CHAPTER SEVEN

Lauren was very quiet after the interviews, and said she had to go because she had an appointment, giving no details and scuttling off as if she had something to hide. Olivia returned to her desk to get her paperwork up to date. The interviews had taken some time and, as luck would have it, she was on her own in the office when a call came in from PC Liam Shuttleworth, who was on duty at the hospital at the bedside of the still unidentified woman from Gooding Avenue.

He was in a state, and could barely make himself understood, stuttering and failing to get some words out altogether. ‘Slow down, Liam. Whatever’s happened? Is the woman dead?’ Olivia thought this was unlikely, as she had been moved to a single room just off the ward.

‘It’s w-worse than that,’ he managed.

‘How could it be worse?’

‘She was starting to stir, but nothing else was happening, and I just had to go. I couldn’t wait any longer.’

‘You couldn’t wait any longer for what?’

‘I needed a slash.’

‘Liam!’

‘Sorry, ma’am. I needed to … urinate, and I had to stay for a bit longer than I’d intended,’ – so, he’d had to have a dump –‘Anyway, when I was on my way back, there was this terrible wailing that turned into screams.’

‘And what had happened?’

‘She must’ve woken up, or come to. They reckon it was because she couldn’t see, so she put her good hand under the bandages, and then it started. When I got back there were two nurses in the room and they’d called a doctor. I know I’ve seen some things, but I’ve never heard anything like this before. It sounded like the poor woman was in hell.’ She probably was, and would be for the rest of her life.

‘So, what happened next?’

‘There were these nurses, trying to hold her down and put the bandages back, and then this doctor come flying in. He had a syringe already in his hand, so someone must have told him what was happening. And one of them held her body down while another one held on to her arm while he gave her an injection to calm her down.’

‘Did she say anything, Liam? This is very important. Did you ask the nurses?’

‘I’ve called you first.’

‘Well, get back to them, and that doctor, and find out anything that you can that you missed.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And ring me back as soon as you’ve got their statements. I’ll send someone to relieve you. You sound like you could do with a bit of time to pull yourself together, and it must be near the end of your shift anyway.’

PC Shuttleworth phoned back within half an hour, but the only thing he had to report was that the woman hadn’t yelled anything in English, and that no one within earshot had recognised the language. ‘OK, Constable. I’ve asked for another officer to be sent over to relieve you. Did the doctor say anything?’

‘Only that they’d have to keep her sedated for a little while longer. It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen, the way she was feeling around for where her eyes used to be, and the despair in her voice …’

‘I know it’s not easy, but try to put it out of your mind, Shuttleworth, although I’ll bet she’s having nightmares, wherever her mind is at the moment.’

Lauren had been moving furtively. She had what she could hardly think of as a date, but definitely an assignation. She’d already phoned ahead to Mrs Moth and said that she might be a bit late home, and the woman hadn’t asked any questions, thinking that it would be to do with work.

Starting off on her usual route home, she had soon deviated and taken a smaller road that was not so direct. A couple of miles down this was a little pub called The Six Bells. It was not over busy, not being very upmarket, and a lot of its customers came from the caravans that the landlord allowed to stay on the field at the back. Beyond it was just open countryside. It had seemed one of the most inconspicuous places to meet with an almost cast-iron guarantee that they would meet no one they knew, or who would recognise them.

She walked nervously from her car, looking from side to side, out of guilt more than any other emotion. When she tentatively opened the door, she could see him sitting already waiting at the bar on a high stool. Her attempt at ‘nonchalant’ wouldn’t have fooled anyone, and as the woman behind the bar stared at her, Daz turned around and smiled. ‘So, you made it then?’ he asked, at a bit of a loss to know what else to say. ‘What’ll you have to drink?’

‘Just about,’ she replied breathily, realising how out of practice she was at meeting men socially, when she wasn’t on Kenneth’s arm and they weren’t his colleagues. It had been different at work. She was the senior officer and hardly ever noticed the DC, but he’d started to make a bit of an effort with her lately, flirting, and complimenting her on her appearance.

She’d dismissed it at first, just seeing it as a bit of banter but, earlier on, when he had actually asked her for a discreet drink, she began to realise how much she had missed the physical side of a relationship. She admitted that she found Kenneth’s nightly pawing and lunging at her tedious, and she had learnt to be grateful for the peace when he was away, but recently she had started to feel that she would like the intimacy of a new relationship.

Not that she thought she would find it with this particular candidate, but he might provide a stopgap. Olivia would have been shocked if she had confided in her, but she was just like anyone else of her age, and she had needs and desires. Self-medicating with alcohol didn’t take all her pain away and sometimes made her needs feel desperate.

‘I’ll have a small glass of dry, white wine, if that’s all right,’ she replied. Before he could pass this on to the barmaid on duty, the brassy woman cut in with, ‘We’ve got Shar Donnay or Leebfrawmilk. There isn’t much call for wine in here.’

Blushing at having already stood out, she said that Chardonnay would be fine, and slid up on to the stool next to Daz as the woman turned away to uncork an already open bottle at the back of the bar, unrefrigerated and apparently deserted for some time.

Daz dropped his head and leaned towards her. ‘You look sexy,’ he whispered, and she had to look away with the thought that maybe he was after the same thing that she was.

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m not. Don’t you realise how attractive you are?’

She thought back to the black eyes and split lip she had sported at the end of the previous year, and how, in her own opinion, she had not been quite so attentive to her appearance than she used to be, and wondered that he had the nerve to be so blatantly dishonest. Still, if it suited both their purposes …

The glass of wine was plonked down in front of her, and she noticed a nasty greasy sheen on the surface. This was a venerable bottle indeed. ‘Where do you want to go?’ she asked, looking at the stale drink that was giving off a rather unpleasant aroma, rather than straight at him.

‘Aren’t you going to drink your wine?’ he asked. ‘We could have a couple of drinks before we go.’

‘Actually, I don’t really fancy a drink.’ She could have added ‘here’, because her system was calling out for some alcohol to relax her tense shoulders and ward off the threatening headache, and she looked at him with pleading eyes.

‘Why don’t we go back to mine?’ he suggested. ‘I’ve got a nice bottle of white in the fridge and we could, um, get to know each other a bit better.’ He was certainly willing to take the risk if she was.

‘Are we talking the same language?’ she ventured.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The sort of language that never gets spoken at work.’

‘What do you take me for?’ She’d previously taken him for an inexperienced and mouthy boor, but she could hardly voice that opinion. The simple fact was, she had need of his body, and she knew she would be taking an enormous risk; but still, so was he. Both their reputations at the station were at risk. If she didn’t get some male attention soon, though, she thought she’d explode. She’d tried DIY, and that had left her feeling both empty, as well as lonely, and slightly soiled.

‘You don’t live with your parents, do you?’ she whispered urgently.

‘’Course not. I’ve got my own little place on the seafront.’

‘Let’s get out of here, then. I’ll follow you.’

As they left the pub Lauren caught, out of the corner of her eye, the barmaid happily swigging back the glass of wine she had spurned.

His place turned out to be a fairly clean and tidy bedsit with a sofa bed, which he flicked open with one hand. ‘Drop of the old vino?’ he asked. ‘Just to get us going? To get the engines revving, so to speak.’

Lauren thought that if her engine revved any more she’d break a piston. Pushing him onto the fold-out bed, she clamped her lips on to his mouth and began scrabbling at his shirt and he urgently moved a hand to unzip his trousers.

Olivia didn’t rush home that night. Hal had been gone when she had risen that morning and, no doubt, he would not be home early tonight. She remembered his teaching days well, and that man gave everything to his job. She didn’t think it would be like this with supply work, but having landed a temporary contract until the end of the academic year, she knew only too well how deeply he’d get involved in everything. If she wasn’t careful, he’d go back full-time, and then where would she be?

It was probably counter-productive to be rebellious like this, but she was determined not to get home before him and, besides, she had a lot of paperwork to catch up on. The only other officer left in the office was Lenny Franklin, and as he was heading for the door, he sidetracked and sat on the corner of her desk. ‘What can I do for you, Lenny?’ asked Olivia, looking up.

‘It’s that disappeared baby,’ he stated, without preamble. ‘There’s something there that stinks, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.’

‘But, you’ve been through the place, and there’s hardly a lot of choice of places to stash a dead baby are there?’ she replied seriously.

‘No, and I even took a good look out of the back window – all paving stones, and not one of them looks as if it’s been moved recently.’

‘So, what is it that gets your instincts up?’

‘Well, that young mother is really broken-hearted, and her boyfriend’s attitude stinks, not supporting her or anything and bunking off like that, but there’s something about the girl that doesn’t ring true. She’s lying about something; I just don’t know what.’

‘I agree with you, Lenny, but we’ll get it out in the open if we just keep at it. To change the subject, how are things at home?’

‘As you’d expect. Lonely. Susan’s definitely not coming back, and I thought she was looking forward to me retiring, to do all the things we’d planned but never had time for, but she says she can’t wait any longer. Life’s passing her by, apparently’ – this word was spoken bitterly – ‘and she needs to get on with things while she still can.’

‘Still at your daughter’s, is she?’

‘Still.’

‘And how is her health?’

‘She’s in remission at the moment.’

‘Why don’t you try to patch things up and take early retirement?’

‘Because I simply don’t want to. Any spark there was between us was snuffed out years ago, and I can’t face the rest of my life with no work to hide in and having to look after a sick woman.’

‘Lenny! You know there’s help available. And how do you expect your daughter to cope?’

‘At the moment, I’m past caring. She always took Susan’s side about the hours I have to put in, and now I just think they’re welcome to each other. They can carp about what an uncaring bastard I am for the rest of Susan’s life. She’ll probably outlive me.’

‘Surely you want her back, after all these years.’

‘That’s the last thing I want, actually. She’s made her bed, and now she can lie on it. And Frances is in seventh heaven. She’s got carers popping in and out most days, and she’s got a grant to provide a disabled extension. All the fuss that goes with the illness is now surrounding her, and she loves the limelight, and making me the bad guy.’

‘That’s simply not true, Lenny. You’re a very dedicated officer, and I’m sure they both appreciate that. Is there no way you two can work this out?’

‘I don’t believe there is. We’ve simply fallen out of love.’

‘And does she feel the same way?’ Olivia felt sad that there was no way back for Lenny and his wife.

‘I’ve never asked her.’

‘Why don’t you, then?’

‘Because I’m afraid she’d say “yes”. I was just as lonely before she went. We had nothing left in common except the bone of contention between us, my job. It would’ve been no different without the MS.’

‘I’m sorry, Lenny.’

‘Nobody’s fault. In fact, I’m thinking of joining an Internet site to try to meet a new partner.’

‘That’s a bit radical for you, isn’t it? I thought you might just hook up with some woman you met down the pub.’

‘I don’t need to go to the pub so often now that I haven’t got a resident nag.’

‘Oh, Lenny!’

‘Goodnight, boss. Anyway, I’ve got a hot date with an Indian.’

‘Who is she?’

‘A curry.’

When Lauren got home that night Mrs Moth gave her a quizzical look. She was less tidy than usual. A lot of the make-up she had managed to apply later in the day was gone, although she still had some traces of it left, but it was her hair that attracted most of her attention. It was decidedly tousled and this was totally out of character. She had been working for the family for some months now, and she’d never seen her employer in such a state of disarray.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, sounding concerned, and Lauren was suddenly aware that she had not checked her appearance before she left Daz’s bedsit, there not being a mirror obviously on display. Rushing to the one on the hall wall, she was horrified at the reflection that looked back at her. She looked a little as if she had been pulled through a hedge backwards, although she had smoothed her hair back into an approximation of its usual shape. She’d have to be more careful in future.

But was there a future for what she had just done? And did she want there to be? Yes, she decided, she definitely needed some fun in her life: she had been deprived of it for so long, and she had definitely missed sex – although not quite so much of it would have been an improvement when she had been with Kenneth.

‘I’m absolutely first class,’ she replied. ‘Just a little rumpled. Work has been very trying this afternoon, and I fear I have not tidied myself up before I headed home.’ She hastily renewed her lipstick and pulled a small brush out of the hall drawer before seeing her childminder off the property. The less time and opportunity she gave her for speculation, the better.

The children had already been escorted up to bed, so she mounted the stairs so that she could kiss them goodnight. Descending, this done, she headed straight for the kitchen. As well as taking the delightfully chilled bottle out of the fridge door, she also checked the microwave where she discovered a plate of chicken and new potatoes, and a note that informed her that there was salad in the fridge. Suddenly, she was absolutely ravenous, and not in the least ashamed. Instead, she felt empowered; she had seen what she wanted, and she had taken it.

She only drank two glasses of wine that night, and went to bed at a much more respectable time. It was true what the Scots believed. Oats were good for you.

When Olivia finally got home, it was to find that both Ben and Hibbie had called in, cooked a frozen pizza each, and gone out again. Of Hal, there was no sign.

‘Why didn’t you just give me a ring, or text me, Hal?’

‘My battery was down.’

‘Don’t you have a colleague whose phone you could borrow?’

‘I don’t like asking when I’m so new.’

‘So, they don’t mind asking you to stay late or go in early, but you haven’t got the nerve to ask if you could borrow a phone?’

‘I promise I’ll let you know in future.’

‘Just make sure that you do. At least that way I could pick up a takeaway on the way home instead of getting home to find that I’ve got to start cooking.’

‘You could always order something by phone.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘Isn’t it?’

INTERLUDE

They started swarming over it at first light. As dawn broke, the scavengers were crawling over the heaps like flies. Everything was grist to their mill. They were territorial too, but instinctively unsociable. If a new scavenger invaded their space, they would attack and hope to send them packing. This was their world, and they didn’t intend to share it with interlopers.

One of the first there was tearing at a black plastic bag, determined to get at the contents. Most of the bags had already torn or split, but this seemed like a good quality thick one and there could be rich pickings inside. The fabric fought his efforts, but finally gave up its secret. He stared down at it, first shocked, then revolted, and he let out an animal-like cry. What should he do now?

Motioning to the others to join him, he indicated his grim discovery and realisation dawned that there was a decision to be made.