by Jane Casey
From behind the camera comes, ‘Now, Sarah, put your hand on your mother’s arm.’
I obey, patting her arm gently. Her skin is cold to the touch, even though we are sitting in the full heat of the afternoon sun. She pulls her arm away as if I’ve burned her. For the first time, I understand that I will never be able to comfort her. I will never be able to make her happy. I will never be enough.
The tears come then, without warning. I sit and sob my heart out, crying as if I’ll never stop. On the evening news, it looks as if I’m crying for Charlie. Only I know that I’m crying for me.
Chapter 5
IT WAS AFTER one o’clock when Andrew Blake came to the school office, where Elaine had put me to work in the absence of any actual teaching duties. My colleagues were lurking in the staffroom, catching up on paperwork. That had been my plan too. I’d been unlucky to run into Elaine, and unluckier still that I hadn’t been able to think of an excuse to get out of helping, but I didn’t really mind. Opening post and answering the telephone all morning hadn’t been exactly taxing. In fact, the only downside was the presence of Janet, the school secretary. A skeletal woman in her early fifties, Janet had been teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown the entire time I had been working at Edgeworth School. She was useless at her job in normal circumstances; the current situation had made it completely impossible for her to do anything but talk about her medical problems, past and present, and cry. From the moment I walked into the office and saw her inflamed eyelids and reddened nose I had known that there was no point in actually listening to her. I managed to tune her out quite successfully, retreating into my own world while mechanically going through a pile of junk mail and phone messages. Sorting things out was therapeutic. Janet’s monologue flowed on in the background, as unstoppable as a river. If you didn’t listen to the words, it was almost soothing.
When the door opened and Blake poked his head into the room, it took me a second to come back to reality. Janet was saying, ‘So I knew straightaway, of course, that it was a prolapse, because it had happened before … Can I help you?’
He beamed at her, charm at full wattage. ‘Not at the moment, love. It’s Miss Finch I’ve come to see.’
I stood up and smoothed the creases out of my dress with my hands, playing for time. Why did he want to speak to me? It had to be something to do with Rachel. I went towards the door, my mind a whirl of half-remembered things I had intended to say to Vickers earlier.
‘Are you going to be long?’ came from behind me. Janet’s voice was sharp-edged with irritation. ‘Because one of us should really be here over lunchtime, you know. Given how busy it is.’
I stopped, confused, and looked from her to Blake and back again.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Blake said gently, but without the least hint that negotiation was possible. ‘We won’t be very long.’
Janet sniffed. ‘Fine. I’ll take my lunch later. I haven’t really got much appetite these days, anyway.’
With my back to her, I pulled a face at Blake, who half-laughed, half-coughed his way down the corridor, out of Janet’s field of vision. As soon as the door was safely shut behind me, he said, ‘What was that?’
‘What, Janet? She’s special, isn’t she?’
‘You can say that again. She’s about as cheerful as those women who used to knit at the foot of the guillotine. How did you get trapped in there?’
‘No students to teach and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s better than doing nothing, but thanks for rescuing me anyway.’ I hesitated for a second. ‘What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?’
Blake looked immensely serious and I waited, cringing a little, to hear what he wanted. ‘I was wondering if you were hungry. Because if you were heartless enough to want to eat something at a time like this, I would be very happy to offer you one of these sandwiches –,’ and he held up a paper bag ‘– at the location of your choice. It’s a nice day. Is there anywhere we can go that’s out of doors?’
I blinked, surprised, before feeling a sudden lift in my mood. It was a nice day. There was no reason to martyr myself by spending lunchtime in the stuffy school office, or worse, the staffroom, where I would have to listen to Stephen Smith’s dentures clack as he ate. It made no sense, especially when there was a much more appealing option available. Would I regret turning Blake down? In a word, yes.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, mirroring Blake’s serious demeanour. ‘What kind of sandwiches did you get?’
‘One ham and salad, one cheese and tomato.’
I considered. ‘Can I have the cheese one?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘In that case, follow me.’ I led the way to the door that opened into the car park. ‘Somewhere quiet outdoors, is that the brief?’
Blake put on a turn of speed to get to the door first and held it open for me. ‘Somewhere away from that lot, ideally.’ He nodded towards the milling reporters by the school gate.
‘No problem.’ I set off along the side of the school building, past the hockey pitch, to the small, high-walled school garden. It was where the girls were encouraged to try out their green fingers, with varying degrees of success. The vegetable patch was a sorry sight, full of blasted lettuces that had lost the competition with flourishing weeds, but the walls were mantled with honeysuckle that scented the air, and two large apple trees scattered fractured shade across the grass. The garden had the virtue of not being overlooked, which meant that in normal conditions it was the number one choice for those girls who indulged in illicit smoking at lunchtime. Currently, though, it was deserted.
‘Perfect,’ Blake said from over my shoulder, looking in through the gate. He was standing close behind me, and I was intensely aware of him. It took me a second to remember what I had been doing. I unlatched the gate and stepped down onto the grass, and he followed.
‘You can’t beat a private school, can you?’
‘I suppose not.’ I looked at him dubiously; he was wearing a fairly sharp suit. ‘Do you want to sit on a bench or lie on the grass?’
He crouched and pressed his hands onto the lawn for a moment. ‘Bone dry. Grass it is.’
He took off his jacket and tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves before lying down on his back. I watched, amused, as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. ‘Tired?’
‘Just a bit,’ Blake said, and his voice was blurry with sleep.
He had chosen to lie in the sun, but there was a patch of shade nearby. I curled up in it and began to explore the contents of the bag he had brought. As the silence stretched out I began to feel self-conscious.
‘So how are things going?’ I said eventually.
He jerked back to wakefulness and blinked, looking at me as if I was a complete stranger. ‘Sorry – did I drop off?’
I bit into my sandwich instead of answering. Blake sat up, leaning on one elbow, and rooted in the bag. ‘I don’t know if I’m hungry or tired these days. We’ve been flat out since Monday.’
‘And are you making progress?’
Through a mouthful of bread, he said, ‘Sort of. You raking up the friend was a help. How did that happen?’
I shrugged. ‘I just bumped into Rachel. She was dying to tell someone about it, and she knows me, so …’
He nodded. ‘They probably trust you because you’re young. You’re more like them than most of the other teachers around here.’
‘You’d be surprised. I might look young to you, but I don’t think they see me as one of them. I’m very definitely a grown-up as far as they’re concerned.’ I sighed. ‘This whole thing with Jenny – I just didn’t see it. Not at all.’
‘Don’t blame yourself. No one knew. Even her parents were in the dark. How could you have picked up on it?’
I put my sandwich back down and wrapped my arms around my knees. ‘I should have, though. I keep thinking about it. She used to hang back and talk to me after class sometimes, about nothing in particular. Just
… chat. I never really thought much of it, but she might have been waiting for a chance to talk about what was going on. And I used to tell her to hurry up so she would get to her next class on time.’ I put my forehead down on my knees, hiding my face from him, afraid to see the judgement in his eyes. But the certainty in his voice when he spoke made me look up.
‘Bollocks. If she’d wanted to talk to you, she would have found a way. Look, I’m not trying to change the way you feel about her, but the girl was plain devious. We ripped her bedroom apart – carted away tons of stuff for forensic examination – but we haven’t found anything useful. The only person she seems to have talked to is this Rachel, and even then she hasn’t told her much. Can you think of anyone else she might have confided in?’
‘No,’ I said regretfully. ‘To be honest, I think Jenny only talked to Rachel about it because she needed someone to cover for her, not because she wanted someone to talk to about her boyfriend.’
‘How did Rachel cover for her?’ Blake asked, interested.
‘She was the only one in the class who lived reasonably close to Jenny – about a ten-minute bike ride. According to Rachel, Jenny was allowed to cycle over to her house so they could do homework together. But of course, she didn’t go to Rachel’s house; she went somewhere else – to see this friend of hers and his brother.’
‘And the parents never suspected a thing?’
‘That’s the beauty of mobile phones. Diane Shepherd would call or text Jenny when she wanted her to come home. She never rang the Boyds, so there was no danger of her finding out that Jenny wasn’t there. But Jenny had Rachel primed to cover for her in case Mrs Shepherd ever spoke to her at the school.’
‘That’s clever. She had everyone dancing to her tune, didn’t she?’
‘I suppose.’ The idea was so much at odds with my impression of Jenny that it made me uncomfortable. ‘Maybe it was the boyfriend’s plan, though.’
‘Mmm,’ Blake said neutrally. ‘Maybe.’
He didn’t say anything else and neither did I. A wood pigeon crooned in the trees, filling the silence. He was looking down at the grass, thinking, and I took advantage of that to stare at him. The bright sunshine gleamed in the hairs on his arms and his eyelashes, which fanned down on to his cheeks. I had never seen longer eyelashes on a man, and they were the only remotely feminine thing about him. His shirt was carelessly tucked in and a triangle of skin was visible above his belt, taut and brown, with a trail of dark hair leading my mind to places it shouldn’t go. He was as still as a photograph. The only movement was the second hand of his watch. I hugged my knees and felt something unfamiliar bubbling up inside me, something that after a second, with some surprise, I recognised as happiness.
Blake looked up at me and I felt my stomach flip over. ‘Are you going to finish your sandwich or what?’
The second half of the sandwich was still wrapped in greaseproof paper from the deli. ‘I’m not that hungry, I’m afraid.’
‘I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.’
I passed it over. He wolfed it down in about three bites, then lay down again, one arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘So, how’s your mum?’
‘Mum?’ Until that moment, I had completely forgotten that I’d mentioned her to Blake. I tried to recall what I might have said, settling on a vague, ‘Oh – she’s much the same.’
‘Did you tell her where you were on Monday night? Spending time with evil policemen?’
I laughed. ‘No, I didn’t have to say anything about it. She was asleep when I got back.’
‘Why does she hate the police?’ He lifted his arm away from his face for a second and squinted at me. ‘It’s been bothering me since you said it.’
‘People do.’ I turned my head away. ‘We had a few dealings with them and they weren’t all that helpful, let’s put it that way.’
‘What sort of thing?’
I wavered for a second, tempted to tell him about Charlie, but it was too long a story, and besides, he couldn’t really be that interested. I told myself he was just asking questions as a good policeman should.
‘Ancient history. You know how it is. Surrey Police priorities didn’t match up with hers. She felt a bit let down. If she wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge, I’m sure she’d be over it by now.’
‘Is it just the two of you living there? No dad?’
‘Dad died,’ I said, and I don’t think my voice changed, but he sat up.
‘When did that happen?’
‘When I was fourteen. Ten years ago. God, it doesn’t seem that long.’
‘How did he die?’
I had got used to saying what happened without getting emotional. ‘Car accident. It was after they’d split up. He’d moved out. He was driving up from Bristol to see me and – well, it was just a stupid accident.’
Not suicide, either. Whatever people had thought.
‘That must have been tough.’
‘Mm,’ I said, not looking at him. ‘It made things pretty difficult at home. Mum wasn’t in great shape after the divorce, which was why I’d stayed with her. When Dad died …’ I swallowed. ‘She had to go into hospital for a while. She just couldn’t manage.’
It had been far worse than that. She had been psychotic with grief – out of her mind, dangerously so. She had been sectioned, for her own safety and for mine, and Aunt Lucy had come like an angel and spirited me away to Manchester for a few months. I had written to Mum every day, and never heard a word in return.
‘When she got out of hospital, she was still a bit of a wreck, to be honest. And she’s never really recovered. There’s just the two of us, so I look after her. It’s sort of the least I can do.’
‘What happened to your dad –’ he put his hand out and touched my ankle ‘– it wasn’t your fault, you know.’
‘Did I say it was?’ My voice was sharp; I had spent years listening to Mum tell me that I was responsible. ‘I know it was just bad luck. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. And you wouldn’t have thought that Mum would care, considering they’d split up two years earlier. But she was devastated.’
‘Maybe she still loved him. How did they break up?’
‘Dad left. But she made him go.’ I shook my head. ‘I heard the way she used to talk to him. I heard the things she used to say about him. She hated him.’
‘Did she take off her wedding ring?’
‘What?’
‘Did she stop wearing it – after the divorce?’
‘No. Actually, she still wears it.’
Blake shrugged. ‘Then she still loves him.’
I considered it for a second, reluctant to give Mum credit for anything. But maybe he had a point. And for the first time in years, I actually felt genuinely sorry for my mother, who hadn’t wanted her life to work out the way it had, who couldn’t deal with the crappy things that had happened to her, who just wanted the world to go away.
Blake had rolled on to his back again and closed his eyes. My ankle tingled where his hand had rested. Without thinking, without even really meaning to say it out loud, I blurted out, ‘Why don’t you have a girlfriend?’
He twisted his head to look at me and grinned. ‘I work terrible hours, remember? They don’t stick around.’
‘Oh, right.’ More likely that he went through them at a rate – he couldn’t be short of willing candidates. I had more self-respect than that, though. I wouldn’t be joining the queue. ‘Speaking of work, I’d better get back. Janet will be furious.’
I expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. He frowned, then sat up. ‘Sarah … about this case. Promise me that you’ll be careful. Promise me that you’ll keep out of the investigation.’
I felt my face go blank. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Look, you’re a nice person. You take responsibility for things, even when maybe you shouldn’t. But this – this isn’t something you want to be involved with.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.�
� I began to fold the sandwich wrappers for the sake of having something to do.
‘Listen, it’s not that you haven’t helped us. You’ve been great. But you’ve been a bit too close to this case from the start. I like you, Sarah, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.’
I was half annoyed, half occupied with trying to work out what he meant when he said he liked me. Liked me, or just liked me? I pushed that question out of my head and made myself focus. ‘How would I get hurt?’
‘Lots of ways.’ Blake stood up then, towering over me. The sun was behind him and he was silhouetted against the bright sky. I couldn’t see the expression on his face. ‘Someone always gets the blame, sooner or later, in a case like this. It hasn’t started yet, but if we don’t get any results soon, people are going to start asking questions, wondering who should have spotted what was going on. Believe me, you don’t want to be in the frame when they come looking.’
‘I hardly think that’s likely.’
‘I’ve seen it happen,’ Blake said. ‘Just go back to work, Sarah. Don’t try to do our job for us, and don’t put yourself in harm’s way.’
I looked up at him dumbly. Suddenly awkward, he checked his watch. ‘I’d better go. Thanks for having lunch with me.’
I watched him walk away across the lawn, his head down. My throat was aching as if I might cry, but it was anger I felt. He had come to find me, after all. I had just been trying to help the Shepherds when I spoke to Rachel. Surely there was no harm in wanting to do what I could?
As there was no one to hear my unanswerable arguments, I ran out of steam eventually and got up to go. By the time I had finished collecting the rubbish, there was no trace at all of us having been there, except for some flattened grass.
It had been a mistake to think that my new sympathy for my mother would survive an actual face-to-face encounter with her. I hadn’t been at home for two minutes before the pity withered and died.
I had got home sticky, hot and tired, to be greeted by the smell of stale air and musty fabric that was the signature scent of home. It was a long way from freshly baked bread or roasting coffee. On the sofa, Mum was leafing through a large, leather-effect scrapbook that I recognised immediately.
