Songs of Innocence: The thrilling third book in the Hannah Weybridge series

by Anne Coates

  She expected Joe to contradict her but he made no comment as he poured more wine, then said, “Life’s never simple with you, is it?”

  Hearing a rebuke where possibly none was intended, Hannah answered more sharply than normal. “You’re the one to talk.”

  Joe stared at her.

  “I’m sorry that was uncalled for. Shall we take our drinks into the sitting room?”

  Once ensconced on the sofas, Hannah sipped her wine before saying, “Joe, there’s something I have to tell you.” She had been debating all evening whether she should tell Joe what she’d learned or not. And if so how much. She’d been knocked sideways when Linda phoned her earlier and told her that Mike Smith hadn’t been at school and wouldn’t be returning in the foreseeable future.

  “Are you still there, Hannah?” Linda had asked.

  “Yes. Sorry.” Hannah ended the conversation swiftly. After what she’d learned today she shouldn’t have been surprised that Mike had disappeared. She just hadn’t been prepared for it and hoped he was safe.

  “Go on.” Joe’s voice brought her back to the present.

  “It looks as though Paul’s death wasn’t suicide. He was silenced. Someone didn’t want him to testify.”

  “How do you know this?” Joe spoke so softly she had to lean forward to hear him. It occurred to her that Joe wasn’t surprised by the news.

  “I was warned by someone who has subsequently – conveniently – disappeared.” She decided against mentioning the prison chaplain. “Plus, Paul left some papers with his solicitor that outlined his fears.” Again she was sparing with the details. “Apparently no one at the prison took him seriously when he told them he was being threatened. The official line remains that he killed himself.”

  “Does it?” Joe’s voice was harsh. “I’ll see what I can find out from the shadow undersecretary. He might even be able to raise a question in the House.”

  “Thank you.”

  Joe hugged her. “Are you sure about investigating this? Wouldn’t it be easier to let someone else run with the story?”

  “Of course it would. But it’s personal and I will not be intimidated or made to feel a victim. I need to fight back. I won’t let them win.”

  “Good for you.” Joe raised his glass to her then changed the subject back to school visits and dates.

  By the time he left Hannah was feeling a lot calmer, while Joe was wondering what the hell was going on and if he could ever be so brave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Hello, is that Alesha’s mother?”

  “Yes, it is. Who is this calling please?”

  “It’s Hannah Weybridge. I wondered if Alesha is free to babysit for me tomorrow evening?”

  “Ah yes, Mrs Weybridge, my husband mentioned meeting you. Just one moment, please.”

  Hannah could hear the woman calling out to her daughter. There was a mumbled conversation then Alesha’s voice.

  “Hello, yes I am free. What time do you need me?”

  “Could you be here for 7.30? I’ll be back by ten and can send you home in a cab?”

  “That’s great. Thank you.”

  “See you tomorrow then.” Hannah put the phone down and smiled at Janet who’d just come into the room. “How’s your mother today?”

  “Not great. She hates being a burden but there’s so much she needs help with these days. It’s good to be with Elizabeth – the other end of the spectrum.” She paused then said in a rush, “To be honest, Hannah, I could do with any extra hours.”

  “But of course, I know that.” Hannah wondered where this was leading. She hoped Janet wasn’t looking for another job.

  Janet looked embarrassed. “I couldn’t help overhearing you booking a babysitter on the phone just now.”

  Relief flooded her. “No, I wasn’t. I need to speak to that young lady and the only way to get her here without her parents interfering is to book her as a babysitter. I’m not going out tomorrow evening.”

  Janet looked relieved, Hannah thoughtful.

  “However,” she said, “there is something we should discuss.”

  “Sorry, I…”

  “Don’t be sorry. I should apologise.” Janet looked confused. “Sit down for a moment, please.”

  The nanny looked as though she was about to attend her own execution.

  “I’m aware of how much I rely on you to work extra hours and step in for me at a moment’s notice.” Janet remained silent. “So I’d like to review our contract so that your basic pay is higher and covers the odd bit of extra time. But I’ll still pay when I need you to babysit… It means you’ll be able to budget better and not worry about money quite so much. Is that ok with you?”

  Janet’s flushed face said it all. “Thank you.” Elizabeth’s voice announced she’d woken from her nap. Janet stood up. “Better see to Madam.”

  Hannah metaphorically kicked herself. She should have realised Janet would be struggling. With her own financial situation so much better now, she could afford to be more generous. Janet was a godsend and she’d be hard put to replace her. She trusted her implicitly with Elizabeth and she had gone out of her way to defend her when… when Paul had saved them from the explosion.

  Back in her study, Hannah thought about how she could write a follow-up on the Amalia story. There was no new evidence. What had happened to Surjit, Alesha’s cousin? Hannah thought about trying to contact her mother but that would expose Alesha.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  She was missing something. Hannah couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about Sunita, but something just didn’t ring true. Hannah had glimpsed the parents at the funeral which Sunita had asked her to attend. It was in the local Anglican church. “We’re Christian,” Sunita had said and Hannah knew she’d been marked down again for her assumptions.

  Amalia’s parents looked, as one might expect, devastated, yet they also looked haunted as if by some other demons. There was strange body language between them and Sunita. At one point she thought the aunt was going to collapse but her brother reacted swiftly, supporting her with his arm, his wife on the other side. It looked as though it took all Sunita’s strength of will to remain standing. To say they were a tight-knit family was an understatement.

  At the back of the church, sitting on the opposite side to her, Hannah noticed Sergeant Benton. Their eyes met and he gave her a curt nod before continuing to scan the people present. She wondered what he made of it all.

  She expected he would be cursing her now that the investigation had moved from suicide to suspected murder. However there seemed to be as little sense in a murder as there had been in a suicide. There seemed to be nothing in Amalia’s life to have singled her out. And yet her death seemed premeditated. The lengths to which the perpetrators had gone to make it look like suicide suggested a history to be uncovered. Hannah wasn’t sure she would get anywhere with the family. They were holding something back, but why? It was as though on the one hand they wanted to find the murderer or murderers but weren’t prepared to expose… expose what? There was a secret, Hannah was sure. There was always a secret.

  She sighed. There seemed to be no end to funerals in her life. Hannah would wait a respectful time and then suggest to Sunita that now it was a murder investigation by the police, she could bow out.

  When Hannah answered the doorbell, Alesha was standing in front of her with her father standing back by the gate. Hannah had dressed as though going out for a meal so that he hopefully wouldn’t smell a rat. Before she could say anything, he announced, “I shall be back at ten o’clock to collect my daughter, Mrs Weybridge. It is school tomorrow.”

  “Of course, thank you.” She watched him get back into his car and drive off. Alesha was already in the hall and watched as Hannah locked the door.

  “You’re very security conscious.”

  “I have reason to be.” Hannah smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. And I’m not going out.”

  The girl looked confused.

>   “I’ll pay you the babysitting money, but we need to talk and I’d like your help.”

  Mr Singh had rung the doorbell at ten o’clock on the dot. Hannah worried that he’d been sitting outside in his car for some time and would have expected to see her return to the house. However he seemed unsuspicious as Hannah handed over the cash to Alesha in front of him. “I hope you’ll be able to sit for me again, thank you, Alesha.”

  “I’d love to. Goodnight.”

  Mr Singh nodded and his daughter linked arms with him for the short distance to the car. It was obvious she adored her father regardless of his strictures.

  Hannah poured herself a glass of wine and turned on the television to catch the last of the ITV news. No major stories. She was grateful that Paul’s death had not been thought important enough to be picked up by any of the nationals. Sad that Amalia’s death didn’t warrant much interest either. Perhaps Sunita was right about the death of an Asian girl not being treated in the same way as a white victim.

  Her mind went back over the conversation she’d had with Alesha.

  “You have to understand that in our culture, we must honour our family and never bring shame. We owe our parents absolute obedience and respect. I am so lucky. My parents are very lenient.”

  Hannah’s face must have betrayed an expression of disbelief and the girl laughed.

  “My father makes a lot of noise but I know he loves his daughters very much. He and Mum allow us to mix with other girls from school but that is not always the case. One girl in my class sees no television, is not allowed to go to birthday parties or even school trips. And,” Alesha paused to sip her juice, “if any of her younger cousins are ill, she has to miss school so her aunties can go to work.”

  Alesha was reiterating what Linda had told her. Presumably the same girl. At least she hoped so. The thought of numerous girls suffering the same fate and missing school was frightening.

  “And then sometimes girls get forced into arranged marriages. One of my friends last summer was taken to India supposedly to see her grandmother who was dying. But she never came back. My mum told me that she had been married there and had been left with her new husband’s family.”

  Alesha brushed a tear from her face. “She must be so unhappy. She was only fourteen. And now my cousin is missing. I don’t know what to think.”

  Hannah leaned over and squeezed her hand. “Perhaps it’s for a different reason?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I went to the fabric shop where she worked. I was told that they didn’t know her but one of the assistants said she’d not turned up for work and they were told to say she’d never worked there. Could there be a reason for her to run away?”

  Alesha stared at her. “I don’t know. She used to tell me everything. But recently she’s been secretive. My auntie, her mother, gets very cross sometimes. She is my father’s sister. But she is not calm like him.”

  Having witnessed Mr Singh’s irascibility, Hannah thought the aunt was probably a veritable force to be reckoned with.

  “Tell me are there other girls you know of who have gone missing?”

  Wide-eyed, Alesha nodded. “I know them from our community… it is very difficult if a family turns down an offer of an arranged marriage.”

  “But there must be parents refuse a husband for their daughters? Perhaps with good reason?”

  “Oh yes. That happens. No one talked to my cousin Naaz and her family when they rejected a suitor for her. Well, not for some time. But she is studying to be a lawyer and I think some of the others are frightened of her. She is very clever.”

  “She sounds just the type of person I need to talk to. Do you think she’d agree to meet with me?”

  “I think she would be very happy to. She volunteers for a charity and would probably welcome some publicity. I will ask her to ring you.”

  “Thanks.” Hannah paused. “And what about you, Alesha? Will you have a marriage arranged for you?”

  The young girl grinned at her. “Not if I can help it. And besides I’m hoping to go to university to study to be a pharmacist. My dad is so proud he’d never let anything get in the way of my education.”

  At the mention of her father, they both laughed as the doorbell rang – dead on ten o’clock.

  Hannah sipped her wine. Alesha was a resourceful girl, no doubt about that, and equally she came from a loving and supportive family. Intelligent and confident, Hannah hoped she’d see her dreams realised and knew that she might also have to protect her. She wasn’t sure from what exactly. But it paid to be vigilant.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The taxi pulled up in front of the Edwardian building which now housed Claymore School for girls aged 11 to 18 according to the sign outside; which also advised them that the head teacher was Jacqueline Bishop BEd. Judging by the inscriptions in stone above the double doors that faced them, this was once a school for boys as well. Joe paid the cab driver and while he was waiting for a receipt, Hannah looked up at what had probably once been an imposing building but now looked as though it might be in need of some TLC if the peeling paint around the windows was anything to go by.

  It had taken Joe’s researcher surprisingly little time to organise this tour of schools. The head teachers, on the face of it at least, were eager to open their doors and meet their new MP.

  “Okay?” Joe stood beside her and smiled. How many women, she wondered, had been led to believe they were in with a chance? Hannah returned his smile and stood aside so he could press the entrance bell.

  The door clicked open and they were in a large entrance area full of boards displaying the girls’ GCSE artwork. The range was impressive. Especially the self-portraits. Hannah gazed at each one and wondered if Joe’s letter writer was among them.

  “Mr Rawlington! How nice of you to visit us! I’m Jackie Bishop, the head teacher. Do come this way.” She exclaimed rather than spoke and looked as though she’d dressed in a hurry in a dark room as her floral shirt clashed with her striped skirt which she wore unfashionably long. Hannah smiled and was about to introduce herself when she realised that as Joe’s aide she didn’t need to. She was almost invisible. At least for this woman. Still that suited their purposes.

  They were soon seated in the head’s office. Coffee and biscuits appeared on the small table.

  “So, how can I help you?” She didn’t give Joe a chance to reply as she carried on breathlessly, “May I say how delighted my staff and I are at your election. We are expecting great things of you, Mr Rawlington, great things, come the next general election.”

  Joe looked embarrassed. “Please call me Joe. And let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Jackie.” His smile counteracted any implied criticism. “But we are seeing great things from you and your school. Your last local authority inspection was most impressive, and you’ve made great improvements in areas like attendance and punctuality.”

  The head teacher gave him an arch look. “Our academic achievements are…”

  “They speak for themselves. You’re obviously a very progressive school.”

  “Certainly the best in this area.” It wasn’t so much a boast as a statement of fact.

  “Yes. And yet your intake is remarkably similar to the other schools.”

  “It is. We’ve worked hard to support girls from ethnic minorities who may have different cultural attitudes – especially to girls’ education and achievements – and may not always have parents who support the girls in a way we would wish. Although that can also be said of some of our indigenous population as well.” Jackie sighed dramatically.

  “So how have you succeeded where other schools have failed?” It was the first time Hannah had spoken. The woman looked at her quizzically but whatever thoughts were going through her mind about the ‘aide’ she didn’t air them.

  “Firstly, I have two Asian members of staff. They serve both as an example and as mentors. We run English classes for mothers/grandmothers who need help and we’ve set up ne
tworks to help with childcare emergencies and so forth so that they don’t pull their daughters out of school to look after siblings. We have managed to get a couple of them on to the PTA and I’m hoping that one will stand as a parent-governor next term.”

  “Impressive.” Joe placed his coffee cup on the table.

  “Thank you.”

  A bell rang followed by the excited hum of pupils’ voices as they moved from one class to the next.

  “Have you ever had an Asian girl go missing?” Joe’s abrupt question didn’t floor her.

  “No, we haven’t. We take safeguarding issues very seriously here. If we hear any rumours, any rumours at all, we act swiftly. As I mentioned we have built up good networks within the school and locally including the churches and other faith groups.”

  There was a knock at the door and a pupil aged about 13 came in.

  “Ah, Charlotte – your guide for the school tour.”

  “Thank you very much for your time, Jackie.” Joe and she shook hands.

  “You are most welcome.” She shook Hannah’s hand. “I’ve a feeling we’ve met somewhere before?”

  “I don’t think so.” Hannah thought she would have remembered such a distinctive character.

  “Strange. I’m not usually wrong.” But she said no more as the tour party left the room.

  “Well what did you make of that?” Joe sat back in the taxi and loosened his tie.

  “Do you mean the amazing Jackie Bishop?”

  “I do. I think a couple of our other head teachers should take a leaf from her book.”

  “Well, you could arrange that, couldn’t you? A word in the right ear?”

  “Mmm perhaps.” They fell silent, each with their own thoughts.

  This school had been the last on their list. The others – except the boy’s school – had all registered at least one female pupil who had left abruptly or gone missing. Most of the schools had problems with Asian girls’ attendance and punctuality and each head seemed to have a different take on it. One, a middle-aged woman who looked like a defeated contender in a reality show, showed little concern. She shrugged when Joe mentioned the high level of absences from mainly Asian girls.