Dead Alone

by Gay Longworth

  ‘Well, after that Veronica was terrified. He kept professing undying love. Then Trevor got shot. That gun going off was no accident. Ray killed Trevor in cold blood. He knew the route Trevor would take home after the job interview. Ray assumed he’d get away with it. He assumed Veronica would go with him, but she wouldn’t leave Trevor’s side. She was terrified. Ray wanted to leave the country with her and Frank. But she was safe in that hospital. I had the kids. Veronica knew even Ray wouldn’t brave the hospital. Eventually he was arrested. Tip-off, apparently. Not from me, mind.’

  ‘All this time, Clare has been looking for Ray’s son.’

  Irene nodded, blew her nose and lay back against the sofa.

  ‘Does Ray have Frank?’

  Irene shrugged. ‘Never felt the urge to call him up and ask him. Probably. He’s covered up more than that. What difference would it make now, anyway? Clare thinks Frank is dead. Can’t we just leave it at that?’

  Mark brought a flask out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Irene. She took a slug. Then another. ‘No blood is better than bad blood, that’s what Veronica used to say. No blood is better than bad blood.’

  CHAPTER 61

  P.J. joined Jessie on the deck. A third bottle had been opened, Jessie felt cocooned in red wine. They leant over the wooden railing and stared at the reflection of the Milky Way on the oil-slick surface of Ullswater. Floating icing sugar. The low, round hoot of an owl on the hunt passed close by. P.J. looked up at the sheer half-moon and pointed. ‘The sea of tranquillity. It seems closer here.’

  She nudged him. ‘Are all your lyrics as cheesy as that?’

  ‘Haven’t you ever listened to them?’

  Jessie laughed. ‘Careful, your ego is showing.’

  He leant closer to her. ‘You’re right about this place,’ he said. ‘It is magical. I’d like to stay, watch the boys grow up carefree like Charlotte and Ellie. I don’t want them to be like the other children of famous people. Do any of them turn out normal? What’s in store for Rocco Ritchie, Anaïs Gallagher, Brooklyn Beckham? They won’t be like Charlotte and Ellie, of that I’m certain.’

  ‘I feel a monologue coming on. Would you like a pen and paper?’

  He grabbed her. ‘No. Shh, I’m being profound. People used to become famous as an unfortunate by-product of fulfilling their dreams –’

  ‘Oh dear –’

  ‘Now fame is the dream. It requires massive ambition and self-belief, you have to be stronger than the next. It’s the plate tectonics of fame. Thin, flat layers get pushed into the mass of molten lava, insignificant against the force of a huge mountain of presence. But however high the peaks are, the troughs are deeper. The unseen underbelly of fame and power is insecurity and neurosis. Does that make a good parent? Absolutely not.’

  ‘I think you’re drunk, P.J.’

  ‘I’m being serious. I’ll tell you a horrible secret. I refused to sleep with Verity without a condom. I didn’t trust her. I would have divorced her if it wasn’t for Paul and Ty. You’re right about that, the thought of them being dragged off to another man, another house, another unstable life was too much. Couldn’t anyone take responsibility? These boys are people. Not commodities.’

  Jessie straightened up. He was being serious. Deadly serious. ‘Is that why you moved into Verity’s ex-husband’s house?’

  ‘You don’t miss a trick, do you?’

  Jessie didn’t say anything. She’d seen enough ‘at home’ photos of Verity Shore and her respective men to know the details of all her soft furnishings.

  ‘Verity wanted it that way. I was against it at first, but she was right, the boys didn’t want to move again, and they don’t want to move now.’

  He turned to her, slid his hand over hers. She didn’t pull it away. ‘I’ve made some terrible mistakes with my family, terrible, unforgivable mistakes. I’m not going to make them with Paul and Ty.’

  ‘Is that why you don’t speak to your father?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Why you missed your mother’s funeral?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is this to do with your sister drowning?’

  ‘In a way, I suppose.’

  ‘And why you are so determined to take care of the boys, someone else’s sons?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Bernie?’

  ‘Of course Bernie! I trust you, Jessie. I want to tell you things no one knows. I don’t want you to be suspicious of me, I don’t want to lie, but there are things I have sworn not to say to a living soul. Do you understand? After all these years, I just can’t.’

  Jessie frowned.

  ‘You know, anyway, don’t you? That is why you think so badly of me. I see it in your face.’

  He was wrong. The doubt in her face was for herself only. But she had begun to suspect why P.J. had acted the way he had. It was watching him on the boat with the boys during the day, the things he said, things he referred to. She was beginning to think that there had been a relationship with Bernie, a long time ago, after his sister drowned. Understandable in the circumstances. The product was Craig. But he had left her, a pregnant fifteen-year-old, and gone to the States. He returned a pop star and never went home again. Whether it was youthfulness or recklessness, he had missed out on all of Craig’s childhood and deserted his dead sister’s best friend. He had behaved abominably and he couldn’t make it up to Craig, and he probably couldn’t truly make it up to Bernie either, though he cared and paid for them now. All P.J. could do was make sure it didn’t happen again. To Paul and Ty. That was why he was so protective. That explained why he stuck it out with Verity Shore.

  ‘I didn’t kill Verity. I am desperate to prove that to you, so desperate I will betray the trust of the one person in the world who actually loves me and who I love back, properly, like family should.’

  P.J. was gripping her hand.

  ‘If Craig is your son, P.J., people might think it gives you a motive. That you and Bernie wanted Verity out of the way to play happy families. Do you understand that? Eve and Verity were lovers, lovers tell each other things, so then you had to deal with Eve.’

  ‘I would have thought it was quite obvious to you that I’m not in love with Bernie. And if I’m not in love with Bernie, there is no motive. So go ahead. Ask.’

  ‘Is he your son?’

  P.J. blinked at her. His eyes filled with tears. The door to the balcony slid open and Kate and Colin spilled out laughing. ‘Oops, sorry, didn’t know you were out here. Have a glass of this brandy – we’re celebrating! Kate just told me. She’s pregnant!’

  Jessie pulled away from P.J., who cheered loudly. Only Jessie heard his voice breaking and knew he was cheering to hide his own anguish.

  Jessie hugged Kate. ‘I’m so happy for you both.’

  ‘To Kate,’ said Colin, raising his glass. ‘The best woman in the world.’

  P.J. raised his glass and eyes to the moon. He downed the brandy and held out his glass for more.

  CHAPTER 62

  Mark Ward walked slowly down the well-trodden corridor of the police station. There was a light on under Jones’ door. Jones was probably the only person in the world he wanted to talk to. He knocked.

  ‘Hello, sir, what are you doing here at this time of night?’

  ‘Seems I’ve become DI Driver’s dogsbody.’

  Mark smiled. ‘You and me both.’

  ‘Women. It’s a revolution we aren’t going to end.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Still a bit feeble, but much better on the whole. Got a nice scar, do you want to see it?’

  ‘No thanks, don’t want to give myself nightmares. Wouldn’t mind a nightcap, though. Care to join me? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.’

  ‘If it’s a bitching session about Jess –’

  ‘No, guv, it’s more important than that.’

  They walked side by side along the corridor. Tired men and women came off shift and tired men and women arrived.
A night-cleaner slapped a mop on to the vinyl floor and began to move the dirt around in mind-numbing circles. Jones pushed open the exit door and received a blast of cold air. They walked silently across the road into the pub.

  ‘I want to talk to Ray St Giles, I want to bring him in.’

  ‘Not you as well. Is this some shit between you and –’

  ‘He was having an affair with Veronica. She killed herself to stop that fact coming out. There is no trace of the boy, so Ray must have him.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No what?’

  ‘You can’t go bursting in there unless you know. Unless you are sure. Jessie did, and it isn’t looking good. He’s smart, he’ll screw you.’

  ‘What the fuck was Jessie doing?’

  ‘Had a tip that he was involved in these recent murders.’

  ‘Bollocks he is! From who?’

  ‘An insider.’

  ‘Fine. Get her over here, we’ll put a call through together, co-ordinate. Sort of thing that makes you happy.’

  Jones rubbed his face. Mark picked up on it instantly. ‘Where is she?’ Jones was not an untruthful man, but if he answered that question, Jessie’s career would be all but over.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Out of town.’

  Mark chuckled. ‘In the middle of a murder investigation? Come on, where is she?’

  Jones didn’t reply.

  ‘She’s up to something, isn’t she? Oh no, it hasn’t got anything to do with that pop singer bloke. Fry told me she’d been giving him the softly-softly approach.’

  ‘Leave it, Mark.’

  ‘Fucking hell –’

  ‘I said leave it.’

  Mark placed his glass down with careful precision. ‘So let me get this straight: I can’t question a murdering bastard who possibly stole a kid from social services, nor can I get to Jessie’s insider because she is busy getting familiar with the bloke who should, if she could do her job, be the prime fucking suspect.’ He sat back. ‘Oh, guv, good work. Bet you’re glad you gave her the promotion, eh?’

  CHAPTER 63

  Jessie woke up hot and confused. She heard a stifled cry, but in the darkness she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Outside or inside. Animal or human. Man or boy. Jessie sat up and opened her eyes and ears to the night. She heard the noise again. It was human. Male. Child. And he wanted his mother. Jessie threw back the fat feathered eiderdown and padded across to the door. The curtains in the corridor weren’t drawn: shadows from the trees outside slid across the wall, the moonlight picked out the round white face of Ty, standing stock-still in the middle of the passageway. He was staring straight at Jessie.

  ‘Mummy?’

  ‘It’s okay, Ty. It’s Jessie, I’m here …’ She crouched down to his eye-level and pushed the sodden hair from his face. He didn’t move for a second. Jessie thought the boy might still be asleep, but suddenly he lurched forward and threw his soft arms round her neck.

  ‘I had a bad dream.’

  ‘It’s okay now.’ Jessie could feel his wet cheeks on her neck. She held him tight and rocked him gently. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, as visions of bleached bones danced in her head. After a few moments Ty’s muscles slackened and his breathing evened out. Taking their combined weight in her legs, she slowly lifted him up and carried him back to her room. She fetched the torch from her bag and put it in Ty’s small hand. ‘Now you’ll know where you are,’ she said.

  There was a rustle of blankets and the squeak of mattress springs.

  ‘I couldn’t find the light switch,’ said Paul in the dark. ‘I heard him crying, but I couldn’t find the light switch.’

  Jessie held Ty in one arm and felt along the wall. When the light went on, Ty lifted his head off her shoulder and looked at Jessie with enormous, disappointed eyes.

  ‘I thought …’ Ty’s voice trailed off. Jessie knew what he thought. He thought his mother was carrying him to bed. The light had dispelled that dream. Night-time could do that, it could trick you. It was a beautiful, malicious trick because it was so real.

  Jessie told them a story until both their chests rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. She waited quietly. Neither boy moved. Ty still clutched her torch in his hand. She left it there, dimmed the light, and quietly opened the bedroom door. She jumped when she saw P.J. standing in a jumper and boxer shorts.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw the light on and wondered if they were okay.’

  He was whispering, she lowered her voice to match his. ‘They’re fine. Ty had a bad dream.’

  ‘Was he in the hallway? I often find Paul and Ty standing on the landing at the top of the stairs. Ty sleepwalks and Paul goes and finds him.’

  Jessie crossed her arms in front of her. Her vest and shorts seemed to have shrunk.

  ‘So what was going to happen in your story?’

  Jessie opened her mouth. ‘You sneak! You listened.’

  ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. You seemed to be doing such a good job of calming them down. Thanks.’

  ‘I’ve given Ty my torch in case he wakes up again.’

  ‘You didn’t bring a bag, but you managed to bring a torch?’

  ‘I’m a police officer, there are some things I always bring along, just in case.’

  ‘Even to parties?’

  ‘Especially to parties.’

  They were walking back to her room. ‘What else do you always bring along?’

  She put her hand on the door knob. ‘Handcuffs.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Plastic freezer bags, a Bic biro, some Tampax and lip gloss. That’s about it.’

  He was inches from her. She didn’t move.

  ‘We should finish that conversation,’ said P.J.

  ‘Not now,’ she said. Too dangerous.

  ‘Please.’

  He followed her into her room. This was bad, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. P. J. Dean didn’t kill his wife. Anyone could see that. Surely?

  He ran his hand down her arm. ‘You have such incredible skin.’

  ‘Please, don’t. I can’t do this,’ she said.

  ‘What can I do to persuade you that I’m not involved in this? All I want is a bit of normality, something secure.’

  ‘You think I’m normal?’

  ‘No, I think you’re exceptional.’

  ‘You don’t even know me.’

  ‘You make up stories, you play cowboys and Indians in the woods and you eat disgusting jam tarts to make a boy feel better about himself. I may as well admit that the backless dress in which you looked incredible may have had some impact, but not as much as the sight of you in waterproofs and wellies today on the lake. I know that much, Jessie Driver, and I know I’d like to know much more. What I don’t know is how to convince you that I’m worth knowing too. Give me a chance.’

  She stared at him. Was she so intoxicated by those green eyes that she couldn’t see sense?

  ‘I know what you want to know, Jessie. So ask me the question, and I’ll give a straight yes or no answer. But don’t ask me to explain. Not yet. I’m already breaking my word as it is.’

  Her eyes were so accustomed to the dark she could see the worry line embedded between his eyebrows. His eyes had darkened to the colour of a stormy sea. Jessie didn’t want an answer. Not then. The truth was, she didn’t want to think about Verity Shore or the life of any public figure. She wanted a moment for herself. Didn’t she have that right? P.J. pulled her closer. He put his hand through her hair, ran it down the back of her neck, over her jaw. Murder victims had one right left to them, to have their murderer caught. Until that happened, she didn’t deserve a moment.

  ‘Are you Craig’s father?’

  His thumb rested on her lower lip. He pressed it slightly then pulled his hand back. He looked right at her, inches away, she could feel his breath on her.

  ‘No. I am not Craig’s father and I am not, and never have been, in love with Bernie.’

  He pulle
d her towards him and then she closed her mind and let her senses take over.

  CHAPTER 64

  At six thirty Jessie woke up in bed alone. Her mind was racing and her conscience was cloudy. In the kitchen she made some peppermint tea and stood at the big glass wall looking out over the water.

  ‘Hey, sis.’

  ‘Hey, Colin. What are you doing up so early?’

  ‘Those kids have shot my body clock to pieces, thought I’d go on a run. You exhausted them yesterday, they’re all still asleep.’

  ‘The loop?’

  ‘Yeah, you coming?’ She nodded. Run. Run away. And don’t think.

  The loop was a five-mile run along the water’s edge, up a hill, then across the brow of the surrounding hills where the view was breathtaking and the world was yours. Bill liked to run. Terry liked to jog to music. And Colin liked to talk. Which they did, all the way round, except for up the hill, where they just heaved and spat in turn. She told him about Ty waking up in the middle of the night. She didn’t tell him anything else. By the time they got home, sweaty, hot and jubilant, Colin had run the guilt out of her. They kicked off their running shoes, unsteady on their legs, exhaling puffs of air. Jessie bent over to touch her toes and saw the headline of the News of the World upside down at her feet.

  JAMI ATTACKED

  QUICK-THINKING STARLET

  FOILS Z-LIST KILLER

  Jessie stood up too quickly, the blood drained from her head and she lurched forward.

  Pop sensation Jami has suffered a horrific attack in her own home. The ordeal started when Jami put the key in the front door of her beautiful Chelsea townhouse. A masked man grabbed her round the mouth and throat.

  ‘I felt something cold against my neck and I thought, this is it, I’m going to die.’

  Jessie shook her head. There was a picture of Jami’s bruised face. Another of a broken china clock.