Henderson Manor

by Emma L. Clapperton

  ***

  Lewis cried loudly, and Jodie opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep on the bench and her book was on her lap at the page she had opened it at. She picked Lewis out of his pram and noticed on her watch that he had had his two hour nap, which meant that she had had a two hour nap.

  “Jesus,” she whispered to herself. “How could I have fallen asleep in the bloody park?”

  She put Lewis back in the pram and covered him again with the blanket. As she made her way toward the gate which led to the street, she silently cursed herself.

  How the hell could I be so bloody stupid? Anyone could have taken him!

  As she passed the last bench of the park before the gate, she saw a woman sitting there. The dream flashed into her mind and she remembered that the woman in her dream was the woman now sitting on the bench.

  As Jodie passed through the gate, the woman smiled at her, and waved to little Lewis as he chewed on his fingers. Jodie walked quicker.

  Lewis began to giggle as the woman waved to him until he and Jodie were no longer in her line of sight.

  23

  “See you in the morning,” Claire called out as she left the café. Every Friday the café had a late license where customers could bring a bottle of wine and have a meal. The only thing was it was open until midnight and somehow Claire always ended up on the early shift the next morning. The air had grown chilly and she wrapped her coat around her tightly as she walked along the street to the flat she shared with her mum. She turned up the side street at Kelvin Hall and knowing that her mum would kill her if she knew she had taken that route, Claire increased her speed to get home.

  The breeze caused the bare trees to sway, creating a low hush in the air which harmonized with the rush of the canal below. The lights along the street which housed the old Transport Museum were dimly lit and the stars twinkled above her.Half way along the street, she became lost in her thoughts about what life would be like had she completed her university course. She would’ve been able to get her mum away from Glasgow and the memories that tempted her lips back to the bottle. Claire knew that her mum was getting better as the years went on and that the flower shop was doing well. It kept her busy and her mind off the booze but she couldn’t help but worry that it would always be part of her. Claire knew that there was nothing that she could ever do to change the way her mum was but she would do everything that she could to keep her mum busy. That was why she decided to help her mum develop her hobby of gardening and develop it into a business.

  After her dad died from cancer ten years previously, she watched as her mum spiraled into depression which drove her to drink. It started out as a few glasses of wine at night, then it quickly progressed to a bottle, then two and before Claire knew it her mum was drinking a litre of vodka every two days. The drink almost killed her and the only thing that stopped it from happening was the thought that Claire would be left on her own without any parents. Claire was strong for both of them and as her mum got better she went out to work and kept the household running.

  This had brought them closer together and Claire not only had a mum but a best friend and a sister. That was why she was always worrying but would never let it be known.

  The flower shop was what kept her mum going during the day and at night Claire would cook and they would have a meal together, except of course for a Friday when Claire worked late.

  Claire had become so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed she was being followed. The figure behind her kept a safe distance and stayed within the shadows of the old Transport Museum building. Claire crossed the empty car park and heard the leaves crunching beneath her shoes. The sound merged with the sounds of the wind and the rushing of the canal so that she didn’t even hear the fast approaching footsteps behind her.

  At first she thought that she was being mugged and so held onto her bag as tight as she could. However it wasn’t until she saw the glint of the blade sparkle under the moonlight that she knew this was more than a mugging.

  She let go of her bag and tried to run but the person in black grabbed at her hair and pulled her back. Claire tried to scream but the sound wouldn’t come as the shock took over. The pain in her neck came in waves and seemed to spread over her whole body. She put her hand up to protect herself and felt that her neck was wet. On observing her hand, even in the darkness she knew that the wetness was blood and lots of it.

  The person who had stabbed her was gone. She hadn’t noticed the person leave and she hadn’t cared; she just wanted to get home. Her legs would no longer carry her and so she collapsed to the cold ground with the gravel crunching under her weight.

  Claire looked up at the building where she shared the flat with her mum and could see that the kitchen light was on; she was that close to home.

  Suddenly she found she couldn’t breathe, and everything was happening in slow motion. She reached for the bag that she had ditched in the hope that she could phone an ambulance but she couldn’t move her body.

  A car passed by on Old Dumbarton Road, heading towards the children’s hospital but with the car park in almost complete darkness, no one saw that Claire was sprawled on the ground, taking her last breath. There was nothing that Claire could do but hope that it would be over quickly. She had always been afraid of an early death from her experience with her dad; however she found peace in the fact that if there was a heaven then she might get to see him again.

  Her eyes filled with tears at the realisation that she was about to die on her own, on the ground of a car park outside her home and there was no one around to help her. She closed her eyes to allow the tears to fall.

  She never opened them again.

  24

  Walking along the road in the rain at six o’clock in the morning with an excitable dog on the end of the lead was not his idea of fun but-fifteen-year old Gregory had no choice. His mother had told him that if he wanted to go on the family holiday he had to find a way of earning some spending money or it just wasn’t going to happen. So he had offered to be the one to walk the family dog, every day. He hadn’t believed that his mum and dad would actually make him keep his word but he was wrong.

  With the cold wintery weather truly making its presence known, Gregory couldn’t help but imagine walking along the beach in Lanzarote and feeling the hot sand beneath his feet. The cool water lapping around his toes and the sound of the gentle Canary Island breeze whirling around him was enough to accept walking Dennis, the hyperactive Labrador puppy. At six months old the thing was close to fully grown and he was almost pulling Gregory off his feet.

  “Wait!” Gregory said in a firm voice.

  The dog ignored his command and continued panting his way up the street. Gregory’s images of Lanzarote were blown from his mind as the wind picked up, causing a strong gust to uplift the crisp packets which littered the street and create a cyclone of colourful foil.

  “This is just great for a Saturday morning,” he said to himself.

  Gregory was doubtful that the sun would shine today, what with the rain and wind during the night. The weather had been reasonable when he had gone to bed but it had woken him in the middle of the night with the rain lashing off the window. His immediate thought was that his alarm clock would be going off in a few hours and the knowledge of taking Dennis for a walk was not what he had in mind for his Saturday morning. But it would only be for twenty minutes and then he could take Dennis home and climb back into bed. That was, if Dennis didn’t drag him home instead; the damn dog was so strong and full of energy all of the time.

  “Slow down you stupid mutt,” Gregory said as Dennis almost strangled himself trying to pull them along the street.

  They turned down Bunhouse Street, away from the main road into the city centre and the old museum building sheltered them slightly from the wind. Dennis stopped suddenly and barked once. Gregory took no notice as he continued to walk; however, Dennis continued to bark furiously and his tail whipped from side to side. Gregory looked down at
the dog as he continued to bark and wag his tail. Dennis never barked unless the door went or they were just about to go out.

  “What is it boy?”

  Gregory allowed Dennis to lead him towards the car park and by the looks of it, Dennis knew where he wanted to go. Bunhouse Street car park was empty and there was nobody else around. The trees cast large shadows across the car park and the street lights twinkled behind the branches blowing in the wind. Before Gregory knew it, he was standing by himself and he had let go of Dennis’s lead. He watched as Dennis sniffed around the bulk on the ground and his tail had stopped wagging.

  “What have you found boy?” Gregory called.

  Dennis barked again, allowing Gregory’s suspicions to grow. He knew that it was likely to be what he expected but he didn’t want it to be. He approached the dog slowly and on his approach the dog would normally become excited, but not now. He reached the bulky heap and looked down; what his eyes saw were not what a fifteen-year-old boy should have to see. There was a lot of blood along the jaw line and the upper part of the body. The gash in the neck was neat, where he presumed a knife would have made its entrance.

  Gregory was frozen to the spot for a few moments, not sure what he should do. He jumped as his mobile phone rang in his pocket. His hands scrambled in his pocket to find the device.

  “Hello?”

  “Gregory, if there is a shop open, grab some milk,” his mum’s voice was on the other end of the phone.

  “Mum?” his voice shook.

  There was a silent pause.

  “You’ve lost the dog again, haven’t you?” She whined.

  Gregory shook his head slowly, “I’ve found something.”

  “What is it?”

  Gregory swung his body away from the bloodied corpse as he retched. His mum could hear this on the other end of the call and began to panic. Putting the phone to his ear he spoke. “I’m at the old museum, you’d better come quickly. I’ve found a body.”

  25

  Lang held up his badge to the uniformed officer guarding the forensics tent and he lifted the material to allow him and Preston inside.

  “Yet another Glasgow murder,” Preston sighed as they looked down at the woman on the ground.

  The flash of the camera reflected the bright white material of the tent and Lang could feel another headache threatening. He massaged his temples as he took in the scene. “What do you think; unprovoked?”

  Preston nodded, “Possibly, a jealous boyfriend perhaps?”

  “Could be a number of things at this stage, we’ll need to ask the next of kin as much as we can to determine the company she keeps…”

  “Kept,” Preston corrected.

  “Aye, we’ll need to find out where she worked, who she worked with, if she had any — what is it the kids say these days? — beef with anyone?”

  Preston smiled. “Why are you doing that? Act your age man.”

  Lang beckoned the forensic officer in charge. “Do we have an identity on the girl yet?”

  The forensic officer nodded. “Yes. According to her student card her name is Claire Prowse. She was twenty-three years old and her address is Forty Four Ferry Road, which if I’m not mistaken is just down there.” He pointed in the direction of the flats at the bottom of the main road.

  “Jesus, she was on her way home.” Preston shook his head.

  Lang narrowed his eyes as they exited the tent. “We’ll wait until they’ve moved the body before we inform the next of kin. We don’t want them seeing this and knowing that it’s their daughter or whatever.”

  Preston and Lang went back to the car, and all the while Lang still massaging his temples.

  “You ok there, Jim?”

  “Eh?” he looked up. “Aye, just got a headache.”

  “Another one?” Preston asked. “That’s the fourth this week. You’d better get to the doctor and get that seen to.”

  Lang nodded. “I will. But we’ve been too busy for me to get away.”

  Preston climbed into the car, shaking his head as he did so. “Always excuses with you.”

  “What are you, my mother?” Lang snapped.

  “I’m just saying that if you’ve got a constant headache maybe you need glasses.”

  “Then I’ll go to the bloody optician.”

  There was silence. Lang had been snappy for weeks and Preston was getting a little bit sick of it.

  “Do you know what? Next time I won’t bloody bother.”

  Lang put his seat belt on and was glad that Preston had shut up. There was enough going on with Preston’s imminent retirement and now a new murder enquiry. He didn’t have the want or the time to be going to the doctor.

  “Let’s just go and wait for the call that the body has been moved so we can inform next of kin and start trying to piece together her last movements.”

  ***

  Linda Prowse dialed her daughter’s number for the millionth time that morning but she still couldn’t get past the voicemail. It just wasn’t like Claire to stay out all night and not tell her mum where she was. Something definitely wasn’t right. Linda punched the local police station’s number into the keypad.

  “I’d like to report my daughter missing.”

  Linda explained the situation to the officer at the end of the phone and before she knew it the buzzer in the flat was sounding. On opening the door, she instantly recognised the officers.

  “You’re the two officers who I spoke to when Sarah Henderson died.”

  Preston smiled, completely unaware of how to answer that considering what they were about to tell her. “Can we come in Mrs Prowse?”

  Linda opened the door wider and welcomed them in. “You see, my daughter Claire, she hasn’t come home from work last night and if she had planned on staying out she would have told me and she hasn’t. I can’t get her on her mobile and well, I just started panicking. All I could think to do was to report her missing.”

  “Mrs Prowse, we actually have some news about your daughter.” Lang hated this part of the job. He was glad he didn’t have to do this part too often. Usually it would be uniform that would take this responsibility but seeing as they already had knowledge of Claire Prowse’s demise, they saw it as the best thing to do to be the ones to deliver the news.

  “Oh god, what is it?” Linda Prowse clasped her hands together under her chin, eyes glistening with threatening tears.

  Preston took a deep breath before he began. “A body was found in Bunhouse Street car park at six o’clock this morning. We believe the identity to be Claire; I’m sorry Mrs Prowse.”

  Linda Prowse fell back onto the couch, her hands still clasped together under her chin. “I want to see her.”

  Lang nodded, “Of course. We can arrange for that today.”

  Preston sat down beside her. “Is there anyone you can call?”

  Linda Prowse shook her head. “It was just the two of us.”

  Lang turned to face the door, disgusted that yet again they had had to tell some poor woman that her daughter had been murdered. Professionalism took over and he turned to face Linda once more. “I’ll make the call and arrange for an official identification, Mrs Prowse.”

  Linda didn’t take any notice. She turned to Preston, who was trying to stop himself from imagining what it would be like if it were one of his two beautiful girls. “What happened to her?”

  “Mrs Prowse, Claire has a stab wound to the neck. She was murdered.”

  Linda Prowse stared through Preston, like he wasn’t there.

  Silence filled the room and Preston stood up as Lang entered the room. “We can take you now, Mrs Prowse. Are you sure you want to do this so soon?”

  Linda Prowse was already on her feet. “Yes, I want to see her. I need to see her to really believe that it is her.”

  Denial was evidently sailing through Linda’s mind as she followed Lang and Preston out to their car. Her face failed her attempts at bravery and Preston was sure she would cave at any moment. She didn’t say
anything as they made the journey to Glasgow City Morgue. On arrival, Preston and Lang led Linda Prowse down a long, white corridor which smelled of death and decay. Of course the place was clean but Linda could smell nothing other than death masked with bleach. It turned her stomach to think that her daughter may be lying on a cold concrete slab somewhere in that building.

  “What do I have to do?” Linda asked suddenly, her voice cracking.

  “We’ll sit outside and wait to be called in. You will go into the room;, one of us can accompany you if you’d like. All you have to do is tell us if it is Claire and you can leave as soon as you wish afterwards.” Lang found he was speaking with the softest voice he had ever used. It seemed to help his headache. The bright white walls did not.

  “I’ll go in by myself.”

  “Ok, that’s fine. Take as long as you need,” Lang replied.

  Linda Prowse sat down on the cold plastic seat outside what, to her, looked like the doorway of an office with a mirrored window beside it. Forever and an eternity passed by inside what turned out to be just a few minutes and a pathologist invited Linda inside. Her stomach flipped and turned and she could hear her footsteps sounded like thunder. Her heartbeat echoed in her head and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Everything slowed down and became blurry as she watched the pathologist lift the crisp white sheet from the head of the corpse on the concrete slab. She looked down and saw her daughter. Her face no longer smiling and full of light, but instead shadows cast across her pale skin and dreadful fear filled Linda. Had her daughter suffered terrible pain and dread in her last moments? And who had put Claire Prowse on that slab?

  “Yes. That’s Claire.”

  Linda turned before the pathologist covered Claire’s face and she was out of the door and back on the plastic seat next to Preston and Lang.

  “It’s her, my baby girl. It’s her.” Linda said, with a mixture of shock and anger in her voice.