The smell of smoke still permeated the air around him, even though the fire that had turned the Pavilion into a charred wreck had long been extinguished. The warmth of the day – still hot, but a more bearable temperature than previous days – gave it no means of escape, no breeze on which it could be carried away.
He’d been there when the last flame was extinguished; the call summoning him to the school came only minutes after he’d sneaked back into the pub. Being caretaker made him the first point of contact in an emergency, so off he’d dashed – conspicuously, via the pub’s front door this time – to offer his assistance to the fire crews putting out the blaze they had no idea he’d started.
He’d made a point of telling anyone who’d listen that he suspected kids were to blame, that there were always gangs of older ones skirting around the school grounds after hours. He’d sounded convincing and even though they were treating it as suspected arson he wasn’t worried. His mood today was jubilant, in fact – there was no way Gus’s girls could use the Pavilion the state it was in now.
‘Excuse me, are you Alan Donnelly?’ a voice interrupted him.
He looked round to see a very short woman bearing down on him. Sometimes suppliers requested an appointment to peddle their products but Alan didn’t recall any in the diary for today and he was certain he’d have remembered arranging to meet this one. With wild curly hair and a disarming smile, she was exceptionally pretty.
Reaching the table, she stuck out her hand.
‘I’m Jennifer Jones, Chief Reporter with the Mansell Echo. Have you got a minute to chat?’
Alan stumbled to his feet, jolting the table in his haste and spilling what coffee was left in his mug, which crashed to the floor.
‘How did you get in?’ he asked tetchily. ‘You can’t just walk around the school unaccompanied.’
‘I couldn’t find anywhere to sign in. The reception is shut.’
‘That’s because the school is shut today,’ he shot back. ‘If you want to talk to anyone, you need to speak to Mrs Pullman, the head. She’s in charge.’
Jennifer ignored him and plonked herself down at the picnic table across from him.
‘But it’s not her who has the story I want. You were there, you saw the boy die.’
‘Oh, come on, if you think I’m giving an interview about that –’
‘I’m not going to sensationalize it, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re a local paper, not a tabloid. I’m only after a few quotes about what the boy was like.’
‘I didn’t know him,’ said Alan shortly.
‘So tell me how sad you are about what happened, then. Did you try to save him?’
‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I really shouldn’t be talking to you. It’s not my job to give statements to the press. If you want, I can ask Mrs Pullman to call you?’ He ducked beneath the table to retrieve his mug.
Jennifer’s voice rang over his head.
‘You left your last job very abruptly, didn’t you, Mr Donnelly?’
Alan froze, his arm still stretching towards the mug. How did she know that?
‘You were groundsman at a sports facility in –’ he heard the sound of paper being flicked through – ‘Newark.’
He was grateful she couldn’t see his face below the table.
‘It sounds like you’ve been doing your homework,’ he replied with forced joviality as he straightened.
She gazed up at him, a smile playing on her lips.
‘It’s always good to get some background context,’ she said. ‘Your ex-wife was very helpful.’
Alan’s mouth gaped open. ‘You’ve spoken to Gayle? What the hell for?’
Jennifer stood up. She barely reached his shoulder.
‘Look, I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot. I want to write a piece about the hero caretaker who tried to save the boy who fell, but the school turned me down when I requested an interview so I—’
Alan cut her dead. ‘Who told you I tried to save him?’
‘I have my contacts.’
He didn’t like where the conversation was going. He was certainly no hero.
‘I don’t want you to write about me. I don’t want to be in the paper.’
‘I understand. You want your privacy. The thing is, Mr Donnelly, your wife said . . .’
They were both suddenly distracted by the sight of two marked police cars and a van turning into the school entrance. Pulling to a halt, all four doors opened on both cars and a number of people got out. Then the back doors of the van opened to reveal two dogs.
‘Sniffer dogs? I wonder what that’s all about,’ mused Jennifer. ‘I’d better go and find out.’ She gave Alan another teasing smile. ‘You’re off the hook for now, Mr Donnelly. We’ll have to chat another time.’
As she walked away, Alan called after her.
‘What did Gayle say to you?’
Jennifer didn’t bother to turn round, shouting dismissively over her shoulder.
‘Nothing for you to worry about.’
41
Julia didn’t even wait to put her bag down before confessing to Ewan what had happened in the cafe.
‘I know it must sound awful but I didn’t realize I’d grabbed her so hard. She was being rude and walking off and I hadn’t finished talking,’ she explained.
But Ewan was furious.
‘Isn’t it enough that we’ve got the police investigation hanging over us?’ His voice was low so it couldn’t be heard in the next room where Malcolm and the kids were watching TV, but anger sharpened its tone. ‘I can’t believe you manhandled Poppy in public.’
‘I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.’
‘That’s what you said the last time.’
Julia stood motionless but her heart was racing.
‘Why are you bringing that up now?’ she said quietly. ‘That was years ago. It’s not the same.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I wasn’t well then, you know that.’
‘And now?’
‘I’m fine.’
He scoffed. ‘I think I’ll be the judge of that. You’re definitely not helping the situation, that’s for sure. Getting hysterical doesn’t help Poppy – and nor does abusing her in public.’
Julia was horrified. ‘It wasn’t like that! I only grabbed her arm.’
‘It’s always “only” something with you, Julia. I’m so tired of you trying to excuse your behaviour.’
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
‘What about your behaviour? Why is it always me in the wrong?’
Ewan appraised her coolly. ‘My behaviour?’
‘Sneaking around with Imogen behind my back!’
He threw back his head and laughed.
‘Oh my God, is that what this is about? Because I’ve been talking to some woman you don’t like?’
Julia was shaking now. ‘You know how awful she was to me, how she made my life hell. I can’t believe you’ve been arranging for Poppy to go to her house behind my back.’
‘Oh, but she keeps a very nice house, as my nan used to say.’ As Ewan said this, his gaze flitted around the kitchen. ‘I wish we could get rid of some of this clutter,’ he sighed.
Julia burned with humiliation. There was a pile of clean laundry on the side she hadn’t got round to taking upstairs and some empty glasses that needed to go in the dishwasher once the current load had been put away, but apart from that the kitchen was spotless.
‘Please don’t compare me to her.’
Ewan gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘Come on, Julia, it’s thirty years since you were at Rushbrooke with Imogen and yet you’re behaving like it all happened yesterday. She’s a grown woman now, as are you. But frankly she’s the only one acting like it.’
‘That’s a horrible thing to say,’ said Julia, close to tears now.
‘Well, I don’t see her bleating about a girl not liking her at school. It’s pathetic.’
His words landed on her li
ke slaps.
‘How can you say that? You know how much it affected me.’
‘I know how much you’ve let it affect you. There’s a difference.’ He suddenly changed tack. ‘Honey, all I’m saying is that if you got to know Imogen now, as adults, I think you’d probably get on. Do you honestly think I’d have let Poppy go round there if I didn’t think Imogen was okay? Besides, I could hardly say no. Poppy thought the world of Benji and she wanted to hang out with him. I didn’t really have a choice. Now you’re making me feel terrible for being a good dad.’
Julia dropped her head, unwilling to let him see her cry. All this anger and hurt she’d carried around for years – was she being pathetic? She heard footsteps on the tiled floor, then felt her husband’s arms curl around her waist. She exhaled with relief as she buried her face in his chest.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh,’ said Ewan, gently kissing the top of her head.
She hesitated before speaking again, unsure how he’d react to what she had to say. But it had been playing on her mind and since he’d raised the subject, she needed to know how much it had crossed his too.
‘What happened with me back then, with Poppy . . . Do you think I should tell the police?’
Her voice was muffled where she was pressed against his shirt and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her properly. But after a few seconds he replied.
‘I was wondering when you’d ask,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
They disentangled themselves in silence, then sat down at the table.
‘Should I?’ she asked.
‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I think you shouldn’t, because I’m worried the police might see it as an admission, that we think Poppy did push Benji off that wall.’
‘But you said it might be the same –’
He took her hand in his and with his thumb stroked her palm. Unlike the previous evening, this time she found his touch a comfort.
‘I’m sorry, darling. I was lashing out because I was angry. I don’t think it’s the same. But you shouldn’t have grabbed Poppy in the cafe,’ he admonished.
‘I know, and I’m so sorry.’
‘The police may find out anyway if they dig hard enough.’
‘It happened eight years ago, though,’ said Julia worriedly. ‘They wouldn’t think it was connected, surely?’
‘What if they do?’
She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had expected Ewan to dismiss the thought out of hand and tell her she was being silly. The last thing she anticipated was for him to give weight to it.
‘Look, we know our daughter is innocent, but if anyone knew what she’d been exposed to, they might think otherwise. I mean, given the similarities . . .’
Julia let out a sob. The episode was a dark, petrifying moment in her past, her lowest of low points. What she had done would haunt her for the rest of her days and she would never be able to make it up to Poppy or Ewan.
‘I don’t know how many times I can say it before you’ll believe me,’ she cried. ‘I wouldn’t have hurt Poppy . . . I never would’ve jumped.’
42
Burton had gone up to Rushbrooke with Renshaw so Maggie had to call him to see if he’d heard back from social services yet.
‘Not yet, no. I was going to chase them this morning but it looks like we’ll be here for a while,’ he said.
‘Have the dogs found anything yet?’
‘The search is about to start. There’s been a delay because the head teacher got very upset when we told her why we’re back. Between this, Benji’s death and last night’s fire, she’s pretty on edge.’
‘I’ll bet. Having to keep the school closed indefinitely must be a huge pressure. Text me the number for social services and I’ll call them now.’
‘Will do. Hang on a sec, Anna wants a word.’
Renshaw came on the line.
‘How did you get on with Tess Edwards?’
Maggie relayed the conversation to her. ‘That’s why I was ringing Burton, to see if social services have anything on the family. He hasn’t heard back so I’ll chase them myself.’
‘Good. After that I want you and Byford to go round to check on the Hepworths. They’ve got a solicitor acting for them now, but I think if you say you’re not there to question Poppy but want to see how they are, they might not call him.’
‘Okay, but what’s the real point of us going?’
‘You spend every case as a FLO in close proximity with relatives and that means you’re brilliant at picking up on dynamics. I want you to see what’s going on in that house right now between Poppy and her parents and the parents themselves.’
‘But why?’
Renshaw lowered her voice. ‘Because if this search doesn’t amount to anything, I need to make sure we’ve still got a case to fall back on. Proving Poppy’s involvement in Benji’s death is still our priority.’
Byford wasn’t happy when Maggie revealed they were taking a detour on their way to see Imogen.
‘Isn’t it a conflict of interest us visiting the suspect when we’re the victim’s mother’s liaison?’
‘We’re detectives as well as FLOs and when everyone else is busy we have to muck in. Besides, it’s just a house call, nothing formal. Can you call Imogen and let her know we’ll be round a bit later? I’ve got to call social services first.’
‘Sure. I’ll do it now while I grab a water. Want one?’
Maggie said no. Byford got up and left the incident room.
The number Burton had texted her was for a social worker called Esther Wicklow.
‘I’m chasing up a subject access request on behalf of my colleague, DC Karl Burton,’ said Maggie, after giving her own credentials.
‘Oh, yes. I have the information he requested. It’s not a big file so I can email you the information if you give me your details.’
Social services weren’t obliged to give the police any information unless served by a court order. But a subsection of the Data Protection Act allowed them to circumvent it as long as the information was necessary to prevent or detect a crime, or facilitate an arrest or prosecution. The police could also argue that social services not sharing the information would hamper their investigation.
Maggie duly recited her email address and thanked the woman for her help. She debated whether to hang around at the station until the information came through, but decided she could look at it on her phone. Byford was back and she could tell he was getting restless from the way he was hovering around her desk.
‘Was Imogen okay about us coming later?’ she asked him.
He stared at her coldly. ‘We didn’t exactly give her a choice, did we?’
43
Julia was hanging washing out in the back garden in an attempt to regain a semblance of normality when Ewan dashed outside holding his phone aloft.
‘The police are on their way,’ he panted. ‘I’ve just had a message.’
Julia stopped. ‘What do they want now?’
‘I don’t know. I’m going to call Darren. He did say they shouldn’t question Poppy again without him present.’
As Ewan rushed back inside to call their solicitor, Julia was overcome with rage. Desperate to vent, she began ripping down the clothes she’d pegged to the line and stamped them into the grass. The angrier she got, the harder her foot landed.
‘Julia! What on earth are you doing?’
Malcolm had appeared at the back door and he looked horrified.
‘Why won’t they leave us alone?’ she screamed at him. ‘Poppy told them it was an accident, why can’t they accept that?’
Malcolm didn’t come any closer, knowing better than to try to comfort her when she was so angry.
‘What’s happened, darling?’
Julia came to a standstill, feet planted on one of Ewan’s work shirts.
‘The police want to interview Poppy again. Ewan’s calling our solicitor.’
‘I imagine they’re sim
ply being thorough in checking her statement,’ said Malcolm.
‘For God’s sake, Dad, don’t be so bloody reasonable.’
Malcolm shrank back from the heat of her temper. ‘There’s no need to be rude.’
She stormed past him into the house. Ewan was nowhere to be seen.
‘You need to calm down before they get here,’ said Malcolm, following her into the lounge. Dylan looked up from the Lego he was assembling in the middle of the carpet.
‘I’m too bloody angry to be calm! Christ, Dad, you’re not helping.’
Still needing an outlet for her anger, she started picking up cushions from the sofa and throwing them back down.
‘Mummy, what are you doing?’ asked Dylan, clearly alarmed.
‘Dylan, go upstairs and see what Daddy and Poppy are up to. Mummy’s a bit upset right now.’
Malcolm’s pious tone was the last straw.
‘I can’t stand another minute in this house. I’m going out.’
‘Where are you going?’ Malcolm called after her. ‘What about Poppy?’
‘Let Ewan sort it out,’ she yelled back as she yanked open the front door and shot up the path into the street. Her feet were bare and she had no money or phone with her but she didn’t care. She didn’t think about where she was going, only that she needed to get as quickly away as she could.
44
The elderly man who opened the door looked disappointed to see Maggie and Byford standing there.
‘I thought you might be someone else,’ he said forlornly.
Maggie gave him their names and apologized for not calling ahead.
‘It’s only a quick visit while we were passing,’ she said.
‘Oh, it’s not that, we knew you were coming. I thought you might be my daughter, Julia. She’s gone out without her keys.’
Maggie was puzzled. ‘How did you know we were coming?’
‘Does it matter?’ said Byford in an aside. He smiled kindly at the man. ‘Is everything okay, Mr . . . um?’
‘Cox. Malcolm Cox. No, it’s not. My daughter is under tremendous stress and I’m worried about her. When are you going to put an end to this nonsense with Poppy?’ he asked them angrily.
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