What I Left Behind (The gripping prequel to the DS Jan Pearce Crime Fiction Series)
Page 26
‘Sorry Graham. I’ll have to give that a miss. I have to go out again.’
‘Oh alright love. It’ll save until tomorrow.’
I go into the kitchen and pour out Kirby’s meal into her bowl. I run the tap and wipe the side over. All these things are the basis of life that you don’t miss until they’re gone. That, and the everyday routine that people get so used to that they take it for granted. I probably won’t stay here now. Pat’s message will only last so long and they’ll come looking for me. But I’ve got time to think and time to make decisions.
I take a shower and dry my hair. I leave it curly as I’m off duty. I lie on my bed for a while then pluck up the courage to call Pete.
‘Hi Pete. Sorry I couldn’t be there…’
He interrupts me.
‘Ah Jan. There’s someone here want to say hello to Aunty Janet.’
There’s silence then a little grunt. Then Kerry comes on the line.
‘Jan! I’ve had a little girl. Seven pounds two. Perfect weight even though she’s a bit early. We’ve called him. Karen Janet.’
For once I’m lost for words. I quickly recover and congratulate them.
‘Oh My God! Congratulations to the both of you. All three of you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Kerry. How did it go?’
She laughs loudly.
‘Well it hurt a bit. Not recommended. Probably won’t have any more. You’re not missing anything. And it’s all right. It’s perfectly fine; Jan. Pete made it back in time for the birth. I had her at lunchtime yesterday. I didn’t ring because I knew you were tied up with that child abduction. Saw you picture in the paper. Don’t beat yourself up, love; you’ve got plenty of babysitting to do.’
She was born at lunchtime. Around the same time that I nearly lost my life. Pete comes on the phone now.
‘Are you coming up tonight? I’ll pick you up if you like?’
‘Yes. I’d love to meet Karen. I can’t wait. But I’ll make my own way there. I need to do something first.’
‘See you later then. I’ll pick up some champagne and we can wet the baby’s head.’
I end the call. I can’t believe that Kerry’s not mad at me. Maybe they expect me to be a little bit unreliable. I’d forgotten all about the silver Range Rover and my picture in the paper.
I go out into the garden and cut some flowers. A beautiful bunch of daisies and yellow roses. I tie them with a white ribbon and wrap them in a piece of old wrapping paper I kept from one birthday or another. I work carefully and with focus because this is very important. I call a cab and it takes about twenty minutes to arrive. That’s fine as I’m in no rush.
As the cab reaches its destination I feel the butterflies in my tummy. This is a first for me. The first time I’ve ever been here. But the time is right now. And who knows what might happen tomorrow? I get out at the gates and walk through the grounds. The last time I was here was at my grandfather’s funeral. He was well loved throughout Saddleworth and his coffin had been carried in a horse drawn hearse. Not the flashy glass carriage, but a simple wooden affair. My grandmother was already dead, and my parents had died two years before, within six months of each other. My grandfather had been ninety eight when he died, but still fit and active.
People at the funeral told me that he’d walk miles every day. He never caught a bus or taxi unless he absolutely had to. He cycled any distances too far to walk. They’d lived in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of Uppermill and since he’d retired he’d grown flowers which he sold at the side of the road. Prize winning chrysanthemums. He’d go around cutting men’s hair for a small charge and spent most of it in the bookies. He had his faults. He drank far too much and would get up on tables singing old anthems. And he’d fall off. His body was covered in battle scars with whiskey. But between the gambling and the drinking he was a caring man.
He spent a lot of time showing me right from wrong and telling me that in the end we’re all alone with our conscience. I suppose I’d been looking for someone like him in my own partner and Pat had fitted the bill. If only our misunderstanding hadn’t been so monumental things could be so different. There I go with my ‘if onlys’ already. I reach my grandfather’s grave and take a yellow rose from the bunch I’m carrying. I place it carefully on his grave. I still remember not understanding when they lowered him in, wanting to jump in and tell them they’d made a mistake.
But we have to be dignified in this life and, sometimes, take what we’re dealt and run with it. I carry on through the graveyard, getting my bearings and reading the gravestones. They vary from traditional stones to Celtic crosses. There are even a few cherubs. I stop at my parent’s grave. They’re buried together. My father died of lung cancer in the end and my mother had a heart attack. Or broken heart, as my grandfather put it. He told me that the best thing you could hope for was to die before your children but that hadn’t happened for him. He outlived my mother. I take two more yellow roses and place them at the head of the grave. So sad.
Then I turn the next corner and I see it. My own grave. I stand still at a distance at first. I wonder if I should have taken their advice and changed my identity. Gone for witness protection. But I guess something inside me was waiting for Pat to come and find me. Funny. Now he has, it’s too late. The old Jan, the one he knew, is deep inside. I’m not that woman any more. Not most of the time, anyway.
I approach the grave and bend down to pick out a few weeds that have grown on it. There’s a vase at the foot of it and I arrange the flowers neatly in it. The inscription on the headstone says ‘Janet Elizabeth Pearce. Taken from the world too soon at the age of twenty-two.’ The date underneath will forever remain a terrible anniversary for me. The date of my supposed car crash. The one that made me collateral damage. That caused the injury that changed me. The date I entered the terrible world that my grandfather had warned me about. I go around the side and run my fingers over the golden letters underneath my own inscription. I haven’t been here before, because I couldn’t bear to. Something that’s trapped inside of me, the one thing that drives me on and summons up the blood, disguises fair nature with hard-favoured rage, shifts a little. But I had to come, because it’s always personal.
Amelia May Pearce-Knowles
Lies here with her mother who passed the same day
Taken too soon at the age of nine months.
AKNOWLEDGEMENTS
What I left behind is the story of a young Jan Pearce and how she lived and loved. The research for this book took me into the realms of explosives and just police procedural as they stood at the turn of the millennium and make me realise the technological changes
I hope that What I left Behind gives some insight into Jan’s troubled past and how she came to be involved with the Connelly family, as well as how she came to live and work in Manchester.
To my family, I’m grateful that you understand my need to write and that you make a space for me to do it.
To Eric who listens to these stories as they form and must feel like he knows the characters so well – eternal love and thanks.
Finally, to you, the reader. You gave this book a chance and that’s all I ever wanted for Jan. Thank you for reading What I Left Behind.
Contact and Mailing List
Jacqueline Ward lives in Manchester in the North of England and is the author of several short stories and a speculative fiction novel, SmartYellow, under the pen name of J. A. Christy. She holds a PhD in narrative psychology and storytelling and is also a screenwriter. The Truth Keepers is her fourth novel and the first book in the Kate Morden series. The 2016 bestseller Random Acts of Unkindness and its sequel Playlist for a Paper Angel were published by Kindle Press as the first two books in the DS Jan Pearce series. What I Left Behind is the prequel to this series.
For more about Jacqueline and the DS Jan Pearce series and Kate Morden series, and to sign up for her mailing list and get updates about Jacqueline’s psychological thriller Perfect Ten, which will be launched in Spring 2018 by Corvus Atlantic Boo
ks, go to http://www.jacquelineward.co.uk.
Follow Jacqueline on Twitter @jacquiannc @jacquiannward
Other books by Jacqueline Ward
Other books in this series:
Random Acts of Unkindness
Playlist for a Paper Angel
Other books
SmartYellow
The Truth Keepers