It was good to see an old friend. Steve had been Tom’s sergeant in Manchester a few years previously. He had taken a promotion by moving to the Cheshire force and they had kept in occasional contact but hadn’t seen each other since Tom had relocated to London three years ago.
Tom had forgotten how tall Steve was. He was one hell of big guy, in girth as well as in height, and although Tom had checked that the low beams and ceilings of his cottage were sufficient to accommodate his own six foot height, he hadn’t allowed for the extra five inches that Steve could boast. And no hair on top to cushion him either, Tom noticed with surprise. It was obviously longer than he thought since they had seen each other.
Ducking as he made his way through to the sitting room, Steve spoke over his shoulder.
‘Sorry it’s the first time I’ve had a chance to call round. I couldn’t believe it when I got your email to say you were moving back up north, but I don’t blame you.’
Steve looked around the sitting room.
‘Wow – this is a bit smart, Tom. I didn’t know you were into interior design. New career, is it?’ Steve winked at Tom, a habit of his that Tom had completely forgotten. He remembered thinking that Steve had some sort of facial tick when he’d first met him.
Tom glanced at the dark aubergine sofa and stone coloured armchairs grouped close to an inglenook fireplace, and the fat porcelain lamps on chunky wooden side tables.
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ he said. ‘I found a great shop in Chester, and they sorted the lot. After the place I had in London – which was uber smart, but always felt cold and stark to me – it’s a pleasure to have somewhere that feels like home.’
‘Never could stand London myself. Anyway, it’s good to have you back up north. I’d have popped in sooner, but things have been a bit hectic with work. You know how it is.’
Tom grinned. He certainly did.
‘Before I sit down, can I get you a drink of anything? Beer, wine, or tea or coffee if you’re on duty?’
‘I’d love a beer - only a glass though, as I’m driving. I officially came off duty a couple of hours ago, but I had stuff to do in the neighbourhood.’
‘One beer coming up. Have a seat - I’ll only be a minute.’
Tom made his way to the kitchen, opened a bottle of beer and grabbed two glasses.
‘Here you go,’ Tom said, handing a glass to Steve and filling it slowly.
‘Thanks. I’m ready for this.’
They chinked glasses, and Tom sat down.
‘You never did say what made you decide to make the break from London, Tom. Just that you were moving back here. Problems?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Tom shook his head, while admitting to himself that he wasn’t being entirely honest with his friend. ‘Lucy’s back in Manchester with her mum, and seeing her for the odd weekend wasn’t working for either of us. She’s only eight, and I felt that I was missing out on so much. So I wanted to be within driving distance. She’s coming tomorrow for the day for the first time. Her mum’s bringing her – but you know Kate – she’ll just want to have a nosey at my new home.’
‘So how was life in the big league then?’ Steve winked again, and Tom glanced down at his beer to hide a smile.
‘If you mean the Met, I had a great boss. But he took early retirement after a health scare, and I couldn’t think of a single good reason to stay. So I packed up and moved here. And now I’m job hunting.’
‘Bloody hell, Tom - that’s a bit of a risk, isn’t it? What will you do if nothing comes up?’
‘Something else entirely, I expect,’ Tom replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He was keen to move the focus of the conversation away from himself. ‘More to the point, though, what are you doing in this part of Cheshire on a Saturday afternoon? I don’t suppose you were just passing?’
Steve took a long gulp of his beer, and set his glass down on the coffee table. The smile disappeared from his face.
‘Pretty horrible case, actually. Some kid got herself knocked over last night on the back road, if you know where that is. It’s the local name for the lane that cuts through between the two main roads on either side of the village. Anyway, whoever hit her dragged her to the side of the road and left her there. Left her to die.’ Steve shook his large head. ‘The bastard. I bloody hope I catch whoever it was, that’s all I can say. We’ve got a team working the area, but I thought I’d take a detour on my way home to see how they’re doing.’
Tom leaned back hard against the sofa.
‘Oh God, Steve, I’m sorry. I’ve always hated cases like that. Give me a murder any day, but hit and run smacks of cowardice doesn’t it? How old was she?’
‘She was, or rather is, fourteen. Despite leaving her on the grass verge like road-kill, somebody found her pretty soon after it happened, it seems. She’s in a coma - but she’s alive. Barely. The doctors don’t hold out much hope, I’m sorry to say. The trouble with the back road is that there are no cameras at all, and although we’ve picked up what we can from the ones in the village, it’s going to be hard to prove anything.’
Steve filled Tom in on some of the background and the two men discussed all the usual routes to evidence. As he listened to the details of the investigation and everything that the police had found – or failed to find - Tom had to admit that it didn’t sound too promising. It was easy to see that Steve was feeling a sense of hopelessness, and Tom felt bad that he had no words of wisdom to offer.
Steve looked regretfully at his watch.
‘I need to make a move, I’m afraid. Sorry it was such a short visit, but I’ve been working silly hours recently and I was supposed to be home hours ago.’
He pushed himself up from the sofa and made his way to the door, keeping his head bent low as he went.
‘If you hear any gossip, Tom - being as how you’re so well in with the neighbours - give me a call, would you? You know how it is. The locals in a place like this always know everything that’s going on. There’s no such thing as a secret in a village.’
Tom smiled. ‘I know what you mean. Go into any shop around here, and you can hear them talking - usually about the person who walked out thirty seconds previously, although to be fair it’s usually without malice. God knows what they say about me.’
Steve gave Tom a knowing smile, a final wink, and lifted his hand in a farewell gesture.
Tom closed the door and walked through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He didn’t think there’d be any shortage of alcohol at tonight’s dinner with the neighbours, but tomorrow was going to be a special day for him and Lucy, and a hangover wouldn’t be ideal.
He was looking forward to the evening ahead. When he’d bought this cottage, he hadn’t realised how it would feel to spend long days without speaking to anybody. He’d always been happy with his own company, but nowadays he sometimes felt as if his vocal cords had seized up.
The other problem with spending long hours alone was that it gave Tom too much time to think. He’d always had such a clearly defined concept of right and wrong, but in the last couple of years he’d been forced to question his own values. He had thought that taking a break from the police might sort out his muddled mind, but instead he’d discovered that too much introspection confused him even more.
Now he just wanted to get back to work. Especially when he heard stories like the one Steve had just told him. Tom felt his scalp prickle, a familiar sensation when something about a crime didn’t seem quite right, and he wanted to be there, on the front line, working out just what it was that didn’t fit.
7
A radio was playing quietly in the kitchen. Nobody was listening - it was there for background noise and to drown out the silence that pervaded the house.
A half empty glass of warm vodka sat on the table. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t cold - it was fulfilling its purpose. It was numbing the pain without leaving any trace.
The music stopped, and the six o’clock news began. More of the same, of
course. The economy, the Middle East, back to the economy. The same as every other day. Who cared, really?
“And in local news, we have a report on a hit and run accident in the quiet village of Little Melham. A young girl was knocked down on the B522 and the driver failed to stop. This road - locally known as the back road - connects the A564 and the A5194 but according to the police is normally only used by locals. The girl, who has not been named yet, is said to be in a critical condition. The accident took place in the early hours of this morning, and the police are asking anybody who was out in the area last night to…”
An angry hand reached out and switched the radio off.
Why did she reject me? Why was she scared? Why did she run?
All that planning, months and months of it, blown away by an impulsive action – an opportunity that seemed too good to miss. Abbie was all alone – abandoned - and nobody was missing her. It was so very easy.
Abbie – I just wanted you to love me. Our little secret.
But those eyes – the stark black terror in their depths when she learned the truth. Why?
And then she ran.
What if she’d made it back to the village? What if that driver had been paying attention, driving more slowly, and picked her up instead of knocking her down? It didn’t bear thinking about.
My life would be over. Everything I’ve worked so hard for would be destroyed. Again. By Abbie.
But now Abbie couldn’t speak. She would probably die.
That was never my intention, Abbie – but you shouldn’t have rejected me. I wouldn’t have hurt you if you’d been nice to me. You’re dead to me anyway, now.
But there was another problem.
The driver saw me, standing in the woods, watching but doing nothing.
And that was a danger. Safe for now, but if the police identified the car, the driver would be sure to tell them.
A cry of frustrated misery pierced the silence, and the now empty glass was hurled into the sink where it shattered on impact.
* * *
‘I need a drink,’ a weary Ellie muttered as she plonked herself down on the bed.
What a day! She could have done without going into work, but in view of the circumstances she’d had little choice. There had been no chance to catch up with Leo, and she’d barely seen the twins. And after last night…
No. She mustn’t think about that. It was too terrible. Too awful. For tonight, at least, she had to push it all to the back of her mind.
She had somehow managed to go through the motions of preparing everything for tonight’s dinner - all she had to do was drum up the enthusiasm to get herself ready. The babysitter had arrived - a ridiculous extravagance in Max’s mind, given that they weren’t actually going out - but at least the twins were occupied and all she had to worry about was the food.
Staring disconsolately at her wardrobe and hoping it would provide some magical solution to what she should wear, she heard the bathroom door opening. She could see Max’s reflection in the large mirror that hung over their dressing table, and couldn’t resist watching him as he rubbed his thick dark hair on a towel, another one draped around his middle. Not an inch of fat on him, she could see the muscles in his stomach from where she sat, despite the thin covering of dark hair. He’s so hot, she thought. Was she really losing him?
She sighed.
‘What’s up, my lovely Ellie Jelly Belly’
‘Don’t call me that - you know I hate it,’ Ellie said, scowling at his reflection.
Max laughed.
‘I’ve been calling you that since you were seventeen, and you loved it then.’
‘Of course I did - principally because it wasn’t true. Now it is, so think of something nice to say or don’t say anything.’
A brief tap came on the door, and it was nudged open to reveal Leo, dressed in nothing more than a black T-shirt that just about reached the top of her thighs and clung to her slim hips. Her slender legs were enviably long and lightly tanned.
‘Leo - do you have to wander in here naked - or as near as, damn it?’ Ellie said.
As Leo opened the door fully, Ellie saw her glance sideways at Max.
‘Sorry Max. I didn’t know you were here. I thought you were with the twins. And I’m perfectly decent, Ellie. People walk around the centre of Manchester in fewer clothes than this. I came to see if I could borrow your straighteners. I forgot mine, and my hair looks a complete mess if I leave it curly.’
‘Max could have been naked himself, but I don’t suppose either of you would have been bothered.’
Ellie wasn’t surprised to see a look of puzzlement pass between Leo and Max. She knew she was being a grump, but seeing her svelte sister made her feel more frumpy than ever, and she was sure Max couldn’t fail to make a comparison. Leo had always been tall and slender; even as a child she had been taller than her older sister. But with her long dark hair and her preference for wearing black - when she was dressed, that is - with her lips painted a bright crimson, she had a vamp like appearance that was at odds with her personality.
Max had been quiet to this point, but in an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he started to sing the well known opening notes of “The Stripper”, throwing the towel that he had been drying his hair with to one side in a flourish. To Ellie’s dismay he started to tease open the towel around his waist. She knew what he was going to do, and she had no way of stopping him. He had never had the slightest of inhibitions about his body - and why would he? But she wanted him all to herself. He wasn’t to be shared - she couldn’t bear it.
Before she could utter a word of protest, Max ripped the towel from round his waist, to reveal a pair of tight black shorts which in many ways were even more sexy than if he’d been naked.
Leo gave a slightly derisive snort at Max’s antics, pinched the straighteners from the dressing table, and made a swift exit.
* * *
Max watched Ellie carefully in the mirror for a few seconds. Her head had dropped back down and she was gazing at the floor as if transfixed by the pile of the pale cream carpet. He could see she wasn’t impressed by his little performance. Normally she would have shrugged off his silliness, or laughed with him. But not any more. A pang of guilt struck him hard in the chest. He knew what he’d been doing to her for the past couple of months, but he couldn’t help himself. Every morning he gave himself a good talking to, and every night he acknowledged that he had failed once again to stick to his resolutions.
Max walked over to the bed and sat down beside Ellie. Fully recovered from his earlier hangover he was now looking forward to tonight, and he could see that Ellie was tired and very down. This was so out of character for her, and he had to blame himself. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
‘What’s up, Ellie? Why are you so down tonight? You were looking forward to showing off the new house to everybody. But it doesn’t seem to be giving you the pleasure that you expected. What is it, sweetheart?’
Ellie bit her bottom lip.
‘Work was pretty awful today. A young kid - it nearly broke my heart.’
‘Ellie, your patients nearly break your heart every day of the week. So it has to be more than that. Come on. Tell me.’
‘I’ve got nothing to wear, I haven’t got time to straighten my hair, and couldn’t now because Leo has pinched the straighteners, and that all sounds so pathetic and self-indulgent in relation to other people’s problems.’
Max rubbed her shoulder and gave her another squeeze.
‘Sometimes it’s the little things that get to you, because you don’t want to think about the big things, so let’s deal with those points in order, shall we?’ he said. ‘Why haven’t you got anything to wear, hmm? You’ve spent money on everything else, why not yourself?’
‘You know why not.’
‘No, I don’t know why not.’
Ellie’s head dropped even further onto her chest, and she mumbled her response under her breath.
‘Because I was waiting until I was thinner to buy new stuff. You know that. I’ve been waiting for three years and that’s why I never buy any clothes.’
Max did, of course, know this. They’d had this conversation so many times, and it never got any easier to convince her. But he would try again. Anything to get that lovely smile back.
‘Sweetheart, you know I think you’re beautiful just as you are, so why not go with the flow? You are what you are, and to me that’s voluptuous and sexy.’
He put his other arm round her and hugged her tight. She pushed his arm away.
‘Bollocks, Max. You don’t think that, or you wouldn’t always be trying to make me exercise. You want me to be thinner.’
He swallowed a sigh, knowing that it wouldn’t help.
‘No, I don’t want you to be thinner, I want you to be fitter, because then you would be healthier. I don’t care about your size. And you’re not fat. You’re not a stick insect, but thank God for that I say.’
‘We all know that nowadays men only find skinny girls attractive - girls like Leo and that PE teacher at your school.’
Max paused. He needed to get this right, and the best bet would probably be to ignore the last part of that comment.
‘Now you really are talking rubbish. Look at Nigella Lawson - arse the size of a small bungalow, but men still think she’s sexy. And you’re about a third of the size.’
‘She’s lost a load of weight, actually - so obviously even she didn’t think it was very attractive.’
Realising that once more he wasn’t going to win this argument, Max got up from the bed and made his way to the wardrobe.
‘What about this black dress. You look sexy in that.’
‘I wear that every single time we go anywhere, and that cow Mimi is bound to comment. What is Pat doing with her, Max? He must be mental, leaving Georgia for her.’
Max couldn’t fail to agree, but this was another discussion they’d had several times in the last couple of months, without resolution.
‘Look, why don’t you go and have a lovely long shower - leave your hair curly, because it suits you better like that, and I’ll go downstairs and bring up a bottle of ice cold bubbly which we can drink while you’re getting ready. Wash away the trauma of your day. Nobody will be here for a couple of hours, so there’s loads of time.’
The Back Road Page 4
