Matilda Darke ran to her car as the heavens opened and the rain began to fall. She hadn’t been able to go through with it. Try as she might, she just wasn’t the type of person to throw good, decent people to a parasite like Danny Hanson. He’d sent her a text telling her he was stuck in traffic, leaving her standing outside The Cavendish on West Street with her mind whirling. She felt sick and could feel her stomach somersaulting. In the end, she decided to leave and let Danny print what he liked. She felt sorry for Aaron and hoped he’d be able to repair the damage the story would cause, but it was of his own making, and she was going to have to break Sally and Philip’s heart without adding the pain of a scandalous and fictitious newspaper report.
As Matilda drove down the road, windscreen wipers working hard to clear the rain, she glanced at the pub and saw Danny standing in the doorway, sheltering from the downpour. She took some pleasure in seeing him soaked and shivering in just a thin jacket, but not much.
‘I’m sorry, Aaron,’ she said. ‘You’re on your own.’
***
Sheila Croft lived on Keswick Close in Loxley, not a million miles away from Mary Croft Primary School and had to pass close to the Armitage house on her way to and from work every morning.
Once Christian and Scott had established who she was in relation to Sebastian Page, they obtained her address, and despite the lateness of the evening, they decided to pay her a visit.
From the front passenger seat, Christian tried to call Matilda, but his call went unanswered as the voicemail kicked in straight away.
‘It seems like she’s turned her phone off,’ he said as they pulled up outside the semi-detached house.
‘That’s not like her,’ Scott said. The rain was coming down hard and he kept the windscreen wipers on full so he could see out into the quiet cul-de-sac.
They stepped out of the car and ran quickly down Sheila’s drive. Thankfully, she had a small awning over the front door so they sheltered under that, though they were still getting wet by the stiff breeze blowing the rain at them.
‘I’ve not seen rain like this for a while,’ Scott said.
‘Remember that case at Starling House? It was like this then,’ Christian recalled.
‘You don’t have to remind me. I ruined a good suit in that bloody storm.’
The front door opened, bathing both detectives in a warm glow from the hallway.
‘Sheila Croft?’ Christian asked. She nodded. ‘I’m DI Brady from South Yorkshire Police, this is DC Andrews. Any chance we can come in for a quick word?’ he asked, holding out his ID with a shaking cold, wet hand.
‘Of course, come on in,’ she stepped to one side and ushered both detectives in.
They vigorously wiped their feet on the mat before moving on to the laminate flooring.
‘Stay there, I’ll get you a couple of towels.’ She went into the kitchen and returned quickly, handing them both a white towel each. ‘Shocking weather, isn’t it?’ She tried to smile, to be polite, but there was a heavy sadness in her eyes.
‘Tell me about it. I always seem to get called out when the weather turns,’ Christian smiled.
‘So, what can I do for you? More questions about Keeley Armitage?’
Christian dried his hair then glanced in the mirror as he fingered it into place, taking care to hide his rapidly increasing bald spot.
‘No. I’m afraid something else has come up. Is there any chance we can sit down?’
Sheila quickly glanced down at their feet.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll take our shoes off,’ Christian said, kicking off his scuffed black shoes.
‘Thanks. I’m not usually so fussy, but it’s a new carpet in the living room. It was only laid on Wednesday.’
The living room was neat and tidy, bright and warm, but it wasn’t homely. The smell of the new carpet mixed with artificial air freshener and furniture polish gave a sense that everything had a place. Ornaments on the wall unit were perfectly aligned. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. Intricate antimacassars adorned every arm and head rest of the sofa and armchairs. This was a house so anally clean the slightest imperfection would be spotted immediately, which was why Christian tucked his feet beneath him as much as he could so his odd socks (one black, one navy) wouldn’t be noticed.
‘Do you live here alone, Mrs Croft?’ Christian asked.
‘Yes. I’m widowed.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
She waved his apology away. ‘There’s no need. It happened a long time ago.’
Christian looked over to the marble mantelpiece at the framed wedding photo of a much thinner Sheila in a beautiful white gown standing beside a tall, solid man in an army dress uniform. Sheila followed his gaze.
‘He went through the Gulf War, saw things in Kosovo nobody should witness, and got killed by a drunk driver on Bocham Parkway.’
‘Oh,’ Christian said. ‘That must have been devastating, I’m sorry.’
‘It was. I spent years worrying every night while he was away,’ she said wistfully, not taking her eyes from the wedding picture. ‘Every time the phone rang, or a knock came on the door I expected someone telling me he’d been blown up or shot down. And he ends up getting killed on his own doorstep.’
‘Was the drunk driver caught?’ Scott asked.
Her face soured. ‘Not that it did much good. Three years for causing death by dangerous driving and a two-year ban.’
Christian didn’t know what to say. He felt another apology was inadequate. The silence grew.
‘Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come around here in this bad weather to make idle chit-chat.’
‘No,’ Christian cleared his throat and adjusted his position on the sofa. He always felt uncomfortable delivering the death message. ‘Mrs Croft, why didn’t you tell us you were Sebastian’s mother?’
She let out an audible sigh and crumbled in the armchair. ‘I wondered how long we’d be able to keep it a secret.’ Her bottom lip quivered. The pain was etched on her lined face as she struggled to find the words without a torrent of emotion coming out. ‘I’m guessing Sebastian told you.’
Neither Christian nor Scott replied. As always in these kinds of situations it was best to allow the witness to talk. Who knew what gems she would reveal?
‘I knew Sebastian would crack first, bless him. Would you two like a drink? I think we’re going to need one.’
‘I’ll have a whiskey if there’s one going; I’m not driving,’ Christian said. Despite the old adage of ‘not while I’m on duty’, plain-clothed detectives were allowed a drink, though never to excess. The majority never did, however.
Sheila smiled, eased herself out of the armchair and headed over to the wall unit. She pulled down a door which revealed an array of different types of whiskeys.
‘Do you have a preference?’
‘There’s no prejudice when it comes to whiskey in my opinion.’
‘Man after my own heart. I’m guessing you’d just like an orange juice,’ she said to Scott.
‘Yes, sure, why not?’ he replied, clearly deflated.
Sheila poured three drinks and carried them over on a small silver-plated tray. She took a healthy swig before sitting down in the comfortable chair.
Christian had no intention of having a drink, as much as he’d have liked. He never drank on duty but didn’t want the topic of drink to distract Sheila from what she was about to say.
‘I’m guessing Sebastian’s confessed.’ There was a catch in her throat which she tried to clear. ‘It’s strange how two boys can be so completely different from each other. Sebastian was always sensitive, quick to tears. He had a few friends, but not many. He preferred to spend time in his room with his model cars. Calvin, well, he was the polar opposite: brash, loud, uncaring, a complete psychopath.’ She looked over to the detectives and took in their wide-eyed expressions. ‘I suppose it’s not often you hear a mother talk about her own son like that. I knew there was something wrong with him from an early age. I took him to a doctor, and all he said was that boys will be boys. You wouldn’t get away with that now.’ She took another drink. ‘When the police knocked on the door wanting to question Calvin about those rapes, I knew he’d done it. Oh, he tried to lie his way out of it; he even gave an alibi for one of them, but I could see through it. My son had raped three girls. It made me physically sick thinking about what I’d brought into this world.
‘Richard had long since died, thankfully,’ she looked over to the wedding picture again. ‘I don’t know how he’d have reacted. Sebastian was a lot like Richard. It wasn’t easy for him, to have a brother who was a convicted rapist.
‘I kept in touch with Calvin, while he was in prison,’ she said, turning back to the detectives. ‘Looking back after everything that’s happened, I probably should’ve washed my hands of him, but, well, he’s my son at the end of the day. When he was released, I wanted us to be like a normal family again. We’d been through so much drama, I just wanted us to be happy, to sit down and have a meal together like families do.’
Sheila trailed off. She stared into the distance as if into the past. A look of blissful contentment spread across her face as if she was imaging the perfect family she never had.
‘Why do you have different surnames?’ Scott asked to break the silence Sheila had allowed to descend.
‘Croft was my maiden name. I was Page in everything else, but it was easier for work to be Mrs Croft.’
‘Do the staff at Mary Croft know Sebastian is your son?’ Christian asked.
She shook her head and emptied her glass. ‘Would you like a refill?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
Sheila went over to the cabinet, took out the bottle and brought it back with her.
‘Sebastian couldn’t get a job anywhere. When he did and people found out who his brother was, they made it difficult for him to stay there. Like I said, he was a very sensitive boy.’
‘He wasn’t a qualified teacher, was he?’ Christian asked.
Again, Sheila shook her head. ‘He was a PE teacher in a primary school. It’s not like he was teaching A-level physics. All he had to do was play rounders and badminton with the kids, keep them active. It suited him. He loved the job. He loved the kids. For the first time in his life, he was happy.’
‘And then Keeley Armitage went missing.’
‘We couldn’t track Calvin down for love nor money. He wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t at the flat, we started thinking the worst. Then he turned up here asking for money. Sebastian was in the kitchen when the knock came on the door. I answered it and in he walks, bold as brass. I told him we’d been looking for him, ringing him, but he didn’t seem interested. Sebastian came storming into the living room. He had him up against the wall, demanding to know what he’d done with Keeley.’ Tears had started to roll down Sheila’s cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away. The half-filled glass in her hands was shaking as she gripped it tight, her knuckles white.
‘Like I said, Calvin was a psychopath. He laughed. He actually laughed in Sebastian’s face. He said he’d not even heard of Keeley going missing. Sebastian grabbed the newspaper and showed him the story. Do you know what Calvin said? He looked at Keeley’s photo and said she was hot. Can you believe that? My own son actually said a nine-year-old girl was hot in front of his mother. It made my flesh crawl.’
‘What happened then?’ Christian asked.
‘I’ve never seen Sebastian like that before. But, I suppose we all have a breaking point. He just flew into a rage. He grabbed my gavel – I had a brass gavel on the mantelpiece – and he hit him. It was like the world stopped turning. Blood started to flow slowly down Calvin’s face. Then he grinned. There was no stopping Sebastian. He kept hitting him over and over and over. I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t have even if I’d wanted to.’
‘Is that why you changed the carpet?’
She nodded. ‘The floorboards are stained though. You’ll see when you take the carpet up. You will be careful though, won’t you? It wasn’t cheap.’
Christian nodded. ‘Whose idea was it to take Calvin to the old ski village?’
‘Mine,’ she answered after draining the glass.
‘And the gavel?’
‘It’s in the dishwasher. It’s been washed so many times but I daren’t take it out. I’m convinced there’s still blood on it.’ She stood up and went over to a sideboard. From a drawer she took out a Samsung mobile phone in a clear plastic freezer bag and handed it to Christian. ‘You’ll be wanting this.’
‘What is it?’
‘Calvin’s phone. The PIN is his birthday: 1906. Not very original. Sebastian brought it back with him from the ski village. There are over three hundred video clips downloaded and saved. Prison didn’t change him at all.’
Christian took the phone from her. She went back to her armchair and slumped into it. ‘I didn’t think Sebastian would be able to keep it a secret, bless him. Have you arrested him? Will I be able to see him?’
Scott and Christian exchanged glances.
‘Sheila,’ Christian began, sitting forward. ‘We were called out to Sebastian’s flat this afternoon. I’m afraid he took his own life. He left you a note.’
Sheila swallowed hard and nodded her head. ‘I thought he would have done. I wondered why he didn’t come around last night. I was going to go around this morning, but … I didn’t want to find him.’ She looked at Christian. ‘A mother always knows.’