‘And you’ve actually named the new IT centre here in St. Bees after one of your fellow protestors from that time, haven’t you?’
‘I have, aye. The bravest man I ever knew, was Cam Donald. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, and I know that he’d be completely behind what we’re doing now. Creating good, sustainable jobs for folk in west Cumbria without pillaging the natural environment. It’s what he lived for, and it’s what he died for, and all. For centuries rich folk just took from us round here; from our land, even the minerals from under our feet, but that’s all changing now. You see, Trish, when folk can finally work wherever they want, which lots of us can these days, then who wouldn’t want to do it here? Because we’ve got the lot; the beaches, the cliffs, the village, plus the fells on our doorstop. It’s paradise on earth, is this place, when you stop and think about it.’
‘Your garden is certainly beautiful, and the house too. You must be very proud.’
‘I’ve been lucky, Trish, that’s all. I’m just a lad from the village who’s had a few lucky breaks, and that’s the truth. But I believed in this place and these people, when lots didn’t, and I’ve been proved right, haven’t I? Not that it’s all about me, of course.’
Battersby smiled again, and held it until the cameraman said cut. And when they’d finished packing up all the gear he helped them carry it back to the minivan. It really was the least he could do.
Wednesday, 10th September
Brewery Arts Centre, Kendal, 8.20pm
Andy Hall didn’t make friends easily, or often, but when he did they tended to stick. He had no idea if Pete Spedding would ever become a friend, but he did know that if the bloke only banged on about babies, and how bloody brilliant they are, for an hour and a half then they would never, ever be meeting for a drink again. But he needn’t have worried, because the first topic of conversation was beer, and the second was music. Not a bad agenda, in Hall’s book. It turned out that the few years between them in age made no real difference at all, and Hall found himself noting the names of a couple of the bands and singers that Spedding mentioned.
Hall had only intended to stay until half-past nine, but at half ten they had almost finished their fourth pint each. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that much to drink, and he was certainly feeling the effects. He knew that he had become chattier than usual, and much less guarded too. Less like an old copper all round, in fact, and he wasn’t absolutely sure that he liked it. Pete had asked him about his career and his family, and Hall had tried - and failed - not to boast a bit about his two older girls. After a couple of minutes he had to force himself to stop talking about them, and change the subject. It would be safer if he was listening, rather than talking.
‘So what were you up to before you got involved in the protest camp over at St. Bees? You must have been around thirty by then, I suppose?’
‘Yeah, about that. I’d been a bit of a drifter before, I suppose. Doing casual factory work, you know, stuff like that.’
‘Up here?’
‘No, down in Kent. That’s where I’m from.’
‘So what brought you up here? Didn’t they have protests going on down your way? Someone must have wanted to grub up the Garden of England, surely? Turn it into a supermarket car park, or something like that.’
Spedding shrugged and looked away, and suddenly Hall was sober. Well, perhaps not stone-cold, but sober enough to spot something in Spedding’s reaction. He couldn’t place it, not exactly, but there was just something about it that took him straight back to the interview room at Kendal nick, and to all those lying signs, those physical tics and tells, that he’d got so used to, down the years.
But Spedding changed the subject, the moment passed, and soon Hall had to resist the urge to yawn, and to glance down at his watch. Grace would have them up again at five, he had no doubt about that, while Jane would probably be in bed already. And then, quite suddenly, Spedding leaned across the small, slightly rickety table, and Hall almost withdrew in surprise. The bar was almost empty now, so no-one could have overheard them, anyway.
‘We’ve got something else in common, Andy’, said Spedding, glancing left and right at the the empty tables, ‘besides being old enough to know better than to have more kids, like. We both used to be coppers.’
Hall was first surprised, then doubtful, but even half-cut he didn’t look either.
‘Really? So you went from one side of the barricades to the other, eh? That’s an unusual trajectory, I’ve got to say.’
Spedding shook his head and leaned in even closer.
‘Not really. I was undercover. Infiltrating the group, see. That’s what I was doing.’
Hall sat back, his mind spinning up to speed like a hard drive. It was always possible that what Spedding was saying was true, but unlikely, he decided. Hall had been a lowly DS back then, based in Kendal, so it was perfectly possible that the Constabulary was running an undercover op right over on the other side of the county without him hearing so much as a whisper about it. Possible, but not very likely.
‘Blimey. Well, that’s unexpected, I have to say. But I’m just a bit surprised that anyone thought your group was worth infiltrating, to tell the truth. You were completely non-violent, weren’t you?’
‘That was the theory, yeah. But it’s not quite how it worked out, is it?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘My mate, Cam, the lad who died. It wasn’t old age that killed him, was it?’
‘It was an accident. Really, Pete, it was a tragic accident, and that’s all.’
‘Says who?’
‘Said the Coroner, at the time. I looked the case up online the other day, just out of interest. Your mate was hit by a bit of machinery, some sort of digger, wasn’t he? And the driver was totally exonerated. He faced no charges at all, absolutely nothing.’
‘He was let off, that’s true. But do you know what happened to that driver?’
‘No. I just read through what I could find online about your mate Cam’s death, while I making up some bottles for Grace.’
‘The driver topped himself, didn’t he? A few months later, soon after the protest packed up. Took a header straight off the cliffs, he did.’
Hall was so sober that he could already feel his hangover starting, with the first hint of a headache, just behind the eyes. He needed to drink a pint of water before they left, but he doubted that he would remember.
‘That doesn’t necessarily mean anything at all, Pete, we both know that. The man could have been depressed, and he might very well have blamed himself for the accident, even though it wasn’t his fault. It does happen, sadly.’
‘No. No way. It was murder, Andy, pure and simple. I’m telling you, mate, Cam Donald was murdered.’
Hall wanted to get up, and was starting to do so when Spedding clamped a hand down on Hall’s forearm, hard. For a brief moment an image of the Ancient Mariner popped into Hall’s head, followed by an albatross. He really had drunk far too much, especially on a school night.
‘Listen, mate’, he said, ‘we’ve both had a few, haven’t we? Murders aren’t very common, and accidents are. It’s just the way of the world, I’m afraid. So unless you’ve got some evidence…’
‘Cam was undercover too. His real name was Mike Spence. That’s why they killed him, the bastards. They must have sussed him out somehow.’
‘Who must?’
‘One of Vinny’s lads. One of his enforcers, probably. Oh, aye, they liked a bit of aggro, did that lot. It wasn’t all peace, love, and knit your own yoghurt, no matter what they say now.’
‘This is Vinny Battersby, is it? I saw him on TV the other day. Hasn’t he named some new business centre after your mate? That’s hardly what you’d do, if you’d killed him, is it? Not draw attention to it like that, I mean.’
Spedding took his hand off Hall’s arm, and shook his head.
‘No, it’s exactly what he’d do. Hide in plain sight, and a
ll that. He’s a right clever bastard is Vinny, and he’s a dangerous one too. And he’s been having me watched, Andy. Honest he has. There’s been this car outside our house, on and off, for the past fortnight.’
Hall considered the possibility that Spedding was making it all up, or maybe only imagining that he was under observation. It really didn’t seem remotely likely. But Hall was just curious enough to want to know more. So he started where he liked to finish, with demonstrable facts. They’d root his thinking now, even in his cups, just as they always had.
‘And what’s your real name then, Pete?’
‘John Niven.’
‘And you were a PC in Kent, were you?’
‘Yeah. I joined in ’84, and I got sent up here in ’89 when I was made a DC. Attached to your lot, I was. Resigned after Mike died, and the bosses wouldn’t take a blind bit of notice of what I was telling them about his death, the bastards.’
‘And your wife, Alice, she knows about all this, I take it?’
‘No, Christ no. No one knows anything. You’re literally the only person.’
‘What about Cam, or Mike? Did she know about him being undercover?’
‘No. Absolutely not. They got together when he first came up here, a few months before me. She had no idea about any of it.’
‘All right. How about your parents? Do they know about you? About who you used to be, I mean.’
‘They did, yeah, of course. But they’re both dead.’
‘I’m sorry. So who did you report to, up here, when you were undercover?’
‘DI Grainger. Do you know him?’
‘I knew of him. I think he died a couple of years back. I signed the card, anyway.’
‘Well, it’s all true, what I’ve told you. I swear it. I know we’ve both had a few, but I’m not bullshitting you, Andy, on my daughter’s life.’
Hall needed that pint of water, but he wanted the answer to one more question first.
‘But why now, Pete? And let’s stick to Pete, shall we? Why would you suddenly be of any interest to anyone, after all this time?’
‘Maybe Vinny has found out that I was undercover too. I don’t know how he’s done it, but it’s the only possible explanation. And, like I said, he’s a right cunning bastard.’
Hall thought about that for a moment. He could already think of any number of other explanations that might fit the facts, such as they were, and he was three-parts pissed. But, he had to admit, Spedding was plausible. Believable enough to keep talking to, anyway. So he framed another question, and began.
‘All right, let’s assume that he has found out, just for the sake of argument. But why would that matter? What harm could you do to him now that you couldn’t have done fifteen years ago? Do you have any evidence that you didn’t pass on to your police handler, back when it happened?’
‘No, of course not. I gave them everything I had. I bloody pleaded with them to do something, Andy.’
‘So why now? That’s what I can’t see, mate.’
‘But you do believe me, don’t you?’
‘I do, I think. Yes, actually I do believe you. I never spotted you as a former copper, though, I will say that.’
Spedding smiled, and drained his glass.
‘Why would you? I’ve been Pete Spedding for so long that it’s who I am now, you know what I mean? John Niven seems like a different person to me, like he was someone else entirely. It’s weird, but I sometimes wake up, and for a moment I really do think that it was all just in my dream. All my memories before I was thirty, everything. School, my parents, the job, the lot. And I tell you what, Andy, I’d much prefer that it was all made up, but it’s not. It’s just my life, in two different parts.’
Hall nodded. ‘You have had an unusual journey, Pete. But maybe it’s partly about growing up, and growing older too. In a funny way having another kid at our age is a bit like being able to replay a part of your life, and maybe even do it better this time. To tell the truth I can hardly remember my older two being the age that Grace is now, though I wish I could. I feel like I’ve let them both down, in a funny way.’
‘Maybe you’re right, then. I don’t have know. Maybe everyone feels a bit like this, when they look back at who they were when they were only half the age that they are now. Perhaps everyone thinks that they were someone else back then.’ He paused. ‘So will you help me get to the bottom of this, Andy? Find out if it’s Vinny Battersby who’s having me watched? I bet you it is, though. Has to be.’
‘Help how, exactly? I’m not sure what I can do…’
‘But you’ll think of something, won’t you? I doubt that you got to be a DCS without having a bit about you, Andy. So you’ll give it some thought, at least, yeah?’
Thursday 11th September
Western estate, 2.30pm
Andy Hall pushed the buggy slowly, and felt the late summer warmth radiating from the walls and the pavement. It was cloudy now, and close. He’d almost finished the bottle of water that he kept in the changing bag, and he’d barely walked a mile. But at least Grace was asleep, her arms and legs outstretched like a cotton-clad starfish. He hoped that Ian Mann was actually at his dad’s place, because he hadn’t phoned ahead, but Jane had said that he’d been planning to spend his suspension helping out his dad and his neighbours. And Mann wasn’t the kind of bloke who ever let anyone down.
Sure enough, as Hall approached Mann’s father’s house evidence of Ian’s handywork was all too apparent. Shrubs had been pruned into submission, and the grass shaved to within a millimetre of its life. Edges were trouser-crease crisp, and gravel was raked. It was nature on parade, and Ian Mann had to be its Sergeant Major.
Hall heard Mann before he saw him, in the front garden of the house next to his dad’s. There was some inventive swearing, before Mann stood up, sucking the blood from his thumb.
‘You winning, Ian?’, asked Hall, stopping by the gate.
‘No, I bloody am not. I hate roses.’
‘That seems to be mutual.’ Hall glanced round the plot. He didn’t have the heart to tell Mann that he much preferred the parts of the garden that he hadn’t got round to yet.
‘This visit isn’t a co-incidence, I assume, Andy?’
‘That’s right.’ Grace made a noise, as if startled from a dream.
‘Little one with you too? Come on round to my old fella’s then, let’s get you both a drink.’
Mann’s father fussed around Grace, and she looked back at him solemnly from the push chair. Maybe old people were a new species, too.
‘It’s so long since my lads were young I can’t even imagine them ever being like this. But they must have been, I suppose.’
‘I’m sure Ian was a lovely baby’, said Hall, smiling.
‘I don’t remember, to tell the truth. But I doubt it, because he’s a right ugly bugger now, isn’t he? I do remember him scrapping with his brothers all the bloody time, but he was a good bit older than this one by then, of course.’
Mann steered Hall out into the garden, and Hall parked the pushchair in the shade of the house.
‘Sorry to hear about what happened’, said Hall, when they’d sat on the bench beneath, or rather alongside, what little Mann had left of his dad’s old apple tree.
‘Aye, well, something like that was coming, I reckon. You know me, Andy, and the way I used to be. If a con was asking for it, they got it. But the ironic thing is that this time I was being as patient as a bloody saint, honest I was. But when the little bastard came at me, what choice did I have?’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
Hall’s deadpan delivery and impassive expression made it impossible to tell when he was being supportive, or sarcastic. Mann didn’t even bother to try to work out which one it was this time, because that way madness - or at least confusion - lay.
‘I know you’ve never hit anyone in your life, Andy, but then you always had me, or someone like me, round and about when things got a bit lively, like.’
&n
bsp; ‘I know I did, and I’m grateful. You know that, Ian. I wouldn’t be sitting here now, and there’d be no Grace, if it wasn’t for you.’
‘I didn’t mean that, mate. It’s ancient history now, is all that. A bit like my career, I expect.’
‘The sack? It won’t come to that, surely?’
Mann shrugged. ‘I don’t know, and I’m not sure I care that much either. If they kick me out it’ll just be proof that the job’s not worth the candle any more. I’d be better off out of it, I reckon.’
‘What would you do instead? And don’t say gardener, mate, or I may have to make a citizen’s arrest.’
‘I’m not that bad.’ Mann looked around at his creation, playing affronted. ‘And I do quite fancy the gardening job, as a matter of fact. Anyway, I’d think of something, I expect.’ He paused, and looked back at Hall. ‘Or maybe you already have. So what can I do for you, Andy?’
Hall smiled, and glanced round the garden again.
‘I want to do the world of horticulture a favour, that’s all.’
‘You cheeky bastard. I get no complaints from the old folks round here, I can tell you.’
‘They’re too scared to complain, I expect. And I just wanted to run something by you. No commitment, nothing like that. Just an idea.’
‘Go on then. I’m listening.’
So Hall told Spedding’s story, and Mann listened. Maybe Grace did too, because she was unusually quiet throughout.
‘Two undercover cops infiltrating some load of harmless hippies? Really? Is that even possible?’ Mann asked, when Hall had finished.
‘It’s possible, certainly. Forces were sending officers deep undercover during the eighties and nineties in pretty significant numbers, it was actually quite a popular tactic for a few years, until they worked out that half the blokes were going native on them. And there’s no reason that we would ever have known anything about it, even if it was happening on our own patch. The undercover officers were brought in from other forces, and they usually reported in at a very senior level. Plenty of ACCs and Chiefs fancied themselves as spymasters, I understand, until it all ended in tears.’
A Half Remembered Life (The Lakeland Murders Book 9) Page 3
