Chapter 6

Judy faces Saffron Evans and Brady Wilson across their mother’s grey and pink sitting room. It’s a pleasant space, furnished with the kind of decorating flourishes that Judy never quite achieves: multiple cushions, fringed lamps, framed photographs in tasteful clusters. Even the books are arranged by colour, their spines unbroken. Judy’s living area includes Cathbad’s driftwood collection, Michael’s piano and Miranda’s artwork pinned onto the walls. Their books are dog-eared and arranged by psychic connection. Judy doesn’t possess any chenille cushions and, if she did, Thing would eat them.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Judy says. ‘This must be very hard for you.’ She has told the family that this is a courtesy call, to explain the police procedures for investigating an unexpected death. She won’t mention Nelson’s suspicions, unless the siblings give her reason to suppose they share them.

‘It’s just a shock,’ says Saffron. She’s probably in her late twenties, as immaculate as the room, blonde hair in a French plait, nails a perfect shell-like pink. Brady is tall and muscular, looking as if he is about to burst out of his black tracksuit. They look more like actors in a soap opera than real-life people.

But Saffron’s tears are real enough. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ she says, taking a tissue from the floral-printed box on the table.

‘You were saying your mother’s death was a shock,’ Judy prompts gently. ‘Had you any idea she was feeling depressed?’

‘Mum wasn’t depressed,’ said Brady. ‘She just didn’t do depression. She got on with things.’

Judy doesn’t answer that depression does not stop people getting on with things, that it’s an illness that many people live with all their lives. Instead she says, ‘When did you last see your mum?’

‘The day before,’ says Brady. ‘The day before . . . she was found. I usually pop in on my way home from the gym. I wasn’t going to be able to come on Friday so I texted her and then phoned. I thought it was odd that she didn’t answer. So I came round.’

‘Mum always answers texts immediately,’ says Saffron. ‘Usually with a row of emojis. Smiley faces, hearts, cry laughing. I used to say I regretted showing her where to find them on her phone.’ She holds the tissue up to her eyes.

‘And Samantha seemed her usual self on Thursday?’ asks Judy.

‘Yes,’ says Brady. ‘She was going to photocopy some more personal training leaflets for me. She used the machine at the library. We talked about that. And about Poppy. My little girl. She’s three. Mum doted on her.’

‘We all do,’ says Saffron.

Judy knows that Saffron is married but doesn’t have children. Brady lives with his partner, Claire, and they have one daughter. They seem a close family. Samantha was divorced but remained on good terms with her husband, Nick. Brady called in most days on his way home from the gym where he works. Saffron saw her mother at least once a week. Samantha often collected Poppy from school and the little girl sometimes stayed over at her house. Why would this happy, fulfilled woman kill herself?

Judy asks about the sleeping pills and Saffron says that her mum sometimes suffered from insomnia. Except it seems that, this time, Samantha took the pills in the middle of the day.

‘I always knew when she couldn’t sleep,’ says Saffron, ‘because she’d send me all these YouTube videos in the middle of the night. Mostly about animals.’

‘Did your mum have a pet?’ There’s nothing in this pristine room that suggests the presence of an animal.

‘Not now. She used to have a cat called Trudy but she died at the end of last year. Mum was devastated.’

Judy loves animals but surely losing a beloved cat is not enough reason to drive a person to despair? Besides, it happened last year. She doesn’t want to ask any more intrusive questions so she talks the siblings through the process of the post-mortem and inquest.

‘Will we have to wait until the inquest before we can have the funeral?’ asks Brady.

‘No,’ says Judy. ‘You can plan the funeral as soon as you have a death certificate. Did Samantha leave any specific instructions?’

‘No,’ says Saffron. ‘And she didn’t leave a will either. Mum was such an organised person. I’m sure that, if she’d meant to die, she would have made some plans, written something down.’

Judy has made a will and even Cathbad has left a long list of his burial requirements, including a funeral pyre and ritual chanting. She thinks it’s strange that someone who colour-coded their books didn’t draw up a will. Strange, but not necessarily suspicious.

‘She would have wanted a church funeral,’ says Brady. ‘Will that be allowed?’

‘Of course,’ says Judy. Suicides were once denied burial on hallowed ground. Thank goodness this is a thing of the past. Judy asks if Samantha attended a local church.

‘She went to evensong at St Matthew’s sometimes,’ offers Saffron. ‘And she used to go to that special service at the cathedral.’

‘Which service? Christmas? Easter?’

‘No. The one for the dead,’ says Saffron. ‘The outcast dead.’

 

Ruth gets held up in traffic and is ten minutes late to collect Kate. She finds her daughter sitting smugly in the secretary’s office pretending to read a library book.

‘I’m so sorry,’ says Ruth, half to Kate and half to Mrs Chambers, ‘I got held up on a dig.’

‘I know,’ says Kate. ‘You’re all muddy.’

Ruth looks down and sees that she’s left dirty footprints on the grey carpet. She starts apologising again but Mrs Chambers says that it’s no problem. ‘I’ll just pop the hoover over it.’ This makes Ruth feel worse than ever.

In the car, Kate embarks on a long description of the Year 6 trip in the summer term. She’s in her last year in primary school and, from the PTA newsletter, it looks as if her final term will be full of valedictory events: picnics, discos, rounders matches, concerts, even a prom. Ruth always feels slightly guilty, knowing that she won’t be able to get away from work for all these festivities. Nor will Nelson, although he’ll want to come to Kate’s final assembly and will embarrass everyone by taking too many photographs.

Kate’s next educational step has also proved controversial. Ruth was determined that Kate should have a comprehensive education, as she did. ‘But she’s so bright,’ said Nelson. ‘So was I and I did OK,’ countered Ruth. ‘Comprehensives are for everyone, that’s the whole point.’ Nelson wanted Kate to go to the private girls’ school attended by his older daughters. In the end, Ruth consented to take Kate to the open day at St Faith’s. She’d been slightly afraid that Kate would be swayed by the facilities, especially the theatre with real swishing curtains, but Kate announced that she preferred the comprehensive. ‘Why?’ asked Ruth, masking her relief. ‘Because it’s got boys in it.’ Ruth had filled in the forms that night.

Is Ruth sacrificing Kate’s prospects for her own political beliefs, as Nelson clearly thinks? No, she tells herself. Kate would do well anywhere, and Ruth wants her daughter’s schoolfriends to be socially diverse, and to include boys. She thinks back to the reunion at the weekend. Ruth’s old classmates are certainly a mixed bunch: hard-working GP Fatima, successful plumber Daniel, much-married Kelly. Would they have been different if she’d attended a private school? Did Ruth’s parents ever consider another option? They couldn’t have afforded private school fees but there might still have been the odd grammar school around. Ruth has an opportunity to ask her father about this because he rings later that evening, after Kate has gone to bed.

‘Hallo, Dad. How was Eastbourne?’ Arthur and Gloria were staying with Gloria’s eldest son, who runs a restaurant.

‘Fine. Very pleasant. Cleaner than Brighton.’

‘That’s nice.’ Ruth loves Brighton but she can see why it wouldn’t be her father’s favourite town.

‘Thank you for what you did, Ruth. For taking care of . . . of Mum’s stuff.’

It still makes Ruth’s heart contract to hear her father say ‘Mum’ without the determiner, as if Jean is still there somewhere. Mummy, Daddy and two children. Just like an old-fashioned reading book.

‘That’s OK. Happy to help. Dad, I was going through some of Mum’s old pictures and I found one of the cottage.’

‘Cottage? Which cottage?’

‘This cottage. Where I live.’

‘She must have taken it when we visited.’ Those visits were few and far between. Jean always refused to stay the night at Ruth’s house because she thought the stairs were unsafe.

‘It was taken before I moved here. On the back it said, “Dawn 1963”.’

There’s a silence. Then Arthur says, ‘1963. That’s before you were born.’

‘Yes.’

‘You were born in 1968. Simon in 1966.’

‘I know, Dad.’

‘Then why would Jean have a picture taken in 1963?’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I was asking you.’

‘Well, I don’t know.’ Arthur sounds confused and rather upset.

Ruth decides to change the subject: ‘I went to a school reunion while I was in Eltham. Alison invited me. You remember Ali?’

‘Of course I do.’ Arthur sounds relieved to be on firmer ground. ‘Funny little thing. But she had a good heart. I’ll always remember her coming to Mum’s funeral.’

‘Me too. Well, Alison told me that there was an Eltham Park reunion at the Black Lion in Blackheath.’

‘Nice pub.’

‘Yes. Daniel Breakspeare was there. Do you remember him?’

‘Yes. Your mum always liked Daniel.’

‘She did. Dad, did you ever think of sending me to another school?’

Another pause. ‘Why would we have done that? Simon went to Eltham Park. Everyone went there.’

‘I don’t know. I suppose I was just thinking about secondary schools because of Kate.’

They talk about Kate for a comfortable few minutes, then say goodnight. Ruth suddenly feels the need for a drink. She goes to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of red before sitting down at her laptop.

There are three new emails. The first is something of a surprise.

Ruth looks at this missive for some time, sipping her wine. Why does Daniel want to see her? Is he just feeling nostalgic? Is it a symptom of age, with or without the jaunty exclamation mark? Is it surprising that he has remembered Ruth’s half-finished tale of the box marked ‘private’? And which should she believe: the more formal ‘all best’ or the D followed by two kisses?

The second email is from Alison.

The third email is from her colleague David Brown. Subject: Tombland Dig. Ruth knows she should open this but instead she presses the link to enter the Lean Zone.