by Carla Kovach
She spotted number seventeen and saw an elderly woman standing at the window. ‘Let’s work on catching the bad guy,’ Gina said, as she crunched the rest of the sweet in her mouth.
Twenty
She grabbed a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose as the old lady fumbled with the locks on the door. After a moment, the door opened the length of the chain. ‘Can I see your credentials?’ Mrs McDonald croaked. Gina and Jacob pulled out their warrant cards and fed them through the gap. A shaky hand reached out and took them. ‘Oh, so you’re a DI, how wonderful,’ she said as she handed the cards back and slid the chain off.
‘That’s right. DI Harte and DS Driscoll. We’re just following up on your call to the station,’ Gina replied.
The door opened and a hunchbacked woman wearing several layers of clothing invited them in. ‘Come through to the sitting room,’ she said as she led them through the musty hallway into an unlit room. The clouds outside made it seem almost dark in the lounge. ‘Please sit.’
The old lady left the room as they sat on the two-seater cottage suite settee. Gina took out her notebook. ‘I hope I can see what I’m writing,’ she muttered. Jacob grinned, and they listened in silence as rain began to tap at the bay window. Gina stood and looked out. She had a clear view to the end of the road. A few doors down, there was a small path that cut through the houses and led to the library. ‘That could be the route he took. There’s no CCTV along the back of town. At night, it would’ve been dark and half of the street lamps are out of use due to lack of maintenance. If he – I’ll refer to the perp as a he – he did come here, I’d say he knows his way around. You don’t just stumble upon this road.’
‘Let’s see what she has to say first. This person passing may not have had anything to do with Baby Jenkins.’
‘Maybe not.’ Gina walked back over to the suite and sat next to Jacob.
Mrs McDonald returned with a tea tray and a plate of biscuits. She shuffled right up to them and placed the tray on the coffee table. ‘Please help yourself to tea. I would do it for you but I’d probably cover you with it. My hands aren’t too steady.’ Her hearing aid whistled and she fiddled with it for a moment. ‘Damn thing. Do you know, however many times I get this thing adjusted, it’s never comfortable?’
‘Mrs McDonald, would it be okay to turn on your light while we talk?’
The old lady peered over her glasses. ‘I don’t have a main light. My son is meant to fix it but he’s been busy. If you just reach behind you, you’ll be able to turn on the lamp.’ Gina reached around the back of the sofa and felt for a cable. Her hand waded through an entanglement of what felt like cobwebs until she reached the switch, and then she could finally see the room in all its peach and pastel glory. The décor had been the height of fashion during the early nineties.
‘That’s much better.’
‘I know. It is getting wetter,’ Mrs McDonald replied. Gina looked at Jacob; he smiled and looked away.
‘This tea is lovely, thank you,’ he said as he took a bite out of a garibaldi.
‘Mrs McDonald,’ said Gina loudly, ‘you called us with information relating to the appeal. Can you tell us what you saw on the evening of Friday the first of December?’
The old lady took a biscuit and bit into it. A smattering of crumbs fell into her lap. ‘I remember that night because it was the night of the storm. The water was running down the roads and the drains were bubbling over.’ She stopped talking and took another bite of her biscuit. Gina flinched as a plump black cat leaped from the dresser behind them into her lap. ‘It’s okay. He won’t hurt you. He just wants a bit of fuss, don’t you, Junior?’
Gina stroked the cat, but it jumped down and scurried off towards the kitchen. Gina glanced at her watch. She needed to be back soon for Hannah.
‘Go on.’
‘Where was I?’
‘The roads and drains were bubbling over,’ Jacob said as he stared at his notebook.
The old lady leaned forward and made eye contact. ‘I was looking out the window for Junior, as I wanted to go to bed. As I stated on the phone, I don’t know what time this was exactly, but it was between six thirty and eight, that’s the best I can remember.’ She cleared her throat. Gina took the opportunity to cough away the tickle in her throat at the same time.
‘Between six thirty and eight on Friday the first of December?’
‘That’s right. I was looking for Junior. I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’
‘It’s okay, Mrs McDonald. Just tell us everything in your own words as they come to you,’ Gina said with a smile.
‘I was so worried about Junior. The rain, it was pelting. He doesn’t like the rain. I also felt bad as he’d piddled on the floor earlier that day. I was angry and threw him out in the rain. You’re not going to report me to the animal welfare people, are you?’
‘Of course not, Mrs McDonald. We’re just here to establish what you saw on that evening. I can see that Junior is very well cared for,’ Gina replied.
The old lady began to pick at her crepe-like cuticles. ‘The lights were off in the house and I hadn’t got the television on. I’d been reading a book about local historical murders that my son got me last Christmas and I’d scared myself a bit. Anyway, I decided to go up to bed and watch telly but I needed to get the cat in first. I do that, go to bed early. It’s how I keep warm. I stared out the window, thinking, where is my Junior? Will he ever come back? That’s when I saw the man. He had the gait of a man anyway. A straight waist under a hooded dark jacket. The type the kids wear all the time. I tried to look at his face as he passed but I couldn’t see a thing. He had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and he was soaking wet. I remember thinking, why would anyone be out on a night like this without a raincoat or umbrella, or indeed, even wellingtons? He just seemed out of place. Does that make sense?’
Gina checked her watch again, and nodded. Jacob continued to scribble in his pad. The cat meowed and ran back into the room.
‘I think he’s hungry. Will this take long?’ she asked.
‘It shouldn’t take too much longer,’ said Gina. ‘If you’d like to continue. You were saying that this person passed by outside and was wearing a hooded jacket?’
The woman leaned down and grabbed the cat. It yelped and wriggled. She gripped him and placed him on her lap. He immediately jumped back down. ‘That was it really. He passed and turned into the cut-through, just down the path. The one that leads to the library.’
‘When you called, you mentioned that this person was carrying something,’ Jacob said.
‘Yes. He had some sort of sports bag. He wasn’t carrying it like a sports bag though, over the shoulder or with arms linked under the handles. He was cradling the bag and talking as he scurried past.’ The woman looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. ‘Was he the one who left that baby to die in the rain?’
The smattering of raindrops had now turned into hailstones that tapped on the windowpanes. ‘We don’t know that. We’re just collecting witness statements at the moment, so that we can try to establish the facts of what happened that night. He may well have been the person who left the baby, or he may well have been doing something else. We need to identify and find him, to eliminate him from our enquiries.’ Gina stepped back towards the window. ‘Was he walking on this side of the path, right outside your window, or was he on the other side of the road?’
‘The other side, until he reached the cut through, that is. He then crossed and disappeared down it. I gave up on looking for Junior and went to bed then. I did feel bad but what could I do? He was scratching at the back door the next morning though so all was fine. Would you like some more tea?’
Gina looked at her watch and shook her head. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, Mrs McDonald, but we have to get back to the station.’ Jacob nodded in agreement.
‘It’s lovely that you could come. If you need to come back to talk about anything else, I’m always in except on Monday between nine an
d ten thirty. You’re always welcome.’ Mrs McDonald’s hands trembled as she stood and went to lift the tea tray.
‘Here, let me take this for you,’ Gina said, reaching for the tray.
‘Thank you, dear. I tell you what, getting old is the worst thing ever. Enjoy your youth.’
Gina walked through to the pale blue kitchen and set the tray down on the worktop. The tap dripped, the wallpaper above the sink was peeling and fungus was growing around the window frame. The cat ran through and coiled himself around her ankles. She looked at her watch. Hannah would arrive at her house in just under an hour. She had to get back to the station, get the report to Briggs and get home.
Jacob was being led towards the door by Mrs McDonald. ‘You’ve been very helpful. Thank you so much. Here’s my card if you remember anything else in the meantime. Just call that number and ask for me.’
Gina joined them at the door. ‘Thank you, Mrs McDonald. Don’t forget to put your chain back on when we’ve left.’
‘I won’t. You never know who’s knocking about.’
‘You certainly don’t,’ Gina replied as they stepped into the hailstones. The woman hunched over as she closed the door. They watched as she entered the living room and turned the lamp off.
‘I hope I’m never that alone,’ Gina said.
Jacob looked back at her as they raced from the porch to the car. ‘It’s sad, so sad. There are so many Mrs McDonalds though.’
Total darkness had descended upon the road. Only three lamps were working. She hoped that Mrs McDonald’s account was an accurate one, that she wasn’t just a lonely woman, making things up. If true, she’d given them a useful start, and the fact that the suspect had been cradling a bag suggested highly unusual behaviour – behaviour consistent with someone who was carrying a baby in a bag.
Gina nervously checked the time again. She knew Hannah would let herself in with the key she’d given her, but would she wait? If she didn’t wait, what then? Gina wondered if she would end up like Mrs McDonald one day. It would be easy to think badly of Mrs McDonald’s son after that conversation, but had she let him down? Had he given up on her the way Hannah might eventually give up on Gina? Maybe there’s more to the story. Maybe, like Gina, Mrs McDonald harboured a dark secret, one she could never share with her son. If she told Hannah the truth, she might not believe her. She might never speak to her again. But keeping the secret was pushing Hannah away too. Gina flashed back to the night of Terry’s death, taking a swift intake of air as she relived the moment he tumbled down the stairs as baby Hannah cried in her cot.
‘Let’s hope we never become Mrs McDonald,’ Gina replied as she turned away and wiped an errant tear from her cheek.
Jacob smiled. ‘I’ve took some good notes in there. When we get back to the station, you could get your car and go straight home. I’m happy to get the report done before I leave. Go see your daughter, get in the bath or something and come back tomorrow feeling better.’
Gina coughed into her hand and returned his smile. ‘You’ve made my evening. I think I might just do that,’ she said. She might just make it home for Hannah.
Twenty-One
She pulled onto her drive, next to Hannah’s red hatchback, and saw that her lounge was brightly lit. Hannah had let herself in and was in the kitchen. Her heart pounded as she grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. She should’ve cancelled on the grounds of having an infectious illness, but she knew Hannah wouldn’t believe her and things would sour between them even more. The car’s fluorescent clock stared back at her. She was only ten minutes late. She wondered if Hannah had arrived early. She had a knack for doing that, and her earliness always made Gina’s rushed lateness seem worse than it was.
Gina walked down the drive and peered through the window. Ebony pranced across the window ledge, holding her tail high as she spotted her owner. From outside, Gina watched as Hannah made a cup of tea and Gracie shuffled along the floor in a lilac romper suit. The toddler spotted Gina and began cooing. She couldn’t hear the words but she could see as Gracie shuffled closer to her. The toddler stood, took several steps and then fell. Hannah ran to grab Gracie and spotted Gina. She glanced at her watch and frowned. ‘Sorry,’ Gina mouthed. She walked over to the front door and let herself in. ‘Sorry I’m late. I was held up in an interv—’
‘Don’t tell me, Mum, I don’t want to know. I’ve been here twenty minutes, bored out my tree. You could’ve texted or something.’ She grabbed the toddler and walked back into the kitchen. ‘It’s freezing in this house. Gracie is cold. I didn’t know how to turn on the heating.’ She placed the toddler and a couple of plastic toys on the rug.
Gina bent down and flicked on a switch at the side of the gas fire. ‘There we go.’ The red and orange flames flickered and the room suddenly had a cosier feel. Gina switched on the lamp and turned the main light off. ‘It should warm up in a minute. How’s my little Gracie?’ She kneeled down and stroked her soft fair baby hair.
‘She doesn’t know who you are.’ Hannah grabbed her tea and closed the door to the lounge before sitting down.
‘That’s not true, is it, chicken?’ Gina asked as she picked Gracie up and hugged her.
‘Nannananna,’ she shouted.
Gina smiled and looked up at Hannah. ‘Of course she knows who her nana is. Don’t you, Gracie?’
The wind howled outside. Ebony jumped off the window ledge and began competing for Gina’s attention. Gina held Hannah in one arm and stroked Ebony with her free hand. The cat soon tired of the fuss and wandered out towards the kitchen. Hannah slurped her tea and placed the cup on the coffee table. ‘We need to talk about things.’
It had to be about Terry and the bloody memorial service. She could see the seriousness on Hannah’s face as she leaned forward and linked her hands together. ‘Okay,’ Gina replied as she bit her bottom lip.
‘I’ve managed to save most of the money for Dad’s service. It doesn’t seem a lot, but with Gracie and all, I have three hundred pounds. I can get everything in, including a little buffet at the pub after, for six hundred. Mum, please give me the rest. He wasn’t just my father, he was your husband. Don’t you care? He’s been gone twenty years. He’d be fifty this week.’ Hannah looked away.
Gina’s stomach dropped. The flickering of the fire seemed distorted and she felt a chill tickling her neck. Yes, Terry had been Hannah’s father, in a biological sense. But they were talking about the same Terry who would probably have killed Gina had he still been alive; the man who subjected her to levels of brutality and control that people only experience in captivity, in a war zone. The last thing she wanted to do was remember him and the birthday he was missing out on. She reached for her chest, aware of each and every one of her bones, and flinched.
‘Are you even listening to me?’
Gracie grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen over Gina’s face and tugged. She teased the hair from the little girl’s hand and turned away. ‘I’ll give it to you, all of it. Six hundred pounds, is it?’
‘Thank you. That would really help me at the moment. I’d like a decent remembrance for him. I’ve invited Nanny Hetty and Uncle Steven and the rest of the clan. They miss him, you know. I would’ve asked them for the money but Uncle Steven hasn’t worked for years with his bad back and Hetty is on a pension. Both of them have nothing. You have a good job—’
‘Look. I think the service is a good idea but I can’t be there. I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can’t.’ Gina felt a tear begin to seep from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t go through all that with his family again. She wanted to scream, to tell Hannah that Terry’s funeral had been one of the oddest days of her life. She remembered how drunk she’d allowed herself to get during the wake, slowly celebrating his end and drowning her guilt with gallons of wine. No one could explain her odd behaviour that day. It hadn’t stopped bloody Uncle Steven speculating though. She remembered hearing him whispering to another one of his knuckle-dragging relatives. He’d been spreading rumo
urs that she’d been having an affair, that’s why his Terry had to keep a close eye on her. If only that were the truth.
‘You must really hate him,’ Hannah said, her face reddening.
‘It’s not that.’ Her body tensed up. Only once had she considered telling anyone about what had happened, but she never wanted to tell her daughter – grown up or not. After Hannah was born, he’d become so much worse. The supermarket had been one of the only places she was allowed to enter alone. There, she’d seen a stand collecting money for the local women’s refuge. As she passed the money collectors on the way out, she’d hesitated. A woman stopped her and started to talk about the refuge. Gina remembered staring blankly at the woman, then thrusting a pound coin into her hand before scurrying off. The woman chased her out of the shop and pressed a card into her hand. Before she reached Terry’s car at the back of the car park, she let the card slip out of her hand. If he’d caught her with that—
‘There you go again, in your own little world, ignoring me. You can be so unreasonable sometimes. You don’t want this, but what about me? He was my father.’
‘I’m giving you the money, aren’t I? I’ll transfer it now.’ Gina pulled her phone from her pocket. In a matter of seconds, she’d sent six hundred pounds to her daughter. ‘Done.’
Hannah’s face was pink with anger as she grabbed her ponytail and pulled it tight in the bobble. She grabbed Gracie from Gina’s arms and proceeded with putting their coats on. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. We’re off. Maybe you can come and see us, when you have time. Oh wait. I’m busy for the next month or maybe two – or three. That should make it easier to schedule an hour in.’ Gina stood and helped Hannah feed Gracie’s arm into her sleeve. Hannah stepped away. ‘We manage fine without you. Oh, my job’s going well too and Greg’s had a promotion. It’s nice of you to ask.’
