Jayne drove through Wakefield, glad to be back in a place that seemed to be connected to the outside world in some way. There was the steady jam of traffic, the bustle of shoppers, the trail of buses spewing fumes. It was an old mining city, where the skyline once whirred with colliery wheels, surrounded by small villages that were once one-pit places, everyone working in the same mine. The strike had tried to keep those communities alive, but Thatcher won out and they’d turned into commuter villages for first-time buyers.
Sarah, Rodney’s ex-wife, lived on an estate at the very edge of the city, surrounded by fields, although it was an estate that had seen better times. The brickwork was dark and seemed to have soaked up all the smoke from years gone by, and her route took her past a line of shops that were mostly boarded up, with teenagers sitting on concrete bollards outside, staring at her as she drove past. In places like that, they could spot a stranger.
Rockley Drive was a long curve of privet hedges, the houses set back, most still owned by the council, if the uniform colour of the doors was a guide. The ones that had been bought had double glazing and white front doors, shiny and new.
Number nineteen was halfway along, a semi-detached that looked glum and jaded. Someone had painted the occasional brick white and the lawn was overgrown.
Jayne stepped out of her car. There was someone looking out of the house next door, watching her as she walked along the short path. Perhaps it was the kind of place where visits from strangers rarely conveyed good news.
Jayne knocked, which led to a cacophony of barking. The door was old and painted blue, with frosted panels that looked dirty. There was a short delay before she heard a woman’s voice bellow at a dog to get back, before the door opened on a chain.
A face appeared in the opening. Her hair was dyed blonde, dry and straggly, her eyes tired over vein-broken cheeks. ‘What?’
‘Sarah?’
‘I haven’t decided.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘Whether to admit it. Are you from one of those debt places? You’re wasting your time, love. I’ve nothing for you to take and you’re not getting your money.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ Jayne said, and introduced herself. ‘It’s about Rodney.’
She blinked and took a pull on a cigarette that had been concealed in her other hand. ‘It’s always about Rodney. What’s new?’
‘Did a writer come to speak to you a few months ago?’
‘Posh fella? Young. A bit of a looker.’
‘He’s dead,’ Jayne said it bluntly, watching for the reaction.
Sarah’s eyes widened, giving away her surprise, before she said, ‘Dead? And he was so nice.’ Eventually, she unhooked the chain. ‘You better come in. And watch your feet.’
Jayne followed her in and saw straight away what she meant. Two small dogs ran around the front room when she went in, perky mongrels with greasy, matted fur, her senses assaulted by the smell of excrement. One of the dogs had used the corner of the room as a toilet, making Jayne cover her nose.
Sarah shuffled through to the kitchen and came back with a small plastic bag. She scooped it up and took it through to the kitchen to get rid of it, before opening the back door to let the dogs out.
Jayne noticed a computer whirring in one corner, the screen showing an online bingo game. There was a glass next to it, filled with what looked like cola, although the half-empty bottle of cheap vodka next to the computer desk told her that the day was already starting to blur.
When Sarah came in, she picked up her glass and sat down. She was wearing a velour top and jogging bottoms, although the bright colour had faded, and there were cigarette stains on one arm.
‘Do you want a drink?’
Jayne saw the greasy smears on the glass and politely declined.
‘Tell me about the writer,’ Sarah said, before taking a drink.
Before she could answer, Jayne felt a burst of sadness. She remembered how Chris described someone so different, an attractive dreamer chasing a more exciting life. Is this where dreams took you?
‘The writer was called Mark,’ Jayne said, ‘and he was murdered as he was looking into Rodney’s case. We’re trying to see if it’s connected, because Mark didn’t think Rodney was guilty, and it might have made him some enemies.’
Sarah started to laugh, but it turned into a hacking cough. She stubbed out the remnant of her cigarette, which had been smoked right to the filter, and said, ‘He was a nice man, but he sounds deluded.’
‘Is Rodney guilty? You knew the man.’
‘I thought I knew him. Did he have it in him? They found the girl’s belt in his garage, so yeah, it looks like he did. Just like him to pick on kids though.’
‘What, he had a thing for children?’
‘No, just spineless, that’s all. He’d never pick on someone who could fight back. Big on doing the right thing is old Rodney. He married me because I got pregnant, wanted to make me a respectable woman.’ She grinned, and for the first time Jayne saw her rotten teeth, either missing or browned to stumps. ‘Look how that worked out. Even getting pregnant was a non‑event. Some knee-trembler along the seafront when he walked me home.’
‘Did you suspect he had a thing for children?’
‘No, never. What kind of person do you take me for?’
‘Why did you leave?’
‘What reason did he give?’
‘I haven’t spoken to him. My boss has though.’
She looked towards the window and took another drink. ‘And I bet it wasn’t good.’ She reached across to slam her glass down on the computer desk. ‘I’ll tell you. I was bored. There you go, it’s as simple as that.’
‘But you had children. Why didn’t you make him leave?’
‘That’s why I was bored. Don’t you get it? That’s the thing with Rodney. He wouldn’t know a great time if it smacked him on the arse, and I was stuck in the house with those mewing brats. So, I partied, and I’m not apologising for it.’
Jayne winced at how she thought of the children. ‘Did you see much of your children after you left?’
‘Rodney brought them sometimes, but, you know, what was I supposed to do? Stay inside and play happy families? Not for me.’
‘And how did you end up here?’
‘I left Brampton after Rodney was locked up. I couldn’t stand the stares and the gossip, because everyone thinks I knew something, that I was keeping his secrets even though we’d split. This was a new start.’
‘And for the children?’
She reached for her glass again. She swirled the drink. ‘Got taken into care in the end. They said I was neglecting them. Even took me to court. Got a suspended sentence. Child neglect. The coppers came round and were all snooty because my cupboards were empty and I’d let things get a little out of hand, but kids are hard, you know. It was like they expected it to be all about vitamins and fruit and eating the right stuff, but they’re children. They’re allowed to enjoy themselves, right?’
‘Where did they end up?’
‘With my parents, but they were too much for them even, so they ended up in a home somewhere.’
‘Didn’t you try to see them?’
Sarah lifted a cigarette packet from the waistband of her bottoms and lit one. At least the smoke took away some of the animal smell.
‘They were better off without me. New start and all that. After all, it hadn’t gone so well with Rodney, and at least I’m not in jail. They were too much anyway. Too much trouble.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Must be Rodney’s genes. He’s the murderer in the family. Or perhaps it was the shame, but it seemed as if they couldn’t be happy. I gave them what they wanted. The freedom to do as they pleased. I let them come in when they wanted, eat what they wanted, watch what they wanted. They’d been through a lot. Why not just make them happy?’
No, Jayne wanted to say, you guide them, love them, teach them.
‘What do you mean by trouble?’ Jayne said instead.
‘The police, what else?’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Young Robbie was always getting into scrapes. Got in with a bad crowd. Did some stealing, then some drugs. Never violence. Last I heard, he was in prison too. Petrol station robbery or something. What a tool. Why do a petrol station? They don’t have that much cash in there, everyone pays on a card, and there’s always plenty of cameras. Like I say, bad genes.’
‘And your daughter?’
‘Leoni? She’s the quiet one, and she’s had it tough. Boyfriend killed himself. They all said it was her fault, that she could have stopped him, but it was his decision, not hers. But,’ and she shrugged, ‘we’re just a shit family, you know. Nothing goes right. But it all started with Rodney.’
‘Where can I find Leoni?’
‘Why?’
‘She was the eldest. She might know something about her father.’
‘Speak to my parents. Go to the end of the road here and it’s the first house after the school. Flowers over the door.’
Jayne left Sarah to her vodka, pleased to get into the fresh air again.
As she looked back, she was struck by Sarah’s sadness, even if she didn’t realise it herself. Sarah had settled for a hopeless existence. And that was a tragedy.