A Good Death

by Chris Collett

  TWO

  The church was modern and new, with multi-coloured light streaming in through abstract stained-glass windows, and the service was a strangely jarring experience; the triumphal punching of the air and random cries in the vernacular, would, Mariner thought, have sat more comfortably on the terraces at Villa Park than addressed to a two-thousand-year-old deity. And while he recognised some of the words to the hymns from school assemblies in the distant past, the music to which they were set was pure Glastonbury, backed as it was by a four-piece rock band in a uniform of torn jeans and T-shirts. He could see that it was a struggle too for Suzy, whose professional life was rooted in the ancient and traditional past.

  Mariner did what he was required to do, presenting the rings at the appropriate moment. He played it straight, tempting though it was to go through a charade of having lost or forgotten them, and felt an irrational surge of pride for his sergeant. Charlie was one of the few men Mariner knew who only ever spoke about his wife in affectionate terms, and this was clearly reciprocated by Helen. Mariner’s constancy had never been tested over more than a couple of years at a stretch, and he wasn’t sure that he would be able to rise to the challenge of more. At present in fact he struggled to rise to anything, but that was a whole other story.

  As Charlie and Helen were making their promises, there was a clatter as the door at the back of the church swung open and a young woman hastened in with a smile of apology. Attractive in a figure-hugging dress with her hair loose around her shoulders, she was also strikingly familiar, and as he turned back to the minister, Mariner was still trying to place her. Then it clicked; a couple of hours ago, she’d shown them into a new house.

  After the ceremony there was a reception back at Charlie and Helen’s link-detached house in Olton. It was a day of scudding clouds and sharp downpours, so the plan was to start off in the garden and hope to avoid the dash inside. Mariner went to the makeshift kitchen bar to get drinks for him and Suzy, then headed towards the garden. Passing a doorway, a snippet of one-way conversation from the next room caught his attention and he found himself pausing to eavesdrop:

  ‘I nearly didn’t make it,’ he heard the female voice say, into a mobile. ‘I was at work longer than planned. Yeah, a middle-aged couple looking at a semi on Oak Coppice. I don’t think they were time-wasters but they didn’t exactly show much enthusiasm. Anyway, I should go and be sociable. I’ll catch up with you soon.’ Mariner rounded the corner and, preoccupied with slipping the phone into her bag, she almost walked into him. ‘Hello again,’ he said.

  Her eyes widened as he saw her connect his face, the viewing and the conversation she’d just had. She clearly hadn’t recognised him in the church, but then, he’d had his back to the congregation for most of the service. After the slightest hesitation, her upbringing kicked in. ‘Gosh, hello. How nice to see you again, and – how peculiar.’ The recovery was sealed with a wide smile. About to shake his hand, she realised then that they were both occupied with the drinks, so she settled for a little wave. ‘I’m Gaby,’ she said. ‘You’re a friend of Helen and Charles?’

  Charles? Mariner had never heard him called that before, even by Helen. ‘Charlie and I work together,’ he said, gesturing for her to go ahead of him on to the patio.

  ‘Oh, so you’re a—?’ She stepped outside, Mariner following.

  ‘I am,’ he said. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Oh, we’re friends through church.’

  It took Mariner a moment, in the bright sunlight, to see Suzy, standing to one side of the patio. ‘You remember Gaby?’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Suzy. ‘What a coincidence.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ said Gaby. She wore a sleeveless dress, and out in the cool air goose bumps popped up on her bare arms. Although solid, her limbs were toned and muscular, making Mariner wonder if she was a dancer as well as a horse-rider. ‘Helen and Charles are lovely, so it’s not surprising that they’ve got loads of friends. And their marriage is such an inspiration,’ she beamed, lifting her left hand to examine the ring on her third finger. ‘I’m getting married on St George’s Day.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Suzy. ‘Is the lucky man here too?’

  She cast about. ‘He should be; somewhere.’

  ‘That’s what, only a couple of weeks away? How are the preparations going?’ asked Suzy.

  ‘Really well, thank you,’ said Gaby, warming to the topic. ‘Though I’d never have believed how much there is to do. The ceremony will be in church, of course, but then we’re having the reception at the Botanical Gardens. All the spring flowers will be out, so it will be magical. Then after that, on to our honeymoon in Antigua.’

  ‘That sounds wonderful,’ said Suzy.

  ‘I know. I can’t wait,’ said Gaby. ‘How long have you two been …?’ she wavered, suddenly noticing the absence of rings, ‘… erm, together?’

  ‘Oh, it’s early days for us,’ Suzy smiled. ‘We’ve only known each other about a year. Long-distance up until now, but I’m about to start a new job locally, which is why I’m house hunting.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Gaby looked relieved. No co-habitation going on after all then.

  ‘Yes, finding the right place is proving more problematic than I expected,’ Suzy said. ‘Some people might say I’m too particular.’

  ‘As if,’ said Mariner, under his breath.

  ‘The one you showed us this morning is lovely, but I’m really hoping to find something nearer Coventry.’

  ‘Oh, you should have said,’ Gaby said immediately. ‘Oak Coppice is just one of our developments. There are quite a few we’re working on in different parts of Warwickshire. If you tell me exactly what it is you’re looking for, I’m sure we’ll be able to help you,’ Gaby enthused. ‘We need to talk to Dad.’ She glanced around the garden. ‘He’s here somewhere – oh, here he comes!’

  At that moment the side gate banged as two men walked through it. Neither looked especially happy, and once in the garden they went their separate ways, the older man seeing Gaby and heading straight for her.

  ‘Dad!’

  With an exaggerated swagger in his last few steps, the man threw his arms around her and hugged her till she shrieked that she’d spill her drink. When he’d released her, Gaby introduced her father as Clive Boswell. The build was genetic apparently; though of above average height, Boswell was a big man with thick white hair and a pink, clean-shaven face. His candy-striped shirt and off-white chinos made Mariner feel overdressed in his grey lounge suit.

  ‘Is Sam OK?’ Gaby asked her father, watching the younger man as he went to join a group of five or six other young people at a table that was being set up with food.

  ‘Course he is,’ said Boswell lightly. ‘I keep trying to persuade him to come and work for me,’ he explained to Mariner and Suzy. ‘But he’s stubborn and independent.’

  ‘Which is exactly why I love him,’ said Gaby. ‘Sam already has a good job, so leave him alone. Anyway, Dad, Suzy here is looking for somewhere to live around Coventry. I wondered about the Ridgeway, or Parsons Wood?’

  Boswell mulled it over for a moment. ‘Hmm, neither of those is going to be ready for another three months at least,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure we could find you something.’

  ‘Do you have an email address?’ asked Gaby. ‘It would make sense for us to bypass the estate agents and send you anything new that comes up directly.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble,’ said Suzy. ‘And to be honest, I’m not sure any more that I’m looking for a new property.’

  ‘It would be no trouble at all,’ said Boswell. ‘And we do renovations too. We’ve got some lovely old places.’ He wasn’t a man to be fobbed off.

  Suzy had a pen, but they had nothing to write on so Mariner ended up fishing out one of his business cards and jotting Suzy’s mobile number on to the back of that before handing it over to Gaby. ‘And how about you?’ Suzy asked. ‘Will you be living in one of your dad’s houses wh
en you’re married?’

  ‘Oh yes, but we want to be somewhere more local, so we’ve got a place on Meadow Hall Rise in Kingsmead. I don’t want to move too far from church or Dad. It’s an older house, but the refurb is nearly finished, and it’s looking fabulous.’ She slid out from her father’s arm. ‘I should go and catch up with Sam,’ Gaby told him. ‘Nice seeing you again and I’ll keep in touch,’ she said to Suzy. They watched her walk over to the young man, who detached himself from the group and slipped his arm around his fiancée’s shoulders, smoothing her dress and tucking in the label at the nape of her neck as he did so. His shoulders dropped an inch or so, as he relaxed, though Mariner didn’t miss the uncertain glance towards his future father-in-law.

  Boswell didn’t appear to notice. He sighed. ‘They grow up so fast, don’t they?’ He sounded wistful. ‘I can’t believe I’ll soon be letting her go. Her mum passed on seven years ago so it’s just been Gaby and me since then. I’m going to miss her so much.’

  ‘It sounds as if they won’t be too far away, though,’ Mariner pointed out.

  ‘Oh, I know, but I don’t kid myself. They’ll have their own lives to live. And that’s how it should be.’

  Alongside his other duties this afternoon, it also fell on Mariner to make a speech. It was time. As he cleared his throat, someone clinked a glass and about thirty pairs of expectant eyes turned towards him as a hush descended over the gathering.

  Mariner had framed his speech in terms of criminal justice and prison sentences and hoped that he hadn’t crossed the line in terms of taste. But judging from the response, he hit the mark, and having raised a few laughs and a couple of heckles, he held up his glass. ‘To Helen and Charlie.’

  Everyone followed suit, lifting assorted glasses, bottles and cans to join in the toast.

  After a couple more hours of small talk Mariner was beginning to approach the limits of his sociability. They found their hosts seeing people out at the front door. Charlie was, as always, conventionally dressed in his sports jacket and tie, his hair neatly combed. Helen, pretty in a floral dress, tucked into his arm as if she’d been specially designed to do so.

  ‘Tom said you’re having a second honeymoon too?’ said Suzy, after the usual thanks.

  ‘Our trip of a lifetime,’ said Helen. ‘Thailand and Vietnam. We’ll be away a whole month.’

  ‘When are you off?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘Taxi’s booked for eight o’clock tomorrow morning,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Lucky bastard,’ said Mariner. ‘Just don’t get to like it too much out there, eh?’

  ‘No chance of that,’ Charlie grinned. ‘As soon as we get there Helen will be fretting about the kids.’

  ‘And how will they do while you’re away? Lots of wild parties planned?’ Suzy asked.

  ‘Oh, they’ll be fine,’ Helen’s smile was less confident than her assertion. ‘Church friends will keep an eye on them, and we’ll hope to Skype from time to time.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Mariner. ‘I’ll keep that in mind, just in case—’

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ warned Helen, seeing where this was going. ‘He’s having a proper holiday this time.’ She turned to Suzy. ‘We have been known to get phone calls on the beach in Portugal.’

  ‘That was one time!’ Mariner protested. ‘But OK. I’ll do my best to cope without him.’

  ‘We’ll be back before you know it,’ said Charlie.

  The Boswell clan left the party immediately after Suzy and Mariner, and Clive Boswell gave them a wave as he followed his daughter and prospective son-in-law off in the opposite direction along the line of parked cars, where he climbed into a sparkling white Mercedes parked a little way down the road. Meanwhile Gaby gave her fiancé a long, lingering embrace before he got into a separate vehicle parked behind it.

  ‘Mr Boswell’s doing all right if that car’s anything to go by,’ said Suzy.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Mariner. ‘And there’s a bit of money about if the newly-weds are moving into Meadow Hall Rise. Not many kids their age would be able to afford an established prime location in Kingsmead.’

  ‘So it wasn’t such an ordeal, was it?’ she said of the afternoon.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Mariner, putting the car in gear. ‘And who knows, it might result in you getting somewhere to live.’

  ‘Hm. I’m not sure about that,’ said Suzy. ‘I know they were only trying to be helpful, but I’d really rather find my own place. I don’t want to be pressured into anything.’

  As they drove back to Mariner’s canal-side home, out of habit, Suzy rested her hand on his thigh. She waited a second before, remembering herself, she removed it again. Just a few weeks ago her next move would have been in the other direction, sliding it down into his groin, causing Mariner to apply a little more pressure to the accelerator. On those occasions they’d often barely made it into the house. But lately something had changed. Mariner tensed, in anticipation of what Suzy might say, but he was glad when she said nothing. By the time they got to his house, the moment had passed. Later they phoned out for a takeaway and watched a DVD; a French subtitled film that had looked promising but then turned out to be too explicitly violent even for Mariner’s taste.

  Mariner wasn’t sure what woke him in the small hours. It might have been the tickle of smoke in his nostrils or the dancing pattern of light on the bedroom wall, but once his senses registered those two things he was out of bed in an instant. ‘Suzy, wake up! There’s a fire!’

  THREE

  But coming from where? Pulling on clothes Mariner ran around checking the bedrooms and bathroom before racing down the stairs, where he realised that his house was intact; what was burning was on the opposite bank of the canal, just behind the screen of leafless trees. ‘What’s over there?’ Suzy asked.

  ‘Houses,’ said Mariner. ‘I have to see if I can help.’

  ‘I’ll come too.’

  By torchlight they crossed the canal a little way up, shuffling along the closed lock gates, then scrambling up the bank, to the rear of the property. The heat struck them immediately, from flames licking out of a downstairs window, and they heard voices and a child crying.

  ‘Up there,’ cried Suzy, and, against the glare were three figures in silhouette, inching their way along the flat roof of a ground-floor extension. In the firelight Mariner saw a dustbin. Testing it first, he stepped onto it and at six feet tall, it brought him level with the roof. ‘This way!’ he shouted, waving his arms. As the children reached the edge of the building, he sat them down, their legs dangling over the edge, and lifted each of them to safety. The woman cried out in pain as he took her hand, his fingers making contact with hot, moist flesh on the palm of her hand.

  ‘My father!’ she implored Mariner. ‘He’s in there.’ She pointed to a first-floor bedroom to the right.

  Lifting her down, Mariner assessed the situation. The fire was spreading up through the first floor, but if he could get into the building right away, the way they had come, there might be a chance … Where the hell was the fire service? He could hear sirens in the distance, but they weren’t getting any closer. Making a split-second decision he got a foot on to a window ledge and heaved himself up on to the flat roof. There was a bang as one of the ground-floor windows blew out.

  ‘Don’t, Tom!’ yelled Suzy. ‘It’s not safe!’

  But he’d already started out. The escape-route window hung open and inside was oppressively hot and dark. Stumbling, Mariner’s foot struck something hollow that skidded away. The door to the landing was closed. Bracing himself, Mariner grasped the handle and opened it. There was an ear-popping whoof! as smoke and flames surged at him, like scalding water thrown in his face and he slammed the door shut again. Suzy was right, it was hopeless. Mariner retreated back along the roof, through flakes of ash floating in thick smoke, coughing and gasping for breath, when, mercifully, he saw the blue flicker of the fire engine arriving at the front of the house, and two of the crew appeared around the side of the b
uilding. ‘There’s someone inside!’ he shouted, climbing down, his throat raw and stinging. ‘An old man. Up there.’ But as the firefighters were readying themselves with breathing equipment, there was a thunderous crash as the upper floor of the house caved in, sending an explosion of sparks into the air, and it was too late.

  Round at the front of the house, Mariner and Suzy watched as the firemen pumped in gallons of water and finally the inferno began to subside. An ambulance took the mother and children away, the woman still crying for her father, who surely had perished. A small crowd had gathered and a uniformed police officer arrived to keep them back.

  Mariner was treated at the scene for smoke inhalation and he and Suzy made their way home as the sky paled into dawn. They went back to bed, but for a long time Mariner lay awake, reliving those moments inside the house, wishing he’d done more to try and get to the old man. But eventually he must have fallen asleep, because he was woken, his eyes gritty and dry, by the ringing of his work mobile.

  It was Pete Stone, the duty inspector from Granville Lane. ‘Rise and shine,’ said Stone. ‘Better things for you to be doing on a Sunday morning than shagging the missus. You’ve got a house fire, and it’s a foxtrot.’ He said it with relish, and it wasn’t easy to fathom whether he was more pleased about the incident fatality or the opportunity to get Mariner out of bed.

  It was common knowledge that Stone had been brought into the department six months ago to give it a shake-up. His predecessor had been an original ‘plod’, who knew his local community from years on the beat, and, based on his wealth of experience, responded to incidents in a considered way. Stone was a targets man, who had taken the inspector’s post to pave the way for his rapid promotion, so had no inclination to cultivate relationships. Mariner hadn’t decided yet if he liked the man. ‘I know,’ he said now, not bothering to explain. ‘I’ll get there as soon as I can.’ He was already out of bed.