‘What?’
‘The hands. I think she buried them. Stanley buried his bear in the flower bed at Terry’s.’ Stella glanced across at the dog. Curled up in a ball, in the dark he was a pale blob against Jack’s coat. ‘The glass wasn’t put there by the killer, it was Mary’s private mark of respect.’ Stella was surprised at herself. She had hardly known the police administrator. ‘She couldn’t confess to Terry, so the glass was a clue.’
‘You could be a detective! We should check the grave.’
‘I’m not digging up Michael Thornton’s grave.’
‘Of course not, but I think we’ll find the hands nearby. Stanley might,’ he added brightly.
‘We must return the glass.’ Stella had given the bags to Martin Cashman. She slowed for a bus at Young’s Corner. ‘I’ll ask if we can have them when the case is closed.’
‘Six bags for each driver and one for Michael. The glass has done its job and must go back to Michael.’ Jack nodded approval. ‘Drop me here, I’ll walk the rest.’
‘You could come back to Terry’s house for supper. There’s shepherd’s pie.’ The bus veered away; she pulled into its space. She would not ask where he was going.
‘Your house you mean,’ Jack corrected her. ‘Terry left it to you. It’s not his any more.’
The screen in the dashboard lit up. Jackie’s name appeared. Stella pressed the ‘phone’ button. Jack was stroking Stanley. She was gratified that he was making no move to get out.
‘Stella, we’ve had a letter about a parking ticket. We didn’t pay in time so owe the full amount.’ Jackie’s voice came through the speakers.
‘It’s a mistake.’
‘It was issued in the street where Suzie lives. Could be coincidence.’ Jackie paused.
‘I never get tickets,’ Stella said.
Jack leant over. She breathed in the particular smell of the washing powder he used. He was rummaging in the map compartment behind the steering wheel.
‘It’s the number plate for the van you drive, the one with no logo.’
Jack was holding up a plastic bag. Instead of green glass she saw a parking ticket. The morning she found it on the windscreen was abruptly vivid. The day she had refused to give her mum the job.
‘It’s OK, Jackie. I’ll pay it.’
‘Leave it with me.’ Jackie could have been there with them, her voice was so close. It seemed a long time since Stella had seen Jackie, longer still since they had chatted over Rich Tea biscuits.
‘I’ll be in first thing Monday,’ Stella confirmed. ‘After the police station.’
‘If you have things to sort out, we’re fine. Your mum’s updated the database, designed reports that are easy to understand and yesterday she got us a new client!’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘Then it will be lovely to see you.’ Jackie hung up.
‘Why are you going to the station?’ Jack asked. ‘It’s not a cleaning day.’
‘To return something.’ She couldn’t say the ‘something’ was the green form. David had not admitted he had killed Michael. ‘I have to give Cashman the green form I stole,’ she made herself say. ‘I’ll let you out here.’
‘Aren’t we having shepherd’s pie?’ Jack was playing with Stanley’s ears.
‘If you like.’ Stella slipped the ticket into her anorak pocket.
‘We need milk and you’ve run out of tea bags. I’ll pop into that shop. I could get us a nice bottle of wine and maybe chocolates for afters.’
‘I have to clean Terry’s house tomorrow.’
‘OK, your call,’ Jack replied cheerily.
Stella watched Jack Harmon jog up to the lights. Although there was no traffic in either direction, he waited for the pedestrian signal. He crossed the road and went into the grocery.
A 27 bus drew up outside what, in the sixties, had been a hardware shop, with a light bulb screwed to the counter for testing batteries. A middle-aged man alighted and went into St Peter’s Square. He was too short to be Terry. He walked like him, brisk with head up, missing nothing.
Terry was dead. Stella felt the truth of this. When they arrived at the house where Terry had lived for over forty years, she would not find him there. She would not find her dad in a park early on an autumn morning when the gates were closed. She would not find him anywhere. The house in Rose Gardens North was her house now.
Ahead of her was a beech tree with a spindly trunk, perhaps a couple of years old. In her nearside mirror was a sweet chestnut. She could put her arms around the trunk. It replaced the tree blown down in the 1987 hurricane, another sweet chestnut. Mary Thornton collected trees; she might have noticed it on her walks home with her brother. It was spring then, the leaves as green and new as they were now.
The road where Michael Thornton had died three months before she was born in 1966 had been resurfaced many times. There was no ghostly shape in the sand. No sign of the terrible event that had happened here or of what came after.
She grabbed her phone and pressed a well-worn key. The call was answered without ringing.
‘Jack, it’s me. Stella. Buy some wine. Choose one you like. They sell chocolates too. And find a treat for Stanley.’
We hope you enjoyed this book.
To find out about Lesley Thomson, click here.
To discover more about The Detective’s Daughter series, click here.
For an invitation from the publisher, click here.
Acknowledgements
I was given much support during the writing of Ghost Girl.
Once again I’d like to thank Detective Superintendent Stephen Cassidy, recently retired from the Metropolitan Police. Steve responded in detail to my queries both in person and in writing. Thanks also to Helen Samuel of the Metropolitan Police for her considered advice; and to Frank Pacifico, Operational Trainer for the London Underground: Frank’s observations were helpful and illuminating. Any mistakes or errors are mine.
I would like to thank Theresa Meekings for showing me around the building that inspired Mallingswood House and for telling me about its history. Theresa evoked ghosts that morning.
My thanks to Sue Robertson, Course Leader and Senior Lecturer on the MA in Architectural and Urban Studies at the University of Brighton for a reading list and more than one fascinating conversation about cities, buildings and architectural models. And to Professor Jenny Bourne Taylor of the University of Sussex for letting me tap her considerable knowledge on Victorian cities. To Liz Kinning, Facilities Manager at St Peter and St James’s Hospice, who gave me hard-core information about deep cleaning and sanitizers that helped me to understand Stella’s love of all things sterile. Thanks to Jane Goldberger and Ralph Baber of The Drinking Fountain Association for the spreadsheet detailing cattle troughs in London. I have taken fictional liberties with the data.
I have also taken topographical liberties and redrawn the boundaries of Hammersmith, increasing the jurisdiction of the Hammersmith Division.
The story owes much to my ‘first reader’ Melanie Lockett, whose acute perceptions and observations were invaluable. As well as this she helped make the writing possible by doing more than her fair share of the domestics.
Arts Council funding (Grants for the Arts) enabled me to complete a draft of Ghost Girl. This invaluable grant for artists was critical to me. I am grateful to John Prebble and Rob Grundy of the Arts Council for their guidance. For their advice and endorsement of my application, thanks are due to creative industries consultant and good friend, Lisa Holloway, Myriad Editions MD, Candida Lacey, and the novelist Martine McDonagh, who generously shared with me her own experience of applying for a grant.
Many played their part in listening to ideas, providing writing space or simply spurring me on. My warm thanks go to: Caro Bailey, Sandra Baker, Melissa Benn, Diana Burski, Juliet Eve, June Goodwin, Marcus Goodwin, Kay and Nigel Heather, Lisa Holloway, Greg Mosse, Domenica de Rosa, Bernice Sorensen, Alysoun Tomkins and Agnes Wheeler.
My agents Capel
and Land are right there. My heartfelt gratitude to Philippa Brewster for her staunch support and, as ever, valuable feedback, and to Georgina Capel, Rachel Conway and Romilly Must.
Laura Palmer is a wonderful editor, sensitive and perceptive. Thanks to all at Head of Zeus, in particular Nic Cheetham, Kaz Harrison, Mathilda Imlah, Clémence Jacquinet, Madeleine O’Shea and of course Becci Sharpe. Many thanks also to copy editor Richenda Todd and to proofreader Jane Robertson.
About this Book
It is a year since her father’s death, but Stella Darnell has not moved on. She visits his house every day and cleans it, leaving it spotless as if he might return.
Stella’s father was Detective Chief Superintendent at Hammersmith police station, and now she has discovered what looks like an unsolved case in his darkroom: a folder of unlabelled photographs of deserted streets. But why did Terry Darnell – a stickler for order – never file them at the station or report them to his colleagues?
The oldest photograph dates back to 1966. To a day when Mary Thornton, just ten years old, is taking her little brother home from school in time for tea. That afternoon, as the Moors Murderers are sent to prison for life, Mary witnesses something that will haunt her forever.
As Stella inches closer to the truth, the events of that day begin to haunt her too...
Ghost Girl is an intelligent, absorbing crime novel from the bestselling author of The Detective’s Daughter.
Reviews
‘Lesley Thomson is a class above.’
Ian Rankin
‘A wonderful, absorbing, intelligent detective story, The Detective’s Daughter takes you on a journey through time, loss and memory. The characters – particularly Stella – will stay with you for a very long time.’
Elly Griffiths
‘A thoughtful, well-observed story about families and relationships and what happens to both when a tragedy occurs. It reminded me of Kate Atkinson.’
Scott Pack
‘This book has a clever mystery plot – but its excellence is in the characters, all credible and memorable, and in its setting in a real West London street, exactly described.’
Literary Review
‘A gripping, haunting novel about loss and reconciliation, driven by a simple but clever plot.’
Sunday Times
‘The strength of the writing and the author’s brilliant evocation of how a child’s mind works combine to terrifying effect.
A novel one cannot forget.’
Shots
‘Skilfully evokes the era and the slow-moving quality of childhood summers, suggesting the menace lurking just beyond... A study of memory and guilt with several twists.’
Guardian
‘This emotionally charged thriller grips from the first paragraph, and a nail-biting level of suspense is maintained throughout.A great novel.’
She Magazine
About this Series
THE DETECTIVE’S DAUGHTER
Stella Darnell must clean. She wipes surfaces, pokes her cloth into the intricate carving of an oak table, whisks a duster over a ceiling rose. She keeps the world in order. Her watch is set three minutes fast for punctuality – a tip she learned from her father – and the couch in her sterile apartment is wrapped in protective plastic, though she never has guests. In her mid-forties, six foot tall, Stella is pleasant but firm, helpful but brutally pragmatic. The detective’s daughter has time for neither frivolities nor fools.
Jack Harmon is everything Stella deplores. Fanciful and unpredictable, his decisions rely on random signs. He will follow a paper bag blown along a pavement by the wind; a number on a train will dictate his day. Jack is the best cleaner Stella has ever known. Jack sees that Stella makes sense of his intuitive ponderings. Together, as unofficial detectives, these two misfits solve mysteries that have left the police confounded.
1. The Detective’s Daughter
It was the murder that shocked the nation. Thirty years ago Kate Rokesmith went walking by the river with her young son. She never came home.
For three decades her case file has lain, unsolved, in the corner of an attic. Until Stella Darnell, daughter of Chief Superintendent Darnell, starts to clear out her father’s house after his death…
The Detective’s Daughter is available here.
2. Ghost Girl
It is a year since her father’s death, but Stella Darnell has not moved on. She visits his house every day and cleans it, leaving it spotless as if he might return.
Stella’s father was Detective Chief Superintendent at Hammersmith police station, and now she has discovered what looks like an unsolved case in his darkroom: a folder of unlabelled photographs of deserted streets. But why did Terry Darnell – a stickler for order – never file them at the station or report them to his colleagues?
The oldest photograph dates back to 1966. To a day when Mary Thornton, just ten years old, is taking her little brother home from school in time for tea. That afternoon, as the Moors Murderers are sent to prison for life, Mary witnesses something that will haunt her forever.
As Stella inches closer to the truth, the events of that day begin to haunt her too...
About the Author
Lesley Thomson photo © Emily Andersen
LESLEY THOMSON was born in 1958 and grew up in London. She went to Holland Park Comprehensive and the Universities of Brighton and Sussex.
Her first novel, A Kind of Vanishing, won the People’s Book Prize in 2010. Her second novel, The Detective’s Daughter, was published in 2013 and sold over 300,000 copies.
www.lesleythomson.co.uk
A Letter from the Publisher
We hope you enjoyed this book. We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling. Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of book-lovers.
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HeadofZeusBooks
The story starts here.
First published in the UK in 2014 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Lesley Thomson, 2014
Jacket design: www.asmithcompany.co.uk
Jacket images: © Shutterstock
Author Photograph © Emily Andersen
The moral right of Lesley Thomson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (HB) 9781781857670
ISBN (XTPB) 9781781858141
ISBN (E) 9781781857663
Head of Zeus Ltd
Clerkenwell House
45-47 Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
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Contents
Cover
Welcome Page
Display Options Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About this Book
Reviews
About this Series
About the Author
An Invitation from the Publisher
Copyright
Ghost Girl Page 43
