THE SNOW IS BACK, bang on time. Windermere village is bustling with people as Joanne makes her way to the butcher’s to pick up the turkey.
Jackie’s at work this morning, but because of the way Christmas has fallen this year – on a Sunday – Joanne has the day off. And suddenly she’s feeling all Christmassy. This year it’s not just going to be another day. This year she’s looking forward to sharing a proper Christmas dinner with Jackie, all the trimmings, the two of them falling asleep on the settee after the Queen’s speech, bellies full of chocolate Brazil nuts.
She picks up a couple of parsnips from the florist’s – they do a sideline in root vegetables this time of year – and nips into Boots for some last-minute bits and bobs.
Neither of them gets much in the way of presents. Jackie’s son hasn’t sent anything for the past couple of years, so they’ve taken to spoiling each other a little. Joanne puts some overpriced body butter in her basket and, as an afterthought, a Scholl foot spa.
She studies the box and gets a vision of Jackie sitting in her carer’s uniform, half a pint of Baileys in her hand, steam rising up around her ankles. And Joanne decides that, yes, this is exactly the right gift.
The clouds are low and brooding as Joanne leaves the shop. They’re in for another covering of snowfall this afternoon, so there’s a frisson of excitement in the village, of wanting to get home, to close the door and shut the world out. Wait for Christmas to arrive.
A tuba-, trombone- and trumpet-player are tucked into a sheltered spot just by the Abbey Bank; the last few bars of ‘Joy to the World’ are audible as Joanne approaches the butcher’s.
There’s a queue inside, but it moves quickly. Everyone’s already pre-ordered and paid for their birds, so it’s just a case of picking them up. Joanne wanted to go for a turkey crown – what with there being only the two of them – but Jackie would hear none of it. ‘Brown meat’s the best bit,’ she said.
Joanne is about to cross the street and head home when she sees someone reverse into one of the spaces right in front of her. She stops, recognizing the driver. She can’t see inside the car too well – the windows are obscured by steam as the car is filled with bodies – but she knows who it is.
Joanne approaches and taps on the window. Lisa Kallisto cuts the engine and opens the driver’s side door. Joanne leans in and sees Lisa’s three kids in the back, squashed together, the excitement of Christmas clear in their faces.
Joe’s in the front passenger seat, the Bedlington Terrier that Forensics used sitting in the footwell between his knees. Both of Joe’s lower legs are in plaster.
‘Hi, Lisa,’ Joanne says. ‘How you doing?’
‘Good. You?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Joanne looks past Lisa to Joe. ‘They let you out of hospital for Christmas, then?’
Joanne heard on the grapevine that Joe’s taxi left the motorway and ended up in a ditch. He survived but fractured both his feet.
‘Came out on Wednesday,’ Joe says. ‘I’ve got a wheelchair to get about with,’ and he gestures behind him to the boot of the car.
Joanne smiles. ‘They any idea what caused your blackout, yet?’
Joe looks shiftily from side to side.
When he doesn’t answer, Lisa rolls her eyes, leans sideways towards Joanne and lowers her voice away from the kids. ‘He’d been having TIAs – transient ischaemic attacks – mini-strokes.’ She glances at Joe. ‘And for reasons best known to himself he decided to keep that little piece of information from me and the kids.’
Joanne raises her eyebrows.
‘He thought it was better if I didn’t know about it,’ Lisa says, and Joe looks rueful.
‘You know why,’ he says quietly.
Lisa gives him a soft dig in the ribs. ‘Daft sod thought I’d leave him if I found out … Anyway, they’ve put him on Warfarin, so he should be okay.’ She reaches behind Joe’s seat for her handbag. ‘What’s the word on Kate? You got any more news?’
‘She’s been charged.’
‘What with?’
‘Kidnapping, false imprisonment and perverting the course of justice.’
Lisa takes a long breath in. ‘Shit,’ she says. ‘Shit, that’s worse than I thought.’
‘You did the right thing, Lisa.’
‘Did I?’
‘You didn’t have any choice. She was hurting her children – you couldn’t let that continue, you know that.’
Lisa swings her legs around, makes to climb out of the car. ‘If I did the right thing, why do I feel so lousy about it? … Do you think she’ll lose the kids?’
‘A prison sentence is more than likely.’
Lisa digests this and sighs out sadly.
‘Will she not try and plead … will she not plead mentally unfit – or whatever it’s called?’
‘She might, but then there’s less chance of her keeping the children in the long term, if that’s the way they decide to play it. Have to wait and see.’
‘What a mess,’ Lisa says, standing and closing the car door.
She looks past Joanne’s shoulder at the Christmas lights slung low across the street. Joanne watches as Lisa tries to shrug off what she’s just been told. It’s Christmas Eve, Joanne can feel her thinking, it’s all about the kids now.
Lisa turns to Joanne. ‘You got your man, though, didn’t you?’ she asks, brighter now. ‘You got the man who took the other girls?’
‘We did.’
‘That’s good. Was it that same guy who’d been talking to Lucinda after school? Was it him?’
‘He’s not admitted it, but yes, we’re pretty sure. From what we gather, Lucinda came home and told her mother about him, and Kate hatched the fake-abduction plan … Then she was just waiting for the right opportunity—’
‘Waiting for me,’ Lisa cuts in resignedly. ‘Kate was waiting for me to screw up so she could pretend Lucinda was gone.’
Joanne can sense the hurt still fresh in Lisa.
After a moment Lisa asks, ‘Are her children all right? I know I should probably get in touch, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it.’
‘They’re with their dad.’ Joanne touches Lisa’s elbow briefly. ‘They’re going to be okay … don’t be too hard on yourself, eh, Lisa? With Kate’s state of mind the way it is, who knows what she might have done next?’