by Susan Hill
‘Leaflets about Kimberley were handed out to people in the park on a couple of days and people took them, and said they would have a think, but only two said they recognised her. One was an old man who was dozing on a bench and said he might have seen her, though he often nodded off. As the officer was talking to him, a young woman came up – she’d been handed a leaflet too. She thought it was probably Kimberley who had helped her when her toddler ran down towards the pond.
‘The girl had a double buggy with a baby in it as well and she was in a panic trying to get the buggy brake on and go after her boy. Apparently Kimberley had jumped up from her bench and run across – grabbed him just in time. The mother – Natalie Stoker, twenty-seven – had, of course, been extremely grateful and they had had a brief chat. The problem was that she came into the park most weekdays and couldn’t be sure if this had happened on the day Kimberley went missing, which was a Wednesday, or the day before … possibly even on the Monday. She said she would think hard about it. Perhaps she did but so far as the files show, no one went back to interview her again. Her name and address are noted but that’s all. And then there was the elderly gent – Stanley Barnard. He had taken a leaflet and said he was in the park often and thought he recognised the photo. For some reason either he wasn’t questioned further or there is no record of it. Perhaps he was another they were going to get back to but didn’t.
‘Anything else?’
‘That’s enough to give me a reason to try and find both those people and reinterview.’
‘Just about.’
Simon drank the last of the coffee, and as he did so, the Chief’s phone rang. He raised an eyebrow and answered, listened, said, ‘Thank you. Give me a moment, Katie … Message from Cat. She said to tell us she was on her way to Bevham General with your father. She thinks he may have had a heart attack but it could be pleurisy. She’ll let me know.’
‘Shit. I’d better go up there. I’ve nearly finished. Let me just come to what I think needs looking at more closely. As far as I could find out, nobody went back to see the young mother and nobody reinterviewed the old man, on that day or any other. By then everyone was being spread out on searches and the park was ticked off.’
‘So – what would you hope to find at this stage?’
‘The young woman and the old man … and put out a press call asking again for people who used that park to think back, look at the photographs of Kimberley, try to remember. But they were two who definitely recognised her only days after she disappeared. Why did no one go back and talk to them again?’
‘Yes, they should have done so, as a matter of routine checking, I agree. But still – it’s five years ago, populations change and shift. What chance of finding those two and getting any helpful info at this stage?’
‘Not a lot probably but that isn’t a reason for letting it go again.’
The Chief stood up. ‘I have to meet the Police Commissioner in quarter of an hour. I want to think about this and I’ll come up with a decision for you tonight – come round and eat? No idea if Cat will be there – but can you let me know about Richard? I hope things aren’t as bad as they sound.’
Simon was closing down his laptop, and as he did so, he looked quickly across at his brother-in-law. ‘You don’t care for Dad, do you? No, it’s all right – nor do I much.’
Kieron did not reply.
Forty-nine
Cat looked grey with exhaustion. Richard was tied up to tubes and machines.
‘Hey. Thanks for coming.’
‘Listen,’ Simon said, sitting down at the other side of their father’s bed, ‘you go home. You don’t have to stay with him. I’ll take over.’
‘I was waiting to see the consultant.’
‘Who might come now or never. What’s your take on him?’
They both looked at Richard. He was asleep, pale and miles away somewhere. Nowhere. But Cat lowered her voice.
‘Not good. His breathing worried me but the chest pain might have been cardiac. They did an ECG when he first came in and it was all over the place. He was in and out, don’t think he knew what was happening.’
‘So, what next?’
‘Not sure. If it’s pleurisy then meds – if it’s an infarct, they’ll have to see what the damage is and go from there.’
‘Why haven’t they found out already?’
‘Because they’ve been up to their eyes … Dad’s a priority but the scanners are banked up. He’s on oxygen and a morphine drip. If anything threatens, they’ll leap on it, don’t worry.’
‘Meanwhile, you can’t stay here all day. Go home, have a rest. I’m coming over for supper – the Chief and I have to finish off what we started this morning.’
‘You know …’ Cat was rubbing the edge of the sheet between her thumb and forefinger. ‘I think Kieron would be glad if …’ She looked at her father.
‘No, Kieron wouldn’t. But he doesn’t want him living in his house. Your house. That’s all.’
‘All.’
‘I know.’
‘At the moment, that’s the only place, once he’s out of here again. I can’t send him somewhere to be on his own. He couldn’t possibly cope.’
‘Nursing home?’
‘That would be temporary as well. And you know how fiercely he would resist any sort of “home” at all.’
Simon looked at his father. His cheeks had sunken down, his colour was bad. He looked suddenly very old.
Cat said, ‘You could …’
‘Absolutely not. Besides, he couldn’t get up the stairs.’
Cat shrugged.
‘And I’m not there – he’d be just as alone as he would in some sort of sheltered flat. Kieron has to lump it for a bit until Dad’s better and ready to get on with his own life again. Which he will, you know he will. I mean, how much does Dad being with you actually impinge on Kieron’s life?’
‘It takes me away from him.’
‘Tough.’
Richard stirred slightly and mumbled but did not open his eyes, and after a moment, was quiet again.
‘When do you start the new job?’
‘Not for a while, I’m still doing locums, and working the contract through with Luke also takes up my time. I can’t run home every time Dad wants a cup of coffee.’
‘Is Sam any help?’
‘Yes, but he can’t be expected to stay at home to look after his grandfather. Listen, you go … I will too as soon as I’ve seen someone and got up to speed with all this.’
‘Medical opinion – which way is this going?’
Cat looked at Richard for a moment. ‘All things being equal, I think he’ll be fine. Not yet. But he’s tough.’
‘Good.’
‘You?’
‘Well, I’m always fine. You should know that.’
He left before she could challenge him.
Fifty
The house was wonderfully quiet. Cat let Wookie out into the garden. She ought to take him for a walk but she felt so drained of energy she ducked out of it. Sam would take him later. He liked walking. Mephisto was sleeping in a tight ball inside an empty grocery carton in front of the Aga, something he did for longer periods as he grew older.
She could not remember the last time she had had the luxury of the house to herself. She drank a glass of milk and ate a banana. Upstairs, Anne Tyler’s novel A Spool of Blue Thread was on the bedside table. It would be at least an hour before anyone else came in, an hour during which Cat could dive back into her book. She took off her shoes, jeans and jumper. Lay down. Pulled up the duvet.
An overwhelming weariness came over her, as if she had a chloroform pad over her face, so that she read less than a page before she slept.
The afternoon ticked on, the sun moved round, the silence in the house was as thick as felt.
She woke from a dream about Chris, who was in the room, shaking a thermometer and looking at her with disapproval, to find Kieron standing by her.
‘You poor love. I haven�
�t known you for very long, as things go, but I have never known you sleep during the day.’ He sat down and took hold of her hand. ‘Are you feeling ill?’
‘No, no, I’m not ill, I was just totally wiped out. Someone hit me with a lorryload of bricks. What’s the time for goodness’ sake?’
‘Whatever – doesn’t matter. Now, Simon is downstairs and he and I are going to cook supper. How about I run you a bath and bring you a drink, so long as you’re really not ill? When you feel like it, come down and we’ll have everything under control. You will be putting your feet up. Oh, and the hospital rang – your father hasn’t had any sort of cardiac incident, but he does have pleurisy and his left lung is being X-rayed again tomorrow. You can ring them if you want to. He’s on new meds and they want to keep him quiet. Apparently he is finding that difficult. All right?’
Cat looked at him as he spoke. His long face was full of concern. She noticed a few grey hairs that she had never seen before, in his otherwise dark wavy hair. She felt guilty that she had dreamed of Chris, while knowing she could not have helped it, but perhaps the dream was a wake-up call that she was still clinging to threads of the past and neglecting, or at least paying too little attention to, what she had now.
‘You are a saint. I’m going to say yes to all of that. And thank you.’
He smiled with real pleasure, as if she had given him something precious, and she saw that he had been worried and wanting badly to do something for her, give her something.
‘Right – bath first. Then glass of wine? G and T?’
‘Perfect,’ Cat said. ‘G and T please.’
‘Mum?’ Sam’s voice and then his footsteps came loudly up the stairs. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Hey, Sambo. You look very pleased with yourself.’
‘I am. I’ve got a job.’
Kieron had been heading downstairs but stopped. ‘Is this just for your mother’s ears?’
‘No, no, you’re fine.’
‘What sort of a job?’
I’m now a hospital porter at Bevham General, if you don’t mind. I start next week.’
*
A couple of hours, and grilled salmon steaks and broccoli, raspberries and cream later, Felix was asleep, Cat went back to bed to read, Sam to his room to watch Game of Thrones, and Kieron and Simon took over the kitchen, the remains of a bottle of Shiraz between them.
‘I didn’t have a lot of clear thinking time today what with one thing and another, but I used the journey from HQ to go over everything you told me. Two things. You are on full salary anyway, but still officially sick, so there’s no problem with you carrying on with your own reinvestigation of the Still files. For the time being though, I just haven’t got the resources in terms of bodies or money to give you much help. But I can suggest that where you do need someone else to do some legwork or back-checking – you can’t do everything yourself – you take anyone from CID who isn’t deeply involved in an ongoing case, borrow them for a day maybe? If at any point you come up with a cast-iron reason for me to let you have more, I will look at your request very seriously. But for now, I’m afraid that’s it. You’ve got carte blanche from me, to go anywhere, talk to anyone, without having to report back until you feel you must. It’s the best I can do.’
‘All right, thanks. I had hoped to be a bit further forward today but what with Dad … Anyway, I have narrowed it all down and I know exactly what and where I need to zoom in on tomorrow. There are some gaping holes. I know it’s never possible to follow everything up and do a repeat, but this was hot for, what, twenty-four, thirty-six hours, max? After that, trails go cold. On the other hand, they never disappear completely. I’m pretty sure there are people who were never interviewed or only cursorily, and who – always assuming they are still around – should be talked to again. The time-consuming bit is finding them and that’s where even a few hours of help would be good at this stage – tracing names and addresses, finding out whether people have moved, and if so, where they’ve gone – it’s so much easier now but it still takes time. Any chance of some civilian help?’
‘I doubt it. They’re as stretched as the rest of us.’
‘OK. I have to find enough to make it important you put some resources into this. If I do …’
Kieron nodded and poured the remains of the wine into their glasses.
‘While we’re on this,’ Simon said, ‘have you had any more from Mrs Still? She wasn’t going to ease off on the pressure, last you told me.’
‘Not exactly – but she applied for a visiting order to see Lee Russon, and got it. She went to the prison last week.’
‘Bloody hell. Surprised he accepted. Has she been in touch since?’
‘Not a word. I only know because I got an email from the prison governor, just a notification.’
‘Brave of her, or foolhardy?’
‘Bit of both.’ Kieron got up. ‘I want to watch the recording of the Formula One. Interested?’
Simon was not. Most sports other than cricket left him cold but especially motor racing.
‘I want to dig into the files a bit more. I’m going to get a full reinvestigation out of you if it kills me.’
But before he could even turn his laptop on, Cat had come into the kitchen with Sam behind her, talking loudly about his job.
‘Mum thinks I’m mad.’
‘Not at all. Mum thinks it’s fine – for now. And that you won’t know what’s hit you once you do your first night shift.’
‘Great idea, Sam, and with luck in a couple of years or so, you’ll get promotion to mortuary attendant.’ Simon ducked as his nephew lunged at him.
‘I don’t want to doss about, I don’t know which way I want to go yet, I thought everybody would be congratulating me.’
‘Well, I congratulate you. Very enterprising, Sam,’ said Kieron. ‘No point in going to uni until you’re sure you know what you want to study, no point in launching into any career at all until you’ve made up your mind completely. Because both medicine and the police aren’t play jobs, as you well know. Meanwhile, being a hospital porter will show you what it’s like from the inside and there’s great camerarderie. You’ll enjoy it. Coming to watch the Formula One?’
‘Right.’
Cat sat opposite Simon. ‘I love my husband,’ she said, ‘and I am willing to try and share his interests but there is no way …’
‘Nor me. Are you really OK about Sam?’
‘I was a bit taken aback. It’s a dead end.’
‘It’s not for life, sis.’
‘I know. And Kieron’s right. He got up off his backside and did it for himself. I have no cause for complaint.’
Fifty-one
She was wearing a smart red jacket and grey skirt and about to open the front door, when Serrailler got out of his car. She hesitated, looking at him. Lights were on in the downstairs rooms and the curtains were not drawn.
‘Mrs Stoker?’
‘Yes – my husband’s in the house.’
‘That’s fine. You’re the one I’d like to talk to.’
‘Who are you?’
He took out his warrant card. ‘Simon Serrailler, Lafferton CID. Can you spare me a few moments?’
‘If it’s about the speeding fine …’
‘Nothing to do with that. Could I come in?’
She had opened the door and called out so that a man and a young boy came into the hall.
‘This is a police officer … he wants to speak to me and it isn’t about the speeding ticket.’
‘All right. Can I see your ID please?’
They were standing in the hall. From the room at the back came the sound of a children’s TV programme.
‘Come into the sitting room a minute. Only I can’t give you long, Greg gets them home and gives them their tea, but he’s on nights this week – he does safety investigation with the railways.’
It was a pleasant room, with no sign of children’s toys and general clutter. The sofa and armchair were upholstered
in pale duck-egg blue, the carpet a deeper version of the same shade. This was kept for the grown-ups.
‘I’m sorry to call unannounced, Mrs Stoker, but I took a chance you’d be at home.’
‘Well, you’re lucky – I leave at a quarter to eight and don’t get back till now.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I work for the council – the town clerk’s department. Can I ask what this is all about please?’
‘About five years ago, a young Lafferton woman called Kimberley Still disappeared. She had left her work at SK Bearings at a quarter to one, and she didn’t go back at the end of her lunch hour. She wasn’t seen again.’
‘Oh God, I remember that. Someone spoke to me about it. I said I thought she was the one who gave me a hand when Daniel had went running towards the pond and I had Lauren in the buggy. That girl chased after him and got him back. I remember it so clearly – I was so grateful. It all happened in a flash, you know how it is, he could have fallen straight in. But I told someone all about it at the time – they came round the park with leaflets – and I said it could have been her straight away.’
‘Did you go to that park often?’
‘I did. It’s lonely when you have two little ones – there are often other mums and kids there and always someone to chat to. It can be a long day, you know.’
‘Do you remember if you’d seen Kimberley Still before? Was she often in the park?’
‘Oh help … it’s a long time ago. I wasn’t even sure at the time.’ But I think she came sometimes – quite a few people would come and eat their lunch sitting on one of the benches. That was a lovely summer.’
‘The day she ran after Daniel – can you possibly remember if it was the Wednesday of that week?’
‘Was that the day she went missing?’
‘Is there anything that would help you remember? I know it’s difficult. Anything that marked it out as a Wednesday? Did you always go somewhere else or meet someone on a Wednesday, which you would have done that day?’
