Kennedy 02 - A Darker Side

by Shirley Wells

  She smiled at that.

  ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘Visiting Mum and Dad, and Prue and Co. Why?’

  ‘Just wondered. Shall we pick you up on Sunday then?’

  ‘Thanks, Max, but there’s no need. I’ll have to get straight home after the show because I’ve still got loads of Christmas presents to sort out.’ Including Max’s. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t miss Ben.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  The M62 had been stop-start all the way from Liverpool, presumably because people were spending their Saturdays doing Christmas shopping, and Jill was relieved when she joined the M66. Another half-hour and she would be home.

  She’d enjoyed her day, though.

  The traffic had been light that morning and she had arrived at 27 River View just after ten o’clock.

  As ever, pandemonium reigned at her parents’ home. Her mother had been busy baking; she was a hopeless cook when it came to meat and veg, but she had endless patience and her cakes had won prizes. This morning, they’d been treated to delicious, light chocolate eclairs. Jill’s father had been trying to study form but, in the end, he’d taken himself off to the bookie’s for a couple of hours.

  ‘You’d think it was rocket science he was studying,’ Jill’s mum had scoffed.

  The two of them had sat in the kitchen, catching up on news and drinking coffee. It had been good to see her mum looking so fit and well after the operation on her lung.

  ‘Still off the fags, Mum?’

  ‘I am. Mind,’ she added, ‘I could murder one right now. I don’t reckon the time’ll ever come when I don’t want one.’

  ‘Of course it will.’

  ‘I feel better for it, though.’

  She looked better for it, too. Her skin had lost that dull, grey tinge and her cheeks had a healthy rosy glow.

  At lunchtime, Jill’s sister Prue arrived, complete with husband Steve and children Charlotte, Zoe and Bethany. Prue was putting on weight, Jill noticed, but she looked happier than ever. Her life revolved around Steve and the kids. Unlike Jill, she’d never had any ambitions to leave River View.

  Steve, who’d spent too many hours behind the wheel of a lorry lately, looked as if he longed to make the sofa his own and sleep for a few hours. There was no chance of that though with three daughters demanding his attention. For all that, he seemed happy with his lot.

  The lifestyle wouldn’t suit Jill, but their togetherness touched a chord. Once, she and Max had known the same feeling. They, too, had been a unit.

  She’d brushed the thought aside. From the moment she’d been able, Jill had worked to escape River View. While Prue had decided to leave school as early as possible and train as a hairdresser, Jill had spent hours in her bedroom studying. She hadn’t studied to end up as a wife and mother; she’d worked to give herself a rewarding, interesting career. A career which she’d put on hold for the time being . . .

  After lunch, the women left the men in front of the television and sat in the kitchen with the girls.

  ‘Auntie Jill, why haven’t you got a boyfriend?’ Zoe wanted to know.

  ‘She has,’ Charlotte said before Jill could formulate an answer.

  ‘I have?’ Jill asked, amused.

  ‘Yes, but Mum says you’re cross with him.’

  Jill glared at her sister, who took no notice whatsoever.

  ‘And how is Max?’ Prue asked. ‘Still working too hard?’

  ‘I imagine so. I neither know nor care.’

  ‘You’re full of crap,’ her sister scoffed quietly. ‘Mum’s right, you know. You’ll end up a lonely old spinster with only a houseful of cats for company.’

  Jill, who’d heard it all before, had to laugh.

  ‘Firstly, I’ve been married so I can’t qualify as a spinster.’ OK, so her marriage had been brief and, if Chris hadn’t been killed, they would have been divorced long ago, but she couldn’t be termed a spinster. ‘Secondly, I don’t think three cats qualify as a houseful. Anyway,’ she added, trying to change the subject, ‘I think I’ll be down to two cats soon.’

  ‘Is Rabble dying?’ Bethany asked with all the casualness of youth.

  ‘She’s getting very old and stiff,’ Jill told her.

  ‘I expect you’ll find another.’ Bethany patted her arm sympathetically. ‘Jimmy Brown, who I go to school with, has some kittens to get rid of. I can ask him if you like.’

  ‘I’ve got enough for the moment,’ Jill said, chuckling as she hugged her niece . . .

  It had been a fun day and Jill vowed to visit more often. Now, however, after a long, boring journey, she wanted to get out of her car. She left the motorway and drove through Waterfoot, Bacup and then into Kelton Bridge. Instead of going straight to her cottage, she turned into The Weaver’s Retreat’s car park.

  Saturday nights were busy at the pub, and this evening it was even more crowded than usual. Jill spoke to half a dozen people as she made her way to the bar.

  ‘Tony Hutchinson was in last night looking for you,’ Maureen said when she served her. ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I expect he’ll be here in a while.’ Maureen handed over her change. ‘He said he’d got something for you.’

  ‘Oh? What was that?’

  ‘No idea,’ she said as she took another order for drinks.

  Jill carried her drink away from the bar and sat to chat with Tom and Julie for a while. A log fire blazed away next to their table, adding to the sense of cheer provided by Christmas decorations that twinkled merrily from every surface.

  Despite the number of drinkers, though, the atmosphere was more muted than usual. Kelton Bridge was uneasy. Two of the village’s young boys were missing and villagers took it as a personal affront. People couldn’t truly relax until their young were found.

  Jill was about to head for home when Tony Hutchinson walked in. She went to join him at the bar as he waited to be served.

  ‘Did you want me, Tony?’

  ‘I did. I’ve found something . . .’ He broke off to ask Maureen for his pint and Jill waited until he had it in his hand.

  ‘I found a photo that might interest you.’ Tony put his pint on the nearest table and delved into his inside pocket. ‘Here.’ He handed her a slightly dog-eared photograph. ‘The quality isn’t great, but I can get another printed.’

  Jill took it from him and found herself looking straight at Martin Hayden, Jason Keane and James Murphy. The three boys were smiling broadly. Martin Hayden was holding a small trophy aloft.

  ‘What’s this, Tony?’

  No one could remember seeing the boys together and the photo gave Jill an uneasy feeling. Was this the link they were looking for?

  ‘It’s probably nothing,’ he said, ‘but it was what you said about there being no connection between them. I knew I’d seen them together. I’ve spent hours going through thousands of photos.’ He pointed at the trophy in the photo. ‘About eighteen months ago, the village set up a quiz league. We were raising funds for new heating at the village hall. The league only lasted about three months, but these three lads formed a team. All bright boys, of course. Anyway, they won. Competition from the adults was stiff, but they beat them.’

  It was disconcerting to look at the boys’ smiling faces. Martin Hayden looked as posed as ever, but Jason and James seemed genuinely delighted with their victory.

  ‘I knew Jason was very friendly with Martin Hayden, but I didn’t think James was particularly pally with either boy.’ ‘

  I didn’t either,’ Tony admitted. ‘It’s funny, though, seeing them together, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘But I expect it’s nothing other than coincidence,’ he said. ‘Martin and Jason were the best of friends and they would have needed a third for the quiz team. They probably asked James because he’s a bright boy. Or perhaps no one else could be bothered.’

  He was probably right.

  ‘I expect,’ he said, ta
king a swallow of his beer, ‘that if you looked hard enough, you’d find photos of every combination of Kelton Bridge resident.’

  ‘Probably,’ she agreed. All the same . . . ‘May I take this, Tony?’

  ‘Be my guest. Let me know if you want a better copy and I’ll run it through the school’s computer.’

  ‘Thanks. Who else was involved in the quiz?’

  ‘Almost everyone. There was a committee Mary Lee-Smith may have been behind that. She might know more about it.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her.’

  Jill put the photo in her bag and then said her goodbyes.

  As she drove to Lilac Cottage, she wondered if there was any significance to the photo. But like what? A small village quiz league didn’t inspire murder. There might be some bad losers in the village but, surely, no one would kill.

  All the same, she would ask around and see if any interesting names came to light.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  It was bitterly cold, far too cold to be hanging around watching a dog show, but at least it was bright and sunny. Jill’s garden, along with those mysterious Pennines, had been cloaked in white frost at first light.

  She arrived at the leisure centre in time to see Ben walking Fly around the car park. For a second, she thought he was alone, and her heart seemed to stop, but then she spotted Max, Kate and Harry. Max had Holly, the faithful border collie, on a lead. Some distance away, his watchful gaze on them, stood DS Forrest. He was wrapped up against the cold in a blue padded jacket.

  Jill spotted Ben walking towards her and went to meet him.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart.’ She gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Fly’s looking very smart.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He stroked the dog’s ears.

  ‘Nervous?’ she asked him.

  ‘A bit.’

  She wondered if he had admitted as much to Max.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said, giving his shoulder another squeeze.

  Max, Harry and Kate joined them. Max was alert, that all-seeing gaze of his missing nothing. Kate was tense from smiling and pretending she wasn’t frightened to death about her grandsons’ safety. Harry looked mutinous.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, Harry?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fed up. I can’t even go for a hot dog without Dad tagging along.’

  ‘That’s not the end of the world, is it? I expect you need him to pay for it anyway.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Cheer up. It’s the last day of school on Wednesday and then it’ll be time for Santa to decide if you’ve been good or bad.’

  ‘Ha, ha!’ He groaned, but she saw his smile.

  Several vehicles were vying for space so they moved away from the car park and nearer to the hall. The cars’ owners were strangers to Jill. She wondered if one of them had killed Martin and Josie Hayden, if they had abducted, and possibly killed, James Murphy and Jason Keane, and if they had threatened Harry.

  Seconds later, she saw someone who wasn’t a stranger. A young constable who’d joined the force a few weeks ago was climbing out of his car. What was his name? Jeremy or something like that? He was wearing a dark red anorak and his hands were deep inside the pockets. He stood for a moment, his gaze taking in Max, the boys and DS Forrest, and then walked over to the coffee stall.

  ‘Is it business or pleasure for him?’ Jill asked Max in a whisper.

  ‘Business.’

  She was relieved, although she couldn’t help wondering if Max was expecting a move to be made on Harry today. But it made no difference; they had to be vigilant every minute of every day.

  Despite watching everyone, Max was managing to look as if everything was under control. She guessed that was for his mother-in-law’s benefit as Kate looked awful.

  ‘Here’s that photo I told you about,’ Jill murmured, taking it from her bag. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, but you never know.’

  ‘I’m sure it is, too.’ Max held it to the light and inspected it closely. ‘Just a coincidence, I imagine.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘It’s a nice trophy but I don’t imagine anyone would kill for it.’

  She guessed he was right.

  ‘It’s odd, though,’ he admitted, ‘seeing them together like this.’ He put the photo in his pocket. ‘We’ll look into it. Meanwhile,’ he added in an over-bright voice, ‘we’d better get this boy a hot dog before he dies of malnutrition.’

  They stood eating hot dogs that Jill thought, through no fault of the caterers, tasted like damp cardboard. At least it cheered Harry though, who was soon teasing Ben. Fortunately, Ben was used to it and took no notice whatsoever.

  Jill and Kate chatted inanely about the weather and Christmas, Ben tried to keep Fly calm, Harry ate another hot dog, and Max continued to watch everyone.

  It seemed an age before, finally, Ben and Fly were called to the show ring.

  Kate linked her arm through Jill’s. ‘If that dog lets him down, he’ll end up as cat meat,’ she murmured.

  Jill, a bundle of nerves for Ben, knew exactly how she felt. ‘He won’t knowingly let him down,’ she murmured. Fly was devoted to Ben. His eyes never left the boy’s face.

  A huge lump wedged itself in Jill’s throat as she watched Ben and Fly walking up and down and across the ring. Fly walked to heel, he sat and waited when told, and he lay down and waited when told. Jill could remember when the rescue dog had burst into their lives. A bundle of nervous energy, he had seemed untrainable to Jill. That a sensitive child like Ben had managed it touched her beyond words.

  When they left the ring, Ben grinning from ear to ear as he joined them, Jill’s eyes were awash with tears.

  Ben accepted their congratulations with typical modesty. ‘I need to work on his finishes,’ he said, ‘but he did well. We’ll have to wait and see how the others get on.’

  Jill, who had no idea what was wrong with Fly’s finishes, hugged Ben close. ‘You were wonderful. Both of you. I’m so proud of you!’

  A couple of the other contestants provided them with much amusement, especially the dog that escaped the ring, raced off and ended up having a grand time splashing in the river at the back of the field.

  The fancy dress parade came next and Fly wore his Santa costume with pride. Ben had to stop him chewing at a poodle’s snowman outfit, but it passed without incident and provided them with some much-needed laughter.

  Max was sharing a joke with DS Forrest, and the sight relaxed Jill slightly.

  Ben and Fly were placed second for their obedience work and, again, Jill had tears in her eyes as she watched Ben proudly accept their rosette and fasten it to Fly’s collar.

  ‘If he can do that in the show ring,’ Max murmured, ‘why does the damned animal behave like a maniac at home?’

  Despite the grumble, Jill knew he was bursting with pride. ‘He’s still a young dog. I expect he needs to let off steam.’

  ‘Mmm. So,’ he said, ‘are you coming with us for the celebrations? We’re stopping for a meal.’

  She hesitated. The idea appealed, but she had a lot to do. In any case, she was too edgy to be worthwhile company.

  ‘I’d love to, Max, but I can’t. I’ve far too much to do.’

  He sighed. ‘Another time then.’

  ‘Yes.’ She said her goodbyes, congratulated Ben again, and then drove home.

  She loved her cottage, she enjoyed her life in the village, so why did she always feel so lonely when she left Max and the boys? Why did life suddenly seem so pointless?

  It was ridiculous to think along those lines so she vowed to keep busy. She tidied up, phoned her parents, and then ran herself a bath.

  She was attempting to relax in the hot water when her phone rang.

  The machine picked up while she was still wrapping a towel around herself, but she went downstairs to see who had called.

  It was Babs, and her message was brief. ‘Jill, you’d better give me a call about your Josie Dee.’

  As Jill hit the button to return the call, she wondered what Babs could possibly ha
ve found out on a Sunday.

  ‘Babs, it’s Jill. Have you found something?’

  ‘I certainly have and it’s a disturbing story. Right . . .’

  Babs must have written everything down because Jill could hear her turning pages on a notebook. ‘Your Josie Dee was brought to Dublin and she had a daughter on the fifteenth of September, 1977.’

  ‘I knew it!’

  Josie hadn’t lied to anyone. Despite what Alice Potter liked to think, she hadn’t lied about Terry Potter. Just as she hadn’t lied to George Hayden or Brian Taylor . . .

  ‘Josie was fourteen going on fifteen years old when she had the baby,’ Babs said sadly. ‘Anyway, the child was put up for adoption and this is where it gets’ She broke off. ‘I was about to say interesting, but it’s more tragic than interesting.’

  ‘Oh?’ Jill adjusted her towel, carried the phone to the chair nearest the radiator, and sat down.

  ‘The child was named Hope and was adopted by a David and Heather Perkins,’ Babs explained. ‘They’d been trying for a child for years and, as you can imagine, they were besotted with her. They lived on the edge of a small village in County Clare. When young Hope was just five years old, there was a car accident. David Perkins was killed instantly, but Heather was alive when the emergency services arrived. It took fire crews several hours to cut Heather and young Hope from the wreckage. Hope was uninjured, but hysterical. Heather, however, died from her injuries the next day.’

  Jill’s towel was cold and damp, and she was starting to shiver. ‘Go on, Babs.’

  ‘Hope was traumatized, but she was eventually fostered by another couple, a Jenny and Peter Ramsland. They’d been fostering children for twenty years, but I gather Hope would have tested anyone to their limits. I managed to speak to Jenny today.’

  Jill could tell from Babs’ voice that she didn’t want to hear what was coming next. ‘What did she have to say?’

  ‘When Hope was eight, there was another tragedy in her life. Her best friend, a lad called Denzil, was drowned near their home.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Hope was with him at the time, apparently. When they found her, she was by the edge of the river laughing hysterically.’