Road Closed

by Leigh Russell

  Ryder studied the mug shot of Barker and nodded thoughtfully. He was interested. ‘It certainly sounds like Barker.’

  ‘The problem is, Barker’s got an alibi.’ As briefly as she could, Geraldine told them about her visit to the Blue Lagoon.

  ‘Blue Lagoon?’ Ryder repeated.

  ‘It’s a seedy local strip joint,’ Geraldine explained.

  ‘A knocking shop,’ a local officer added.

  ‘A bunch of old slappers,’ Peterson pulled a face. ‘Enough to put anyone off. You wouldn’t want to take your worst enemy there on his stag night.’

  ‘Not unless you want to give him something he hadn’t bargained for,’ another local officer called out with a laugh.

  ‘I get the picture,’ Ryder interrupted impatiently. ‘So Barker was conveniently at the Blue Lagoon club with Bronxy on Friday night?’ Geraldine nodded. ‘Any CCTV?’

  ‘No, sir. Just the word of the madam.’

  ‘Together with a whole host of people on her payroll,’ Bennett added. ‘The doorman, the slapper who takes the coats, dancers, hookers you name it, they all dance to Bronxy’s tune. If she tells us Barker was there, they’ll all swear blind he was there. Check the records, sir. She’s given out more alibis than you’ve had hot dinners, and they’re always backed up by her team. Believe me, it’s not just her, sir. She’ll have a whole gang of them prepared to back her story, and there’s more than a few court officials who know her from more than her court appearances.’ He shrugged and an uneasy silence fell. Ryder looked worried. Geraldine felt a burgeoning sympathy for Bennett.

  ‘That stinks,’ Peterson broke the silence. No one else spoke. Bennett threw a sneaky glance at his watch.

  33

  Shock

  Geraldine was off duty on Saturday. Normally she would have gone in to work for the whole day anyway, but she was due at her sister’s house later that morning. She was already going to be late, thanks to the briefing.

  Celia had called Geraldine during the week. ‘We’ve been putting off going through mum’s things for long enough,’ she had said firmly. Geraldine was relieved to hear Celia sounding like her normal bossy self, but her spirits sank at the thought of spending a day with her sister, clearing out their mother’s belongings.

  ‘Are you sure you want…’ Geraldine broke off, ashamed to confess her reluctance. ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’

  ‘Got to be done,’ Celia answered stiffly. Geraldine wondered if she realised her sister wanted to duck out of her filial duty.

  Celia was on her knees rummaging in the bottom of their mother’s wardrobe among a clutter of shoes, bags and belts when Geraldine arrived. Geraldine tried not to glance inside the wardrobe: it felt like an intrusion. She stood with her back to Celia, rolling sheets and stuffing them into black bin bags.

  Celia wanted to donate their mother’s shoes to a local charity shop. She was stacking them in pairs in a cardboard box when she broke the silence. ‘I thought you’d have this.’ Geraldine squinted down at a faded grey box file and read her own name, handwritten on a peeling yellow label. ‘I would’ve thought you’d have wanted it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your papers.’ Celia lifted the box and thrust it at her sister.

  ‘What papers?’

  ‘I thought you’d have wanted them. I mean I thought she’d have given them…’ Celia sat back on her heels and stared up at Geraldine. ‘She never told you, did she? She said she’d tell you. I can’t believe she never told you.’

  Geraldine put down the sheet she was folding and turned to her sister. ‘Told me what?’

  Celia looked down at the carpet. Ash blonde hair slipped forward and concealed her features. Geraldine could hear tension in her voice, sullen like a child. ‘She said she’d tell you.’

  ‘Celia, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s in the box? What papers?’

  ‘Your papers. Birth certificate, adoption papers…’

  Geraldine sat down on the bed and stared at her sister’s fine hair. ‘You’re telling me we’re adopted?’

  Celia’s blonde head bobbed a nod. She didn’t look up. ‘Not us, you,’ she mumbled.

  ‘What do you mean? Celia?’ Geraldine was on her feet. She felt her legs shaking and sat down again.

  ‘You’re adopted. Not me. You. She said she’d tell you. She was going to tell you…’

  ‘I don’t get it. How could…’ Geraldine shook her head. This made no sense. Yet, with a visceral thrill, she knew it was true. So many things suddenly made sense.

  Celia drew in a deep breath, and began to explain in a rapid undertone. Geraldine wanted to ask her to slow down but couldn’t trust herself to speak. ‘After I was born, mum had problems. Down there. Gynae problems, you know. It meant she couldn’t have any more children.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Just listen, will you? This isn’t exactly easy for me. I’ll tell you everything I know. It’s not much.’

  Their eyes met briefly. Celia looked away. Geraldine blinked. Tears spilled from her eyes but she didn’t bother to wipe her face. Celia was speaking again, her voice stilted. ‘She had a hysterectomy. She was only twenty six. So she couldn’t have any more children. But they didn’t want me to be – they didn’t want an only child, so…’

  ‘So they adopted…’

  ‘You.’ Celia thrust the box file at her again. ‘Geraldine, I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. Take it. I’m sure it’s all in there. I don’t understand why she never told you.’

  ‘You knew.’ The accusation was unspoken.

  ‘She said she’d tell you. I thought you knew. I never realised you didn’t know.’

  Geraldine was shaking so violently she couldn’t stand up. ‘Who else knew?’

  Celia shrugged. ‘How am I supposed to know? And don’t shout at me. This isn’t easy for me, you know. She wasn’t exactly honest with me either. She promised me she’d tell you.’

  ‘I wasn’t shouting.’ Geraldine snatched up the box, and strode from the room.

  Driving home, she felt perfectly calm. The tears on her cheeks had dried. It made no difference now that her whole past had been constructed on a falsehood. She thought about murder victims’ next of kin hearing that their loved ones were dead. Some of them reacted hysterically; others stood stock still, uncomprehending. She might have given them the terrible news in a foreign language. That was how she felt now, slightly light-headed and outwardly calm while inwardly she struggled against a growing sense of panic. She had no idea who she was.

  It began to rain. A light drizzle hit the windscreen on and off, never releasing enough water to clear the screen. She set the wipers to intermittent. Her view was alternately smeared and clear. Doubting her own composure, she drove slowly. On the other side of the road, cars moved past in their own clouds of spray.

  When the reaction came, the emotion hit her with such force that she had to pull off the road. Her hands were trembling on the wheel. It wasn’t the fact that she had been adopted that upset her. Not yet. She would face those feelings later. First she had to deal with her fury at the deception that had been practised for so long. It wasn’t only her mother. She hadn’t seen her father since he had gone to live in Ireland with his second wife. He hadn’t even had the decency to attend his ex-wife’s funeral. And Celia had been taken into her mother’s confidence when Geraldine had been excluded. For nearly forty years they had kept her identity a secret from the one person who had a right to know.

  She had no idea how long she sat there, trembling and alone in the world. The finality was intolerable. In the end her mother had been too cowardly to speak to Geraldine. But she hadn’t taken her secret to her grave. More cruel than that, she must have known Geraldine would discover the truth.

  ‘Why did you hide it from me all that time?’ Geraldine asked out loud, knowing she would never hear the answer.

  Celia’s protestations had only made Geraldine feel worse. Celia had known. Celia the biol
ogical child. The true daughter. Geraldine was shivering with cold and shock. There was no one to comfort her. A rage of tears overwhelmed her. She sat in the car, sobbing wildly. But the heat of her tears would pass. Beneath the frenzy, a cold anger was growing.

  She had no idea how she got home. The phone was shrilling as she opened her front door. She didn’t answer. It rang again and went to voice mail. ‘Geraldine, it’s me, Celia. Please call me when you get this. We need to talk.’ Geraldine ignored it. Almost immediately the phone rang again. This time there was no message. The phone rang for the fourth time. Another message. ‘Geraldine, we need to talk about this. I’m as devastated as you are. I thought you knew. But nothing’s changed. It doesn’t make any difference. You’re still my sister.’ Geraldine reached down and unplugged the cord. Celia was wrong. Everything had changed. She had no sister.

  As far as she knew.

  34

  Saturday Night

  Geraldine opened her eyes. She lay in semidarkness, sprawled on the carpet She must have slipped off the sofa in a drunken torpor. An empty wine bottle stood on the table. No glass. She had a vague recollection of swigging from the bottle. She sat up cautiously, scrambled to her feet and staggered to the bathroom. Too late. She gazed in dismay at a thin splodge of vomit oozing across the floor. For a moment she seemed paralysed, then she set to work, cleaning up the mess. The stench of bleach made her gag. This time she was in place, arms around the toilet bowl, head lowered, before she threw up again. After that, she felt a little better, although her head ached horribly.

  She showered and forced herself to eat some dry toast. Relieved when she kept it down, she drank two cups of tea and had another slice of toast. She felt much better. It was nearly six o’clock. The phone rang soon after she reconnected it. She didn’t check the screen and was surprised to hear Craig’s voice.

  ‘Hi, sorry I couldn’t get back to you yesterday. Are you free this evening?’ he asked.

  Geraldine snatched at the distraction. ‘I’ve been wondering why you didn’t call,’ she lied. ‘What happened? Is everything all right?’ And by the way, who was the woman I saw you with when I just happened to be driving past your flat late last night, she thought.

  And you’ll be pleased to know my mother hasn’t just died after all.

  False alarm.

  I never had a mother.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Craig told her. ‘My sister turned up.’

  ‘Your sister?’ She wanted to believe him.

  ‘Yes. She lives in Brussels. She sometimes calls in on her way back from London, and she doesn’t always give me much notice.’

  ‘Brussels?’ she repeated stupidly.

  ‘Yes, Brussels. Look, are you free this evening? I can tell you all about my sister, if you’re that interested. Give you her life story.’

  Geraldine laughed. ‘I’m more interested in her brother.’

  ‘Great. I’ll pick you up at eight?’

  Craig had booked a table at a local restaurant. ‘You OK with Chinese?’

  ‘Fine.’ Another lie. Eating was the last thing she felt like doing.

  Sitting opposite the inevitable tank, Geraldine studied trailing fish tails while Craig studied the wine menu. They hadn’t seen each other for over a week but slipped back into the easy familiarity they had achieved on holiday. Geraldine apologised again for letting him down on Thursday and was relieved when he shrugged it off.

  ‘I can drop you home if you like,’ Craig said at the end of the evening.

  ‘What if I don’t like?’ Geraldine asked, smiling. She had the rest of the weekend off.

  ‘Have you got any plans for tomorrow?’ Craig asked as they drove back to his flat. Geraldine couldn’t think of a better way to keep her mind off her mother. Her so-called mother.

  They woke late on Sunday morning and had a leisurely breakfast. Craig lived in a typical bachelor flat, neat and clinical, with white walls and ceiling, grey carpets, and chrome and black leather furnishings. Only the curtains offered an incongruous splash of colour. The first time she saw them, Geraldine wondered if a woman had chosen the long peach coloured velvet drapes. She noticed several cobwebs on the ceiling, and dust along the skirting boards, but the narrow kitchenette looked new and unused. She suspected Craig ate out a lot. Smiling, he produced a cafetiere of fresh coffee and two warm croissants. Geraldine watched him across the table, appreciating his lean good looks, and the boldness and intensity of his gaze that had first attracted her.

  Far from being put off by her bungled invitation, Craig seemed as keen on her as before. It was a long time since her painful break up with her ex, Mark, time to move on with someone else, and Geraldine was beginning to admit the possibility that she and Craig might have a future together. She certainly hoped so, and wondered if he felt the same. At least he was keeping her mind off the stranger who, for so long, had played the part of her mother. Geraldine wasn’t ready to think about that yet. She smiled at Craig, contentedly buttering his croissant, and wondered if she had found somewhere she could belong.

  It was a sunny day, if cold, and they decided to go for a walk, ending with lunch in a pub Craig knew.

  ‘I’ll have to go home first,’ Geraldine pointed out. She was hardly dressed for a country walk, in velvet trousers and heels. Craig dropped her home and waited in the living room while she changed into jeans and trainers. They had a brisk walk, up and down hill, marvelling at the views across the landscape. It was a beautiful time of year. After a long wet summer the trees had not yet lost their autumn colours beneath a clear sky. After their walk, they went to a traditional country pub Craig knew where the fire was real, and the food excellent. He chose a bottle of mellow red wine and Geraldine felt more relaxed than she had done for a long time.

  ‘You’re very good for me, you know,’ she told Craig, aware that she was feeling slightly tipsy.

  After lunch, they took a stroll down the lane to the woods. Twigs cracked underfoot as they walked, a few birds sang as the daylight began to fade, and they caught sight of an old fox trotting casually through the tree trunks.

  ‘Magic,’ Geraldine whispered.

  ‘It’s only an old fox,’ Craig laughed. He put his arm round her shoulders and kissed her.

  ‘Can I take you out for tea?’ Craig asked when they returned to the car. ‘I know a nice little tea shop only a few miles further on.’ He seemed to know a lot of places to eat.

  ‘Depends,’ she replied. ‘What do you fancy doing this evening?’ She was still feeling quite full up from lunch. If they were going to eat out again in the evening, she thought she might pass on tea. ‘We could go out for tea and have an evening in, or maybe see a film?’

  Craig frowned. ‘Sorry, didn’t I mention? I have to go out.’

  ‘Out?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry. I thought I told you. I agreed to see my sister again before she goes back. She’s leaving soon. Maybe tomorrow.’ He sounded vague.

  ‘Oh.’ Geraldine attempted a nonchalant shrug. ‘Perhaps you should just drop me home?’

  In the end they went out for tea. Craig was right, the tea shop was lovely. Geraldine admired the tiny porcelain tea sets on display, and praised the home made cakes, but the joy had gone out of the afternoon for her.

  ‘Call me,’ she said, when Craig dropped her home. But she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew so little about him.

  She phoned Hannah when she arrived home and left a message. ‘Han, I need to talk. Call me when you get this.’ She had a shower, pulled on her pyjamas, and settled down to watch the news. She expected to hear back from Hannah but the news ended and the phone still hadn’t rung. Even her friend was too busy to return her call.

  Only Celia had left a message. ‘Geraldine, please, call me.’

  ‘I’ll call you when I’m ready,’ Geraldine thought. She didn’t touch the phone. Before she contacted Celia she wanted to study the contents of the battered box. It lay on the top shelf of her wardrobe, concealed behin
d a stack of folded towels. But she wasn’t ready to face her unknown past. Not while her future remained so uncertain.

  35

  Attack

  Of course Brenda couldn’t keep her stupid trap shut.

  ‘What do you mean by bringing the filth here?’ Callum roared.

  ‘It was nothing,’ Ray stammered. ‘Just some silly girl recognised me. They’ve got nothing.’ He jerked away, too slow to avoid a slap on the ear.

  Ray didn’t mean to admit what had happened but Cal had a way of making people talk. ‘Show me where this bitch lives,’ he growled.

  Brenda opened her eyes. ‘What do you want another girl for, Cal? You don’t need another girl.’

  ‘Shut it.’ Cal slapped her. He was wound up with rage. Dangerous.

  ‘Think about it,’ Ray spoke up. ‘If anything happens to her, they’re going to suspect me.’

  ‘You’ll just have to make sure they think it’s an accident then.’

  ‘Me? I’m not touching her.’

  A slow smile spread across Cal’s face. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said.

  It was Cal’s idea to go for a drink. Relief flooded through Ray but, although Cal had recovered his temper, Ray was wary of his good humour. You never knew when Cal might explode in a rage.

  ‘No point in falling out over nothing,’ Cal said cheerfully. Ray wisely kept his mouth shut. ‘Come on, then. You coming or what?’

  ‘Yes, Cal.’

  Brenda stirred and opened puffy eyes, red rimmed in her bloodless face. ‘Where are you going, Cal?’ Her hands fluttered nervously in her lap.