by Jo Allen
‘He’s trying to tell you something,’ Ashleigh repeated, a frown of perplexity on her face. ‘Look. Poor man. Can you see? He’s distressed.’
‘He can hear us,’ Becca hissed at her. Hearing was the last sense to go. For God’s sake, please let neither Ashleigh nor Jude say anything stupid and let George know how little time he had left. But then it dawned on her. If, as she was so sure was the case, George was dying this was the last chance he’d have to tell anyone anything at all. ‘I love you so much,’ she said to him, and that was the cat out of the bag. If he had any comprehension left, he’d know, because he never encouraged any kind of emotional input, but this was all about last chances. Yes, he should stay calm. But he was dying and there shouldn’t be things you never said. She wouldn’t let him go without love. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’
His hand twitched, his mouth convulsed and a pulse quivered in the edge of his mouth. Spittle trickled down his cheek and Becca, unable to reach into her pocket for a tissue, dabbed it away with the corner of the blanket. A strangled groan was all he could manage.
‘Uncle George,’ she pleaded. ‘What is it? Did something happen?’
Jude’s feet joined the scene. His boots, unlike Ashleigh’s, were worn and well-fitted. ‘That’s the ambulance on the way. They say to keep him warm, but you’ll know that.’
George twitched. Tears rose in Becca’s eyes. ‘Uncle George. Speak to me. Tell me what you want to say.’ Even if it was only goodbye.
A last, convulsive gasp. George was gone. She knew it. She touched a finger to his still-warm skin and the pulse was absent. ‘It’s too late.’ She lifted a hand to dab at her eyes as the walls of the cottage seemed to close in around her.
‘Jude, Becca’s not okay.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll wait here for the ambulance. I think you should take her home.’
They were talking over her, as if she wasn’t there. ‘I’ll wait with him,’ she snarled up at them, but her voice let her down, breaking as she spoke. The edge of the blanket did duty as a hanky for her, too, wiping away the tears she couldn’t stop and shouldn’t shed. Falling apart wouldn’t help George. But nothing could help George now.
‘No.’ Jude bent down and placed a cool and impersonal hand under her elbow. ‘Ashleigh’s right. This is about you, now. You’re upset. I’ll call your mum and tell her I’m bringing you home and she can get back to look after you. You’ve done what you can for George and you should be proud of it.’
‘Don’t you dare patronise me. I’m only doing my job.’
‘Yes, I know that. But it’s harder this time, because I know how much you care about him. So let’s make this about you, and make sure you’re all right.’
To her shame, she gave in, allowing Ashleigh O’Halloran to take her place at George’s side and letting Jude tow her out of the cottage and guide her into her car, sitting in the driving seat until he’d phoned her mum.
‘I’l drive,’ he said, in that neutral policeman’s voice. ‘I’ll take you home and wait until someone gets there to sit with you, and then I’ll leave. Ashleigh’s going to bring my car and pick me up from my mum’s. Okay?’
That was so typical of Jude, doing everything by the book as if she was a victim of crime. They were friends, or they were supposed to be. But she didn’t have the energy to resist, sitting in the car with her hands folded in her lap and staring out of the window, seeing but not paying attention. Even the ambulance they gave way to on the narrow road to Pooley Bridge didn’t merit more than a glance.
‘Okay.’ They’d reached Wasby as if through some strange time-slip, the journey taking forever and yet no time at all. She sat in her seat until he came to open the door for her, reached for her handbag, rifled through it for her keys, opened the cottage door and then came to help her up the path. ‘I’ve left the door on the latch for when your mum comes. You go and sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
‘I don’t need you to make me tea. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.’
‘Of course you are. But I want to help. Just to make it a bit easier for you.’
His phone pinged and he looked down at it. Jude had the knack that she envied, of keeping his expression inscrutable, but she’d always been able to sense what kind of emotion he was trying to hide. ‘Is that Ashleigh? Is there news?’
‘Yes.’ He replaced the phone in his pocket and stared at her, thoughtfully, before bending down to offer Holmes the briefest of acknowledgements as the cat rubbed round his legs. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ As if she hadn’t known. The paramedics’ verdict was just a confirmation of her failure to save him.
‘I’m afraid so.’
Still her heart refused to accept the evidence of her eyes and the response of the paramedics. ‘Why did you let me leave him? I should have waited.’
His expression answered her, but he was too kind to repeat the brutal truth.‘You were upset. And if he’d been aware of that it would have upset him more. Sometimes it’s better that way.’
‘I was not upset. I should have stayed with him.’
‘Becca. You’re in shock.’ He snatched a glance through the window, as if anxious for someone to appear and relieve him of his duty of care. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘I’m a healthcare professional. How dare you tell me whether I’ve done anything wrong or not!’ Grief and self-loathing overwhelmed her and she launched herself at him, fists clenched. ‘How dare you? Who do you think you are? Who? Who?’
Tears blinded her. Jude’s hands closed around her wrists as he held her off. ‘Becca. Calm down. This isn’t helping anyone.’
‘Nothing will help now!’ she shouted back at him. ‘Don’t you see? Nothing. Nothing! I couldn’t save him! He’s dead, and we’ll never get him back, and I’ll never see him again. And it’s all because of everything that’s been happening!’ It was Ryan giving him hassle and the police asking questions. It had been the shock of Summer’s death and the disruption that had come upon peaceful Martindale. ‘It’s your fault, too!’ But he didn’t answer, just continued to hold her at a distance. Fury changed to tears and her misery erupted into a huge sob. ‘Jude. Oh, Jude. What am I going to do?’
He released her and she collapsed against him, clinging to him and sobbing. It took a second before he responded, a hug that was so cold and impersonal as to hurt more than anything else, the kind of hug you give people at a distance when they embarrass you. ‘Oh God, Jude. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise,’ he said, still with that cool lack of engagement.
She’d loved him for so long and now he was distant. When she relaxed her hold, he stepped back with obvious relief, and she almost hated him for it. ‘I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you.’
‘Not at all. But I’m going to leave, now. It looks like there’s someone here to help you.’
Becca turned towards the door and found the presence of her current boyfriend chillingly less comforting than that of her ex. ‘Adam. What are you doing here?’
‘Your mum called me and asked me to pop by and make sure you’re all right.’ He walked past Jude, who’d stepped back still with that same infuriatingly neutral expression on his face. Her tears had left a dark mark on his tee shirt. ‘That’s what I’m here to do. What a hell of a shock for you, my darling. Poor old George. No wonder you’re struggling to cope. But at his age it was probably the best thing, with him living in that house all on his own.’ He flicked a knife-like look at Jude. ‘Okay, pal. You’re not needed.’
‘I’ll see myself out.’ Jude was already in the hallway. ‘Becca. If you need me you know where I am.’
There was a click as he dropped her car key on the hall table and then he was gone, with the grey shadow that was Holmes ghosting down the path at his heels.
Jude crossed the street to his mother’s house in a state of deep thought, and leaned on the bell
. There was no point in pretending Becca’s distress hadn’t affected him, and he’d grown used to being honest with his own soul even when he couldn’t be honest with anyone else. He was still in love with Becca, and whenever he thought he’d conquered his feelings, something caused them to flare up. That was why his relationship with Ashleigh would ultimately go nowhere, and the only reason it continued was because she was in exactly the same situation as regarded Scott. Neither of them ever mentioned it, but they both knew.
Mikey answered the door. Out of the loop, Jude never knew whether to expect his brother or not, but it seemed as if Mikey’s recent silence was casual rather than aggrieved, because his demeanour was cheerful enough. ‘Hey, Jude.’ He grinned. ‘I love the way you bring Becca’s cat with you when you call.’
Looking down, Jude saw Holmes stalking past him into the Satterthwaite household as if he owned the place. That would irritate Becca, who resented the cat’s fondness for him, but he wasn’t about to take the animal home. Besides, he admired Holmes’ independence of sprit. ‘Good to see you. Are you back for long?’
‘Studying.’ Mikey made a face. ‘My last exam is next week and my flatmates have all finished and are on the lash. There’s no way I’d ever get anything done if I was there.’
‘Sensible man.’ Jude followed Holmes through to the kitchen, where Mikey had spread his books and folders out over the kitchen table.
‘Up to a point. The last week before the last exam in my last year of uni is probably leaving it a bit late to see sense.’
Jude snatched a look through the kitchen window at the green brow of Lowther Fell. If he and Ashleigh had got moving five minutes earlier they’d have been away from George’s cottage before Becca got there. Not only would he have avoided the whole drama that had played out and been spared the awkward scene he’d just had with Becca, but he and Ashleigh would have had a whole day to walk and talk and look down on Ullswater and over to High Street, breathe in the fresh air and get away from the stresses of work. God knew he’d have welcomed that. ‘Better late than never.’ Mikey was smart and probably protested too much. Not a book learner, Jude couldn’t help envying his capacity to absorb so much dull information in phenomenal detail and retain it for just long enough to regurgitate it in an exam.
‘Well.’ Mikey sat down at the table and reached for the bar of chocolate sitting there. ‘I’m about due a break. Mum’s out, if you’re looking for her.’ He snapped off two squares and offered them to Jude.
‘I wasn’t looking for anyone. Just waiting for Ashleigh.’
‘Why wait for her here?’
Jude slipped a square of Dairy Milk into his mouth and allowed it to melt before he answered. ‘She’s got my car.’ And then it was off onto the explanation of what had happened and how, and why, although Mikey stopped listening once the dramatic fact of George’s collapse and death was over and done with so he was spared having to go into detail about Becca’s uncharacteristic breakdown.
‘How long are you hanging around?’ Mikey seemed to remember his manners. ‘Long enough for some lunch? It’s must be about that time.’
‘I expect we’ll go out for a pub lunch somewhere. Ashleigh won’t be long. She can’t have been far behind us.’
Holmes jumped up onto the table and padded along it as if it were a catwalk, picking his way delicately through Mikey’s papers to nudge his head against Jude’s elbow. Mikey swiped him aside. ‘That animal’s a pest. It’s good that you got a day off, anyway. You work too hard.’
Everyone said that, and at least George’s collapse wasn’t suspicious and there would be no need to get involved, but even the thought of such a thing sent his mind back to the old man’s death. He shook his head in irritation at Becca’s irrational accusation that he, through the investigation into Summer’s accident, was somehow responsible for what had happened to George.
It reminded him. There were questions it could do no harm to ask. ‘You don’t know Luke Helmsley, do you?’
‘Only vaguely. He’s a few years older than me. I know him well enough to keep out of his way if I’m ever in the same pub as him and never to look at a girl he’s with, but that’s about it. Why?’
‘I wondered.’ With a measure of relief, Jude heard the thrum of the engine of his Mercedes. ‘That’s Ashleigh. I’ll leave you to get on. Work hard.’
‘Oh, okay. Well that was short but sweet. Nice to see you.’
‘When are you heading back to Newcastle?’ Jude moved towards the door. ‘Give me a shout before you do. We could go out for a drink some time. Have a chat.’
‘I’ll take the drink but you can stuff the chat. I don’t need any of that in loco parentis stuff. Too awkward.’
‘See you.’
‘See you, bro.’
Holmes trotted out behind him, exactly as he’d trotted in, and shot up the path to Becca’s front door, which opened. Walking to the car and assuming the driver’s seat which Ashleigh vacated for him, Jude pretended not to notice either Becca in the living room dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, or the rather more deliberate presence of Adam Fleetwood, standing on her front step with his arms folded.
‘Well, that wasn’t how the day was meant to go.’ He started the engine, turned the Mercedes and headed back up towards Askham.
‘No. What a terrible thing to happen.’ Ashleigh was looking thoughtful. ‘Poor George.’
She relied heavily on instinct and he dealt only in fact, but today he knew what she was thinking and felt the same. ‘It didn’t ring true, did it?’
‘You thought that too?’
‘Yes, but I don’t know why. Probably because Becca was blaming it on everyone else when it was so obviously a stroke.’
‘I can see why, though. Becca was really upset.’
He sensed the sideways look she gave him but they were approaching the village of Askham and he had an excuse to ignore it, negotiating his way past the cars parked along the village green. ‘She mentioned Ryan. That’s her cousin. He’s over from Australia. Maybe he and George didn’t get on. George is a great guy but he could be a bit bumptious.’ Though he never was with Becca. ‘She was very fond of him.’
‘At ninety five you’d think his death was natural, wouldn’t you?’
‘You’re going to tell me you think it isn’t.’ He turned at the bottom of the village without really thinking where he was going. Away from Ullswater anyway, and into the Eden Valley, where they had half a chance of a pub lunch without running into someone he couldn’t be bothered talking to.
‘I’m not going to say that. But he was so obviously trying to tell her something, but her being so upset was stressing him out.’
‘She didn’t come across as upset. I thought she was really professional in dealing with him.’
‘She did all the right things, but she was upset, and he would know. I thought he was angry. Furious, in fact. Something had upset him, and it wasn’t the stroke. And he was definitely trying to talk. What was so urgent?’
Jude thought of George and his titanic struggle to speak. ‘Good question.’
‘I had a quick look round the house, and I didn’t see anything obviously wrong. And I know there’s no evidence, and I know there never will be any evidence, but that doesn’t stop me feeling there’s something not right about it.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He turned the car off the A6 and into the network of country roads where the land flattened out towards the Pennines. ‘Let’s go and get some lunch and see if we can salvage something from the day. Though there was one good thing about it. That’s the most civil conversation I’ve had with Mikey in years.’
Fourteen
‘You know what? It’s irrational, but I’m still worried about Summer Raine.’
Faye raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, you know what? I think am, too.’
‘It’s the clothes.’ Jude had been sitting at his desk thinking about the girl when he should have been thinking about something else, and when Faye had dropped in o
n her way back from the coffee machine to find out if the toxicology report had come in, he was glad of the chance to discuss it. ‘Ashleigh made that point. If you’re out of your head on drink—’
‘And drugs.’ Faye scowled and pulled up a chair. The report had indicated quantities of both alcohol and cocaine, the drug of choice for the rich, in Summer’s body. While that simplified the case considerably in terms of supporting accidental drowning while impaired, it left the thorny issue of illegal drugs on the Neilson property.
‘Yes. Drugs, too.’ That was a matter Jude wasn’t touching if he could avoid it. ‘But you don’t fold and hide your clothes. I had a look back through the files. When some of the guys went down to Summer’s lodging early on to see if there were any clues as to where she might be, the place was in a mess. Her housemates said that was typical. She never folded anything.’
‘You can’t make a case for murder on uncharacteristic neatness. Not on its own.’
‘No, but it doesn’t sit right. And there’s another thing. Just a tiny one. The clothes were hidden so you couldn’t see them from the path. Why the hell would she do that?’
‘Who knows why anyone does anything when they’re high?’ A deep sigh suggested Faye was as troubled about it, and as powerless, as he was. They both knew it was often the tiny things that caught criminals. ‘This is the problem, as I see it. If it was murder — if — then whoever did it is extremely clever.’
‘I know there’s no obvious motive, but is it worth looking a little deeper? Especially if there’s some potential connection with Robert Neilson. Had you thought of that?’
‘Thought of it?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve spent half the night lying awake and worrying about it. We know Robert Neilson is up to something. So yes, I’m thinking the same as I suspect you are — that she may have found out something she wasn’t meant to know, either in the house or from one of the twins, and that either she threatened to reveal it and had to be silenced or she had to be killed before she realised how important it was.’ At the end of such a long sentence, she paused for breath and took a long sip of cold coffee.
