An Unfamiliar Murder (10 page)

He shrugged. “Seemed like a laugh at the time.”

“Is there anything wrong at school, anything you would like to talk
about?”

“No!” He snorted through his nose.

The snort touched a nerve with Helen, hardening her reserve. “Listen, I
understand that you are growing up Matthew. I understand that you want to
experiment, try things. But make it the last time you experiment with cannabis.
OK?”

“Why? Because you’re worried about how it will affect you. Worried about
your job, your reputation?” He stared at the blank wall opposite. It seemed
that his boldness would fizzle out if he made eye contact.

His outburst surprised her and when she finally spoke her tone was
steely, her eyes hard. “This isn’t about me, Matt, it’s about you. About how a
police caution and a school suspension will look on your record when you apply
to engineering college.”

He shifted his posture uncomfortably. “I’m not going to engineering college,”
he muttered.

“What?”

“I said I’m not going . . .”

“I heard what you said
,
” she
interrupted. “What do you mean you’re not going to engineering college? I
thought you wanted to build aircraft?”

“No. You want me to build aircraft.” He virtually spat the words out of
his mouth. “I want to fly them.”

Helen was flabbergasted. “Since when?”

“Forever.” He stared at the wall, avoiding her eyes.

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

He looked at her now and she could almost feel the hackles on his back
rising. “Because you’d never listen. Not after what happened to Dad.” His voice
was quiet, as if he were revealing a secret.

Helen was aghast.
After what
happened to Dad.
The words transported her back ten years. John had just
returned from two months in Sierra
Leone. She remembered the relief she felt
having him back on British soil, the exhilaration at seeing him again. And then
two weeks later, it had happened . . .

He was on an Army training exercise, being routinely transported from
Nuneaton
to Leicester. The
helicopter crashed into a field just a few miles from the runway, the pilot and
all four passengers killed instantly. Two minutes later they would have landed
at the base.

There was an investigation - of course. The inquest heard that there were
no reports of mechanical breakdown. Could it be weather conditions? It had been
very foggy that evening. Or pilot error? Nobody would ever know. Three months
after his death the coroner recorded an ‘open verdict’. Helen was beside
herself. What did that mean?

She plagued the Army for answers. It became an obsession. Grief turned to
anger as she desperately looked for somebody to be held responsible for taking
John’s life. And inevitably, eventually it made her ill. Her life began to fall
apart at the seams. Until she had no fight left in her.

One day, she had been sitting at the table helping Matthew draw a
picture. It was almost Christmas. The boys had decorated the house with
streamers, tinsel, baubles. She felt the tears come out of nowhere, streaming
down her face, but couldn’t seem to stop them. Matthew looked up at her and
said, “Mummy, don’t cry again. You can have my picture if you like. That’ll
make you happy.” It was like an epiphany moment. The words of a small child
lighting up the darkness that flooded her brain. Suddenly, she realized John
was gone. There was nothing that she or anyone else could do to bring him back
and, for the sake of the boys, she needed to move forward and put the accident
behind her. The very next day she applied to join the police.

But Helen had been ‘anti-military’ ever since. Any mention of them made
her seethe. She would switch the TV over if there was an Army documentary on,
tut at the radio if the presenters were reporting war news. Over the years she
tried to curb her behavior for the sake of her children. But maybe she had not
tried hard enough? Had it really been that obvious? Had she tainted her children
with her own opinions? It took her a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Matt, it’s your life,” she said gently. “If you want to become a pilot .
. .”

“I want to join the Air Force.” It was his turn to interrupt now and she
couldn’t fail to miss the tears that were gathering in his eyes.

But the words still winded her, as soon as they left his mouth.
Air Force. Military.
Her throat
constricted, forcing her to swallow hard.

She forced her mouth to move, desperately trying to hide her own
feelings. “Oh.”

He glanced across at her. “I still want to go to
uni
,”
he continued, as if he were selling the idea to her. “They do a course at
Staffordshire where you went. Aeronaut or something Technology. It’s a degree
course. You can join the RAF after that.”

She nodded and stared into space, not quite trusting her voice. Thoughts
filled her brain.
Military, war, battles,
flying, accident, death . . .
She shuddered inwardly. Maybe he would change
his mind? Do the degree, then join an airline? The thought of him piloting an aircraft
wounded her enough, but the Air Force. The thought of history repeating itself.

She looked askance at her eldest son. His eyes were filled with a mixture
of relief and anxiety. Swallowing her own pride, she desperately tried to push
the tarnished thoughts out of her mind. “I’ll do a deal with you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean a deal?” he asked tentatively.

“Well I imagine piloting is very competitive.” She fought to keep her
voice even. “Your grades would have to be perfect . . .”

He groaned.

 
“Listen, this is important. If you
really want to become a pilot then you need to work hard at school and stop
pulling stunts like today.”

He scowled.

“It’s up to you, Matt, but if you’re prepared to show me that you can
work hard, that you are committed, then I will support you all the way.”

He looked up, eyes shining in amazement, “Really?”

“Really,” she said, her mouth still tight. She couldn’t seem to manage a
smile to accompany it. “That should keep you busy while you are grounded for
the next month.”

Matt laid back down on his bed and groaned again, swinging his arms up
over his head.

As Helen closed the door to his room behind her, she could feel her heart
racing, a rush of blood to the head. She sat on the top stair, placing her head
in her hands, breathing deeply. She thought about John, how they had both met
at Staffordshire University all those years ago. She was
studying Law, him Mechanical Engineering. Matthew was a lot like his father:
annoyingly clever, never having to graft for his grades. It was just after
graduation that she discovered she was pregnant,
scuppering
her plans to join the police service.

As she cast her mind back to those early years, tears filled her eyes.
They were so young. And it was a struggle. She had been so proud of John when
he left
Sandhurst
,
eventually becoming Platoon Commander in the Royal Electrical and Mechanical
Engineers.

She remembered those long periods on her own with a young baby. John was
often away for weeks, sometimes a couple of months at a time. But when he was
home – life was wonderful. He was a great father, very hands on, couldn’t do
enough with his family . . .

The gentle hum of her mobile phone distracted her. She fished it out and
answered abruptly, “DCI
Lavery
,” blinking to fight
back the tears that appeared to be breeding in her eyes.

“Ma’am, sorry to bother you at home.” She immediately recognized
Pemberton’s accent, although he didn’t formally introduce himself. “We’ve had a
bit of a breakthrough.” The excitement in his voice grabbed her attention.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

 
“We’ve managed to trace the
victim’s son. His name is Robert
McCafferty
, known to
his friends as
Rab
.”

“Good Work!” Her stomach bounced.

“There’s more. He’s only just been released from prison.”

Helen clutched the phone hard. “When?”

“On the day of the murder.” Excitement turned to adrenalin.

“What was he in for?”

“Armed robbery.”

“Go get him.”

“We’re on it. Spencer and Dark are on their way.”

 
“Great. I’ll be at the station in
twenty minutes.”

“Right.”

“And, Sergeant?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Don’t start
anything until I get there!”

Chapter Nine

Anna wasn’t
sure how long she had sat on her bed, frustrated at her inability to cry
properly
,
the lump in her throat growing
bigger. She couldn’t remember when she had felt this bad.

There was a knock at the door and she looked up as her dad entered.

“I’ll give you a lift over to Ross’ house.” He spoke firmly, clearly
having recovered his composure.

“No, don’t worry . . .”

“I insist, really. I know it’s a difficult time for you and I want to
help. If I’ve wronged you, it was only with the best intentions. You have to
understand that?” He sat on the edge of her bed, his eyes soft. “I’m here to
make it right.”

For the first time in days Anna couldn’t resist a small, choked smile. This
had been his favorite phrase when she was a child. If she’d had a bad day or
somebody had been mean to her in the playground, she would climb up onto his
knee at bedtime and pour it all out. He would listen intently, offering a
little advice at times, but the conversation always ended the same way, “I’m
here to make it right.” Sitting here on her bed with him again folded back the
years. Years ago those familiar words made everything right with the world. Her
smile faded. She wasn’t a little girl anymore and she hadn’t been for a very
long time.

“Okay. Just give me a few minutes. I haven’t got much. It won’t take long
to pack.” As he nodded and left the room she tried to block the feeling of
guilt which was steadfastly worming its way into her heart.

They drove across town in silence. Anna watched the road in front of her,
her eyes focused on nothing as her head mulled over the recent events in her
increasingly tumultuous daily life. Her thoughts reached her mother.

“Has Mum always been difficult?”

The question, out of the blue as it was, seemed to startle her father
momentarily. Several seconds passed before he said, “You shouldn’t be too hard
on your mother. She’s had a difficult life.”

“But why can’t she talk about things, be reasonable without going off on
one?”

“She has a lot of good qualities.”

Anna raised her eyes to the roof. “That’s not what I asked.”

“She just finds emotions difficult to deal with.”

“Hasn’t that been hard for you over the years?”
How have you stayed with her?
She thought privately.

“To truly know a person is to understand them,” replied her father, still
staring at the road in front of them. “Everybody has their little foibles,
things that mean a great deal to them, but little to others. Everyone has a
story.”

Anna folded her arms, resilient and stared across at him. “What’s her
story?”

Her father turned into

“Why, because her parents died when she was young?” She raised her eyes
upwards again, frustration itching away at her.

He looked at Anna and then sighed very loudly. “Anna, your mother’s
parents didn’t
die
when she was
young.” The emphasis on the word die got her attention.

“What? Great, more lies!” She sunk into the seat.

He ignored her and continued, “They abandoned your mother when she was
five years old. Old enough to have a memory, but too young to care for herself.”

Anna’s mouth dropped.

“They didn’t want her, she went off to live with her aunt, and they never
saw her again.” He stared blindly out of the window. The two street lights
nearest to them weren’t working. This, coupled with the absence of any house
lights, the residents not returned home from work yet, made this part of the
long road seem chillingly gloomy.

“I don’t believe it,” she said, dubiously shaking her head.

“It’s true.”

“Are they still alive?”

“No. Her father died a few of years ago, her mother just last year.”

“Where did they live?”

“In Birmingham.
Less than an hour’s drive from here.”

She blinked. “So nearby?”

“Yes. Your mother always secretly thought that they had gone abroad. She
told the rest of the world they died. It seemed to make the rejection easier
for her to bear.”

“Why has she never told me?”

He exhaled slowly. “The family kept it quiet, did everything they could
to keep the authorities out of it. Your grandmother’s sister took her in.”

“I always knew that Aunt Kate brought her up.”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said wistfully. “I think she did love your
mother in her own way, but she’d had no children of her own and didn’t really
know how to look after a child. Plus she had rather an eye for the men.”

“What do you mean?”

 
“When Kate met a new man, she
would shower your mother with gifts, new toys to keep her busy so that she
could concentrate her time on him. They would invariably move into his house,
from what I can make out, and your aunt kept the home spotless – your mother
was only allowed to play in her bedroom on her own. To be seen and not heard in
the true old fashioned sense.” He paused again, his face momentarily frozen in
sadness, before he continued, “But as the relationship turned sour, they would
leave, usually in a rush, and most of the toys and belongings would be left
behind. They moved around a lot, so your mother had little opportunity to make
friends. This continued until she was sixteen years old.” He swept the palm of
his hand across his forehead.

“What happened then?”

He looked across at Anna. “She left school at sixteen and got a job in
the local supermarket. There, for the first time she earned a wage, made
friends and started to feel settled. When her aunt was ready to move on again
she refused to go, shared a house with a group of students instead. I was one
of those students in my final year at College. We were married a year later.”

 
“Why has she never told me? Why
all the lies?”

“We are all crafted by our experiences, Anna. Your mother wanted you to
have a childhood which was as near to perfect as possible. She wanted you to grow
up into a happy, balanced adult – not haunted by
her past. This is why we didn’t tell you about the adoption.” He
shook his head. “It could have had a profound affect on you during your
formative years.”

“There’s no such thing as perfect,” Anna said dismally. They sat in
silence for a moment. With the engine extinguished the car was beginning to
feel cold. Anna shivered. “Why was I adopted?”

“After we got married she was desperate to have our own children. But it
wasn’t meant to be. So we applied for adoption and you came along. And that
made our family complete in her eyes. She had her home, her daughter and her
husband and, over the years, has managed to forge some friendships. She is not
a bad person, Anna. She just needs to be understood.”

“Why didn’t she get some counseling?”

He glanced sideways at her. “Your mother has seen many therapists over
the years. This is how I know so much. I went to many of the sessions with her.”

Anna baulked at this remark. “When? How could I have not known?”

“She wanted to protect you, I guess. In some ways she wanted our family
to be almost too perfect.”
Almost too perfect,
her life, her home, her family; almost.

“Is that everything?”

“Everything. No more secrets.” The relief in his voice was palpable.

Anna shuddered, thinking how difficult it must have been for her father
to keep all this under wraps over the years. How the secrets must have festered
within, him knowing that one day they may surface and he would have to deal
with the consequences.

“What will Mum say when you tell her you’ve told me?”

“I won’t say anything for a while,” he said slowly, “I need to find the
right time.” Over the years he’d learned how to manage the mood swings of his
precarious wife. “I’d be grateful if you don’t say anything either.” Anna
nodded in response. “This is difficult enough for her. But you are grown up now
and you have a right to know, to understand why we made the decisions we did.”

He opened his door and climbed out of the car to retrieve her bag from
the boot. Anna sat still for a while, frozen to the spot as if all of the blood
had been drained from her body. She wondered how many shocks a girl could take
in a day. Right now she felt full to the brim.

She forced herself to get out of the car and walk towards the house,
leaving the car unlocked behind her. When she finally joined him and walked
into Ross’ hallway her dad bent down to remove his shoes.

“Don’t worry about that, Dad,” Anna said quickly, waving her arm behind
her. “Ross isn’t bothered about things like that.” He followed her into the
lounge.

“Wow!” She watched him look around the room, taking in the bicycle parked
under the front window, the folded bike in the far corner and various bike
pieces set against the wall. “You sure he’s in the right job?” Edward continued.
“It looks like he should have been a mechanic.”

“His parents thought teaching would give him more security.” She glanced
sideways at him as he set down her bag.

“Shall I wait with you until he comes home?”

She shook her head. “No need.”

“Oh. Okay then.” He seemed awkward, not quite sure how to leave things.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper holding it out to
Anna.

“This is my mobile number. For your new phone.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you my new number.”

“What about clothes, your other things?” he said finally.

“I haven’t much. I’ve been wearing the old stuff I’d left at home, but
that needs washing now. I’ve got a few bits here that’ll keep me going and I’m
sure
Ross’ll
lend me a few of his tops.”

“Right, well . . .” He turned to leave.

“Dad,” she interrupted, a thought rushing into her head. The urgency of
her voice made him look back at her.

“Thanks for everything.” She leant forward and wrapped her arms around
him. She didn’t see him close his eyes, relishing in the comfort of the moment.
When she pulled back he nodded humbly in return, his eyes watery.

She stepped away and looked at him sheepishly. “Can I ask one other
question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do I have any brothers or sisters?” She bit her lip as his face folded.
The question pained him, like an arrow through the heart.

His eyes grew sad. “There was a brother,” he stared at the floor, his
voice quiet.

“Really?”

“Yes, but don’t be too disappointed Anna. The last we heard of him, he
was doing a long stretch at Her Majesty’s pleasure.”

*
* *

When Ross
walked through the door, she was curled up on his one sofa in front of the
fire, watching a repeat of Pride and Prejudice. It was her favorite adaptation,
one of her own films she left here months back and, although she had seen it
numerous times, it was a welcome respite for her tired brain.

“Hi!” He lent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Guess what?” he asked as
he stood back and raised his arms. A paper bag hung off the end of each hand. “I’ve
got takeaway – Indian, your favorite!”

She smiled up at him. “Better find some plates then.”

They moved into his galley kitchen and she placed two plates on the
breakfast bar at the far end. They laid out lamb samosas, onion
bhajis
,
poppadoms
, chicken
balti
, king prawn
rogan
josh, basmati
rice, and tucked in. Ross opened a couple of beers and handed her one.

“How was school?” she asked.

“Same as ever,” he said, a bored look covering his face. “I had the
charming 10A for DT this morning and that grease ball Fenton chucked a stapler
at Gary Roberts when my back was turned. Gary’s
sporting a wonderful bruise on his head, missed his eye by a fraction.” He
shook his head. “I’m hoping this is going to be enough to suspend him this
time. To tell you the truth, I can do without both of them. They’re a liability.”

 
She shrugged, “No change there
then. How was Randle?”

“OK, didn’t speak to me really, apart from the usual. A few of the others
asked about you.”

“What did they say?”

“Not a lot. Just that they were concerned about you. Wanted to help. Some
said they had been trying to ring you on your mobile and couldn’t get you. I
didn’t tell them you had a new number.”

“Thanks,” she said with relief, not relishing the prospect of all those
sympathy calls.

He reached his hand across the table and took hers. “Are you alright?
I’ve been worried about you.” He eyes were gentle, concerned.

“I think so.” Anna pressed her lips together in a faint smile. “Thank
you.”

“Tell me about
your
day?” he
said, as he leaned forward to grab a large prawn, coating it with rice before
placing it into his mouth.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

He looked up. She had got his attention. “Try me,” he mumbled through a
mouthful of food, “I can’t imagine anything worse than finding a dead body in
your flat.”

“Oh, you just wait.” She stared at him for a while, then sighed and
described her day, finishing up with the revelation of her having a brother,
thought to be in prison. Anna picked at the food as she spoke whilst Ross
seemed to shovel it down as if he hadn’t eaten for a week.

 
He blinked at intervals, jolted
back at times, wide eyed in surprise, but waited until she had completely
finished before he spoke. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a day.”

“You could say that. I feel bruised and battered, as though I’ve been
used as an emotional punching bag.”