Buried in the Past

by Bill Kitson

  In the silence that followed, Clara spoke, her tone a gentler one than Nash had ever heard her use. ‘Did you report it, or tell your partner what the man had done to you?’

  ‘How could I? In those days the attitude to rape and the way it was dealt with by … by … by people like you was far different. There were fewer female officers for one thing, and proving rape was by no means as easy. That much I did know. And as for telling him, all that would do would be to hand him yet another excuse for beating me. Eventually, of course, I had to tell him, and the result was even worse than I feared.’

  ‘Why did you have to tell him?’

  ‘Because I found out I was pregnant. He would have known the child couldn’t have been his because we hadn’t had sex for months, even before the rape. But of course he didn’t believe me, and I suppose the fact that I’d delayed telling him only made him more convinced I was lying. His reaction was to call me a slut and a whore. That I must have been doing it with other men, because his friends would never do anything like that. He went on and on, trying to force me to give him the name of the father, of a man who didn’t exist. The more I denied it, the more convinced he became that the reason I couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him was because I’d been with so many different men that choosing the right one to name as the baby’s father would have been impossible.

  ‘That was the prelude to the worst beating he’d ever given me. He punched and kicked me in the belly and the head until I passed out. I honestly think he was trying to force me to miscarry, but that didn’t work. I almost wish it had. I was unconscious for several hours. Eventually, I came round. By that time he’d walked out, and I never saw him again. I heard later that he went on a bender that lasted for days and got into a pub brawl that turned nasty. He ended up in prison for six months.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I sat there all night and cried and cried. The following morning I rang the only friend I’d made at work. Girl friend, I mean. It was the best move I could have made. With hindsight I wish I’d spoken to her much earlier. She came round immediately, taking no notice of my warnings about what he might do if he found her there. That was very brave of her, but as I found out later she was no stranger to that sort of situation. She had helped several other women who had been the victims of abusive partners. As soon as she saw the state I was in and found out that I was pregnant, she called her brother, who was the vicar in a local parish. He came to the house and moved me out of there. Gathering my things didn’t take long, because I wanted nothing that I could associate with him.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘They were going to try for the women’s refuge but I was in such a state physically, she put me up at her place until the baby was due. I’d had to give up work, both because of my pregnancy and because I’d be at risk if I went back. It was a relief when I found out he was in prison. It was only after the baby was born that I was advised to adopt another name, to protect me for when he was released. I chose one at random.’ Margaret smiled faintly. ‘Fawcett was off a local butcher’s van, I seem to remember.’

  ‘What did you live off?’

  ‘My parents had died a couple of years earlier. As well as the cottage at Kirk Bolton, they left me quite a lot of money. Money he didn’t know about. It was enough to see me through.’

  Clara frowned. ‘Why didn’t you move into the cottage to live? Or did he know about that?’

  ‘No, I kept that secret as well. I would have told him after a while, had things been different. But when I found out what he was like, I knew he’d force me to part with the money to fund his boozing. I couldn’t go to the cottage at that time. It wasn’t safe.’

  Both Nash and Mironova sensed that Margaret was keeping something back. Both of them thought they could guess what that was, but neither was certain how to broach the subject. Instead, Nash spoke for the first time, and the question he asked provided a lot more answers than Margaret realized when she replied.

  ‘What did you do for a living, before you had to give up work?’ Nash asked.

  ‘I was a midwife at the local hospital where he was an electrician. After I left Harrogate, I heard via my friend that he’d eventually committed suicide. That might have seemed to be the end of it, but several of his friends blamed me for what had happened, and were heard uttering threats about what they’d do if they found me. That’s why I maintained the false identity.’

  ‘Why wasn’t it safe to go to the cottage? If he didn’t know anything about it, neither would his friends.’ Clara’s question was followed by a long silence, before Margaret replied. The silence was perhaps more informative than her answer.

  ‘I can’t tell you that. I promised I’d never speak about it; to anyone.’

  Mironova looked at Nash before asking her next question. He nodded, anticipating what it would be. ‘Was that because the cottage was already occupied? Was that where your sister Francesca was hiding out?’

  Margaret gasped, then looked wildly from one to the other of the detectives, clearly appalled by the depth of their knowledge. Even then, she was unprepared for the extent of what they knew about events from that time. Clara left it to Nash to begin the process of enlightenment.

  ‘My guess is that when Frankie’s child was born, you delivered it. A home birth is allowed, I believe, when a registered midwife is present. Was your baby due at around the same time, and did Frankie ask you to look after her child as well as your own?’

  ‘I … how did you know that? Frankie told me there was something she had to do, something she’d promised someone and it was very important. She went off three weeks after the baby was born, leaving me strict instructions in the event that she didn’t return.’

  ‘When she did fail to return, you must have been really worried. Did you know why she was in hiding?’

  ‘She told me a little about the people she was scared of. But that wasn’t all that worried me. Early on in her pregnancy, Frankie started to feel really unwell. Far more than just morning sickness. She rang me for advice and I told her to go for a check up. The tests showed she had a heart defect and she was advised to opt for a termination.’ Margaret shook her head sadly. ‘They underestimated Frankie’s determination and spirit. She would never have succumbed to the sort of treatment I put up with; she would have fought back, whatever the cost. And so it was with the baby. Frankie was head over heels in love with the father and she thanked the medical people for their advice, but refused to consider an abortion at any price.’

  ‘When you say Frankie was in love with the baby’s father, I assume you mean Ray Perry?’

  Margaret looked at Nash, her expression one of mild surprise. ‘Of course, who else? I met him once and Frankie told me he’d been under a bad influence and had done some pretty wicked things. But to me he seemed a very nice bloke.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m clearly not the best judge of men, given my track record. I don’t think either Frankie or I was particularly good in our choice.’

  ‘What about when Frankie failed to return?’

  ‘What could I do? I couldn’t go looking for her, not with two babies in tow. All I could do was wait and hope – and pray. I did a lot of praying, but I don’t think anyone was listening.’

  ‘What did you think had happened to her?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if she had decided to go on the run again from the people who were after her, or whether they had caught up with her, or if her heart had given out. The childbirth had taken a lot out of her and she was still very weak, but she was determined to finish what she’d started. I did all I could, which wasn’t very much. For a long time after she went, I listened to every news bulletin I could, read every paper from cover to cover trying to find some news of her. I didn’t see anything to tell me what had happened.’

  ‘I believe you might have been right on both your suspicions,’ Nash told her. ‘It’s only guesswork, but we think she might have fallen into the hands of the people who were looking for her an
d the trauma that would have caused could have brought on a heart attack.’

  ‘I don’t know, as I said, once she left I never heard from her again.’

  ‘Apart from the letter, perhaps,’ Nash suggested.

  Margaret looked at him, startled. ‘How did you know? About the letter, I mean? I’ve never mentioned that to anyone, not even to Tina.’

  ‘Not in so many words, but you did tell her someone might come to the cottage asking for something. That something had to be a letter,’ Nash paused, ‘or the diamonds.’

  Margaret gasped. ‘Diamonds,’ she stammered. ‘You know….’

  Nash smiled. ‘We know. It had to be a letter giving a clue as to where the diamonds were hidden. Either that or the diamonds themselves, but if she’d left them with you, I’m not sure you’d have been able to resist the temptation to sell all or some of them, especially with two youngsters to feed and a limited income at your disposal.’

  Margaret looked revolted by the suggestion. ‘I would never have touched them.’ Both detectives could hear the anger in her tone. ‘Not once I learned where they came from. I knew about the wars that were fought because of them. I’d read about what the women who got caught up in those wars had suffered, brutality far worse than what I’d had to endure. It was the knowledge of what those diamonds represented that caused Ray and Frankie to take them. I would never have betrayed their trust.’

  ‘So a couple of years later, when you read about the woman’s body that was found in the woods near Bishops Cross, did you think that might have been Frankie?’ Clara asked.

  ‘I wondered if it might be, but I couldn’t go to the police with my suspicions, for obvious reasons.’

  Nash stared at Margaret for a moment, his thoughts on the DNA link between Frankie Da Silva and Graham Nattrass. That, together with the striking likeness of Tina to Frankie prompted his next question. ‘How long was it after Frankie’s disappearance that you decided to switch babies? And how did you manage the registration? Was it difficult to give your son up for adoption and keep Frankie’s daughter?’

  Margaret stared at Nash, her fear evident. ‘What makes you think Tina isn’t my daughter?’ she asked, her tone weak and defeated.

  ‘Sadly, I have to tell you that we are currently investigating the murder of a young man who was found battered to death in Helmsdale, a young man of about the same age as Tina. His DNA profile is a close familial match to that of the woman whose body was found in the woods. Close, but not that of mother and son. Aunt and nephew would be nearer the mark, according to our forensic experts.’

  The interview had to be suspended for a few minutes, as Margaret was too distressed to continue. She refused Nash’s offer of tea or coffee, but gratefully accepted a drink of water. When she was ready, Nash asked his question about the babies again.

  ‘Even without Tina to look after I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with the boy. I didn’t even give him a name until I’d to register him. I couldn’t stand the sight of him, didn’t want him near me. My skin crawled even when I’d to touch him, to change him, bath or feed him. I know it isn’t logical, and I know it wasn’t his fault, but all I could see was that man’s face; all I could remember was the attack. To be honest, Inspector Nash, if I hadn’t given him up for adoption, I’m not sure that I’d have been able to resist the temptation to smother him.’

  She paused and took a deep swig from the water. ‘It was easy. I had to register both the births. I had the documents, so as the attending midwife I was able to certify that Frankie’s child was a boy on the paperwork I wrote for her delivery. On mine I added “fe” in front of the word “male”. Having said that, I wouldn’t have wished him to come to any harm. Was he a good person, or did his death come as a result of his way of life?’

  ‘We know absolutely nothing bad about him,’ Nash reassured her, ‘but we do think the people who are searching for those diamonds believed him to be Frankie’s son. That’s because we suspect that they stole the adoption papers. He was tortured in a fairly horrible way, presumably to extract information from him; information he didn’t have.’

  chapter twenty

  Despite Margaret’s statement about the loathing she had felt for the son she had given birth to, she was clearly shocked by the news of what had happened to him, and during the first part of the journey to Netherdale Hospital to see Tina, there was complete silence in the car. Nash had insisted that Clara accompany them. He felt Margaret would be far more comfortable with another woman present. He concentrated on the road ahead, his thoughts occupied with how easy it had been for Margaret to assume a new identity and live under that assumed name for years without questions being asked, and how easy it had been for her to claim her sister’s child as her own.

  ‘What will happen now? To me, I mean?’

  Nash glanced in the rear-view mirror. Margaret was leaning forward, her question clearly addressed to him as much as to Mironova. ‘That’s a very good question. You’ve clearly broken some law or other, but I can’t be sure exactly what, or whether you’ll be prosecuted. It isn’t the sort of thing I come across every day.’

  Margaret smiled fleetingly. ‘Will Tina have to know that she isn’t my daughter?’

  ‘I think she must. There are other people to consider in this, one in particular.’

  ‘How did you work out that Tina was Frankie’s child?’

  ‘She told us so – or as good as. She said her full name is Christina Evangeline Silver. Evangeline is the name of Ray Perry’s mother. Once we knew that, the rest was easy.’

  ‘Please, can I be the one who tells her?’

  ‘I think the least we can do is to allow that. And perhaps whilst you are telling her, it might help if you explain both why you did it, and that in doing so you actually saved her life, saved her from what her cousin, your son Graham, had to suffer.’

  Out of the corner of his eye Nash saw Clara wince, but knew this had to be said. ‘He died in place of Tina. She must be made aware of that. It might help her cope with the deception. And I have to say, you seem to have done a very good job of raising her. Tina is a very beautiful young woman.’

  Mironova turned her head to look out of the window. That way neither of the others saw her smile.

  ‘In the meantime,’ Nash continued, ‘you can help us, and by doing that, you’ll help bring the people who killed your son and murdered your sister to justice.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can. For Frankie’s sake, and the boy I never gave a chance to.’

  ‘OK, do you know what was in the envelope Frankie sent to you?’

  ‘No, I always assumed it held the location where the diamonds had been hidden, but I never opened it.’

  ‘That’s a shame; it would have been very useful to know exactly what that envelope contained. And now the thieves have got it, and have a head start at getting the stones.’

  ‘The solicitor might know.’

  ‘Sorry, what solicitor?’

  ‘Frankie posted the envelope to me inside another one, and included a handwritten note, asking me to keep it safe, and only let it out of my possession if someone came along who could answer the password question, which she set in that note. The question was to give Tina’s full name. I knew that person would have to be either Ray or someone acting for him, because no one else could have answered the question correctly. Both the note and the outer envelope were on stationery with a solicitor’s name on them. It was a firm in Helmsdale. I see their offices every time I go down the market place. It’s a permanent reminder,’ – Margaret grimaced – ‘one I would rather be without sometimes.’

  ‘I know the firm you mean.’ Nash glanced at the clock display on his dashboard. ‘They’ll be open by now. I must speak to that solicitor – as a matter of extreme urgency.’

  When they reached Netherdale General, Nash phoned Pearce and asked for the solicitor’s phone number. As he was waiting, he gestured towards the entrance. ‘You go in. I’ll join you when I’ve dealt with t
his.’

  On the ward, Clara thought Tina looked subdued. She greeted her mother – or aunt, as she supposed she should now think of Margaret – but without much enthusiasm. Clara wondered if that was usual, or if relations between the two were strained – and if so, what would the revelation of Margaret’s deception do to that?

  Clara thought Tina’s lacklustre and less than enthusiastic greeting might be a result of her ordeal or a side effect of the painkillers she had been given. Those, combined with jet lag, would have subdued even the bubbliest personality.

  Her question was answered a few minutes later when Tina’s attitude changed markedly. She noticed Tina glance towards the door and saw her smile, so reminiscent of the photo of Frankie Da Silva. Nash was walking down the ward. If it had been his entrance that had caused the change in Tina’s expression – and if she smiled at Mike that way – Clara thought he would be as powerless to resist Tina, as an alcoholic would of refusing a free drink.

  ‘How did it go? Were you too late?’ Clara asked when Nash reached the bedside.

  He turned from greeting Tina, smiling broadly. ‘No, I spoke to the solicitor’s secretary.’ He guided Clara out of earshot. ‘She did have a phone call this morning from a woman passing herself off as Frankie Da Silva’s sister. She’s booked her an interview for tomorrow morning, because the solicitor isn’t in the office today.’

  ‘That was a stroke of luck.’

  Nash’s smile became a grin. ‘You don’t know how appropriate your choice of words is.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you found out where he is so we can contact him beforehand, did you?’

  ‘I certainly did. The stroke of luck is that he’s playing golf in something they call the Monthly Midweek Medal. We’re going there as soon as we leave here.’