‘I’m of a similar mind,’ O’Brien agreed.
‘Bang the lot of them up,’ snapped Westbrook. He was as intolerant of anyone who used drugs as Buller was of women, and he wanted to try to save face with the man. ‘Put the lot of them behind bars and throw away the key. That’s what I think, anyway.
‘Then maybe you should put in for a transfer to my department,’ suggested the chief inspector, slightly mollified at this macho attitude.
Westbrook’s eyes widened in horror as he lowered his head. He’d never get away with anything again if he worked for this man; not that he got away with much with Hardy, but at least she was willing to hear his side of any story.
Hardy and Groves left on time that evening. They needed some time to get their heads around what Buller, already showing off his misogynistic and racist streaks, would do to the spirit and morale of the team. That both of them were in the firing line, there was no mistaking.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Olivia got home to her cosy cottage, slowly being encroached upon by new housing estates, she found it empty. There was no Hal and there were no familiar smells of cooking. She had not expected Ben and Hibbie to be home as they were both going out this evening, and not in the confines of Littleton-on-Sea, but Hal’s absence was a mystery. Her phone was devoid of voicemails or texts from him. This was unheard of, and she worried that something might have happened to him. Surely he hadn’t been involved in an accident?
As she dumped her bag and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle, she noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen table, anchored with the cruet set. It was most unusual for her husband to leave a note for her, but that was what he had evidently done. Snatching it up, she learnt that he had been called in to teach just after she had left that morning. One of the regular English teachers had been involved in an accident, and he would be absent during school hours for the rest of the term. Then, of course, he was teaching English at a language school throughout the summer.
This was not good news. After she had ceased to worry about Hal’s safety, Hardy had a rummage around in the freezer, eventually turning up an elderly microwave meal that she stuck resentfully into the machine. She had become very used to him being there when she came home, and having a meal already cooking for her. As the turntable revolved, she hoped he’d hate his new temporary post and would decide that he was better off where he was. She really wasn’t looking forward to the next couple of months when her life, as she had known it since Hal had retired, would be turned upside down.
He used to play frequently in a steel band augmented with saxophones and congo drums, but bookings had been dropping off, and he’d had fewer gigs and less practices to attend. This was the main reason for him seeking other distractions, but she had not expected this offer of supply work to be taken up so suddenly, and for such a sustained period. She had thought he’d just get the odd day here and there. Damn! She’d have to revive her almost dead cooking skills and get back in the kitchen. That’d teach her to take him for granted.
The ping of the microwave brought her out of this reverie, and she wondered anew why he still wasn’t home. A ting of her mobile advised her that a text had just arrived, and she opened it to find a message from Hal about a departmental meeting tonight that he would be expected to attend. It told her that he did not know when he’d be home. Great! She had expected to bounce all her frustrations off on him about the events of the day and the unexpected arrival of the obnoxious DCI Buller. Now, all she could do was watch the TV news, as she had absolutely no company whatsoever – just when she needed a shoulder most.
Flicking the ‘On’ button, she grabbed her tiny dish of lasagne and a fork and flopped down on to the sofa. She had just started to load the limp pasta into her mouth when she heard something that nearly made her choke. ‘Police, today, were called to an address in Littleton-on-Sea on the south coast, where a man was found murdered, and a woman was gravely injured.’ The screen showed what was probably mobile phone footage evidently shot from a first floor window on the opposite side of the road.
‘Paramedics and both uniformed and plain-clothes police officers attended the scene. Reports indicate that a substantial haul of drugs was seized at the property.’
‘Bloody hell!’ she spluttered, getting sauce all down her front. ‘Talk about keeping something quiet. There’s no sodding chance with everybody having a mobile that takes video footage. And no doubt they’ve been paid for their contribution to sharing information with every Tom, Dick and bleeding Harry.’
‘Three youths have been arrested in connection with the drugs find at the house, believed to be cocaine and heroin.’ Hardy swore roundly under her breath at this misinformation, although believing it vital that she knew what real details had got out, and what still remained confidential. She watched to the end, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. It seemed that DS Jenner had been recognised by someone, so that explained the conjecture about drugs, but the presence of the contraband still seemed to be under wraps. Although it was probably pointless, she’d have to have a word with Buller tomorrow about getting the tobacco and alcohol out discreetly. And who the hell had been arrested, or was this just a product of the rumour mill that was in good working order hereabouts.
They’d have a team meeting first thing in the morning to share information, and she’d speak to him then. But were the three youths real or imaginary? She had to find out. Was someone just pulling the legs of the reporters? Maybe she’d phone in a bit later to check on progress – then she remembered how she’d been dismissed by Buller, and decided that if he was SIO, then he should do his job; it wasn’t hers any longer.
As she switched off the set and went into the kitchen to chuck her cardboard container in the bin and her fork in the dishwasher, her mobile rang, and she rushed to answer it, sort of hoping it was Hal, saying that the meeting was already over. The lasagne had barely filled a corner, and she’d be quite happy to eat again if he were coming home to cook. It wasn’t, and he wasn’t.
When Lauren came through the front door, she heard the welcome chug of the dishwasher, and Mrs Moth, home help and childminder exemplaire, came out of the kitchen to greet her. The woman had been a godsend after what had happened with Kenneth, Lauren’s soon to be ex-husband, and had started working for her about six months ago. Today, Lauren had phoned ahead to alert her that she wouldn’t be late home, and the diligent woman had done her best to arrange for there to be nothing for her to do when she got in. The children had been collected from school, and Mrs Moth had supervised their homework at the kitchen table while cooking a meal for them. She had fed them and then sent them upstairs to get showered.
She came in about one thirty on weekdays, did a little cleaning, and then picked the children up from school. She stayed, doing whatever was needed, until Lauren got home, but maintained her own small flat, stating quite clearly that she wouldn’t want to give up her independence. Lauren was more than happy with this arrangement as the woman was quite willing to do extra hours at the weekend if needed. Both her own children were now in Australia, so she relished the contact with young children as a substitute for her grandchildren.
‘It’s good to see you so early tonight, Mrs Groves. The children will be down in a couple of minutes, and the only thing for you to do is to see them up to bed and empty the plate put in the microwave for you.’
‘You’re a doll, Mrs Moth: just what I needed. I thought I’d let you know that we’ve just had a big case break, and I’m likely to be late over the next few weeks until we’ve got everything sorted out.’
‘Don’t you worry your head, my dear; you know I’m here whenever you need me. I’ll be off then.’
As she left, Sholto and Jade came thundering down the stairs, both with wet hair and in their nightclothes. ‘Can we watch cartoons, please, Mummy?’ She shooed them off into the sitting room – it was just the sitting room, not ‘the drawing room’, as Kenneth had always pretentiously referred to it: a man w
ith a beer background and champagne aspirations, if ever she’d met one – and went off to heat up her food. She really appreciated Mrs Moth cooking for both the children and her. The woman also ate her own meal with the children, but it saved Lauren so much time that she didn’t in the least mind.
Once sitting at the table, however, she merely picked at her food, mulling over the attitude of the DCI who had been thrust upon them. After a while, she began to get a bit twitchy and realised she was thinking of the bottle of wine chilling in the fridge.
It was something that was happening with alarming regularity now that she was officially a single parent and not just a woman with a husband working abroad. She was changing. She had hardly ever touched alcohol when she was half of a respectable married couple. But there was something about there not actually being someone who would phone later and ask her how her day had been that left her feeling like a shell, and one that could only be filled by a nice chilled white. Kenneth would hardly recognise her if he came across her now. On some of her off-duty days she didn’t even put on make-up and just slopped around in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
She wasn’t really hungry now, her appetite having disappeared at her memories of Buller, but she couldn’t get the corkscrew out just yet. She didn’t like to drink in front of the children; it set such a bad example.
Instead, she made herself a cup of strong coffee, slipped her plate back into the microwave in case she should get peckish later, and went into the sitting room to join the children, whose eyes were glued to the screen at the antics of a rather unpleasant creature which wasn’t exactly human, but couldn’t be categorised as an animal either. Her thoughts, however, were still on the bottle waiting for her in the fridge, and it was a little earlier than usual that she escorted her offspring up to bed.
Assuring them that they could read for an hour, she kissed them goodnight and headed purposefully back down the stairs, the bottle calling her like a homing device. Having both been to boarding school, when their parents were still together, both children were trained not to get out of bed after they’d been bidden goodnight, and only ever did so if they were in need of the bathroom. Knowing that she had an uninterrupted evening ahead of her – and an unusually long one – she removed the corkscrew from the cutlery drawer and opened the fridge door.
When she’d had a glass or so she would put on the evening news, which she always recorded so that she could keep up with what was going on in the world in peace: not that she didn’t love the children, but she just wasn’t used to them being around all the time, and it took some getting used to.
The first two glasses went down almost like water, and she was beginning to feel rather relaxed when she heard the item on their latest case. Swiftly chugging a third glass, she grabbed her phone and punched in Olivia’s number.
‘What’s all this rubbish about cocaine and heroin; and who leaked information about a drugs find?’ she almost bellowed into the handset, and Olivia, at the other end, pulled her phone away from her ear a little. ‘And who the hell have they arrested?’
‘Lauren, what are you so worked up about?’ Olivia asked, momentarily forgetting her own little fit of swearing when she had heard the same report. ‘It was probably someone who recognised Sergeant Jenner going into the house. You know the sort of people who rent some of those flats.’
‘But they had some visual footage as well,’ Lauren protested, unappeased.
‘From someone’s mobile phone, no doubt. You know how Joe Public likes to get in first as far as news goes. Why are you so worked up about this?’
‘I’m just wondering what that bastard Buller will say about this tomorrow. He’ll blame us, no doubt about it. ’S obvious.’
Hearing this verbal inaccuracy, Olivia asked her, ‘Lauren, have you been drinking?’
‘Just a li’l one,’ she admitted.
‘It was more than that. And have you eaten?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then get some food down you and go to bed. You’ll feel more balanced in the morning.’
Realising that she’d been rumbled, Lauren ended the call before Olivia could get huffy with her. ‘Who’s she to say what I should or shouldn’t drink?’ she asked herself, pouring and downing another glass, then heading back to the kitchen to make sure she had another bottle in reserve.
Having assured herself that she wasn’t about to run out of wine, she crept upstairs, took off her make-up and had a short shower, then slipped into her nightie and dressing gown so that she only had to lock up when she’d had a few more slugs of Chateau Oublier. She chuckled at her own joke as she uncorked her second bottle, realising that drinking in the evening was starting to become more than a bit of a habit since the children had left boarding school. It was almost a necessity, now.
Hal arrived home at nine thirty, his eyes dancing. ‘Had a good day, have we?’ asked Olivia sarcastically, still miffed that he hadn’t called her and let her know he’d been called into work, but he didn’t even notice.
‘Do you fancy a bacon butty?’ he asked, ignoring her mood. ‘Do you know I’d forgotten how much I’d missed the chalkface. I had years seven and eight today, and the head of department spent some time going through this half-term’s work with me in her free periods.’
‘All right for some, I suppose,’ said Olivia in a sulky voice, but Hal didn’t seem to notice this either, and carried on eulogising about his teaching and the profession in general, while he got out the frying pan and a loaf of bread. It didn’t look like she was going to get a chance to get the events of her day off her chest. Hal had the limelight, and didn’t seem to be in the mood to relinquish it.
INTERLUDE
As darkness fell, there was a faint flicker of light in the old Nissen hut in the woods, the occasional shadow moving between it and the grimy window with the tattered curtains hanging.
Inside, there was a loud moan of pain followed by a sudden scream, quickly stifled as more whisky was poured into the wide-open mouth. Both her legs were restrained as she struggled, and a dirty rag was stuffed into her mouth.
Her screams were more muffled now, even though they rose in intensity and frequency until, with one almighty explosion of agony, it stopped. Other cries sounded out, but a pair of hands dived between her legs and, with one twist, there was silence.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lauren woke up still sprawled on the sofa in her nightie and dressing gown, both children shaking her nervously.
‘Mummy, Mummy, are you ill?’ asked Jade in a frightened voice.
‘Or did you just come down early to watch some TV?’ asked Sholto, who was somewhat obsessed with the medium, now he wasn’t restrained by a boarding school timetable, and compulsory games at the weekends.
Lauren realised that the set was still on, and that she had never made it to bed. Thank God she’d had the forethought to take off her make-up and shower before settling down with her wine.
‘Mummy, why have you got an empty bottle and a glass beside your chair? Have you been drinking pop?’ Jade was still quite innocent, but Sholto gave his mother a sly wink, being the older and more worldly-wise of the pair. With one look at his mother’s reaction to this, however, he picked up the give-away articles and headed for the kitchen, urging his sister to go upstairs and get dressed.
‘Otherwise we’ll miss breakfast and be late for school,’ he concluded, and the little girl willingly obeyed.
Lauren shook herself, becoming aware of how dishevelled she must look, and the fact that her head was banging and her mouth was as dry as a desert. She headed straight for the kitchen where she threw water over her face, dried it with some kitchen roll and ran herself a glass of water, quickly followed by another. This hung-over state was becoming more frequent as time went by in her post-Kenneth life.
She then put cereal packets, bowls and spoons on the table, quickly followed by the sugar bowl and – horror of horrors – a bottle of milk straight from the fridge. She then put bread in the toaste
r and fled upstairs to get dressed as quickly as possible, and take a couple of paracetamol to try to control the drummer in her head – make-up she could manage in the Ladies at work, but she had to get the children to school on time, and she mustn’t miss the morning meeting. Fortunately, the school operated flexible opening times, and children arrived to actually be fed their breakfast from eight o’clock onwards.
After changing her underwear, she put on clothes clean from the wardrobe and dragged a brush through her hair before returning to the kitchen to put the toast on plates and added butter and jam to the items on the kitchen table. She had to help Jade with her buttering, and then got jam on her clean blouse. ‘Bugger!’ she shouted, only to have both children chastise her for swearing. With a quick ‘sorry’, she raced back upstairs to get another clean blouse. This was surely a great start to the day, and she only hoped it wasn’t uphill all the way, from here on in.
The day didn’t get off to a sparkling start in Olivia’s home either. When she finally got downstairs, it was to an empty kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast lingering on the air, but no signs of Hal. Filling the kettle and putting a couple of slices of bread in the toaster to burn, she tried his mobile number, but it was switched off.
With a muffled curse, she put a couple of spoonfuls of instant coffee powder into a cup, and ejected the toast before it set off the smoke alarm; that was one small triumph in a day with an unaccustomedly lonely start. Wincing with distaste as she sipped the coffee, she surveyed the day ahead of her.
Although Hardy wasn’t late into the office, DS Jenner had beaten her to it, and had already got the incident board up and running. He greeted her with a smile and a courteous ‘good morning’, and she thought he was probably not of the same ilk as his senior officer. While she took a quick look at her overnight emails, the rest of the members of her team began to drift in, Lauren last of all, to be closely followed by the abominable showman. Buller called the meeting to order and immediately took up the reins.
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