The Girlfriend: A Josie Cloverfield Detective Novel

by Jack Carteret

  The closer we got to the end, the more I realised that the big clues were very much at the beginning of the diary.

  Something about that was kind of niggling me, but before I could get to the bottom of what, Liam started reading something a little bit different.

  “Sooner or later the Chav is going to realise he isn’t fit to polish my shoes. I actually think he knows already, after I turned up at his house.” Liam paused for a moment. I really didn’t want him to read the rest. Judging by the look on his face, he’d gone on a little in his head. “I’ve been in nicer sheds than that vile house. Still, he couldn’t really do any other than let me in. It was all so funny, and worth every boring day I’ve spent with him. Sure, he’s hot, but he’s so far down the food chain. As we sat on his bed in that bare, awful room, I felt him slowly shrinking beside me. I don’t know how I kept a straight face. Enough rebellion, huh? Time to let the poor, sad creature go.” When Liam had finished, you could not have heard a pin drop.

  The three of us just sat in silence, all slowly digesting the spite in written form. Why did it have to be the page Liam was reading aloud? Why couldn’t it have been mine? I would have made something up.

  I risked a look at Liam’s face in the dim light, and saw something I’d never seen before; hatred. Real hatred.

  “I’m struggling to feel sorry for Hannah right now.” Richard broke the silence.

  “Yeah, me too.” I said, in solidarity.

  “Well, at least I’m hot.” Liam said, although not with his usual humour.

  “Oh, totally, mate.” Richard said.

  “Smokin’.” I added.

  “For a Chav.” Liam sounded so defeated.

  My friend, dragged over hot coals and accused, all for the sake of some nasty little snob who had only dated him to feel better about herself. In that moment, I could have strangled Hannah Davenport myself.

  Every time I started to feel sorry for her, something would come up and I’d despise her all over again. Confusing times, I can tell you.

  “I didn’t know she turned up at your house.” I said, wondering if I was doing the right thing by still talking about it.

  “Yeah. She did just show up. It was Sunday night. I totally was not expecting her. I never invited her to my place because…well….you know.” Liam tailed off.

  “And was she really so awful?” I went on.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I thought she was just being nosey or determined or whatever, but then she became really keen to have a good look around. And honestly? Yeah, I did shrink. I suppose I realised that she knew it, too. But then, Monday came and she was all chipper at uni and stuff. It seemed to me like maybe she didn’t care about that sort of thing. Maybe she was different.” I snorted involuntarily. “I know, Dude. Naïve, right?”

  “No, not naïve.” I said, sadly.

  “Just human, Liam.” Richard finally spoke. “And Hannah did not deserve you to look twice at her. Man, I knew she was a snob. I’d always known that. But….wow….I had no idea she was so deeply rotten.”

  “It’s all tied up with this rebellion thing. The one-night stand, Liam the Chav boyfriend.” I said nonchalantly, and was pleased to hear Liam chuckle. “The nude portrait, the stripping, Dirty Harry. What the hell had happened in Hannah’s life to spark it all off? What was so damn big that she needed to rebel?”

  “Let’s hope you find something like an answer when you speak to Kellie tomorrow.” Liam said, seeming to have recovered.

  “Yes. Anything to find who really did this and get the Police off Liam’s back.” Richard said, sounding kind of flat.

  I knew he was having one of those struggles; the kind of thing that kept blasting me in the beginning. I didn’t like Hannah. Richard didn’t like her either, but that had only just happened.

  “Guys, none of this is easy. Trust me, I’ve had some guilty moments over the last few days, especially when I think back over my opinions of Hannah before she went missing. But don’t let it eat into your soul. We’re humans, with human feelings and opinions and yes, even judgements at times. So what? We’re still doing the right thing. Right now, we might not feel like finding the person who killed Hannah but, in a day or two, we’ll all come to the conclusion that being a totally spiteful snob is not actually punishable by death. But, in the meantime, until we each get to that point, we just need to feel what we feel without getting all guilty about it.” I finished my long-winded point to be greeted by complete silence. It went on for ages.

  “Did either of you hear me?” I said, wondering if they’d tuned out about four sentences back.

  “Yeah.” Richard said.

  “Yeah, Dude. I’m just, like, taken aback or what-not. I didn’t realise you knew this kind of stuff.”

  “What stuff?” I said, a little defensively.

  “Like feelings and stuff. I totally thought for years that you had Asperger’s, Dude. I didn’t think you thought that way. I thought it was all just numbers and straight lines and blunt comments.”

  I could just make out Richard’s outline beginning to bob with mirth.

  “Richard, don’t you even think about laughing at this fool.” I said, trying not to laugh myself. Liam was a complete donkey. “He doesn’t need any kind of encouragement here.”

  “Sorry Josie.” Richard said, before booming with laughter.

  As the two of them carried on laughing like kids, I looked down at the photocopy. I turned the last couple of pages and realised that the entry about Liam was the very last that Hannah had made.

  To be completely honest, I don’t know how I felt about that.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  By the time I had waited in Mama Mia’s for twenty minutes, I had myself convinced that Kellie wouldn’t be coming.

  She’d changed her mind and, after all, why wouldn’t she? This was just pizza for her. There was nothing much more for her to gain than that. I was the one doing all the wanting, so I could hardly blame her for ducking out of the arrangement.

  Still, I hardly slept all night thinking about this meeting; going over and over exactly what I should ask Kellie.

  And I suppose having two snoring men in my room had quite possibly added to my sleeplessness. We had talked over the whole investigation until the wee small hours, and I could do no other than invite Richard to stay.

  In a weirdly unspoken way, none of us had wanted to venture into my mum’s empty room to sleep. We all just kind of gravitated towards the neat and tidy little oasis that was my room.

  Nothing sordid, I might add. I slept on my bed, and the lads had blankets on the floor. It was like a bizarre indoor camping expedition.

  I had been about to nod off when Richard, still messing about on his phone said, “Oh, The Catcher in the Rye! I haven’t read that for ages!” It took me a moment or two to realise that he had swung his phone enough to see by its light exactly which books were currently propping up the lower end of my bed.

  “Well, don’t try to re-read it now, or we’re all in trouble.” I said, surprised that I found it amusing for once, instead of humiliating.

  Well, who knew? There really was more to life!

  Finally, the door of Mama Mia’s swung open and I looked up to see a familiar mink coloured fluffy gillet hove into view.

  I was not surprised to see it was Kellie who was wearing it; there was seriously not another garment in the world quite like that gillet.

  “Hi, Kel. Thanks for coming.” I felt a bit odd calling her Kel.

  It felt too personal. Yet, at the same time, I knew if I called her Kellie, it would somehow close down the lines of communication.

  You know how school teachers always used your proper name, even when your own parents didn’t; it drove a wedge, kind of thing.

  “Hi. Sorry I’m late. Dad was being a bit…well….” She didn’t finish, she simply sat down opposite me and picked up the menu.

  My pauper’s heart was so hoping that she liked a nice cheap and cheerful margarita pizza.


  “I’ll have a large Hawaiian with extra cheese, garlic bread, and a big coke.” Kellie said. Don’t cry, Josie Cloverfield. Just grin and bear it.

  “No problem.” I said, smiling really hard. I caught the waitresses’ eye and gave her our order before the part of me that religiously packed that flask every day took over and made a fool of me right there and then.

  I thought fondly of the Euro-Saver’s wonderful range of flat and floppy pizzas, and wished that they were what we were having now.

  “So, what do you want to know?” Kellie said, quite unguardedly. I was pretty thankful, since I hadn’t quite come up with a line which would take us from pizza order to direct questioning.

  “You said that your mum was Hannah’s aunt.”

  “That’s right. She’s dead, though. She died years ago, when I was really little.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I said, and meant it.

  How this young woman’s life had differed from Hannah’s was pretty distinct. So far, it seemed like Kellie had received all the rough breaks; except, perhaps, for the final one.

  “It’s ok. I don’t even remember her.”

  “Kel, was your mum Hannah’s mum’s sister, or Hannah’s dad’s?”

  “Hannah’s mum and my mum were sisters.”

  “I see.” I said, “Did they get on? I mean, did your mum and Hannah’s mum stay in touch?” It was the only way I could think of to highlight the obvious differences in the two households.

  “Nah!” Kellie started laughing. “Once Hugh Davenport had whisked her away from my Dad, Hannah’s mum never looked back. She became one of them overnight. Total fake!”

  “Sorry…..” I said, confusion about to swallow me. “Hannah’s dad whisked your aunt away from….your Dad?” I had that Jeremy Kyle feeling.

  “Yeah. Aunt Sharon was engaged to my dad before my mum was. She worked at the Duchess with him.”

  “Worked?” I said, dubiously.

  “Well, stripped.” She laughed. I was obviously not wearing my poker face. “Yeah, that’s right. Mrs hoity-toity used to be a stripper in my dad’s pub. You wouldn’t know it to see her now. And to hear her! Wow, she sounds like the flaming Queen!” Kellie was getting kind of loud; she was suffering a mixture of amusement and outrage. “And she’s not called Sharon anymore. She calls herself Sian! Sian Davenport. Total fake.”

  “Oh, my Lord!” I said, almost as if I was reading from a gossip magazine in the hairdressers. Really, what would Miss Marple have said about my obvious manner? “So, how did Hugh Davenport come into things?”

  “He was a punter at the Duchess! Dad said he used to be there every Sunday. Always got in early to get a seat with the best view, if you know what I mean. Dirty git!” Kellie almost spat the last.

  Of course, our pizzas just had to arrive at that very moment, didn’t they? The waitress almost dropped Kellie’s Hawaiian onto the table.

  “And they make out they’re so above everyone. Her an ex-stripper, and him a dirty old git who used to cart his posh carcass around the worst pubs and clubs in Grantstone.”

  “Well, that has surprised me, I’ve got to tell you.” I said quietly, as I watched Kellie take a huge bite of pizza.

  “Yeah. I bet none of their posh friends and neighbours ever get to hear the story of how they first met!” And with that, Kellie burst out laughing.

  “So, Hannah knew all this? I mean, she ended up working at your dad’s place herself.”

  “Oh, she didn’t know it for years. She didn’t know any of it. She was totally in the dark about the whole thing.” Kellie’s face was screwed up tightly, and I couldn’t tell if she felt sorry for Hannah, or scornful of her.

  “So, how did she find out?”

  “My Gran died. It was her funeral in the summer.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I said again, realising that I was actually really bad at this sort of thing.

  I just didn’t know what else to say. Maybe my donkey-brained best friend had a point after all.

  “It’s ok. I never knew her. Once Aunt Sharon, or Sian should I say, made her way up in the world, she made sure her own mother was looked after. Dad says that Gran became someone else altogether. They put her in a nice little bungalow far away from us.”

  “Oh, that sort of stinks.”

  “Yeah, it does. Hannah had the lot. She even got my Gran to herself.”

  “So, you didn’t see your Gran then?”

  “No. Apparently, there was some kind of row after my mum got it together with my dad. She worked at the Duchess too, you see. Anyway, that was all done and dusted before I was even born. My mum, dad and me were kind of cut off from the rest. Like we were some kind of guilty secret.”

  “That really stinks.” And it did. I meant it.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “So, you went to your Gran’s funeral?”

  “My dad was determined. Obviously, my mum was long gone before then. But dad said it was a public place and they couldn’t ban us from it.”

  “True.” I said, thoughtfully. “But why would he want to go to the funeral of an old woman who’d turned her back on her own daughter and granddaughter?”

  “Oh, because he thought that the old crow might have left me some money. He wanted to go to the funeral to see if he could find out when the reading of the will was going to be.” Kellie spoke as if it was the most normal behaviour in the world.

  There was something about Kellie’s father’s attitude which reminded me uncomfortably of my own mother. It felt weirdly familiar.

  “And you saw Hannah, obviously.” I went on, not wanting to dwell on or judge Kellie’s dad.

  “Yeah. Her mum tried to keep her away from my dad and me. Man, you should have seen her face when she realised we had shown up at the funeral.” Kellie was displaying a certain amount of almost justifiable glee at the memory. “After my mum had died, I suppose Sian thought she’d never set eyes on me and my dad ever again. She’d probably forgotten we even existed.” Kellie shrugged. “And she was desperate, desperate, to keep Hannah away from dad and me.”

  “Without success?”

  “Too right. Hannah could see how alike we were. Dad said he’d have struggled to tell us apart if we wore the same kind of clothes. And it was true too. Anyway, I could just tell she was dying to find out more. She looked pretty shocked when she realised she had more family than she knew about.”

  “So, you talked?”

  “Yeah, in the end, Sian had other people to attend to, and Hannah soon made her way over to me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was mostly looking me up and down to start with. Her clothes were really swanky. You know, like good quality and stuff. Anyway, she seemed pretty pleased with herself. She tried it on, but I soon squashed her.” Kellie took another huge bite of pizza and sat back in her chair, also seeming a little pleased with herself.

  “Tried it on, how?”

  “Lording it over me. Wincing at the way I speak and asking where I lived and stuff. Then she told me where she lived and all the stuff she had. She was so posh, you know?”

  “Yes, I know.” I said, with a shrug. “So, you squashed her?”

  “Yeah. I lost it a bit. I don’t like people looking me up and down. It’s rude.” Kellie said, very much on her dignity. Obviously, her own habit for looking people up and down in an appraising way was an unconscious one. It was the one mannerism which made my flesh crawl, it was so like Hannah’s had been. “Anyway, I told her to pack it in and she just laughed. Man, I was angry. I just gave her every bit of history I could think of. I told her everything! She looked shocked, but I could tell she didn’t believe me.”

  “But eventually she must have.” I said, wishing that Kellie would speed along to the point.

  “It took a few days. She flounced off at the funeral, and I thought that was the last I’d see of her. Then, at the end of the week, she just strides into the pub. I couldn’t believe it. I thought she’d come for some sort of showdow
n, you know?”

  “And had she?”

  “No. She was all calm and stuff. I think the stuff I’d told her had begun to sink in, and she wanted to know all of it. Every detail.”

  “And how did she take it?”

  “She was quiet. It took the wind out of her sails alright. I felt sorry for her then, to be honest.”

  “I suppose everything she took for granted in her world was proved a lie, kind of.”

  “That’s exactly it. Anyway, she kept coming back, you know. She was a bit snotty and always snobby, but it seemed like she wanted to hang out, you know? Well, at first it did.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “She only wanted one thing.”

  “What?” I was on the edge of my seat, my tiny margarita pizza practically untouched.

  “She wanted to be the Sunday stripper! She was desperate to do it.”

  “I don’t get it. Like mother like daughter kind of thing?”

  “No. More like revenge. I think she wanted to do it and somehow have her mother find out about it. She even said what a laugh it would be if her dirty old dad still went to the Duchess for a show and found himself looking up at his daughter! Twisted, if you ask me.”

  “I suppose it had all really hurt her.” I said, feeling really, horribly sorry for Hannah.

  Even if she did have a bad attitude towards others, it would have been impossible for her not to be so wounded and humiliated by the secrets she had learned.

  Her ever-so-nice parents must have suddenly seemed like strangers to her, and everything in her world must have felt so phoney.

  “Yeah, it did hurt her. Still, she soon got used to the stripping.”

  “Did her parents ever find out?”

  “I don’t think so. Well, I suppose they know now. Everything will have come out, won’t it? My dad wouldn’t have held back about that bit when he spoke to the police.”

  “Did Hannah ever seem to regret it?”

  “Not at all. She was a bit of a show-off really. I reckon she liked the attention.”

  “Did she get attention from anyone in particular?” I asked, remembering the main questions I had rehearsed the night before. I needed more credible suspects.