by Bill Kitson
Eve walked alongside the visitors, with Charlie and me in close attendance. As they walked, Eve asked about the train journey, and enquired about the previous night’s concert, which it seemed had been a sell-out success.
Once we reached the car, Eve elected to sit in the rear with Sheila and Trudi, much to Charlie’s disappointment. As we drove through York’s Saturday morning traffic, however, the topic of conversation shifted towards the impending visit to the composer, and speculation as to his reason for the requested meeting.
‘What is he like, this Mr Hardin?’ Sheila began, ‘It seems rather an odd request. The man from Pattison Music and Management was a bit vague. All he said was that Mr Hardin had insisted on seeing Trudi before signing the contract. Can you tell us any more about what his reasons are?’
In the rear-view mirror I could see Eve staring fixedly at me, a touch of panic and a plea for help in her expression. ‘I feel sure you’ll like him,’ I told Sheila, ‘and I would ask you to listen very carefully to what he has to say.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Sheila responded.
‘I think you will when you see him. It is a very sad story. Mr Hardin was a very talented musician, with the world at his feet, but suddenly that world collapsed. He has had to sacrifice a great deal during his life, at a time when he ought to have hoped things would be good for him, and I believe the reason he insisted on the meeting is that he wants to ensure that Trudi doesn’t suffer as he has done. I’m sorry if all that sounds very cryptic, but it’s his story, not mine, and I would prefer you to hear it from him, but once again, I would implore you to hear him out.’
My remarks brought that topic of conversation to an abrupt close, which was hardly surprising. For the rest of the journey, apart from some admiring comments about the scenery and enquiries about how long we’d lived in the area, little was said, and I left Eve to field those less taxing questions.
We reached Allerscar at lunchtime, and pulled up outside Crowther’s house. As I looked towards the building I noticed an immediate change. The shutters that had been covering the windows to the front of the property on our previous visits had been opened, giving a far more welcoming effect.
‘Is this it?’ Trudi asked. ‘What a super house!’
As we reached the back of the house, Sheila and Trudi paused to admire the view. They were still gazing at the splendid landscape when Crowther emerged from the house. I’d wondered how he would greet them. Would it be something dramatic, or mundane? If his words weren’t dramatic, the effect certainly was.
‘Hello, Sheila.’
His tone was matter-of-fact, as if they’d parted only recently, rather than sixteen years ago. Sheila Bell turned her head, and I saw her face go white with shock as she stared at the man in front of her. Recognition was instantaneous; her reaction extreme. She screamed once, then swayed, like a boxer who has sustained a heavy punch, and if Eve had not been alongside her to support her, I think she would have collapsed.
She continued to stare at Crowther, her expression one of shock and disbelief mingled. Her mouth moved, but following that one piercing scream, no sound came forth.
‘It isn’t a trick, Sheila, I promise you. It really is me,’ Crowther told her.
Sheila recovered, and freed herself from Eve’s steadying hand. I saw her mouth close into a tight, thin, angry line. She stepped forward and swung her fist. Crowther must have seen the blow coming, but he made no attempt to block or evade it. Sheila’s fist made contact somewhere around the cheekbone. The thud of the punch landing was followed by Crowther staggering backwards.
Crowther spoke again, one eye on Sheila’s fist, which was still clenched. ‘I’m sorry, Sheila. I know I earned that, and a lot more besides, but I had my reasons. Please believe me. I didn’t want to leave you, or the child.’ He glanced towards Trudi as he spoke, and smiled slightly. For her part, Trudi looked completely bewildered.
‘I had to make everyone believe I was dead. It was the only way to save my life, and possibly yours. I could have put up with the danger if it had only been me that was being threatened, but I couldn’t risk any harm coming to you – or Trudi.’
‘I don’t know what the devil you’re on about,’ Sheila spat the words out. ‘You didn’t even know Trudi existed. You simply vanished, and we thought you were dead. We all did. You were dead. Your body was fished out of the river. I don’t understand. Why did you desert us? Why aren’t you dead? If that wasn’t your body, then whose was it, wearing your clothes?’
I cleared my throat to attract attention. It didn’t work first time so I repeated the action. ‘Why don’t we go inside and Gerry can explain everything. If you remember, Sheila, I did suggest that it was a rather sad story, and that you should hear it out to the end before making a judgement.’
‘Will someone please explain?’ Trudi spoke for the first time. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on? Mum, who is this man? Is this Mr Hardin? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?’
‘Because I didn’t know him. Not by the name Hardin, at least. That isn’t his real name. His real name is Crowther, Gerry Crowther. He’s your father.’
Trudi clutched her mother’s arm. ‘But my father’s dead, he died before I was born.’ She shook her head in confusion. ‘Mum, please, tell me, what is all this?’
Sheila put her arm round Trudi’s shoulders and held her close. ‘I’ve no idea. But I’m going to find out!’
As we filed through the mud room into the kitchen, I managed a whispered aside with Crowther. ‘Did you get to the bank and retrieve those anonymous letters?’
He nodded. ‘I went through to Harrogate and picked them up yesterday.’
Once we were inside the house, Crowther indicated everyone should sit down. I remained standing by his side.
Sheila cast a glance round the kitchen. The luxurious fittings and expensive-looking units seemed to rekindle her anger. ‘Well?’ she demanded, ‘What have you to say for yourself? What is it you think made it worthwhile for us to travel all this way to see a man we thought was dead? A man who would have been better off remaining dead, as far as I’m concerned.’
Crowther winced, almost as he had when Sheila had punched him. I wondered fleetingly which of the two was the hardest blow to take. He didn’t speak for several seconds, obviously gathering his thoughts before he committed himself. Eventually, he gripped the back of a chair, and speaking directly to her, asked, ‘Do you remember that car crash? Or the time I was mugged? Or when I was nearly electrocuted by that faulty keyboard, or brained by the falling girder? Do you remember those accidents?’
‘Of course I remember them, but what has that to do with anything?’
Again he fixed his gaze on her. ‘Do you recall joking with me, and saying how accident-prone I was becoming, and that it was getting to be dangerous just being with me, or standing too close to me?’
Sheila’s expression had softened slightly, from open hostility to a kind of wary suspicion. Acceptance was still a long way off, though. ‘What of it?’
‘Those weren’t accidents. I thought so, to begin with. But then I found out they were deliberate attempts to kill me. They damned near succeeded too, on more than one occasion.’
If Sheila’s initial reaction to Crowther’s existence was one of shock, this statement caused only astonished disbelief.
He continued, with a speech I guessed he’d rehearsed over and over during the preceding days. ‘I know it sounds incredible, and you probably think it’s the ramblings of a lunatic, but I promise you it’s true. I didn’t believe it myself to begin with. Like you, I thought it was no more than a chain of bad luck and then the letters started to come. That was when I began to get really scared. Those letters quoted details that only someone who had arranged the incidents could have known. For long enough I believed I could cope, but then something worse happened. It was the car crash that made me decide to pack it all in and disappear. Because then, for the first time, I realized that I wasn’t the
only one in danger. My very presence was putting the lives of you and our unborn child at risk. I could never have lived with myself if anything had happened to you.’
Incredibly, given the situation, Crowther smiled before continuing. ‘So rather than risk that, I decided to kill myself, or at least make it appear as if I had committed suicide. What happened in Newcastle was planned down to the most minute detail. I had help, from Neville Wade, who knew the score and has been a true friend. He smuggled me out of the building when he was seeing to his drum kit. He made an anonymous phone call reporting that he’d seen and heard someone jump off the Tyne Bridge.’
Sheila was still trying to come to terms with this. It was obvious by her expression that she still only half-believed what Crowther was saying. ‘I don’t understand. What about the body? If it wasn’t you, who was it? They were wearing your jacket, weren’t they?’
‘That’s another matter – it’s not connected.’ Crowther looked at me. He shook his head and sank to the chair. ‘Adam, please, will you explain?’
‘We believe that what happened that night was a tragic case of mistaken identity. Although for Gerry it was an incredible piece of luck, it helped him with his plan to disappear and in turn, to protect you. Eve and I are friends of Lew Pattison, we only became involved after Gerry sent the demo tape of the song for Trudi. Lew recognized Gerry’s style of playing and asked us to find him. In the process, I interviewed the girl who thought she’d seen Gerry near the river that night. She thought he was being followed by two men acting suspiciously. However, it turns out Gerry had lent his jacket to Carl Long, who had fallen on hard times and wanted a loan. Gerry had arranged to meet him on the bridge to hand over some cash. Given that Long and Gerry were very similar in build and appearance, we think that those men saw the jacket and in the dark, just like the girl, believed they had caught up with Gerry, hit him over the head, and threw him into the river. When a body was eventually recovered, nobody bothered to check properly whether it was Gerry. That jacket was sufficient for everyone to believe that it was Gerry who had died that night. I have to say, I’m not sure without that body being recovered that the faked suicide would have been convincing enough.’
Sheila looked from me to Crowther, her face reflecting confusion, another stage towards acceptance, perhaps. Trudi looked sickened by the implication of cold-blooded murder.
‘You said you had proof,’ Sheila said after a while.
Crowther didn’t move. After a moment, Eve said, ‘Show her the letters, Gerry.’
Crowther picked up a folder from the dresser and placed it on the table. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Sheila opened it up and began to read the letters within. Trudi peered over her mother’s shoulder, and their likeness was even more apparent. Eve and I watched them read. I knew that she was as keen as I was to see what they contained, but we realized we would have to wait our turn. I saw Sheila and Trudi’s expressions change, mirror images of horror, and knew what they were reading must contain something truly evil.
Slowly, and with silence in the room broken only by the ticking of the antique clock in the alcove, Sheila and her daughter read each of the menacing letters, disgust growing on their faces. Eventually, Sheila looked up at her former lover.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Nev tell me? Why didn’t you share the trouble you were in with me? Did you think I’d desert you because there was danger?’
‘I daren’t take the risk. These weren’t the only communications I got from them. They also rang me. Not once but several times. They told me other stuff, things that proved they were watching me closely. They said if I told anyone, you would be dead within days. They even told me what they would do to you.’ Crowther shuddered at the memory; a memory obviously too painful to repeat.
‘It was clear that without me on the scene, the threat against you would be lifted. Once I was out of the way, and they believed they’d achieved what they set out to do, which was to kill me, there would be no reason for them to try and harm you. That was why I planned my fake suicide. I worked on the idea for weeks. I even made sure you were provided for, with enough money to raise the child on your own. Once that was in place, I carried out the plan. I admit I was puzzled when Carl didn’t show up to collect his money that night, but even when I’d heard that his body had been found, I didn’t regard it as suspicious. Not until Adam and Eve told me what that Julie had seen.’
Sheila bent her head and began to study the anonymous letters once more. I looked at Eve, who nodded slightly, as if in answer to something I’d said. She walked over to Trudi’s mother and placed one hand gently on her arm. ‘Sheila, I can understand how upsetting this must be, and it will probably be some time before you can take it all in, but can’t you see that everything Gerry did was solely to protect you and your unborn child. That was his only concern. Not for his own welfare. Remember, he’d lived with the threat for months. It was only when they turned their attention on you that he decided to act. We’ve read and heard a lot about Gerry and Northern Lights since Lew asked us to get involved, and it’s obvious he could have become an international star had he continued his career. We spoke to a former neighbour and teacher who has known Gerry since you were both at school. He told us that music was the most important thing in Gerry’s life. I can’t even begin to guess at the level of sacrifice involved in passing up the chance for immense fame and fortune. He gave all that away – to ensure no harm came to you and Trudi.’
Sheila looked up from the letters. She stared across at Crowther, and I thought I could see the glint of tears in her eyes as she spoke, her voice as soft and gentle as a caress. ‘She’s right. There was nothing more important than your music. I always knew that.’ She turned to Eve, ‘I used to tease Gerry about it. I said I meant more to him than anything else, except his music, and if it came to the crunch, I wondered which he’d choose.’ She smiled slightly. ‘Well, now I know, don’t I?’
After a second or two, Sheila asked Eve, ‘How did you know Trudi was Gerry’s daughter? Did he tell you? I realized he must have worked it out from the name, and the fact that she looks a bit like I did at her age.’
‘No, Adam guessed the truth.’ Eve explained how we’d worked it out.
‘What I don’t understand is why all this happened.’ Sheila looked at Crowther. ‘Who hated you so much?’ She gestured to the letters. ‘What they accuse you of in there, is any of that true? If so, how come I didn’t get to know about it?’
‘I have no more idea now than I did then, Sheila. Don’t think I haven’t asked myself that question. Over and over again, every day, year in, year out. And time after time, I come up with the same answer. I can’t think of anything I’ve done, or anyone I’ve offended, to make them hate me that way.’
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Trudi stared at Crowther and then her mother, her expression complete confusion. Sheila slid her arm round the girl’s shoulders again and held her close. Eventually, she spoke, clearly addressing her former lover. ‘Is there somewhere I could talk to Trudi alone?’
The request took us all by surprise. After a moment, Crowther said, ‘Of course there is. I’ll show you.’ He opened the door leading to what I guessed had been intended as a dining room, but which, from the brief view I got, appeared to be empty of furniture. Seconds later, he returned alone.
He closed the door and looked first at me, then at Eve. ‘What do you think? How did it go, I mean? I’m not used to talking that much. It’s a habit I’ve rather got out of.’
‘I think it went OK,’ Eve reassured him.
‘You told the truth, and you said you’d done it to protect her and Trudi,’ I added, ‘that’s sure to have made a good impression. Especially after Eve reminded Sheila of how much you’d forfeited in order to keep her from harm.’
‘Adam’s right,’ Charlie told Crowther. ‘If you’re honest with them, girls like that sort of thing. And they love it when you tell them it’s for their benefit.’
I�
��d forgotten Charlie was there. We all turned in his direction.
‘And what makes you such an expert?’ Crowther asked, his tone good-humoured.
‘I’ve two older sisters to put up with, plus Aunt Evie, and my mother. If that isn’t enough of a challenge, I’d like to know what is.’
His wry comment broke the tension, and we all laughed, even his aunt, who was still smiling as she attempted to strangle him.
‘Should I offer them something to drink?’ Crowther asked, ‘I’m not up on entertaining folks. Apart from Neville, you’re the only visitors I’ve had since I moved in here.’
It was a bleak and sobering reminder of the lonely nature of his years in hiding. ‘Wait and see what they have to say when they come back,’ Eve advised. ‘I have the feeling your future might be under discussion in that room, as well as your past.’
‘It feels a bit like being a prisoner in the dock, awaiting the deliberations of the jury.’
Eve’s prophecy was proved strikingly accurate, when, after a few minutes, Trudi returned, alone, her face tearstained. She looked at the man she now knew to be her father, her expression unfathomable. ‘Mum wants to talk to you,’ she told him.
Once Crowther had left, Trudi looked round the kitchen, then walked over to where Charlie was standing. They began talking, in a low murmur, little more than a whisper. Although Eve and I could hear that a conversation was taking place, their voices were too quiet to make out the gist of it. I couldn’t see the girl’s face, but from Charlie’s expression and body language I guessed that she had asked him something, and Charlie was responding, providing reassurance.
I realized something we’d all overlooked. Behind the fame and public persona that came with being a singing star, Trudi was simply another teenager, less than twelve months older than Eve’s nephew. Trudi turned and smiled a little uncertainly at us. ‘I think Mum might want to stay here tonight with Mr … er … my father. Would it be all right if I come to your place on my own? I know Mum said you’d offered, but I just wanted to make sure.’ She looked anxiously from one to the other.
