‘Fine.’
*
They left the tea room, buttoning their coats against the chill of the evening. The shops were still brightly lit.
‘Well,’ Patricia smiled, ‘you must know everything about us now.’ She offered Agnes her gloved hand. ‘If anything comes to light about Jo, I’ll let you know. Can I give you a lift?’
‘I brought my car, thanks.’
‘And we’re walking, aren’t we, Rosie?’
‘No.’ Rosie flapped her frog mittens at Agnes. They watched as Patricia disappeared into the crowded street, an elegant figure in tailored coat and high heels.
‘See you Monday,’ Nina said. ‘Come on, Madam.’
*
‘Supper,’ Philomena said, meeting Agnes in the main corridor as she arrived back at the school and taking her arm.
‘I thought I might go to my room - I rather need privacy this evening, time to think.’
‘Think? Nonsense.’
They took their places in the queue in the dining hall. ‘And the car.’ Philomena placed a roll and butter on her tray. ‘Never there these days.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry, I’ve rather needed to be out and about — ’
‘You and your needs. Privacy? No such thing.’
‘Surely solitude is a necessary part of — ’
‘The Lord is everywhere. Cream of chicken,’ she added, taking a bowl of soup.
‘I didn’t mean privacy from the Lord,’ Agnes said. ‘Just as well. Anyway, the Old Bill. Cheese?’
Agnes stared at Sister Philomena. ‘Did you say Old Bill?’
‘Huge feet,’ Philomena went on. ‘Loads of them.’ Agnes took a deep breath. ‘The police were here? Today?’
‘Carpet filthy. There she is.’ Philomena pointed across to the sixth-form table, where Charlotte sat, pale and silent.
‘Thank you so much, Sister.’ Agnes left her tray of soup and cheese and crossed the room. Charlotte looked up with relief when she saw it was Agnes. ‘They were here,’ she began, tearfully.
‘I know. Come with me.’
Agnes took her arm and led her from the dining hall. As she left she could see Sister Philomena standing in the queue, trying to carry Agnes’s tray as well as her own.
*
‘So what did they want?’
‘There’s another woman,’ Charlotte said, then burst into tears.
Agnes put the kettle on to boil. ‘Mark had another woman?’
‘They said had I heard of someone called Lianna Vickers.’
‘And had you?’
Charlotte nodded, then burst into renewed weeping. ‘She’s someone from the estate. Yesterday she went to the police station and told them she was going out with him.’
‘Why did she wait until now?’
‘I’ve no idea. Probably involved in something illegal. Knowing her.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
Agnes cut some bread into slices and put them into the toaster. ‘I suppose it’s all round the school now.’
‘Sister Philomena did her best, but — ’ Charlotte took a tissue from the box that Agnes passed her. ‘I had to tell them, they all wanted to know.’
Agnes sighed. ‘Perhaps I’d better visit this Lianna Vickers. Do you know where she lives?’
‘I’ve been to her house once. It’s a tip.’
‘Can you give me the address?’
‘David’ll have it.’ She began to cry again. ‘Her, of all people — the idea that Mark might have — she’s a — she’s a slag, she’s the kind of girl who’d — not Mark. Not him.’
*
A thin sun touched the chapel windows and flecked the altar with blue and green.
‘How great is your goodness, O Lord ... ’ Elias recited the psalm, his head bowed as he read from the text. ‘Blessed be the Lord, for He has shown me the wonders of His love in a besieged city.’ Elias threw the words away as if they had no meaning. ‘Love the Lord, all you who worship Him — ’ for a second he raised his eyes, and met Agnes’s gaze, then looked back to the book. ‘Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.’ She wondered if the tone of irony was deliberate, or just the inflection of his voice.
It was after three when Agnes finally was able to return to her room. She took the number that Nina had given her and dialled it. A young woman answered the phone. ‘Hello, is Ed Longley there?’
‘I’ll just get him.’
There was a pause, then a male voice said, ‘Hello?’
‘I’m phoning about Mark Snaith,’ Agnes said. ‘My name’s Agnes, I’m a friend of his brother’s.’
‘Oh.’
‘You worked at the mill?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you were involved in the tribunal with Mehfuz?’
‘Yes, but that was — oh. Right. D’you know, I hadn’t thought ... it were all so long ago, that, and we never took the threats serious, like — who did you say you were?’
‘Sister Agnes. I’m a nun, I’ve — I’ve become involved with the Mark Snaith case.’
There was a silence. Then Ed said, ‘D’you know, it never occurred to me, I saw it in the papers and that.’
‘I wondered if we might meet.’
‘Yeah, sound. Do you know the Old Gatehouse on the Silsden Road?’
‘No, but — ’
‘I play darts there, I’ll be there tomorrow night.’
‘Fine. See you then.’
*
‘You’re meeting Ed Longley tonight? Fast worker, you are.’ Nina’s office was bright and spacious. Two wide windows with aluminium frames let in the midday sun.
‘Seems so,’ Agnes replied. ‘He hadn’t made the connection between the tribunal and Mark’s death. Are you free this evening?’
‘Bit short notice for Rosie, I’m afraid, but you can fill me in afterwards, can’t you?’ Nina put a file down in front of Agnes.
‘What’s this?’
‘Billy Keenan’s personnel file.’ Nina was almost whispering.
‘Anything in it?’
‘He’s had loads of warnings. He’s National Front for sure.’
‘Does it say so here?’
‘No, but he’s picked on loads of people, all of them Asian.’
‘What’s he like with you?’
‘I don’t have much to do with him. He’s been civil enough, I s’pose, but that’s not the point. Those NF boys choose their targets. You can borrow that if you want.’ ‘Won’t it be missed?’
‘I’m reorganising the office. Old Mr Baines has kept his office over in the old building, you see, and there’s various files there that Mr Turnbull wants me to move over here, seeing as he and Patricia are going to be based here, and Mr Baines is bound to retire officially soon once Turnbull’s properly in charge. So all the files are in boxes around the place, one more isn’t going to matter.’
‘Is it just you doing all that?’
‘Yes, I’ll be working late most nights, there’s loads to do. Turnbull seems to be in a real hurry to get the files over here, he keeps bringing me more boxes and telling me to list the contents, and it’s all really dull, invoices, VAT stuff, that kind of thing.’
They heard footsteps on the staircase, and then a voice called, ‘Nina, any chance of a sandwich?’ as Anthony Turnbull appeared in the office. ‘Good heavens, it’s you.’ He smiled at Agnes and shook her hand. ‘I had no idea you were such good friends, you two.’
‘Oh, we go back years.’ Nina turned away from him to get her coat, and winked at Agnes.
Turnbull relinquished Agnes’s hand. ‘And I believe my wife entertained you to tea on Saturday.’
‘It was very kind of her.’
‘And you know someone she used to know, some chap, friend of her brother’s.’
‘Elias, yes.’
‘She was sure I’d remember, but all that was before my time.’
Nina was standing by the door. ‘What kind of sandwich, Mr Turnb
ull?’
‘Oh, anything. Not beef. Anything else. Oh, not prawn either.’ He was still studying Agnes. ‘Perhaps you could get something for our visitor too.’
‘I thought I might go with you — ’ Agnes said.
‘I’m sure Nina is quite capable of carrying three sandwiches.’ Agnes and Nina looked at one another. Nina shrugged, went out of the room.
Turnbull took a packet of expensive cigarettes from his pocket, waved the packet in Agnes’s direction as if anticipating her refusal, then lit one.
‘Thank you, I will,’ Agnes said.
Turnbull smiled as he offered her the packet. She took a cigarette and he leaned over and lit it for her.
‘You surprise me,’ he said.
‘It used to be only Gauloises,’ she said, ‘but my good taste has been diminished by exile.’
‘I thought perhaps nuns didn’t — ’
‘Didn’t smoke? Or didn’t drink? Didn’t lie, cheat or steal? We’re only human.’
‘Evidently.’ His gaze didn’t falter.
‘So,’ Agnes said, ‘how’s your new life as a textile baron?’
‘Challenging. Or terrifying. Depending how honest I’m being. Like you, I’m only human.’
Agnes laughed. ‘It must be very difficult.’
‘It could be worse. At least I know some of the staff now, like Nina, and the sales team, and I’ve had meetings with all our customers, and the Baines name helps enormously, with Patricia on board. And even some of the shopfloor are familiar to me, from my work with the sports centre on the estate.’
‘So you’re part of that too?’
‘We applied for lottery funding last year, we already had the matching funds, I helped them put the application together. And we got it. So it should be full steam ahead. And sports, you see, it’s the ideal thing for an area like this, lots of bored teenage boys hanging about. We’ve got a community centre up the hill, it’s been there for years, but it’s barely used because it’s so often vandalised. If we extend it into a sports centre, the kids’ll think it’s their own, they’ll feel part of it. I’m sure of it.’
‘Wasn’t Mark involved?’
‘Yes. And quite a few of the lads from the workforce here. It’ll help, I think, with staff relations. Mark will be missed, though.’
‘Bacon and avocado OK?’ Nina came into the room. ‘Or else there’s mozzarella and tomato, and something else, what was it, ham and mustard? I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Ladies first.’ Turnbull held out the three plastic packets to Agnes for her to choose from. She took the nearest, not reading the label, aware of him watching her still.
*
‘Cigarette?’ Ed Longley produced a packet of Silk Cut. ‘No thanks, I don’t smoke.’ Agnes smiled at him. ‘Course not, stupid of me. Though it threw me when you walked in, in a nice skirt and that, not wearing that — you know, what they wear.’
‘Habit.’
‘Aye. Would’ve taken you for just an ordinary bird. No offence. Thing is, you see,’ Ed took a long pull on his pint, ‘lost touch wi’ him when I left the mill. Mark, I mean.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘Must have been ... ’ he sipped on his beer. ‘Must have been a good couple of years now. We were never great mates at best of times. I mean, nowt bad between us, don’t get me wrong, just not in t’same crowd.’
‘But the tribunal?’
‘Y’see — a lot was made of it at the time, but truth to tell, it weren’t a big deal. Our mate Mehfuz was told they didn’t need him no more, it was when Baines was shutting down a lot of the wool spinning in favour of acrylic. Didn’t think owt of it at the time. Several of the lads went then. Then a few months later, Baines takes on a couple of lasses. And I think Mehf must have spoken to someone about it then, but y’see, no one could prove it were unfair. We knew the girls were cheaper, but that’s how it is round here. Old story. Their jobs were a bit different to the old jobs because the machinery was new.’ He downed a large amount of beer, then wiped his upper lip on the back of his hand.
‘So how did it come to be a case?’
‘I think we’d have done nowt if it hadn’t been for Billy Keenan. Nasty bit of work, him. Started spreading it around that him and his mates had, like, had a bit of a word wi’ old Baines. And Billy starts goin’ on like it’s a victory for the NF lot. And then Mehf thought about this, and we thought, it’s worth a go, just to wipe the smile off Keenan’s face. So we took it to the tribunal and we won. Sort of, anyway, Baines settled.’
‘And Mark?’
‘He were a good sort, Mark. Sense of fairness, him. Also, he liked the idea of getting even with Billy, there was some old feud went back years with them two.’
Agnes took the photo of the athletics team from her bag. ‘You’re in this, too,’ she said.
Ed took it and stared at it. He smiled. ‘Sure am. There I am. Just a nipper when you come to think of it.’
‘And Mark.’
‘Yeah. And Dave, his brother.’ He smiled. ‘And Reg.’
‘Reg?’
‘Reg Naismith, our trainer. He were one in a million, he were. There.’ He pointed at an older man standing at the back of the team. ‘I wonder what happened to him, he must be a good age by now, he were knocking seventy even then. But he kept us on our toes, he did. Bit of a terror, too, like. After I injured my foot, I had to leave, I were too scared of him. He were just ordinary, though, Reg, just lived on the estate like everyone else, worked in the mill till he retired, rare thing these days. But he had summat, don’t know what it were — we’d have done anything for him. Yeah, all right, lads — ’ he made a thumbs-up sign at the waiting darts team — ‘be right with you.’
‘So — do you think Mark’s death might be connected with this tribunal?’
‘To be honest, I doubt it. It were a long time ago, now. And a lot were made of it at the time, but really, it were nothing much.’ He drained his glass. ‘There were some lads from the other estate, Cartmel, saw it as an excuse for some trouble. Me and Mark were called some names. A couple of the pubs wouldn’t have us for a while in case of trouble. But it blew over. No, whatever’s happened to Mark is summat else. Maybe he’s been mixing it lately with some dodgy types. Y’see, I lost touch with him, like I said. Yeah, y’all right, Barney, I’ll be right wi’ you — ’ He stood up and offered Agnes his hand. ‘I don’t really know what he were up to. But if there’s owt else I can do, you know where I am.’
As Agnes crossed the pub she heard a chorus of whistles coming from the darts team. She didn’t turn round.
*
In her room that night, Agnes lit her candle and knelt in prayer. She settled her thoughts, aware of images floating in her mind, of James’s smile, his clear grey eyes. Of Anthony Turnbull. She jumped as the phone rang. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Patricia. I’m sorry to disturb you.’
‘Patricia? What’s happened?’
‘I thought you should know. We’ve only just heard ourselves. Someone was found dead, on the estate. Earlier today.’
‘Dead?’
‘The thing is, he was just an old man, nothing to do with us or anyone. Anthony said to tell you — ’
‘Anthony?’
‘You see, it’s obviously some kind of random serial killer, you know, some nutter. He was killed the same way as Mark.’
‘His eyes?’
‘Yes, but you see, nothing to do with your Charlotte or our Joanna or anything. Just an old man, Reg someone, Reg Naismith I think. It’s really very reassuring.’
‘Reg — ‘
‘And when I finally got through to the police they confirmed my view that it’s one of those psychopath kind of things.’
‘But Reg Naismith used to work at Allbright’s.’
‘Oh, well, everyone used to work at Allbright’s. The point is, it’s nothing to do with us. Anthony’s terribly relieved, and so am I. Because it’s quite clear that whatever’s happened to Jo is sepa
rate from Mark. Do you see?’
‘Yes. Yes, I see.’
‘I’ll speak to you later, maybe? I’ll be at the mill if you’re passing.’
‘Right, thanks. Bye.’
Agnes sat at her desk. She took out the photo of the athletics team and stared at it. Mark Snaith. Reg Naismith.
Did someone out there have some terrible methodical plan? she thought. Was there order in the chaos after all? Or is Patricia right, just some kind of random killing. Perhaps it’s just coincidence. If I’d never seen this photo I’d probably be agreeing with her. Probably.
She got up suddenly and went out into the freezing corridor, finding she was hurrying down the stairs, towards the chapel. She reached the door. Slowly she walked towards the altar, shivering in her pale nightdress as the moon cast thin shadows on the stone around her. Two deaths. Two similar, savage deaths. And You expect me to make sense of it? She approached the East window and stared up at the darkened image of God. But what kind of God are You? You leave us here, Your so-called Creation, Your People, You abandon us here and leave us to get on with it, and when it all goes wrong, as it’s bound to do because we’re only human, what do You do? Nothing. You let a young man and an old man die a horrible death, and You do nothing. And what about the others, the countless others across this world of Yours, the man who sees his brother shot down next to him in battle, the woman who holds her hungry baby in her arms, helpless as its life fades away, the child who sees its parents killed before its eyes? And what about the killers, war-crazed village boys driven mad by fear, or the mercenaries brutalised beyond humanity — or some lone person even now wandering the moors out there, capable, perhaps, of killing again? And still You demand that we believe, that we hope? What the hell do You want us to do?
Agnes wasn’t sure if she was speaking out loud or not. She sat on the altar step, suddenly exhausted. Her eyes welled with tears. ‘What do You want me to do?’ she whispered, and her words broke the chapel’s silence.
Chapter Eight
Agnes crept late into assembly. She wished it was one of Elias’s days for leading prayers, so that he’d be hiding away behind his hair, oblivious of any interruption. Philomena was mid-sentence as Agnes tried to take her place at the end of a pew. She broke off, looked up at Agnes, took out her watch with its dangling strap, squinted at it, put it back in her pocket and then continued:
A Dark and Sinful Death Page 10
