by Penny Kline
‘He never used to have one, not before. D’you think he’s bought one? It might belong to Moira. Barry supports Bristol City, that’s why I’m wearing this shirt only it’s getting a bit small so I’m having a new one for my birthday, only I might have Man. United.’
‘I don’t know what Bristol City will think about that,’ I said, making an effort not to dampen his spirits, although I was too annoyed with Eric to sound very convincing.
‘Dad’s been funny,’ he said, ‘I mean, funnier than usual. I expect he’s gone for a walk.’
‘No, he can’t have, I told him I had to leave. Look, Charlie, if he’s not back in the next few minutes I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me to the college.’
I expected him to protest but he looked quite pleased. ‘Shall I bring my drawing book?’
‘Yes, good idea.’ Someone was coming round the corner, not Eric, not even Peter Hedley who might have offered to stay with Charlie, although on second thoughts that might not be such a good idea.
‘Bring anything you like,’ I said, ‘as long as it doesn’t make a noise. I’ll write a note for your Dad. Come on, quick as you can.’
‘I’ll be back in time for Barry?’
‘Yes of course.’ How could Eric have done it? He would come up with some excuse, his watch had stopped, the local shop had run out of wholemeal loaves, but it was obvious to me he had never had any intention of coming straight back.
*
Charlie sat by himself near the window, never turning to look at what was going on, just keeping his head down as he drew. I wondered what Janice would have made of his notebook of animal casualties. You got a real case there, should have him referred to Child Guidance. Didn’t anyone do anything to help him after his Mum was done in? I had explained to the group that Charlie’s teachers were having a training day and I was looking after him for a friend. Would he remember Janice from when he and his parents had lived in Brislington? After more than three years, it seemed unlikely.
During the seminar Janice had hardly spoken, but Lianne was unusually talkative. She still looked very pale, but living with Janice seemed to be doing her good, she was more cheerful, more confident, and her clothes had improved too — the ragged leggings and ribbed sweater had been replaced by grey jeans and a sweatshirt with a picture of a teddy bear on the front.
We were discussing Obsessive Compulsive Neurosis, a topic she claimed had particular interest for her since her mother had once had a thing about checking locks and switches, and never posting a letter until she had unstuck it, reread it, then stuck it up again. As she described the rituals her mother performed I kept glancing at Charlie, hoping he was concentrating on his drawing, although I knew he would be taking in most of what was being said. Would he connect his bedtime ritual with what Lianne was talking about?
When a male student interrupted, to ask if it was usually women who did such crazy things, Janice raised her eyes to the ceiling then gave him the most scathing look she could manage.
‘If it is,’ she said, ‘it’s because they’ve been abused by men. No, I didn’t mean sexual abuse, wouldn’t need to be that, just abuse in general, just being treated like shit.’
Lianne stood up and closed the window above the table where Charlie was sitting, and I saw her exchange a few words with him, probably something about the draught. He looked up and smiled. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
When it was time to stop I heard Janice telling Lianne she had to visit the library to collect a book she had reserved. She left ahead of everyone else, but Lianne hung back, carefully checking the contents of her bag, then nodding in Charlie’s direction.
‘All right if I give him a sweet?’
‘As long as it’s not a mint. He doesn’t like mints.’
Charlie glared at me, implying that he was quite capable of speaking for himself, then put the fruit jelly in his mouth, thanked Lianne politely and started replacing his crayons in their box.
‘Lovely looking, isn’t he,’ said Lianne, and I thought how often Charlie must have heard the same remark, how much he must dislike it. ‘Which school does he go to? D’you like your school, Charlie?’
‘It’s all right.’ He lifted his drawing book, searching for a missing crayon. ‘It’s called Box Lane Primary.’
‘I love kids, specially this age.’ She reached out towards him and for an awful moment I thought she was going to ruffle his hair.
‘How’s the work going?’ I said, hoping to divert her attention. ‘Have you managed to catch up with the reading yet?’
‘Most of it. Janice has read lots of psychology books before so she understands them better than I do. She asks me questions and gives me little tests, it’s ever so useful.’
‘Good.’ I wondered how much Janice had told her about Eric and Nikki. When I introduced Charlie to the group had she realised he was the boy whose mother had been murdered six months ago? Was that why she was so interested in him? But perhaps I was being unfair — she really did like children.
‘Come on then, Charlie,’ I said, ‘we’d better go home and find your Dad.’
He slid off his chair, joined me at the door, then turned to smile at Lianne. ‘Thanks for the sweet,’ he said. ‘Would you like this picture?’
‘Can I?’ He could have offered her the Crown Jewels. She took the drawing of an alligator and hugged it to her chest. ‘Thanks ever so much, Charlie, as soon as I get home I’m going to stick it on my bedroom wall.’
*
Isabel looked ill. She had phoned Heather, begging for an appointment, even if it meant just half an hour squeezed in at the end of the day, which was exactly what Heather had arranged, although I had a feeling the thirty minutes were likely to turn into a good deal longer.
After I had returned Charlie to Eric, who offered no acceptable reason for what he had done, then driven back to the office and seen an old client and a new one, I was not in the best of tempers.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Isabel, picking up my mood. ‘You must be sick of the sight of me, but last time I was here, I wanted to tell you, then, I don’t know, I suppose I lost my nerve.’ She glanced at me nervously, adjusting her jacket on her shoulders. ‘It’s about Ted.’
‘You’ve seen him again?’
She shook her head. ‘That time we met, the day we drove to Ashton Park, it was true while we were in the car he never said very much, but later, when we stopped outside the house —’
‘You mean your house?’
‘I was climbing out of the car when he gave a kind of groan and asked me to come back. “God, Isabel,” he said, ‘it’s no good, I’ll have to tell you in case the same thing’s happened to you. I’m being blackmailed.’
‘Blackmailed?’
She nodded. ‘I asked if that was the reason he had wanted to see me and he muttered something about it being nice anyway and how he’d meant to get in touch for some time. I’m sorry, Anna, you don’t mind if I call you Anna, I wanted to tell you last time I was here but … You see, at first it was just messages left on his windscreen. “I know everything”, that’s what the first one said, but after that there were hints that whoever it was knew something about Nikki’s murder.’
The room was rather cold but Isabel looked boiling hot. She took off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair. ‘Then he got the first phone call,’ she said.
‘From the same person?’
‘Yes, definitely the same person. “I know everything”, that’s what the voice kept saying, and the worst thing about it … I keep thinking, supposing Nikki had done something really terrible, or was threatening to do something. You read about it, perfectly normal people who come home and find … I mean everyone must have a breaking point but most of us never reach it because nothing that bad ever happens.’ Her voice trailed away and she stood up and started walking round the room.
‘This person who phoned,’ I said. ‘Was the call to Ted’s home?’
‘Oh, no, Deborah might have answered. It was to t
he health centre. Apparently the man told the receptionist his name was Pagnall, only it wasn’t of course. He said he was an old friend of Ted’s.’
‘So the receptionist put the call through. She could have listened on the extension.’
‘Oh no, they’d never do that. Anyway the first call was only to tell Ted the estimate for work on his car was two hundred pounds. Only he hadn’t asked for an estimate and the man who sees to his car is called Dave Burridge. Later he found another note behind the windscreen wipers with a map showing the exact position of a litter bin in Cheltenham Road.’
‘So the blackmailer never said what would happen if he didn’t pay up?’
‘No, but he might have gone to the police.’
‘And told them what?’
She sat down again. ‘How could we even suspect … but we’d talked about it, the first time we met after Nikki died. If the worst comes to the worst we must decide what will happen to Charlie, that’s what Ted said. I told him not to be so ridiculous but he said we had to plan for the worst possible eventuality.’ She leaned forward until her face was only inches from mine. ‘You know Eric, you must be able to tell he’s not a violent person, he’d never do anything like that. It was because of the athletics. If he hadn’t been so good at sport they’d never have met. She was so attractive and no girl had ever taken that much notice of him before. I tried to like her, she had got her good points, but Ted was right when he said it would end in disaster.’
‘So he left the money for the blackmailer?’
She covered her face with her hands. ‘The first time he did, but when there was a second demand … You see, the reason he phoned, he was worried the same thing had been happening to me.’
‘Had it?’
‘No, no of course not, but I haven’t told you the worst part. No one has to go to the police, do they, just because they’re being blackmailed. Being blackmailed’s not a crime.’
‘What’s the worst part?’
She started to speak, stopped in midsentence, then stood up and returned to the window as if the only way she could tell me was with her back turned. ‘You remember how I followed Ted that evening and he turned off towards Fishponds Road. Later, a man called Shaun Cunliffe was found stabbed to death and … You’re like a priest, aren’t you? Everything here is absolutely confidential.’
‘Not in the eyes of the law.’
‘No, that can’t be right. Anyway, you’d never tell anyone, I know you wouldn’t. Ted was to leave the money just like the first time, only this time he hid down an alleyway — I think he had to wait there quite a time — and eventually he saw the man collect the envelope then ride off on a bike.’
‘A motorbike?’
‘No, just an ordinary pedal one — that’s why Ted had time to see him.’
‘Cunliffe was killed on a Wednesday,’ I said. ‘You told me you followed Ted on the Monday.’
‘Yes, that’s why I know it wasn’t him.’
‘Have you told Ted you saw him near Fishponds Road?’
The frown lines between her eyes deepened. ‘How can I? Would you admit something so humiliating? You see, there was a picture of the dead man — on television, the local news bulletin.’
‘And Ted recognised him as the person who had collected the money?’
‘Yes, he’s almost certain.’
Cunliffe had been killed the night Charlie was staying with his grandfather. According to Howard Fry the stabbing had taken place at around ten-thirty, the same time that Ted Newsom was supposed to be visiting a patient.
Isabel was pressing her hands against the sides of her head as if to contain the pain. ‘Eric’s our only child. Just before his third birthday I had a miscarriage, never dreaming it would be the first of many. Later I realised how lucky I was to have Eric, but I did so want him to have a sister. I used to imagine what she would have been like. I was going to call her Claire.’
What was she telling me? That Eric, being her only child, must be protected at all costs, even if he had killed his wife? I tried to think of something reassuring to say. Reassuring to both of us. ‘If Ted had anything to do with Cunliffe’s death it seems unlikely he’d have told you about the blackmail.’
Her face brightened. ‘Yes, I know. Yes, that’s what I think too.’
‘But he’ll have to go to the police.’
‘The police! No, of course he can’t go to the police. That dreadful Maltby man already thinks Eric was responsible for Nikki’s murder. Even if Ted could prove he had been nowhere near Fishponds Road on Wednesday evening, Maltby would think Cunliffe had been blackmailing Eric as well.’
‘Do you think he had?’
‘No! No, of course not. Please, you must tell me what to do.’
*
I switched on the ten o’clock news and the phone started ringing. It was Barry Haig.
‘Is that you, Anna? I got your number from Charlie, don’t know how he remembered it but he’s always been one for numbers, car registrations, combination locks — ask Charlie and he’ll never let you down. I’m not disturbing you, am I, only I thought … it’s difficult but Moira says —’
‘How did it go, you and Charlie? I haven’t seen him since he got back.’
‘Oh, quite well, I think. Yes, very well.’ I could hear his wheezing breath. Perhaps he suffered from asthma. ‘I wasn’t sure, but Moy said it was my duty. Something Charlie said. If he’d said it just the once I wouldn’t have taken much notice, would’ve thought I’d heard wrong. Even now I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing.’
‘Shouldn’t you be telling Eric?’
‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that.’ The thought of it seemed to horrify him.
‘Something about Nikki, was it?’
‘He said … He said …’
I could hear Moira in the background, urging him on. ‘Tell her, Bar, go on, you’ll have to tell her.’
Barry took a deep breath and tried again. ‘He said he wanted to know why nobody had told him … that Eric wasn’t his father, not his real father.’
So that was why Charlie had been so determined to see Barry. Barry was someone he trusted, someone he believed would tell him the truth. Why didn’t somebody tell me?
‘I asked him what he meant,’ Barry was saying, ‘but he just kept repeating it the same. D’you suppose he overheard an argument or something, you know what kids are like, catch a few words and get the wrong end of the stick …? Anyway, Moy said I had to phone, in case he says anything to you, only if Eric finds out he’ll accuse me of putting words into the poor lad’s mouth.’
‘When you asked him for my phone number, did he realise you were going to tell me what he’d said?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, I just said I wanted to thank you for helping to fix everything up.’
But I knew Charlie better than that.
‘Who does he think is his real father?’
‘Search me.’ Barry’s voice was high-pitched with anxiety. ‘I wanted to ask him all kinds of questions but it didn’t seem right, not the first time we’d seen each other for all those months.’
‘But it was you he chose to talk to, Barry.’
‘Pardon? Yes, well, because of Nikki, I suppose. Only she’d never have done a thing like that. And if she had she’d have told me, I know she would. Couldn’t keep things to herself even if it was in her own interest.’
‘Go on,’ Moira kept saying in the background, ‘go on, you’d better tell her it all.’
‘It’s about when she and Eric met,’ Barry said miserably. ‘It was on the rebound, if you know what I mean. The last bloke, flashy kind of chap, too full of himself by half. I don’t know what happened but —’
‘Can you remember his name?’
‘His name?’ said Barry as if I was asking for a miracle. ‘Stan, was it? Steve? To tell the truth I couldn’t keep up with all her chopping and changing but you know what kids are like at that age.’
Someone was leaning on my front door bell
, either that or the mechanism had jammed. I promised Barry I would think about what he had told me and ring him back the following day so we could discuss what to do.
When I wrenched open the front door, expecting Mormons or Jehovah’s witnesses, Charlie was standing there, with tears pouring down his face. He was incapable of speech, just took hold of my arm and started pulling me across the lawn towards Eric’s workshop.
‘Look,’ he croaked. ‘Go and see what he’s done.’
The first time Eric had shown me inside the workshop I had noticed five or six model aeroplanes, hanging from the ceiling. They were far too large to be made from kits and Eric had grudgingly admitted he had designed them himself, making light, as he always did, of the skill involved, claiming anyone could have done it if they had the time to waste.
‘Look!’ Charlie was pointing at the floor, where the planes now lay in pieces, smashed beyond repair. Other parts of the workshop had been vandalised too. The design for the Noah’s Ark had been ripped down, along with all the postcards and posters that had once decorated the walls, and tools littered the floor.
Charlie was looking up at me, still panting but a little calmer now that he had shown someone the scene of devastation. ‘That man came again,’ he said, ‘the policeman who doesn’t wear a uniform. I had to go up to my bedroom so I wouldn’t hear what they were talking about. Now, look what he’s made Dad do.’
Chapter Sixteen
Justina had a stomach bug and was afraid she might have to rush off to be sick, or the other. She should have gone home but they were already one short.
Don kept peering at her, telling her to put more colour on her cheeks. ‘Just do the best you can, love, no one’s going to notice. He was right about that, about no one being much bothered about the state of her health, but was it really a stomach bug or could it be something else? Surely Justina hadn’t been that stupid, but mistakes still happened, people took the pill then threw up, or thought they’d taken it that morning only they were thinking about the previous day.
Giving Justina a sympathetic smile, she pushed her feet into the heavy black shoes, then pulled the laces so tight her feet hurt. Two more weeks and it would be over. She could have just left and not come back, but for some stupid reason she wanted to give Don time to find somebody else. When he asked why, even wanted to know if he had done something to upset her, she had kept a straight face and told him she had another commitment, something she had to do at home on a Thursday evening.
