Lost Summer

by Stuart Harrison

  ‘Go on,’ she said, containing her anger with an effort. ‘You might as well explain yourself now you’ve gone this far.’

  ‘I think you know what I’m getting at,’ he said, affecting a slightly bored manner. ‘The past few days every time I try to get hold of you you’re busy chasing this Hanson woman for Adam Turner. Last night you couldn’t come to drinks with the Fletcher people, and now …’ He paused and with an exaggerated movement looked at his watch. ‘And now we’re already fifteen minutes late for dinner.’

  ‘You can phone.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point.’

  She stared at him, incensed at the way he was behaving. The car smelt of leather and clubby aftershave. His manicured nails caught the light as he tapped them impatiently on the wheel. What was she doing here? The thought flashed in her mind, but before it gained a foothold she banished it. She told herself she was not going to be angry and she took a deep breath before she replied.

  ‘Nigel, last night I spent two hours sitting in my car here hoping to catch Jane Hanson when she came home. In the cold, on my own. I didn’t enjoy it, I didn’t particularly want to do it, and I didn’t do it just to spite you. I did it because the brother of a friend of mine is dead and I’m trying to help her find out what happened to him. As is Adam. And also because it’s part of my job.’

  ‘Are you sure those are really your reasons, Karen?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘And tonight I’m here because Jane’s neighbour called and told me she was home. At last. Which is why I have to go.’ She put her hand on the door again and started to open it. Outside it was pouring. She stopped. ‘What did you mean, am I sure those are my reasons?’

  He hesitated. ‘I mean, are you sure that you’re not here because of Adam? That he’s not the reason?’

  ‘Christ.’ She stared at him and shook her head. ‘Are you jealous, is that it, Nigel? Is that what this is all about?’

  ‘Do I have reason to be? You told me once that you slept with him.’

  ‘No. I told you that we once slept in the same bed. There’s a difference.’

  ‘Please, Karen. Don’t insult my intelligence.’

  ‘If I ever come across it I’ll be sure to remember that.’ Angrily she flung open the door and stepped out into the rain. She peered back into the car. ‘You know what, Nigel. I don’t understand you, I really don’t. You asked me to marry you, and yet I don’t know why. You obviously have very little respect for me.’

  ‘For God’s sake, I’m not going to argue in the street with you like this. Get back in.’

  She ignored him. ‘How can you respect me, if you don’t respect what I do? You don’t seem to appreciate that my job means every bit as much to me as yours does to you.’ Suddenly she wondered how she could ever have even considered marrying him. ‘I think you should go without me, Nigel. I really don’t think it would be a good idea if I came with you tonight.’

  He regarded her disbelievingly. ‘Are you serious? You make me drive all the way out here and now you’re telling me I should just go alone. You’re expected, Karen. What am I supposed to tell them?’

  ‘Tell them I have a headache or something.’

  ‘A headache. How imaginative.’

  ‘You know what? Tell them whatever the hell you like. And while we’re at it, I really think we shouldn’t see each other for a little while.’

  He was incredulous, and then angry. ‘Fine. If that’s how you feel then perhaps you’re right. Your job obviously comes before me on your list of priorities. Among other things.’

  Ignoring the barb of his last comment she said, ‘That is how I feel, Nigel. Go and find yourself a nice girl who rides horses. Someone whose idea of a career is to do a few afternoons in a gallery somewhere. I’m sure somebody like that would be much more your type.’ She slammed the door shut, and walked away, not even looking around when she heard him start the car and drive off.

  She was still fuming when she saw the taxi pull up outside number twenty-nine. A girl ran lightly down the steps carrying a small suitcase. Karen glimpsed short dark hair, and though she had never seen a picture of Jane Hanson somehow she knew it was her. She called out her name.

  The girl paused briefly and looked in her direction, but the rain was falling in buckets and she barely faltered before she climbed into the taxi and closed the door.

  ‘Wait,’ Karen said and started to run, but the taxi was already moving. ‘Come back, dammit!’ she yelled. ‘Why won’t you speak to me?’ But it was to no avail. She could only watch helplessly as the taxi drove off, a pale indistinct face looking at her curiously through the rear window. ‘Shit,’ she muttered under her breath. She cursed Nigel for holding her up those precious few minutes, and she cursed Jane Hanson for leaving her standing in the rain and not answering any of her messages.

  Resignedly she started walking for the tube, bemoaning the fact that she hadn’t brought an umbrella. When she arrived at the station, soaked and cold, she took out her mobile and called Adam. The phone rang, but instead of him answering she got his voice mail, which in a way was a relief.

  ‘It’s Karen. Sorry, but I just missed Jane Hanson.’ She paused, wondering what she could add, feeling there ought to be something, but she didn’t know what. Then it came to her. ‘Oh, yes, and Nigel and I aren’t getting married.’ She hung up, wondering what he would make of that. Wondering how she felt herself. Why should she care what he made of it anyway? Bloody hell.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  By the time Adam arrived at the tiny police station in Castleton it was dark. The yard beside it was clogged with vehicles and officers. A group of fifteen or so uniformed police were standing around near the back of a bus and some men wearing fluorescent jackets were clustered around several vans. There was an air of expectation about them all. They were smoking and talking in low voices, shuffling their feet restlessly. As Adam approached several glanced at him with brief curiosity before going back to their conversations.

  When he tried to go into the police station a constable who’d been posted at the door barred his entry.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’

  ‘I’m looking for Angela Johnson.’

  Before he could reply a voice behind him said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.’

  Graham appeared and gestured for Adam to come inside, closing the door behind him. The reception area was empty.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Adam asked, glancing towards the door to the inner office. ‘Where’s Angela?’

  ‘She’s through there,’ Graham told him. He looked harassed and lines of weariness were etched around his eyes.

  ‘What the hell happened? Angela said Nick had been killed. And what are all that lot doing out there?’ Angela hadn’t told him much on the phone, except to say that David had been brought here. Now, he had visions of somebody running amok through the town with a gun. And yet that didn’t seem right. The mood among the officers outside wasn’t right for something like that.

  ‘They’re not here because of Nick,’ Graham said.

  Then what were they doing there, Adam wondered, but for the time being he put the question aside. ‘But Nick is dead?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Somebody bashed his head in.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Adam breathed. He’d imagined that somehow there had to be a mistake. Even though there had never been any love lost between them it still came as a shock to learn Nick was dead, though from the pained look evident in Graham’s expression he was taking the news harder. ‘So, it’s murder?’

  ‘Looks that way.’

  Adam wasn’t sure how to frame his next question. ‘I heard David had been arrested,’ he said tentatively. It didn’t make sense.

  ‘He’s here but he hasn’t been arrested.’

  ‘Then why is he here? Is he a witness?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, either he’s a witness or a suspect! Whi
ch is it?’

  Uncertainty clouded Graham’s expression. ‘He’s being questioned. That’s all I know.’

  ‘Then he is a suspect?’

  ‘I can’t say any more.’

  ‘Come on, Graham. I’m here as a friend, not a journalist.’

  Whose friend? He saw the unspoken question flash like an accusation in Graham’s eyes. It was useless to argue. ‘Where’s Angela? Is she here too?’

  ‘Wait here.’

  Adam caught a glimpse of a crowded room as Graham opened the inner door. There were both uniformed and plain-clothes officers inside. When Angela appeared a few minutes later she looked as if the strain was getting to her though she smiled briefly when she saw him.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. Tired that’s all.’

  ‘Where’s David?’

  She glanced at Graham, who hung back by the counter. ‘Inside. But I think they’re going to let him go soon.’

  ‘What exactly is going on? Is he a suspect?’

  Angela took his arm. ‘Let’s go outside.’ She turned to Graham before she left and thanked him.

  ‘He wouldn’t tell me anything,’ Adam said when they were in the street.

  Perhaps picking up on the resentment in his tone she said, ‘It was Graham who came to the house to tell me what happened. He’s been good to me.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ He gestured around at all the vehicles and officers. ‘And what’s this all about?’

  For the first time she appeared to notice all the activity. ‘I overheard them talking inside. They’re going to start evicting the protesters tonight.’ As they began walking slowly along the street she explained that Nick had been found early that morning. ‘I suppose this was planned beforehand, but I think it’s all turned into a disaster. It was supposed to be kept quiet. The last thing the police wanted was a lot of journalists nosing around, but once they heard about Nick they started arriving, and then of course they realized the eviction was going to begin tonight. They all started leaving this afternoon. Heading for the camp I suppose. Your friend from the Courier was here earlier.’

  ‘Janice?’

  ‘Yes. She wanted to ask me some questions. She seemed surprised when I told her that I knew you.’ Angela looked at him curiously. ‘You didn’t tell her?’

  ‘I didn’t get into specifics. She knows I grew up around here.’

  ‘Anyway, she asked me to tell you that she’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘Thanks. What about Nick? Graham said he was murdered.’

  She avoided looking at him, answering with her eyes on the ground. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, why are they questioning David?’

  ‘They brought him in late this afternoon.’ She looked up, her face reflecting her inner conflicts and doubts. ‘They haven’t let me speak to him, but I gather that two nights ago David attacked Nick.’

  ‘Attacked him?’

  ‘Some sort of fight. It was in a pub in Halls Tenement. Apparently some locals had to hold David back.’

  It was hard to imagine David and Nick fighting, but easier to see how the police would have reacted when they heard about it. ‘What was the fight about?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And that’s why the police have been questioning him?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘There’s nothing else?’

  She looked at him quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Did anybody see what actually happened when Nick was killed?’

  Comprehension flooded her eyes. ‘You mean was there a witness who saw David?’

  ‘I’m just asking the question, Angela.’ But he already knew the answer. If there had been an eyewitness David would have been arrested.

  ‘From what I gather Nick was found near the cottages. The girl he lives with, Mary, found him. I think she saw something, but it was dark and she wasn’t sure what it was. She was upset.’

  ‘Is she here too?’

  ‘No. I think she was taken to the doctor. God, what must she be going through?’

  She broke off as just then there was a sudden flurry of activity along the street as the assembled police started putting out their cigarettes and getting on the bus.

  ‘Looks like they’re leaving,’ Adam commented.

  A knot of people came out of the front of the building and as they dispersed Adam recognized Graham and David among them. They spoke briefly to one another and then Graham headed towards the bus. Doors slammed and engines started and first the bus and then the vans and police cars moved off. After they’d gone and the street was quiet again David stood alone, looking vaguely dazed, his expression ravaged. He seemed to have aged years in the past few days, the lines in his face chiselled deeper, his eyes sunken and hollowed.

  ‘I have to speak to him,’ Angela said. She touched Adam’s arm as if to restrain him from following.

  It was the first time she had seen David for several days. The changes Angela saw shocked her deeply. Had she passed him in a busy street she might barely have recognized him as the man she was married to, the father of their daughter. Thinking of Kate, something clenched her insides. What would she think if she saw her father like this? She blinked away tears and took a breath. This wasn’t the time to fall apart, she admonished herself silently.

  When she reached him she searched David’s expression, trying to read what she saw there. It was as if he had sunk so low inside himself that he had all but vanished. Her heart went out to him in a spasm of pity, but then she realized he wasn’t looking at her. A flicker of something heated gleamed in his bloodshot eyes. She glanced back herself though she knew what he was looking at. Adam stood a little way off in the gloom watching them.

  ‘David, are you alright?’

  His gaze flicked back to her but he didn’t reply. She had no idea what he was feeling; he was like a stranger to her. One of his oldest friends was dead and part of her instinctively wanted to offer him some kind of comfort. Yet some other part of her shrank back. For a few seconds she couldn’t trust herself to speak, but when she did her anger overflowed.

  ‘Dammit, David, don’t just stand there, you have to talk to me!’

  A twitch at the corner of his eye was all the response he gave.

  ‘Did you hear me? What happened today? What did you tell the police?’

  ‘They wanted to know where I was last night.’ His voice was a harsh croak. It didn’t even sound like him.

  ‘What did you tell them? Where have you been?’

  ‘At the office. I don’t know. I’ve been driving around.’ He seemed dazed, uncertain. He ran a hand back through his hair, a gesture of deep weariness.

  ‘Graham said that you and Nick had a fight.’

  He stared at her and then lifted a hand with a vague motion and allowed it to drop again listlessly, which could have meant almost anything, though somehow it seemed to communicate that it didn’t matter any more.

  ‘What did you fight about?’

  He didn’t answer and she sensed that he was drifting away from her lost in his own thoughts. Frustration made her angry again. ‘David!’ He focused on her again. ‘What happened between you and Nick?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘He’s dead!’ she said almost savagely, trying to provoke him from the confused lethargy he appeared to have sunk into. ‘David, listen to me. Nick is dead. Somebody killed him!’ She forced him to look at her by strength of will.

  ‘You think it was me, is that it?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  His gaze shifted beyond her and once again she knew it was Adam he was looking at. ‘I want to know what’s going on, David. Everything. I want you to tell me what you know about those lads who were killed.’

  He made a snorting sound, raising his face to the sky. When he looked at her his eyes glittered with a maniacal light. Suddenly he thrust his
face towards her. ‘What’s the fucking point? What fucking difference does it make what I say? It’s what he says that matters, isn’t it?’

  ‘Adam?’

  ‘Yes! Adam! Who the fuck else did you think I meant?’

  She took an involuntary step backwards, alarmed by his reaction. There was a crazy look in his eye. She wiped the spittle he had sprayed her with from her face.

  ‘What has he told you, eh, Angela? The two of you been having cosy chats, have you? He must have liked that. Oh, I bet he liked it. I can see it now, stick the fucking knife in with one hand, use the other to pat you on the knee, tell you everything is going to be alright. I bet you liked that didn’t you? I can see it now, the two of you. Is that what happened?’ He stared at her, his eyes wide, his face inches from hers. ‘I SAID, IS THAT WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED?’

  ‘You bastard,’ she said quietly. Her anger grew from a small knot of heat and burst into bloom like some startlingly red flower. It was all the more potent for being controlled rather than a maddened outburst. ‘You’ve got the nerve to stand there and accuse me. You lousy bastard. After everything you’ve done.’

  He backed off blinking, but she refused to let him escape.

  ‘You drink yourself half to death, you stop sleeping in our bed, you don’t talk to me, you don’t even talk to your own daughter and all the time you refuse to tell me what is eating away at you, and then you’ve got the nerve to accuse me of disloyalty! Where the hell is your loyalty to me, David? To Kate? I want to know what happened! I want to know everything! Where did you go the night those lads were killed?’

  Her question registered. He flinched as if she had struck him. Again he looked past her to where Adam was standing.

  ‘Don’t look at him! I’m asking you, not Adam. Me! I know somebody called from the lodge that night. Who was it? Where did you go?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, dammit!’

  ‘Fuck.’ He turned his face skywards and when he looked at her again she saw there were tears in his eyes. ‘It’s all screwed up, Angela. Jesus, it’s all a mess.’