed. ‘Not unless I make a point of going out, no. Tel’s a bit of a home bod and when he does need to go somewhere, yours truly is usually the taxi service. You try catching a bus from Ferrymouth after six o clock at night and you’re stuffed.’
‘I’ve seen you all at the bike project,’ Steel said.
Maggie nodded. ‘That’s fine. I like to watch and I’ve got friendly with a few of the other parents who are in the same boat. Occasionally we give each other’s kids lifts but we’re coming from every which way so it’s not the easiest thing to arrange. Tel and Joey love it, though, and the instructors are great.’
‘I helped get it started,’ Steel said. ‘It’s good to see how well it’s turned out.’
‘So why speak to me alone? Is something wrong?’
Steel shook his head, eager to ease the anxious look in Maggie’s eyes. ‘No, it’s just there are some questions I’d like to ask and I don’t want to make Joey feel more alienated or embarrassed than he already does.’
‘Poor Joey,’ Maggie said.
‘He’s lucky to have you and Tel.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘To be honest, when Tel first made friends with him I was really against it. I knew about his father’s reputation. In fact, I’d seen him in action.’
‘Oh?’
‘Tel’s dad was home and we’d gone out for an hour to meet some friends in the Dog and Gun. Hughes showed up, very drunk, shouting and swearing about someone owing him money. Douggie removed him and it was all over very quickly, but I have to be honest. The man scared me. There was no sense of … control, I suppose. He simply didn’t care who saw or what they thought of him or what the consequences might be.’
‘I think he’s not a man for whom consequence has been something worth considering,’ Steel said. ‘Few people have ever stood up to him and those that can’t are not worth considering. Do you know Joey’s mother?’
‘Know her? No. I’ve met her maybe a half dozen times in the past three years or so. Tel and Joey became friends in their first year at secondary. As I said, I wasn’t happy about it, but I thought I’d give the kid the benefit of the doubt as Tel was so obviously smitten … and I thought I’d also better make the effort with the parents. Well, Joey’s mother, anyway. Everyone I talked to said she was so much in Hughes’ shadow as to be practically invisible and I thought, I don’t know, maybe I could be—’ she laughed – ‘I thought maybe I could help, I suppose.’
Steel nodded, understanding the impulse. She called Joey’s dad ‘Hughes’, he noted, never using his first name. He figured it to be a measure of Maggie’s contempt for the man.
‘Parents’ evening happened half way through the first term and I knew Joey’s mum didn’t drive, and the bus being non-existent I thought she might like a lift. So, I went round there, I knocked on the door and introduced myself.’
‘Was her husband there?’
‘No, but she looked as though she expected him to materialize out of nowhere any second. Anyway, she agreed to let me give her a lift. You know, I kept expecting to get a phone call or a message via Joey saying she’d changed her mind, but it didn’t come. I got to her house and she was standing in the street. She practically fell into the car and I could see she was shaking, watching out of the window until we turned the corner like she was scared someone would see her and report back.’
Maggie paused, frowning. ‘You know – well, my husband will tell you – I’ve never been one for standing in anyone’s shadow, always done my own thing. I suppose I find it hard to understand how people get into that position.’
‘You and Tel’s father are …?’
Maggie smiled at him. ‘Mal works away. When he’s home we get on fine. We started out as friends and about five years into our marriage realized we’d drifted back to being friends. I suppose if one or other of us met someone else, it would be different. But we haven’t, yet, and we’re comfortable. Mal comes home every six weeks, stays home for two. I adapt my routine a bit and he spends a lot of time with Tel while he’s home. But I’ve got no illusions; we stay married because there’s no reason not to. No conflict, no issues. When Tel’s a bit older I think we may well sell the house, split the proceeds and go our separate ways.’
‘Sounds very civilized.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Not really. Probably just lazy, I think.’
‘You were telling me about the parents’ evening.’
‘Yes, well, as you can imagine, I did all the talking. I tried asking her about Joey and how she thought he was settling at the new school. I said how pleased I was that Tel had found a really good friend – and she looked at me then like I was lying to her. But she hardly said a word all the way there. When we got to the school she stuck to me like glue, like she was terrified I’d suddenly disappear and she’d be stranded. And she was so worried about how long we’d be away.’
‘Did her husband know she’d gone out with you?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Not at the time anyway. I imagine he got to know. I can’t see Marilyn ever managing to lie to him, not if he asked her a direct question.’
‘And how did she interact with the staff?’
Maggie sighed. ‘She didn’t, not really. It was horrible. She was so much out of her depth she didn’t know what to ask or who his teachers were or what she should say. I felt so gu
ilty in the end, putting her through it. And it occurred to me after that she must really love her son in her own way. To risk the displeasure of that brute of a husband and to put herself through what must have felt like an evening of torture.’
Someone knocked on Maggie’s door and reminded her she and her boss were leaving for a meeting in ten minutes.
‘I won’t keep you much longer,’ Steel told her. ‘After that?’
‘I saw her occasionally, ran into her in town, that sort of thing. Joey became something of a fixture and then Sarah and Evie – though I’ve known Evie and her family since Tel started at nursery.’
‘And they all got along. No jealousy?’
‘Surprisingly little. Sarah and Evie became friends just after Sarah’s family moved in. Tel and Evie were often part of the same social group – like I say, we’ve known them years. Joey kind of got absorbed into the crowd and when he and Sarah became an item, as they say, it didn’t make a lot of difference. The four of them were very close. I suspect Evie has her eye on Tel, but so far he’s not taking the bait.’ She smiled a little sadly. ‘Sarah is a lovely girl. I liked her mother very much and from what I saw of Vic he seemed pleasant too. Sarah certainly thought a lot of him.’
‘One more question. Maybe two. How … close were Sarah and Joey? Their relationship—’
‘You mean were they having sex?’
Steel nodded.
‘Um, no. I don’t think they’d got there yet. Joey is a bit of a slow burner, I think, and Sarah was definitely not ready. I know kids that age often boast about what they have and haven’t done – often the latter, even when they say otherwise – but I don’t think they’d got further than kissing. Lisanne was very worried when they got together. It was only because I like Joey so much that she sort of came round to the idea. But I can understand why she was so worried.’
She looked thoughtfully at Steel. ‘Why all the questions? You can’t think Joey had anything to do with this, and it’s a bit far out even for Hughes. He strikes me as strictly a fists and bottles man.’
‘No, I have no suspicions about Joey. His father – well, it seems unlikely, but we will be checking his whereabouts. It seems he does manage to hold down a job, though, and that he was definitely at work. My concerns are twofold. I bent the rules taking Tel and Joey to the hospital. I know you’d given permission for Tel to go with me, but Joey … well. And we had a conversation on the way back that has me worried. Not about what Joey might do but about what might be done to him. I would like to help.’
Maggie snorted. ‘That would be a first.’
‘Apparently so.’
‘And your final question?’
‘I might well be needing an appropriate adult for Sarah. We’ll have to do a formal statement at some point soon and there’ll be a lot of official stuff going on. We can’t track down any family, so I thought—’
‘Be glad to. Just let me know what and when.’
Another knock at the door and Maggie rose. Steel followed her lead. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Got to go.’
Steel nodded. ‘Thank you for your help,’ he said. And your husband is a fool, he thought.
TWENTY-FOUR
He liked Ferrymouth as soon as he saw it. Gregory had a fondness for English market towns and this one, being on the estuary, carried through its streets that salt sea tang to which he was particularly partial.
Patrick had provided him with the name of the pub in which Naomi and Alec were staying, but he had not yet made contact with them, preferring first to check out the lay of the land.
He had lunch in a small café just off the market square. Fellow diners turned out to be journalists – some print, a few television – and Gregory realized he was assumed by the café owner to be one of the same. He settled down to listen, sipping his tea and eating his sandwiches while occupying himself with his phone.
From the conversation he discovered that an Inspector Steel was heading the investigation. That the Griffins were outsiders – arrived only three years before. The journalists had cottoned on to there being some mystery about where they had come from, and there was considerable frustration at the lack of developments.
‘I’ve been told to head back tonight if nothing breaks.’
‘Me, I’m apparently here for the long haul. My editor reckons it’ll be big, when we finally get a handle on it.’
Gregory listened to their speculation. Talk of gang connections, violent husbands, links to a shooting at a farm two years before. He soon realized that they knew nothing.
Having finished his sandwiches, Gregory wandered round the small town on foot; one main road in, a good selection of shops. A primary school, library, town hall that, according to the notices on the board outside, doubled as a community theatre and concert space as well as accommodating play groups and pensioner’s drop-in sessions. There also seemed to be a couple of churches – one obviously medieval – and a couple of chapels, one of which was now an antiques shop. He logged that fact for later, knowing that Naomi loved to collect small items of silver. It had occurred to him, suddenly, that she might not be best pleased about him turning up out of the blue. Gregory was pretty certain that Naomi liked him but he was also pretty certain that she didn’t always approve of him. He figured some nice bit of silver would be an apt peace offering should she get on her high horse about the more unsuitable aspects of Gregory’s life.
His slow perambulations took him down to the street where the shootings had taken place. He paused, fifty yards back from the crime scene tape. It was easy to see which house the Griffins had lived in from the police car parked outside. More officers going in and out of the Victorian church and the school building behind told him this was the centre of their operations. The Dog and Gun was a little way back in the direction from which he had come, but tucked off the main road and backing on to a narrow road and then open country.
Turning down the street at the back of the Dog, Gregory headed out of town. A signpost indicated a public footpath and he followed the directions over the stile, walking down towards the river. The scent of salt and mud was strong and, to Gregory at any rate, enticing and he stood for a while watching the gulls wheel and squawk and the boats floating at half tide. Facing back towards the town, he could make out the end of the row of red brick houses where the shooting had taken place and realized that the path forked, one fork leading to the stile he had crossed, the second following the line of the river back across the main road and, from the look of it, behind the houses.
So which way would I have gone in? he wondered. Where would I leave my car? He began to walk back, taking the second fork and crossing a very muddy field. The river arced around, here and there lying between shallow beaches and then disappearing between higher banks. He followed it over a second stile and across the road bridge, down the bank on the other side. He was at the other end of the police cordon now, with a good view of the house and the police car and the second line of tape. The path now split again, one branch continuing to follow the river and the second breaking off towards the rear of the red brick row. Passing by the end of this branch, Gregory saw another cordon and a bored looking officer standing outside a back gate. He followed the river path for a while, finding that after a few hundred yards it opened out into a picnic area complete with tables and benches and play equipment and a gravelled stand, room enough for three or four cars.
There was no police presence here.
Gregory stood and looked. A narrow road snaked off and joined a little road that he could see then rejoined the main carriageway, maybe a mile away. The flat land allowed him a clear view of cars moving in the distance.
‘So, you parked up here,’ he said. ‘Went in on foot, round to the back of the house, and then got out the same way.’ That, he thought, seemed about right.
Satisfied, Gregory retraced his steps back into Ferrymouth and went in search of a suitable gift for Naomi.
TWENTY-FIVE
‘We had a phone call
,’ Sophie Willis said. ‘Someone who claims to recognize Victor Griffin. Says his name was neither Victor nor Griffin when he knew him. Of course he prefers to remain anonymous.’
‘Of course he does. Any idea where he made the call from? And who does he claim our Victor Griffin was?’
‘He gave the name Anthony Bertram. We’re chasing it up. The call came in from the Greater London area, but that’s all we’ve got. There was another of interest, though. From someone claiming to be an old neighbour of Sarah and Thea. Left a call back number. You want to take that?’
‘And what did they want?’
‘Just to offer condolences, they said. That they had been fond of Thea and the little girl and wondered if there was anything they could do.’
‘Another London number?’
‘No,’ Willis told him. ‘The woman gave her name as Josette Harris, says she lived a few doors down and their kids used to play together. She now lives in Nottingham. Thought it might be worth you chasing up.’
Steel took the number and thanked Sophie. ‘Anything else I should know about?’
‘Not right now. I’ll run the name Anthony Bertram past the Friedmans, see if it means anything. It’s already being put through the system; we’ll see if we get any hits.’
‘Bet you a fiver we don’t,’ Steel said.
‘You think it’s just mischief making?’
‘No, I think if Victor Griffin did have more than one identity then the odds are that Anthony Bertram is no more likely to be known to us than Victor Griffin was. If he’s in our system it will be as someone else entirely.’
‘Probably. But it’s another possible twist to the tale.’
Steel had been on his way to visit Sarah when Willis’s call had caught him on his way across the car park. He could glimpse the media crowd still outside the front entrance of the hospital. They had taken up residence on the circular green at the centre of the drop-off point and Steel could imagine the sense of running the gauntlet for anyone bringing visitors or attending Outpatients.
Paying the Ferryman Page 13
