by Lee Weeks
‘What family have I got anyway?’
Tracy couldn’t hide it as a look of panic took hold. She hadn’t thought of that – the implications of meeting up with her daughter and the fact that it affected more than just her. What if Danielle made a nuisance of herself?
‘It’s all right – I don’t intend to contact people.’ Danielle turned away and finished making the tea. Tracy instantly regretted her reaction. It was as if Danielle had read her mind.
‘No. I mean I am sure that, given time, everyone will want to meet you.’ She could see by Danielle’s demeanour that she was brittle and trying not to show how much Tracy’s negative reactions mattered as she poured away a little of the hot tea from each cup and topped up with cold water. Tracy watched her, mesmerized. She wanted to say: ‘I always do that. I always top up the tea with cold.’
‘Um – you have an aunt. My sister Julie and her husband Nigel. They live in Manchester. They have three children all older than you. They have five kids between them. So Jackson has a few cousins.’ Tracy smiled broadly, trying to make things better.
‘My first cousins. They are his second cousins,’ Danielle corrected.
‘Yes.’ Tracy stood corrected.
‘Do they look like me?’
Tracy thought about it and shrugged ‘Maybe . . . I’m not sure. Oh, I forgot.’ She went out to her bag by her coat and came back into the kitchen with an envelope. ‘I brought you a photo of me to show you.’
She took out a small handful of different-sized photos and came to stand next to Danielle. With the photos was a small box.
‘Before I show you the photos I want to give you this.’ She opened the box to show Danielle. ‘This is for you. I got it when I was ten.’ She took out a silver charm bracelet from the box. ‘I added to it every year. I would like you to have it.’ She held it out for Danielle to take it. ‘Charm bracelets have come back in, haven’t they? Each one of those charms means something to me.’ Danielle held the tiny charms between finger and thumb as she examined each one. ‘That London bus I got when I passed my driving licence so I wouldn’t need to take a bus again – that’s when I was seventeen. The ballet shoe I got when I passed my exams at eleven. This Mickey Mouse my parents got me when I was twelve. Oh, my whole life is here.’ She smiled, delighted to see Danielle’s reaction. ‘You are here too. I bought this silver heart when I became pregnant with you.’ Danielle couldn’t look at Tracy. ‘I don’t have much else to pass on to you.’
‘Tracy. I’m so . . . well, I’m touched. Thank you. I’ll wear it now.’ Danielle put it round her wrist. Tracy did it up for her.
‘Don’t lose it, mind.’ Tracy smiled. She wanted to kiss Danielle’s cheek but she didn’t. Instead she passed her the first photo. ‘I’ve just got a few I thought you might like to see. I don’t want to bore you. This was the year I fell pregnant with you.’
Danielle held the photo closely. ‘Oh my God – you were a child.’
‘Yes – I suppose I was.’
‘You look so young.’ She looked at the photo of Tracy in her school uniform.
‘I was fifteen – I guess that’s young. I didn’t feel it at the time.’ Danielle didn’t look at Tracy and she took out the next photo. ‘Here’s a photo of me and my parents, your grandparents and there’s Julie.’
Danielle laughed. ‘You can see you’re the rebel. Look at Julie. Her socks are pulled up, her skirt is under her knee and look at you!’
Tracy laughed too. ‘I was always in trouble for hitching my skirt up, rolling it up at the waist. Those were the days.’
‘You’re not old, Tracy. You could still wear a miniskirt if you wanted.’
‘I suppose not but I could do with getting back into shape.’ She passed another photo over. It was of a school football team. ‘Which one do you think he is?’ Tracy beamed as she watched Danielle’s face light up.
‘What do you mean? Is my dad in this photo?’
Tracy nodded; she could hear the excitement in Danielle’s voice as she held it close.
‘Him.’
She pointed to a boy on the left of centre. Tracy nodded again. ‘That’s who you look like, isn’t it?’
She could see Danielle’s eyes welling up. Danielle turned away and wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she took a sip of her tea.
‘Where is he now?’
Tracy shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen him since I was about your age. He married someone and they moved away. You could probably find him as well if you wanted.’
Danielle thought about it.
‘Maybe. But I think you’re enough for now.’
She stared blankly at Tracy, who was frowning and obviously trying to understand what she meant by that; Danielle grinned. Tracy laughed then smiled.
‘It’s funny how you remind me of him. It’s the way you smile.’ She picked up the football team photo and her eyes focused in and melted as her mind spiralled back to that summer of love.
‘So I ruined your life.’ Danielle watched Tracy.
Tracy looked up from her memories and shook her head. ‘No. You could have been the making of me. Of him, maybe. I should have kept you. I should have followed my heart. I nursed you for a few days before I gave you up. I was so tired and there was so much pressure, but when you’d gone, my whole body yearned for you. I couldn’t hear a baby cry in the street without my milk rushing into my breasts. I couldn’t pass a little girl in the street without wondering if it was you. On your birthday, March the twenty-seventh, I always have a little cry. So many regrets, Danielle. Now, to find out that my sacrifice wasn’t worth it, that the couple who I gave you to didn’t deserve you – it breaks my heart.’ Tracy turned away as she felt herself crumble. ‘Oh God,’ she said, ‘how pathetic I am. Sorry I didn’t mean to get upset.’
Danielle shook her head. ‘It’s all right, Tracy. You did what you thought was best, what others thought was best for you.’
Tracy dabbed at her eyes and the tissue was streaked with make-up. ‘What was it really like, living with them – the Fosters?’
‘The early years were wonderful. It was when I hit adolescence that everything went wrong. Gerald, especially, just couldn’t have found it more difficult. I think he hadn’t thought it through. He wanted me to be a child for ever. He never bought into the whole teenage girl thing.’
Tracy shook her head, still trying to stop her makeup from melting. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He got nasty with me. He just couldn’t hack the hormones. I was moody, difficult – typical teenage girl, I suppose. I think my self-esteem hit rock bottom. I rebelled against everything and anything. I thought I was being clever but looking back – it was stupid. I started missing school, hung about with the wrong types. Before long I had gone too far to recover. I had thought that I would still be able to pass my exams even though I didn’t work. People had always told me how bright I was. But I didn’t go to the lessons and I failed. I started taking stuff. I met Jackson’s father that way. I thought he was really cool, but he was a real loser. He sold drugs to kids. He hit me when he felt in a bad mood, plus he was never faithful. My mum got ill and my dad wouldn’t let me help. I was so angry and I hated him. He tried to keep me away from her. When I got pregnant at seventeen it was the perfect excuse to chuck me out.’
‘Didn’t Marion stop him?’
‘She tried. I remember her crying and pleading but he just stood there glaring at me; he really hated me by that time. Social Services became involved. They said I was better off moving out. They fixed me up with a flat and I moved in with Jackson’s dad, Niall. But Niall didn’t want us. He just wanted the flat so he could do his deals from it. I didn’t really care until Jackson was born and then I saw Niall was never going to change and suddenly everything became clear to me and nothing mattered but Jackson.’
‘Is that why you got in touch with me?’
‘I suppose it is.’
‘What do you want to happen between us? What do you want from me?’ T
racy had rehearsed what she was going to say many times in the last week. None of those times had it come out like that.
Danielle shook her head. She looked up, angry. ‘I don’t want anything.’
‘You must have had something in mind?’ Tracy replied, trying to keep her voice soft, low. She knew it would rise and become panicky if she didn’t watch it.
‘I just need you to promise something.’ Tracy waited. Danielle’s eyes softened. ‘I need you to promise to take care of Jackson if anything happens to me. I haven’t got anyone else. You’re his granny. You have to do it.’ Tracy stood blinking at Danielle, her shoulders raised, her eyes frightened. She didn’t answer.
‘My friend went missing from my course. She just disappeared; flipped, I suppose. She left a child alone, a little girl called Sky, but she had her parents to rely on. They’re looking after Sky now. I thought, who has Jackson got? I know it sounds silly. I know it sounds like I’m thinking too hard about some stuff but I reckon if you put a Plan B in place hopefully you’ll never have to use it.’ She turned to Tracy. ‘You are my Plan B, Tracy.’
The man made his way along the busy streets and hurried to his home. Fumbling with the keys he closed the door behind him and stood listening. In the gloom his eyes shone and his heart quickened. His senses heightened. He walked slowly down the hallway, tilting his head to listen as he did so, and then up the stairs to the top landing. At the end of the landing, he stopped by a door on his left and smiled as he closed his eyes and breathed in the smell deeply through his nose. A buzzing fly interrupted his thoughts as he opened his eyes just a fraction and watched it. It landed on the doorframe and his hand, fast as a chameleon’s tongue, squashed it flat. He looked at the mess on his hand.
From behind the door someone groaned. He wiped his hand on his chest then he squeezed and turned the doorknob. He flicked on a light switch and an old chandelier flickered into meagre life. The room was filled with more shadows than light. The smell of decay hit him. It was a sweet perfume to his nose. Music started as he opened the door. A violin solo, melancholy at first and then growing in tempo. The woman’s crying just audible with the violin. He spun and danced as he waltzed his way towards her. She turned her body from him, her knees tucked up against her chest, whimpering. She was skeletal. Around the room were photos of emaciated women in bikinis. He pulled her up from the floor as she cried in pain and he held her to him as he twirled her round the room. He danced as she cried in his arms.
Chapter 8
‘It is the still and silent sea that drowns a man. That’s the literal translation of the tattoo. Doctor Harding was right about the language.’ Carter and Willis were in the crime analyst’s office.
‘The tattoo on the mermaid’s ankle is a Norse saying.’ Robbo placed a file in front of them. ‘This is her.’
Crime Analyst Robbo worked in an office which he shared with one full-time civilian worker, Pam, and two researchers, available when the investigation warranted more help. Robbo had been a long-serving detective in the murder squad and had retrained as an analyst when he retired.
Operation Sparrowhawk was written up on the board behind his desk.
On the front of the file was a picture of a smiling woman in her early twenties with a bottle of beer in her hand. She was dressed in frayed denim shorts, a bikini top, big floppy hat and pink Wellington boots. She had long auburn hair flowing over her shoulders.
‘This is twenty-three-year-old Emily Styles – went missing on June the fifth. This picture was taken at a festival a couple of weeks before she disappeared. She lived in Camden with her parents and her two-year-old daughter Sky.’
‘Christ almighty.’ Carter picked up the photo and studied it. ‘Not what I was expecting.’
‘I remember her disappearance,’ said Willis. ‘MIT 15 were dealing with it. Jeanie was loaned to them for the case; she was their Family Liaison Officer.’
‘Ask Jeanie to come,’ said Carter. ‘And tell her to bring anything she has on it.’
Ebony was already on her feet and half-way out of the door. She found Jeanie back at her desk in the Enquiry Team Office.
‘Yeah, I went round there when she first went missing,’ said Jeanie when she got to Robbo’s office.
‘What were her circumstances?’ asked Carter. ‘Did the initial investigation throw up any suspects, Jeanie?’
‘Very few. It was handled by MIT 15. I was loaned to them when they were overstretched back in the summer. Emily went missing one afternoon and no one seemed to think it was that out of the ordinary. Her parents didn’t even think to report her missing for five days.’ Jeanie perched on the edge of the vacant researcher’s desk.
‘But she left her belongings?’
‘Yeah, everything except what was in her handbag – phone, purse, what-have-you.’
‘She never turned up to collect her child from nursery. That must have been the biggest cause for alarm bells to start ringing?’
‘You’d think so – but, according to her mum, they pretty much look after the little girl anyway. They said Emily was a bit wild. I got the impression she was a good mum but she was taking time to tame; still took the odd pill and used to stay away for a night without letting anyone know a few times. She’d been travelling and found it hard to settle. It seemed to me that her parents thought she’d just gone off more than disappeared. They seemed to be apologetic about Emily and resigned to bringing up the little girl themselves. It was as if they blamed themselves for the fact that Emily wasn’t that keen on settling into motherhood. They thought they’d tried to make her into something she couldn’t be.’
‘She still lived with them?’
‘She was planning to move out and had been offered a flat. Even though she’d officially taken on the tenancy. She wasn’t in any hurry to leave; she had a good set-up there.’
‘What about the father of the child?
‘She’d split from the father. He’s part of the Romany community.’
‘Could it be some sort of retaliation for ending the relationship?’ asked Robbo.
Jeanie shook her head. ‘The father was interviewed when Emily first went missing. He was counted out of the equation; he was in prison. His family was cleared as well.’
‘And there was no one new in her life?’ asked Carter.
Jeanie shook her head. ‘Her parents didn’t know if she was seeing anyone special but she hadn’t gone so far as to bring anyone home.’
‘And what about her friends?’
‘The morning of the day she disappeared,’ answered Jeanie, ‘she phoned a friend at ten in the morning, and they met for coffee in Camden where she did a bit of shopping, hung around Camden Market for a couple of hours. Her friend left her there and she was picked up by cameras walking back towards Camden Town Tube.’
‘Was the person she went with a friend?’ said Robbo.
‘Maybe he was a potential boyfriend, under the radar,’ said Carter. ‘We need to open the investigation wider and we’ll take it over from MIT 15. Were her phone records requested at the time?’
Robbo shook his head. ‘This was a Mispers, not a murder investigation.’
‘We’ll do it now then. Get all her phone records from the last five years,’ said Carter.
‘What about any other social media?’ said Ebony.
‘I’ll put in a request.’ Robbo made notes as Carter talked.
‘Did she take a passport?’
‘No,’ answered Jeanie. ‘But she had a driving licence and she’d run away with the Romany community before. That’s how she ended up pregnant in the first place. She had a wandering heart. I guess that’s why her parents just accepted it.’
‘What are they like?’
‘Ordinary middle-class people. They brought her up in a good home but she rebelled from an early age. She was an arty child, a bohemian type. Her parents rode it all out in the hope that she would come home. When they finally persuaded her to come back, go to college, get a life, they offered her
full support for her and Sky. It worked, but they thought she’d had enough of the struggle. They thought Emily had just decided to leave it all behind.’
‘What was her normal routine, Jeanie?’
‘She was in between jobs. Her parents supported her. In many ways she was quite privileged, spoilt even,’ answered Jeanie. ‘She took Sky to nursery most days, paid for by her parents. Otherwise she went to college. She met friends, went shopping. She hung out at home – normal stuff really.’
‘We’ll go and see the parents, prepare them for the worst, said Carter.
‘I’ll come too,’ said Jeanie. ‘It’s going to be a shock for them. I still think they were expecting her to walk back through their front door when she felt like it.’
Carter looked at the photo of Emily Styles.
‘What do we know about her lifestyle?’ Carter asked. ‘Could she have been moonlighting as an escort? Prostitute perhaps?’
Jeanie shook her head; ‘Unlikely but not impossible.’
Carter continued: ‘Murdered by a pimp and she was put in the Regents Canal as a warning to others? A place so that she would be seen? Otherwise, why not dump her in the countryside?’
Ebony had a map of the canal and the surrounding area on the screen.
‘He chose a place where there aren’t many cameras but you can see it from several vantage points, the bridges, the park.’
‘Hawk is a watcher,’ said Robbo.
Chapter 9
After Jeanie rang the doorbell they heard the soft shuffle of feet approach from the other side of the door. They waited on the step. The small front garden was occupied by a large magnolia tree that had been allowed to get leggy and was desperate for light.
‘Jeanie?’ A long-faced man in a grey V-neck sweater almost smiled at Jeanie until he saw that she was not alone and, judging by the look on the faces of the three people on his doorstep, had gauged that their visit was not going to make him happy.
‘Can we come in, Trevor? These detectives want to have a chat.’
Carter held up his warrant card. ‘Hello, Mr Styles. My name is Detective Inspector Dan Carter and this is Detective Constable Ebony Willis.’
