Head Wound

by Judith Cutler

  ‘Actually, this was Ken’s idea,’ she said, pressing more casserole on me. ‘When I said I thought you could do with some company and said I’d come to yours for the night he suggested a change of scene might help you. In fact, he suggested you might want to stay for a couple of days. Which you can, of course, and welcome, but I know you and work, don’t I? Hence the taxi. Another baked potato? I know how you love them. No? Well, don’t think I’m offering you coffee tonight, dear, or even suggesting a walk. It’s drinking chocolate for you with just a dash of Amarula and then bed with those teddies of yours. And I’ll call you at 7 a.m. prompt tomorrow so you can have a bite of breakfast before the cab arrives.’

  ‘Tell Ken I think he’s a genius,’ I said. ‘And you’re my guardian angel.’

  Next morning my taxi delivered me to my front door just as Dolly’s mummy, Enid, was walking past. Perhaps not entirely to my surprise, she came and hugged me, lifting up Dolly to hug me too – or at least lick my face, something I’d never been keen on, even when Geoffrey did it.

  I was happy to let her chatter away, all too aware that she didn’t want to upset me by raising the topic she’d most like to hear. Much of it simply washed over me, because I was busy trying to remember my day’s commitments. But I did hear one of her suggestions ‘… for our evening walk with us. Dolly loves your company, you know. And they say there’s a warm front coming in and this evening will be like spring.’

  I must move.

  I agreed to see her at seven-fifteen.

  On impulse I popped into Wrayford School, not because I needed to with Tom so efficiently in control, but because a natter about the previous night’s meeting might be therapeutic. It was – if not quite as heart-warming as an Open the Book group performance. I could never entirely follow the order of the stories, which seemed to move at random from the Old to the New Testament and back again, but there was never any doubt about the sincerity of the actors. Today Jesus was healing lepers – or, as the actors said, people with leprosy. As the children trooped out in silent ranks, Tamsin Powell, the OTB leader, strolled over to me. Despite her years she looked like a latter-day Lizzie Siddal, even though her red hair was now greying. Today it was tamed into a plait.

  ‘We’ve still not enough recruits to run sessions with you at Wray Episcopi, though we are working on it. I tried to book an appointment with the new vicar – did you know we had to do that? – to discuss it, but apparently he’s too busy to see us till early in March. Not a priority, apparently!’

  ‘He and his wife have their work cut out until the vicarage is cleaned and decorated, I should imagine.’

  ‘Were you any less work-orientated when your housing arrangements were in chaos?’

  ‘No. But I was being paid, and he isn’t. Tell you what, why don’t you have a word with Pam Lunn, one of our dinner ladies – she’s got her fingers on the village pulse. Or with Donna’s nan.’

  ‘Not that terrifying old bat? But you’re right – a personal approach might work best. Have a good, quiet day, my dear – you’re always in here.’ She touched her heart.

  Back in Wray Episcopi School, Cecily and Kayleigh might have been expected to be kind and supportive to their best friend, whose hands they insisted on holding wherever they went. Perhaps they thought they were when, having escorted her to the loos, they hung around in the corridor outside and devoted themselves to being so cheeky to Jess I almost gasped. Jess, however, had their measure, and promptly put them on playground litter duty for a week, with tidying stock cupboards as a wet-day alternative. She also put them on report, which meant their parents would be hauled in if they so much as squeaked for the rest of the term. Technically that was my job, but she was my deputy and I was happy to let her take over any role she fancied today. I knew I was no use to man or beast, ghost-walking about the place, and was tempted to retreat to my office and put my head down for ten minutes’ sleep. On the way to do just that, however, I heard footsteps in an illegal run behind me.

  I was just about to snarl when I realised it was Zunaid. Heavens, I still hadn’t chased Elaine about getting a proper interviewer for him. But I couldn’t think about that now, as he tucked his hand into mine. ‘Ms Jane, when I was sad back home my dad would take me to the mosque to talk to Allah. There isn’t a mosque here, and I know you call Allah God, but do you think we could talk to Him?’

  ‘Do you think He’d hear in my office?’

  ‘I think He hears us everywhere, but it’s more polite, my dad said, to talk to him in a quiet place.’ He led me purposefully, closing the office door behind us. If he prayed with his hands open and me with mine closed, I was sure neither Allah nor God would object.

  At last I did what I’d never done before. I knelt down and hugged a child, kissing him on the forehead. ‘Your dad was right, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He was always right. Except when my mother told him he was wrong.’

  For whatever reason, I felt better after that. I even felt well enough, when I encountered Lulabelle on her own in the corridor, to gesture her to one side, asking her quietly to drop into my office, with her dad if necessary, at the end of the day. Or she could come alone any time.

  She came alone, during the lunch break, full of apologies and asking if she should be gathering litter too.

  ‘Would you feel happier with your friends? Because though you did nothing wrong you can join them if you want. So long as you pick up rubbish too.’

  She shook her head silently.

  ‘Would you like just to sit down and be quiet for a moment?’ I thought about offering her Zunaid’s prayer option, but this wasn’t a faith school and I’d known colleagues threatened with disciplinary action for such a move.

  ‘Ms Cowan – could you – just hold my hand a moment?’

  I knelt beside her. ‘I could offer you a hug if you’d like it? Not as good as Snowflake’s shoulder, but it’s there if you’d like it.’

  Another shake of the head. ‘I just want to be still, but if I’m quiet I just see—’

  ‘I know what you see. Have you started your therapy yet?’

  ‘She wants me to talk. I just want to be with Snowdrop and be quiet.’

  ‘I’d like to be with Geoffrey, the dog I only borrowed for a week. There’s something about animals.’

  With a faded wisp of a smile she nodded, but turned away.

  I might not be allowed to pray with her, but with Zunaid’s example I could pray for her.

  Enid had been right about the weather: if I’d been a countrywoman I’d have sworn I smelt spring when we started our walk. I wasn’t lying when I assured her that spending the day with the kids had helped me a lot. Taking her cue from me, perhaps, she told me all about her grandchildren – she had five or six, all with trendy names, even more old-fashioned than their grandma’s. Of course there was a Henry, but a Doris crept in, alongside an Elsie. Perversely I was waiting for the day when Gladys might make it into fashionable circles. Meanwhile, attempting to keep up with who was hoping to be a fighter pilot (Ianthe) and who a ballet dancer (Reggie) and making sure I said something appropriate about each one took my mind off … off stuff. It was like leaving a radio on low late at night – the burbling was almost hypnotic.

  Until she changed the subject. Holding up her hand like an old-fashioned traffic policeman, she said, ‘Listen to that. Just listen.’

  I did as I was told. All I could hear was Enid’s deep sigh – which sounded as if it was one of satisfaction.

  ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she prompted me. ‘The silence. Not like last night. Goodness me, the foxes scared me out of my wits! Their screams. They’re so human, aren’t they? And they just went on and on. The vixen must have been on heat or something. I tell you, if I’d seen her I’d have gone after her with the garden hose. Actually, they make such a racket when they’re really … you know, mating … that I might have cooled two lots of passion. But you never do see them, do you? Except once when I lived in Birmingham (oh, didn’t I tell you? I k
now you’re from round there), not all that far from the city centre; I was sunbathing in the garden – we used to do that before they discovered it made your skin age – and I fell asleep and dreamt someone was on the phone heavy breathing.’ She demonstrated. ‘And I didn’t like that sort of dream at all, so I woke up and there was this fox just about six inches from my ear! Imagine! I don’t like to think of what he might have done if I hadn’t woken – they say some actually go into houses and attack babies, don’t they? But they won’t have my Dolly, will they, my precious? Mummy wouldn’t let them.’

  Dolly’s entire rear end wagged agreement as she was gathered up in Enid’s arms.

  ‘I’ve only heard them once since I was here,’ I said. ‘When Joy was staying. Thank goodness she was – I was about to dial 999 and yell “murder”!’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Actually, the foxes seemed to have alarmed a lot of people last night. We heard shouting and doors slamming, didn’t we, precious? Up the road from here. But I couldn’t see anything, though I had my hosepipe handy. Now, Jane, if you’re nervous – and who’d blame you – my spare bed is always aired. What have I said?’ She stared at me in horror as I sobbed.

  ‘It’s since Sunday … If people are kind I do this! Sorry, Dolly, I don’t mean to alarm you. There. That’s better.’ I blew my nose emphatically.

  She patted my arm. ‘I was like that when my husband died. But I had Molly, Dolly’s mother, for company. You need to borrow Geoffrey again.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I needed Geoffrey even more after a Wednesday so full of meetings I was ready to scream. As it happened, the last one was held at a school not far from William Harvey Hospital, so I did what I still felt I needed to do whenever I was near – I went to visit Will.

  As always, I spoke to him as if he could hear. Perhaps he could. I even paused so he could respond – but of course he never did. And often I told him things I wouldn’t have dreamt of admitting to anyone else. Clutching Eeyore, I talked about the weather, about a few political skirmishes I’d heard about on the car radio. And finally, as if I’d talked myself in, like a cricketer taking time to settle in at the crease, I confessed, ‘You’ve seen me when the job got on top of me. It’s like that now. Only it’s life. Seeing what I saw. Knowing what a child has seen. I’m supposed to be tough. Resilient. Do you remember, my nickname was Avo, because I was so tough on the outside? Well, I’ve got the soft buttery inside of a perfectly ripe avocado now. And I feel as if I’m being mashed up to make guacamole.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  No. Not Will. Elaine. If she was embarrassed to find me lying alongside Will on his bed, she hardly showed it. She extended a hand to pull me upright.

  ‘Will, I’ve come to take Jane to supper. Girlie night out. Robin’s away on some course and she looks as if she needs a good square meal, doesn’t she?’ Ever tactful, my friend Elaine. ‘But before we go, Will, I’ll just update you a bit about the goings-on down the nick. First up – you remember the rumour that that crazy woman Fi Simmons was having an affair with Burke, that ego on legs from forensics? Well, seems it’s more than a rumour: Burke by name, burk by nature. She’s carrying a baby, and she told someone – in absolute confidence, of course – that he’s the dad. Oh, and guess who fetched up just down the corridor from you: old Dave Blake. Smuggled all sorts of crap? Always carried a blade? Anyway, our friend Thompson – yes, Al Thompson – came off worse. We’d like him kept alive to face trial, of course. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want him to get a single cc of a donor’s blood that could go to someone more deserving.’ She talked a bit more shop before concluding with a suppressed sigh, ‘All right, Jane? Off we go.’

  As always I kissed his cheek as I left.

  There never had been a response and there wasn’t now.

  I was too tired to risk even a so-called small glass of wine, though Elaine reckoned the meat-laden Turkish meal would probably have absorbed enough to keep me legal. Eventually we shared one, much to the extremely handsome waiter’s amusement.

  ‘I ran into your friend Caffy the other day by the cheese counter in Sainsbury’s,’ Elaine told me, neatly intercepting the questions I had intended to ask and which she no doubt was unwilling or even unable to answer. ‘Isn’t she strange? Immensely practical and competent, according to the friends of ours whose cottage she more or less took apart and put back together, but in other ways – no, I don’t get her. Too fey for me. I like her fiancé, though – Tom Arkwright. A good old-fashioned cop. Honest. Decent. Gets results.’

  ‘Yes, he’s lovely, isn’t he? I like him very much.’

  ‘Have you met the other man in her life? Well, man and his wife, actually. Todd and Jan? Their surname’s Dawes.’

  ‘Wasn’t there a pop singer called that back in the day? Made a mint, just dropped off the radar.’

  ‘That’s the one. He and his wife set up a charitable trust – not as big as the Gates’, but big, with lots of donations from their mates. They don’t just raise money, though – they get their hands dirty. Todd Dawes … Dawes … I wonder if he’s related to your Brian? No – I doubt it. Chalk and cheese. They more or less adopted Caffy when she was really up against it – she’d managed to annoy some dead nasty people.’

  I knew that already from Caffy herself. She’d been forced into prostitution at one time, before she came down to Kent, and got involved with drugs. Goodness knows how she’d ended up so serene. ‘No, I’ve not met them yet. I fell in love with their house, though.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t?’

  ‘You’re not subtle, are you, Elaine? You want to tell me what Caffy and Tom think about my continued visits to Will, don’t you? Well, I know she wants me to let go. And I’d love to. I wish I’d never saved his life. But there’s some proverb, Chinese probably, that says if you save someone’s life they’re your responsibility for ever. That’s rather how I feel. Except, of course, I didn’t save his life. I just saved his existence. I wish someone – but not me – would switch off the life support. There. Now I’ve said it.’ I sank all my half of the wine in one go.

  ‘Actually, someone wants to. There’s an ex-girlfriend or two in the mix now. And a distant relative. In fact, the hospital are applying through the courts to let the poor bastard go, but one of the women intends to keep him alive whatever the prognosis and whatever the other women say. I’ve told the hospital’s team that you should be consulted too, and the transplant team. No, actually, they can’t be – supposed to be completely neutral, aren’t they, so they can’t be seen to recommend anything anyone could construe as brokering body bits. Oh. More alliteration.’

  ‘I know what you’re doing, Elaine. You’re doing everything in your power not to give away any information at all about the … the dead woman. Not to mention the vicarage mess and the stuff going on in our close. You’re gabbling away like a Christmas turkey about Will—’

  ‘I think you’ll find it’s called briefing you. Stuff you really do need to know. Because in all honesty I cannot – dare not – say anything about the stuff in Wrayford and Wray Episcopi. If you don’t know anything you can’t say the wrong thing.’

  ‘I bet I can,’ I admitted ruefully.

  ‘I’d much rather you didn’t. Seriously. People’s lives are at risk, Jane, and I’d rather yours wasn’t one of them. God, look at that baklava. No. I mustn’t even think about it or I’ll gain a kilo. You go ahead, though.’

  ‘I’m too full already. But I shan’t have a coffee either – I want to sleep tonight.’

  I had never spoken a truer word. The trouble was, where some people slept more when they were tired, I simply lost my grasp on the whole process. I had all sorts of audio stuff on my iPod to settle me, plus my trusty bears, of course, but when I was desperate sleep became as elusive as a mirage. I’d finished the emergency sleeping tablets I’d been given, so tonight I would lay out lots of bait to capture it. So on the way home I stopped off at Sainsbury’s to pick up, among other things, some
drinking chocolate, Amarula and full-fat milk, plus a packet of camomile tea bags. What I couldn’t find was a wand to magic away my fear of returning to the empty house.

  Tough. I’d better just get on with it.

  It was a fine night, but I still picked my way back to Wrayford more slowly than usual: twitchy and not concentrating properly, I could be a total menace if I wasn’t extra careful.

  I was rewarded by the sight of things I usually whizzed past. An owl, swooping so low over a hedgerow and so close to the road, it made me afraid his days were numbered. My lights picked out a badger that hadn’t waited for culling but had taken the Dignitas option. There were a couple of purposeful foxes, going in opposite directions. Would they make the night hideous with those calls that sounded so like a mortally terrified human being? I was glad I’d not heard any since that night when Joy had had to reassure me. Clearly even a countrywoman like Enid had been distressed by what she heard when, this time, I was staying with Joy. With hindsight, I might have been tempted to dismiss Zunaid’s claim that he’d heard human screams – but then, when I thought again, I wasn’t. I tasted bile. No, if I stopped to vomit I’d be … Well, I wasn’t going to throw up so I wouldn’t need to stop. In fact, I pressed on rather more quickly.

  The light was on in Enid’s front room: it took a huge effort to forget her kind offer of a spare bed to go into my own place and do all the routine tasks that ought to reassure me but only left me more on edge. Should I have some music on to shut out unwanted sounds? Or would I really rather stay alert? No. I needed sleep more than I needed anything. Hot bath with lots of essential oils. The hot chocolate. One of the escapist books meant for holiday rental guests. Lavender and Nosey. There!