Beautiful Child

BEAUTIFUL CHILD

A DCI SARA HOYLAND MYSTERY

DAVID MENON

EMPIRE PUBLICATIONS

WWW.EMPIRE-UK.COM

*

For our own Beautiful Child, Helena, and for all the children who bite their lip but are still sent away.

And with special thanks to Gran for answering my prayers and to Danielle for making sure it wasn’t too late. 

Once again I’m indebted to Ash and the team at Empire for everything they’ve done to get me into the world of published authors. Today Manchester, tomorrow the world!

I’d also like to thank Wing Commander Ian Barke for being a true friend.

www.facebook.com/sarahoyland

www.twitter.com@ifanyonefalls

www.goodreads.com/davidmenon

www.davidmenon.com

*

The walls of HMP Manchester hold many secrets, most of which never get the chance to be revealed. Angela Barker had been working as a psychotherapist there for five years and her clients included some of the most dangerous men in the country. It wasn’t the only place she worked. Employed by the NHS she practised her craft across several Manchester locations but she only dealt with the most serious cases of mental health disturbance. Just like anybody else she’d want to slap the kind of neurotic self-obsessed idiot who claims to have a low self-esteem problem because their parents never bought them the model of bike they wanted when they were a kid. No, Angela liked to delve deep into the mind and soul of someone with a more substantial history. Her husband thought it was highly amusing that she could talk to a mass murderer as if they were her neighbour but she can’t sleep at night without leaving a light on because she’s afraid of the dark. Even after all the years they’d been together he still teased her about that.

‘The thing about therapy,’ said Angela as she put her pen and paper down, ‘is that it can only help you come to terms with the things that have been done against you. It can’t take you back and stop them from happening.’

She was talking to Paddy, a man in his late forties who was in for having killed his girlfriend in front of their toddler son over twenty years ago. He was coming up for parole and it was Angela’s job to assess him psychologically.

‘Things?’ said Paddy, his deep Australian drawl still distinctive despite the rest of his character having fallen close to the abyss. He’d only been back in the UK a few short weeks when he committed his crime. He’d been born in the UK and spent the first five years of his life here. ‘Is that what you’d call them?’

‘For want of a better word,’ said Angela who, try as she did, couldn’t help focusing more than she should on the long jagged scar that ran downwards from his right temple to his jaw. It was as if the surgeon had been drunk when he’d taken his knife to Paddy’s face. She didn’t know where that or the limp that sometimes hindered his walk came from but she hoped all would be explained in due course.

‘Well whatever the word, doc, I think it’s all a bit too late for me.’

‘You elevate my status, Paddy,’ said Angela, smiling affectionately at what she saw as a term of endearment, ‘I’ve told you I’m not a doctor, I’m a psychotherapist.’

‘Same difference to an old bloke like me, doc.’

‘What am I going to do with you, Paddy?’

‘When I was younger I could’ve given you heaps of ideas, doc.’ said Paddy with a wink.

Angela threw her head back and laughed. ‘I don’t doubt that.’

‘Sheila’s like you always like a bit of rough.’

What was even funnier to Angela at that moment was the disapproving look on the face of the prison officer standing guard in the corner. She couldn’t care less about it. Paddy had almost served out his time and it wasn’t as if there wasn’t enough misery in here. The place could do with the sound of laughter.

‘Are we going to talk clichés all afternoon?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Paddy, ‘You probably know more of them than me so it wouldn’t be a fair fight.’

Angela smiled again. She found herself doing it often to counter the crushing numbness of this sparsely furnished room with its grey walls. She was sitting on a plastic chair. Paddy was sitting opposite her on a similar piece of unremarkable furniture. She’d never seen the prison officer before although he looked as if he’d been in the job for centuries. In fact, apart from the uniform, he looked like many of the inmates. His head was shaved and it glowed, unlike his face which had been shaved almost to the point of tearing his skin. She deduced from his skin tone that he must have to sit in the shade when he went on holiday. Skin that white would require an industrial strength protection lotion. There were the usual bars at the small window that was just below the ceiling on the wall facing her. The unmistakable smell of the institution hung in the air like it did everywhere else in the prison. She’d always hated that smell. She looked up at Paddy whose grey eyes were far away.

‘It isn’t too late to open up your heart to me, Paddy.’

‘Do you really think I’ve got one, doc?’ replied the inmate who didn’t want to admit that he was finding it hard to talk today. The pain was like a steel claw scraping away at his insides, the result of an altercation with a fellow inmate who’d come off worse and ended up in the prison hospital. The doc seemed like a good sort though, a real mercy child if it wasn’t for the physical confines of his situation. Maybe he should try with the doc. It got him out of his cell and out of kitchen duty for a while.

‘Everybody’s got one, Paddy,’ coaxed Angela, ‘much as they like to try and disguise it.’

‘And that’s what I’m doing, is it?’

‘It seems that way. I mean, you’ve told me precious little about yourself.’

‘I’m not as open as some of the characters who pass through here.’

‘So why is that?’

Angela had grown rather fond of Paddy in the weeks since she’d been assigned to him. The authorities wanted to make sure they’d done all they could to sort out and assess his mental state. The governor had called it a “Duty of Care” as well as being part of the parole process. Angela thought that for those like Paddy it was an injustice that it hadn’t come before. Her view wouldn’t be shared by the mass of populist opinion but she didn’t care about pandering to those who thought the answers were always so simple. Despite what it said in Paddy’s file about what he’d done, there were still the traces of the desperate child written right across that worn, craggy face.

‘I’m not what you call touchy feely?’

‘I might’ve agreed on that before I met you,’ said Angela, ‘but I’m not so sure now. Besides, I quite like you.’

‘I’m honoured, doc, but we’ve only got an hour.’

‘I’m not clock watching, Paddy.’

Paddy tossed his thumb in the guard’s direction. ‘No, but they are.’

Angela laughed. ‘Then we’d better start talking seriously.’

‘Ah, just when I thought we were going to have a little fun, doc.’

‘I’m not here for fun, Paddy, I’m here to try and help you.’

‘Help me? You think you can do that?’

‘Paddy, I can help you stop the bad memories from stabbing away at you when you close your eyes and try to sleep.’

‘Do me a favour, doc. Don’t ever take up writing situation comedy. You’d be lousy.’

‘All this cracking jokes in your state,’ said Angela, ‘I’m impressed.’

‘You know I like to be up front.’

‘You weren’t trying to be funny then?’

‘Well, maybe an attempt.’

‘Well if it brings a smile to your face, which I can see that it has, then I’m glad.’

‘You should’ve seen me in my younger days,’ said Paddy, ‘you’d have been impressed then.’

Angela blushed. Paddy had a way of doing that to her. There was something of a glint in his eyes even now. He’d have been a right one with the women if he’d managed to lead a normal life. 

‘What would you have liked to have happened in your life, Paddy?’

‘Oh I gave up thinking about that a long time ago. Look, at the risk of becoming a boring old fart asking the same old bloody questions, why are you even bothering with me, doc?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Doc, I’m old before my time and you’ve read the notes on me. What else can I tell you?’

‘Isn’t that for me to find out during our conversations? Yes, I’ve read the notes on you, Paddy, but they only tell me the legal facts.’

‘I was a bad person, doc, so just go and read the notes again. That’s where you’ll find your answers.’

‘I want to hear them from you, Paddy.’

‘You’re a bloody persistent Sheila, I’ll give you that!’

‘Just tell me what’s in your heart and soul, Paddy.’

‘I’ve never talked about that.’

‘Well I think that’s the trouble, Paddy’ said Angela. ‘But it’s never too late.’

Adrian and Penny Bradshaw walked up the hill to the local pub hand-in-hand. They were a good-looking couple. They were both still the right side of forty, Adrian still had a full head of thick black hair and Penny had the kind of figure that not only belied her age but also the fact that she’d had three children. The short pink cardigan that she’d kept unbuttoned over her short sleeveless cream coloured dress meant that she wouldn’t feel any chill that suddenly wound its way through the early June air. They’d moved out to the hill town of Saddleworth near Oldham and its infamous moors, when it was time for their two eldest to get bedded into the school system. It had been a good move, all three of their kids were doing well and village life so close to the city was good for the whole family. They felt they had the best of both worlds.

Adrian was wearing his usual beige chinos. Penny had ironed his favourite white linen shirt that she’d bought for his last birthday and he was wearing it with the top two buttons undone, showing off the thickness of his chest fur. She’d be the first to say that she was lucky. Adrian was tall and strong and though he was every inch the bloke, he still knew how to take care of himself. He went to the gym a couple of times a week and liked to watch what he ate. Not too seriously, he still liked his chips and his beer but he was disciplined when the weight started to creep up. Some of Penny’s friends obsessed about their figures whilst their husbands expanded their beer bellies seemingly without any thought for how their wife saw them. But when she made love to Adrian she didn’t have to do it with a giant balloon of flab pushing against her stomach like all those other women had to. He didn’t have a six-pack but his stomach was flat and firm and he was still good at making her feel good. He never disappointed her. She rested her head against his shoulder as they walked.

‘What’s all this about?’ asked Adrian.

‘Nothing,’ said Penny, who then gently stroked his freshly shaved face with the backs of her fingers. ‘I’m just lucky to have such a handsome husband.’

‘And how’s my gorgeous wife?’

Penny smiled. She always went shy when Adrian paid her a compliment, even after all these years, and even after all the ways he’d used to make her believe in her own beauty. He blamed her parents. They’d always put her down in favour of her younger sister Natasha and Adrian had never been able to understand why. Penny had never given her parents any worry but Natasha had ridden all the wild horses she could find in the stable. You wouldn’t think so now though. Now she was going out with a celebrity doctor and putting on an accent that made Adrian and Penny smile at the ridiculous falseness of it.   

They managed to find a small table in the corner of the bar. A lot of the other customers were ordering food from the newly re-opened gastro pub side of the bar but the couple had already eaten with the kids.

‘Your Mum loves looking after the kids,’ said Penny, who was still holding hands with her husband. He was drinking a pint of bitter whilst she was sipping her way through a glass of dry white wine. ‘I never have to ask her twice.’

‘I know,’ said Adrian, ‘she’s good to us.’

‘She is’ said Penny who’d always been envious of the closeness of Adrian’s family. He and his two brothers and one sister acted as one unit with his Mum. It was a million miles away from where her family was. 

‘Have you heard from your folks?’

‘I’ve said I’ll go round to Mum’s this week to help her pack for their holiday to Malta.’

‘ I suspect you won’t be helping your Mum pack,’ said Adrian who knew how Penny’s Mum liked to rush around the place saying she’d got loads to do whilst others around her actually got on and did it. ‘I suspect you’ll be doing the actual packing for her.’

‘I expect so, not that I mind. It’ll give us some time together.’

‘You’ll end up rowing.’

‘No doubt.’ she said, sipping her wine, ‘You know us.’

‘I know you and you’re always so optimistic about things.’ said Adrian. ‘Your Mum and Dad have never done right by you but you still put a smile on for them.’

‘It’s what you do when they’re your parents,’ said Penny, unsure if she believed her own words or not. ‘You keep on believing that one day it’ll turn out alright.’

Adrian squeezed her hand. ‘Like you always believed I’d get promoted even when I didn’t.’

‘Don’t you make out like I’m one of those pushy wives.’

‘You’d never be that,’ he replied ‘but you stepped in when I got discouraged. That’s when I needed you most and like always, you were there. If it wasn’t for you I’d still be police constable Bradshaw instead of Detective Sergeant.’

‘You did all that by yourself, Adrian, by being a good copper.’

Adrian felt fortunate to have recently joined the squad led by DCI Sara Hoyland. He worked mostly alongside DI Tim Norris and fellow DS Joe Alexander. Norris was a brooding and sometimes hard to read bloke but Alexander was different altogether and they’d hit it off straight away.

‘Anyway, what’s it like working for that gorgeous Sara Hoyland?’

‘The boss? She’s alright actually.’

‘She is gorgeous, Adrian.’

‘Yes, she is, and I can’t say I haven’t noticed.’ Adrian admitted, ‘What man wouldn’t? But she’s knocking off one of the PC’s, a young very fit looking lad called Kieran. He’s the envy of all the unattached men at the station.’

‘And some of the attached ones too?’

‘Only those who are unhappily attached.’

‘Ooh, right answer!’

‘Years of practice, my love.’

‘He must be younger than her?’

‘He is,’ laughed Adrian, ‘by some years.’

‘Go for it, girlfriend!’ said Penny, ‘Although I’d never trade you in for a younger model, darling.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. There is some sort of tension between Tim Norris and Sara, some personal history thing but it doesn’t really affect the squad.’

‘Joe Alexander seems lovely.’

‘He’s a top bloke is Joe, no side to him at all.’

‘He could do with losing a bit of weight though.’

‘Yeah he could but… he’s not morbidly obese or anything.’

‘Just a bit cuddly.’

‘That’s it,’ smiled Adrian, ‘cuddly.’

‘What’s his attachment story?’

‘Seeing a married woman. She lives on the same street, her husband is in a wheelchair apparently.’

‘I can’t help thinking that’ll all end in tears’ said Penny.

‘You may be right. Just like you were about encouraging me and how you encourage the kids too.’

‘Now come on, I’m not alone there, Adrian.’

‘I do my best.’ he said, ‘Do you think your Natasha will have any kids with Charlie?’

‘Natasha? I don’t know. I’ve always thought she was too selfish for that but the other day she told me she had actually been thinking about it.’

‘It must be part of some scheme she’s cooking up.’

‘Yes, that was my thought too,’ said Penny. ‘I mean, Charlie has already got two of course so who knows. He might not want anymore.’

‘And do you think that’ll stop Natasha if she’s determined?’

‘Well no, you’ve got a point there..’

‘We’ll wait and see’ said Adrian.

‘Adrian?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you think that we could have just one more?’

‘It’s only nine o’clock, babes, I was hoping we were going to have at least a couple more.’

‘No, you twit, I don’t mean a drink. I mean a child.’

Adrian nearly spat his beer out. ‘A child? You’re not?’

‘ No, I’m not!’ blushed Penny, before laughing at the terrified look on her husband’s face.  ‘I just meant one more to finish off our family.’

‘Penny, I’m more than happy with the three we’ve got and we’re not exactly rolling in it. I don’t think we could really afford another child’

‘We could if we wanted to.’

‘Penny, that’s not fair. You’ve been working up to this, haven’t you. I can tell you have.’

‘The kids are growing up so fast. Tom’s twelve, Amy’s ten, Katie is five and … ‘

‘…yes, Penny, I do know the ages of our kids.’

‘But what am I going to do when they don’t need me as much?’

‘Penny, that’s life,’ said Adrian firmly. ‘You have kids, you do your best for them, then they grow up and find their own way leaving Mum and Dad to rediscover why they got together in the first place.’

‘You old romantic.’

‘Well I am trying to be practical too. I mean, we keep afloat financially because of what we get from your job at the school. Having another child would put a big financial strain on things for us.’

Penny enjoyed her job as a teaching assistant at the school where Katie, their youngest, went and she would also have to agree that the family finances had been easier since she’d gone out to work. But she was broody.

‘I suppose it’s my ticking clock talking,’ said Penny.

‘I didn’t mean to be insensitive.’

‘You weren’t,’ said Penny.

‘ To be honest, Pen, I just don’t think I could go through the nappy and sleepless night stage again,’ Adrian admitted, ‘I like the fact that our kids are kids now and not babies anymore. There’s a great thing going between the five of us.’

‘ I know’ said Penny, smiling at certain memories. She’d always thought she’d be closer to her daughters and indeed she adored her girls. But in fact it was her son Tom who was her ‘mate’ amongst the three. She sometimes thought it may be because she saw so much of Adrian in Tom and that led to her being a little bit in love with her son like many mothers were.

‘I’d like us to get the overdraft down and pay off some of the balance on the credit cards. You know, get rid of some of our debt.’

‘Isn’t that what you up your mortgage for?’

‘Yes, but there’s a limit to that, Pen, and we’re very close to it considering the way house prices are at the moment.’

‘I didn’t realise things were that bad.’

‘They’re not,’ said Adrian, ‘we’re in a better position than many others. We could just do a bit better than we do, that’s all.’

She kissed him on the cheek.

‘Now what have I done?’

‘Nothing,’ said Penny. ‘I just felt like it, like I just feel like getting another one in and this time, I do mean a drink.’

A little while later they joined some of their friends and neighbours at the bar. As they talked Adrian kept a light hand on his wife’s bottom and an intimate closeness that she responded to with equal affection. Her touch in the small of his back, the smell of her perfume as she stood so close, were just two of the things that made him glad that she was his wife. When they got home, Adrian’s Mum had a coffee with them before leaving. Then Adrian and Penny went upstairs to bed and made love.

Just before one o’clock in the morning they had another baby on the way.

*

Canon Brendan O’ Farrell of the Holy Saints Catholic Church in Salford had always been a very proud and fastidious man. It had been fifty years since he’d graduated from the seminary in Dublin and cut the ties with his native County Clare for a life in the priesthood. Holy Saints had been his very first posting and he’d been over in England so long he almost felt like he’d gone native. But whenever he went back home to ‘Clare’ his seven brothers and sisters reminded him that he was a thoroughbred Irishman. Brendan was the oldest and therefore the one who’d come under the most pressure from their late parents. One of the five boys had to become a priest and Brendan had found it impossible to resist. He had wanted to become a train driver but judging by how his chest had developed, perhaps God had been steering him away from all that steam that had surrounded the trains back then.

He was too old, he was now in his late sixties, to get up to do the morning weekday Mass but he had to give young Phillip a bit of a break. Father Phillip Evans had been holding the fort here at Holy Saints for the last couple of years and the poor lad was exhausted. It was a big church with a big parish and there just weren’t enough priests to go round. He liked young Phillip. He seemed like a normal sort of bloke. He’d lost count of the amount of young priests whose promise had been sacrificed when they were moved around on account of being too fond of little girls or little boys. He didn’t think Phillip would fall into that particular trap. He’d been wrong before but he felt pretty certain about Phillip. He didn’t seem like the sort to have a ‘side’ to him.

Brendan was only going to be at Holy Saints for another couple of months. He’d already booked his ticket back home to County Clare on Aer Lingus, or rather he’d got young Phillip to do it on account of it having to be done on the internet if you wanted to take advantage of the cheaper fares. Just another couple of months and then he’d finally be allowed to retire. He had a small cottage waiting for him that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean that was next door to his sister Bernadette and her husband Gerald who had retired there last year. His nephew had already fitted his satellite television. He couldn’t wait.

After the Mass was finished he went into the kitchen to find his breakfast. He might’ve known that Ann Schofield, who was not only the priests’ housekeeper but also one of Brendan’s oldest and closest friends, would already be at her post, preparing a pot of tea along with toast, bacon, and eggs.