by Penny Kline
‘I’m sorry, Kath.’ Izzy was so tired her eyes felt blurry. ‘Listen, I promise not to criticize but in exchange I need your advice and it means trusting you not to pass on –’
‘Scout’s honour.’
‘It’s important, Kath.’
‘I know. I can tell. Fire away. Anything that takes my mind off my own problems.’
Half an hour later, Izzy had given her an account of her friendship with Dawn over the years and Kath had listened carefully, commenting occasionally that she sounded a pretty crazy kind of character.
When she told her about the name Cressy she let out a small gasp. ‘You think …’
‘The thing is, Kath, I gave myself a week to try and find out more and it’s up. It was up several days ago.’
‘So you’re going to tell the cops.’
‘Yes. I don’t know.’ Kath was wearing too much perfume. For Harry’s benefit. ‘What do you think?’
‘I guess you’ll have to. If you don’t you could land yourself in serious trouble.’
‘She threatened to kill herself if I did,’ Izzy said, and Kath pulled a face as if to say, oh, that one.
‘You don’t think she means it?’ It was a question Kath couldn’t possibly answer. How could Izzy expect her to, and how could she be so feeble, hoping for reassurance when she was the only person who could decide what to do?
‘Blackmail,’ Kath said. ‘Still, I don’t know this Dawn. If she’s unstable …’
‘She’s cunning but that’s not the same thing.’
‘No, it’s not.’ The description of Dawn had certainly taken Kath’s mind off Harry. She looked much more like her old self, quite cheerful, quite animated.
‘She also implied I would be in danger myself.’
‘Not if she’d killed herself. Sorry, I guess it’s no laughing matter. Listen.’
‘What?’ She hoped Kath had some sensible advice for her, half hoped she would insist on accompanying her to the police station.
‘When you split up with Josh … How did you do it? It’s so difficult. I – you’re stronger than me and once you’ve made up your mind you stick to things, carry them through.’
‘If you knew how hard it’s been. How hard it is. No, I don’t want him back but having him around, I was used it. We all miss familiar things and –’
‘So how did you do it?’
‘I’d put it off, and put it off, but finally … He was ruining my health.’
‘Body or mind? Both I guess. Yes, I know what you mean. My stomach’s terrible, I’ve completely lost my appetite, and I feel so guilty. So many conflicting feelings and –’
‘When it gets bad enough you’ll do something about it.’ Izzy wished she could sound more sympathetic. ‘What has Harry said? Have you asked him?’
‘No. I don’t know. Don’t want to know. Don’t tell the police, not yet. Imagine how awful it would be if Dawn killed herself. You’d never get over the guilt.’
So the part about Izzy being in danger had gone over Kath’s head. No Josh. No Kath. She had never felt so alone. Bev Jordan would have been a comfort but how could she tell her about Dawn then insist she keep quiet?
And if I was Bev, she thought, in the circumstances, would I keep quiet? Probably not. Cressy was her concern. Not Dawn. Bev dreaded Cressy being returned to her birth mother but she would do anything to protect her.
Izzy was watching a programme about two boys who had been taken abroad by their Turkish father, and their mother had spent more than three years getting them back. So much of it was a re-enactment, it was confusing when actual photographs of the parents and children were shown, and she remembered how people phone crime programmes, claiming to have seen a suspect, when all they’ve spotted is the actor who played him.
When the doorbell rang, she had a nasty feeling it might be DS Fairbrother, so it was a relief to find an elderly man standing there.
‘Oh.’ He looked her up and down as though she had no right to be living there. ‘I’m looking for an Isabel Lomas?’
She should have said ‘who is it who wants her’? Instead, she asked if he was a colleague of Fairbrother’s. His mystified expression persuaded her he was not a policeman. Besides, they retired in their fifties, didn’t they – with a substantial pension – and this man looked more like he was in his late sixties, or even seventies. ‘Yes, I’m Isabel Lomas.’
‘Good to meet you.’ He held out a large, slightly moist hand. ‘We’ve never met but you’ll recognise the name. I’m Graham Dear.’
‘Graham Dear,’ she repeated stupidly.
‘Dawn’s father.’
‘But I thought –’
‘I was dead. I know. That’s what Rosalie wanted everyone to believe. Much easier that way. Wipe me out of her life entirely. Never to darken her door. I assume you know Rosalie.’
‘You’d better come in.’ He could have been anyone, but he knew Dawn’s name and it appeared he was telling the truth. Or was it a trap? ‘How did you know where I lived?’
‘Dawn told me.’
‘Dawn did? When? You know where she is.’
‘Some time ago. In a letter. She said it was in case anything happened to her. Why would she have said that, do you imagine? The more I think about it the more worried I become.’
As well as knowing Dawn’s name – and Rosalie’s – there was the shape of his face. And his eyes. Family likeness is such a strange thing. Sometimes, someone’s walk is identical to the way one of their parents’ walks. Or a hand gesture, a smile. But in Graham’s case it was the eyes, which were slightly watery but unmistakably the same very bright blue that in Dawn’s case gave her such a striking appearance.
He sat down without being invited to and she offered the usual drinks that were waved aside. ‘I’m returning to Liverpool tomorrow, but I decided to stop off in Exeter in the hope I might find you at home. I called round once before but you were out.’
‘I can’t understand why Dawn gave you my address? All along, she’s known you were alive and … You’ve seen her quite recently?’
He shook his head. ‘At one time she was hoping to stay with you for a while. Am I right?’
‘She never said.’
‘No? You were close friends when you both lived in Chester. And there was the money, although in the end she wanted me to send it to her old digs in Heavitree. Rather risky I thought but she insisted.’
‘Did she tell you why she needed it?’ Izzy was still taking in the fact that he was alive. Was he really Dawn’s father? Were his bright blue eyes sufficient to convince her? He knew about Chester too but that would not have been too difficult to discover.
‘Oh yes, no subterfuge there. She was expecting a baby. No remorse. No regrets, although she refused to divulge the name of the father so I assumed he must have done a bunk. Of course the whole thing could have been a lie. The pregnancy, I mean. Just something to tug at the heartstrings.’
‘How long is it since you saw her?’
He thought about this. ‘Four years, could be five. Her mother never knew we’d kept in touch. It was Dawn’s idea and when she contacted me – she must have been fourteen at the time – I jumped at the chance. She didn’t tell you?’
‘Not a word.’ At the time, Izzy had thought Dawn told her everything. That’s what close friends are supposed to do. It wasn’t true. ‘Where did you meet?’
‘You’re checking up on me. I can’t say I blame you. That café near the river. What was it called? Not Ye Olde Tea Rooms. Something like that. Aunt Carrie’s tea room? No, not Carrie. What was it?’
‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.’
‘And in case you still don’t believe me, Dawn was fond of your parents, particularly your doctor father, and you have two brothers, and you attended art school. You see, we used to have quite a chat. At one time, Dawn intended to study medicine. I encouraged her, even offered financial help, but all to no avail. The religious fever took over. A great shame, I always thought.’
So he
knew about her own family too. Izzy was a little unnerved by that, but of course Dawn would have told him whatever suited her. ‘Our little secret – that was how she liked to see it when we met.’ He fingered his wiry moustache. ‘Always a one for secrecy, but I don’t imagine I need to tell you that. She’d let her mother think she was going to the library or some such story and we’d have a cup of tea and a fry-up. Rosalie disapproved of fried food.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Izzy laughed, ‘I hate to think what she’d have done if she’d found out.’
‘You’ve been good to her. To Dawn, I mean. That’s why I was hoping you’d know where she is now. And whether there actually is a baby.’
What should she tell him? Not very much. Certainly not about Cressy. ‘I’ve been looking for her myself,’ she said, ‘I know she came back from Portugal with Miles, but she hasn’t been in touch. I checked with the university, but they knew nothing. Hoped I’d be able to give them an address. I expect she owes them money.’
‘I’m sure she does. Oh, she came back all right, that’s when I got the letter asking for a substantial amount of cash. Did she tell you she was having a baby?’
‘No. We’re not that close now. No arguments or anything but she’d changed – the community in Scotland I expect – and we had less in common than we used to.’ Blanche had woken up and stretched. Now she was approaching Graham.
‘Ah, a cat. I like cats.’
‘She was in an accident. No, it’s all right, she’s almost recovered.’
He thought about this, putting out a hand to gently stroke Blanche’s head. At least, Izzy assumed that was what he was thinking about but in fact it was Dawn.
‘She’s never been easy.’ He spoke with a mixture of regret but perhaps a little pride. ‘Such a clever child. Don’t know where she got it from, although Rosalie’s more sharp-witted than she appears. You knew her and her mother well. Her best friend, I believe. In which case you’ll remember she had a short temper. And a cruel streak. The bruises on her mother’s face.’
‘You mean …’
‘If you do happen to bump into her please ask her to get in touch with me. Would you do that?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He took a small notebook from his coat pocket, tore out a page, and scribbled an address and phone number. ‘Will you tell Rosalie I’ve been in touch?’
‘No.’
‘Best not.’ When he closed his eyes and threw back his head, she guessed he was trying to work out whether or not he believed her. ‘No doubt I was cast as the wicked father, the deserting husband,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t quite like that. If you know Rosalie … But there’s no point in going into all that now. The past is the past. How is Rosalie these days?’
Izzy was silent. She had no wish to lie to him. On the other hand, the less she said the better.
‘There are things I could tell you …’ He broke off, rubbing his hands together. ‘Not now. As I said –’
‘If I see Dawn I’ll ask her to contact you.’
‘Yes, please do.’ He stared at her and she knew he felt she was holding something back. Should she tell him about Cressy? Explain that she had no proof but … Then she would have to mention the parcel and notes. He would leap on the information as proof that she really had been expecting a baby. He seemed as concerned about Dawn’s well-being as she was, but any information she gave him would mean he contacted the nearest police station straight away.
‘Thank you for agreeing to listen to me.’ He stood up and shook hands. ‘I’m sorry I’ve involved you, particularly the part about the pregnancy, but I couldn’t think where else to go.’
She glanced at the slip of paper he had given her. ‘You still live in Liverpool then?’
‘I do. How does Rosalie explain my death?’
‘Some people seem to think you were killed in an accident.’
He looked at her expectantly, wondering perhaps if, since she clearly accepted he was who he said he was, she might be prepared to tell him more. ‘As I said, I’m returning home tomorrow. Stayed the night in a bed and breakfast place near the station. Don’t worry, you won’t see me again. But don’t lose my address and phone number, will you?’
When Kath banged on her front door, Izzy had been fast asleep. Now she was wide awake.
‘How did you find out?’ she asked, but Kath shrugged the question aside.
‘Never mind about all that now.’ Kath was concentrating on driving the short distance to the hospital even though there was virtually no traffic about. ‘A friend of a friend. Someone who thought it would be better if I broke the news to you.’
‘You were at home at the time?’
‘Yes. No. I’d been home earlier then I decided to go to that club down by the river.’
‘With Harry?’ So that explained the outfit she was wearing.
‘No, of course not. It felt better than spending every evening mooning around feeling sorry for myself. Don’t worry, I haven’t been drinking. One glass of wine, and someone knocked my arm and most of that ended up on my top.’ She pointed to the stain. ‘I had no idea Josh was going to be in the same place.’
‘So you weren’t with him?’ Kath had often remarked on how good-looking he was.
‘With Josh? No, of course not.’
‘I thought the two of you might have decided to drown your sorrows together. You say he fell in the river. So presumably he’d been drinking heavily.’ Izzy felt slightly hysterical, wanting to laugh because the accident sounded so typical, but afraid his injuries might be more serious than Kath realised.
As they turned into the hospital car park, Izzy told Kath she could drop her off and she would walk home.
‘As if I would.’ Kath stifled a yawn. ‘I’ll wait in reception and drive you back.’
‘I might have to stay quite a long time.’
‘I doubt it. I don’t imagine his injuries are that bad. If you decide to stay, you can ask someone to give me a message. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Give Josh my best wishes.’
Chapter Sixteen
He was in a ward on the first floor. Izzy was relieved but also a little irritated that, according to the nurse there was nothing to be alarmed about. So her visit could easily have waited until the morning. Had Kath overreacted or was it Josh’s idea that she rush to his bedside?
‘You’re his partner?’ the nurse inquired.
‘No. Yes. I was.’
‘He was lucky there was someone on the spot who knew some first aid.’
‘But he’ll be all right?’
The nurse gave her a reassuring smile. She looked very young but already she was in charge of a ward of patients all through the night. ‘The river’s none too clean, and he had a high level of alcohol in his blood. He was complaining of dizziness and nausea so we kept him in, but yes, he’ll be fine.’
Josh was lying on his side but when she came close to the bed, he opened one eye and rolled onto his back. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t come.’
‘How are you?’ The lights had been dimmed and the patient in the next bed, an elderly man with a white beard, was snoring lightly.
‘Did Kath tell you I was pushed?’ Josh spoke too loudly, then glanced at the elderly man and lowered his voice a little. ‘I keep explaining someone was trying to kill me but nobody takes any notice. Who could have done it? You don’t know anything –’
‘You were drunk, Josh. And it’s not the first time it’s happened. Some idiot’s always falling into the water.’
‘Part of the reason I wanted to see you, Izzy … I knew I’d be able to make you understand what happened. God knows, I can tell the difference between standing too close and losing my balance, and feeling a hard shove in my back.’
‘What were you doing on the quayside?’ She sat on the edge of the bed then changed her mind and found a chair. ‘It gets crowded down there. I expect someone lost their balance and bumped into you.’
‘No, no,’ he protested, ‘it wasn’t that crowded.
We’d gone to the club, been there three or four hours, then someone, I think it was Simon, said he needed some fresh air.’
‘How many of you?’
‘Five or six, I forget, but there were other people by the river too.’ He closed his eyes. ‘A bloke exercising a dog. Some crazy guy, pushing an empty pram. Listen, they’re not going to keep me here long but I’ll have to take some time off work. Only the thing is, Dave’s flat’s so bloody uncomfortable I wondered … You heard what the nurse said. They wouldn’t have kept me in unless it was serious.’
‘No.’
He sighed. ‘God, you’re hard.’
‘It wouldn’t work, Josh, you know it wouldn’t.’ Was it possible he had engineered the ‘accident’ as a means of worming his way back into her life? Surely he wouldn’t go that far. ‘You must have other friends who’d give you a bed for a week or so. What about that person you work with? What was his name? Mark? Martin?’
He was pretending to be asleep. Izzy reached out a hand to smooth his hair then thought better of it. He smelled of disinfectant or perhaps it was floor of the ward. ‘You could have drowned,’ she said.
‘I know. You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?’
‘How’s your head?’ She had expected to find him swathed in bandages but all she could see was a small pad, held on by three strips of sticking plaster.
As she stood up, his eyes jerked open. ‘Izzy?’
‘I’ll phone the hospital tomorrow – to find out how you are.’
‘You’re not coming at visiting time?’
‘I expect they’ll have sent you home by then. You don’t seem too bad and there’s always a shortage of beds.’
‘Home,’ he said bitterly, ‘don’t make up your mind without sleeping on it. Promise?’
‘Sleeping? I’m not going to get much sleep now, am I? I’ll think about it.’
‘Thanks.’ He blew her a kiss and from his expression she knew he had taken her words to mean she was going to give in. ‘My head’s throbbing like hell. Do you think it’ll leave a scar? Some women like scars, find them rather romantic. I read about it in a magazine.’
‘Bye, Josh.’
