Hard Girls (24 page)

Kate smiled at Miriam Salter. She didn’t need her and her determined personality at this exact moment in time, but she knew she had to humour her.

‘Have you got a few minutes, Kate?’

‘ ’Course I have, what can I do for you?’

Miriam shrugged, her heavy shoulders seemed to rise up like a hunchback’s. She was even bigger than she was before. Kate hated that she thought things like that, but the Miriams of the world irritated her.

‘I think Sandy Compton’s mother is an alcoholic, and I desperately need your advice. She won’t even acknowledge her daughter’s death and worse still, neither she nor the husband want to arrange a funeral for her. Do you think I should try to get some public money to pay for it?’

Kate didn’t know what to say. ‘Look, Miriam, the body will not be released for a good while yet, as well you know. Why not wait until it’s relevant? By then the parents might have come around.’

Miriam nodded, barely moving her head. She had a knack of making her feelings known with a subtlety that was extremely annoying. ‘Maybe you’re right. I have always trusted your instincts, Kate. You are rarely wrong. I should wait, I should have the patience to step back and wait until the Comptons are prepared to bury their child. But it’s hard, Kate, you know. Hard to help people who are so angry and hurt that they can’t see how destructive their feelings actually are.’

Kate felt the guilt rise up inside her. People like Miriam were hard work and she hated that she resented her so much. Miriam did so much for the families of the dead. She was the one who sat with them, listened to them, and eventually helped them come to terms with their loss. She visited people who had been raped, burgled and mugged. She ensured that Kate and her colleagues were not burdened with their emotions when they needed to be clear-headed to solve the crimes.

‘Tell you what, Miriam, I’ll talk to the brass, see if they can get someone in from outside, a professional grief counsellor . . .’

Miriam puffed herself up to almost frightening proportions. She straightened up like a demented, podgy runner bean, and her grey eyes became little slits of anger and distress. Kate immediately regretted her words, understood that she had inadvertently insulted this woman and all the work she had done for the families of the deceased.

‘I can’t believe to the point of emaciationGV, she wondered why you just said that, Kate. If you think I’m not experienced enough, then all you had to do was say. I am willing to step back and let the
professionals
take over. In fact, as I have recently been widowed myself, I can see why you might think I don’t have the necessary qualifications for dealing with people who have lost their nearest and dearest . . .’

Miriam’s voice was rising with every word, and Kate was aghast at her faux pas, but she had not meant it as it had come out. She was only trying to offer some kind of help. Miriam had a couple of older women who assisted her for a few hours here and there, both were do-gooders like Miriam but, unlike Miriam, they did not see their role as pivotal, as important, if not more important, than anyone else’s. It occurred to Kate that this was what really needled her about Miriam. Like her husband before her, God rest his soul, she thought she was doing the most important job of all. Taking care of those left behind was a mantra that both Miriam and her husband had lived by. On top of all their church work, and their other charitable labours, they had seen themselves as the modern-day equivalent of Mother Teresa and St Francis of Assisi combined.

‘Calm down, Miriam, for God’s sake.’

People were staring at them, young PCs were smirking at the sight of Kate Burrows and Minging Miriam in what seemed to be a full-blown argument.

‘Calm down? You’re telling me to calm down? How dare you! I’m not averse to speaking my mind, and I do not take kindly to someone like
you
speaking to me as if I mean nothing.’

Kate was shocked at Miriam’s vehemence. ‘What do you mean, someone like me?’ There was a challenge in Kate’s words now for anyone to hear. The onlookers were thrilled at the continuing saga.

Miriam shook her head in a slow gesture of disgust. ‘You, swanning around with that man, like Burton and Taylor, thinking you are better than everyone else when you are living with a criminal. You, a policewoman. Someone who should know better . . .’

All Kate could think of was, Burton and Taylor? Was that an insult? She wasn’t sure, all she knew was that she felt a terrible urge to start laughing. Rip-roaring, loud laughter. The woman was off her bloody head. So she said as much. ‘I think you came back to work too early, Miriam, you are obviously still not in your right mind. Grief can do that to a body. Listen to yourself, woman. Screeching and hollering in the hallways, making a spectacle of yourself. I apologise if I offended you, but I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to offer you some help, offering to try and take some of the burden from you. That was all, there was no hidden insult, or underlying offence. But do not talk to me like that, do you hear me? No one talks to me like that and gets away with it.’

Miriam was suddenly calm, her whole body seemed to deflate in an instant. ‘My husband and I have done more for the people of Grantley than anyone else, and I say that as a fact. I am proud of what we do. He might have gone, but I am determined to keep his memory alive. I do not need any help, or anything at all, from the likes of you.’

With that, she walked away, a certain rough dignity in her rounded shoulders, and a surprising spring to her step given her immense size. Kate stood and watched her retreat. She saw Annie make a comical face of mock horror while saying loudly, ‘What the fuck was all that about?’

Kate shrugged. ‘I’m fucked if I know.’

And they both started laughing to the point of emaciationGV, she wondered whyat the total incongruity of it, their earlier fight forgotten.

Mariska Compton was in bits. Her daughter’s death had finally hit her. It was the way her girl had died that was hurting her, it was the way her daughter had been tortured, abused. It didn’t help that she also felt some responsibility because she had never been interested in the girl. Not on any real level anyway.

‘How are you?’

‘Fine.’

That had been the sum total of their conversations for many years. As long as Sandy was clean, tidy, and in employment, and as long as she was as far away from her as possible, Mariska had not really given her a second’s thought.

Now, as Mariska looked at her daughter’s possessions, looked around the girl’s flat, she wondered what she was supposed to do. What did one do in these situations? She certainly had no intention of looking through all this stuff, did she? She wasn’t sure.

She glanced around the room, it was a lovely room. Sandy
could
have been a designer if she had really wanted to. She had made the most of the space, the light. She had a flair for the dramatic; she dressed dramatically, like Theda Bara or a very young Joan Collins. Very Hollywood, very feminine, and yet Sandy had been very strong inside herself. It was one of the few things she had ever admired about her daughter. She saw a photograph on the mantelpiece, it was of the two of them, mother and daughter. It was a very pretty picture, they both looked happy and connected. No one seeing it would guess at the true nature of their relationship and, for some reason, this made Mariska feel tearful.

She was suddenly aware that there was no chance to change their situation, they were lost to one another. The daughter she had never really had any time for had finally become important to her, only it was too late for either of them to do anything about it. She knew the next step was to go and see her daughter’s working environment. As much as it repulsed her, she knew that she needed to see it. It was the only way she would ever be able to put this whole sorry mess behind her.

As Miriam had told her over and over again, without the men, these girls would be out of work. It was simply supply and demand. They had men working in the background, men who made sure these girls were sucked in before they knew what had happened to them. They kept them there with fear, intimidation and violence. She made it all sound so much easier, made her feel that it wasn’t her fault, or even her daughter’s fault. Miriam had made her realise that she had nothing to reproach herself for.

She was so glad she had listened to the woman, it had helped to get it all off her chest to someone she knew she would never see again once this was over. Miriam was kind and helpful, but not exactly someone one would choose as a friend in normal circumstances. But there was nothing normal about any of this and, as the old saying went, any port in a storm. That sentiment seemed very apt at this moment in time.

Sitting on her daughter’s chaise longue, Mariska Compton finally cried. Not for herself this time, but for her daughter and the tragic loss of such a young life. If she had only given her a bit more of her time, none of this might have happened.

Kate and Annie were back on track and they were both glad. Kate was throwing herself into work; knowing about Patrick and that girl had all but destroyed her, but she was a realist. She knew that it was going to hurt, and hurt for a long time. Her be their nearest and dearest to her challengeyst defence was to be as busy as possible and, with all that was going on, she could easily achieve that much.

Also, seeing the devastation of the girls put her own problems into a much-needed perspective. She knew through Jennifer that Patrick had sorted his troubles in his own inimitable way and she was genuinely glad about that. But the pain was still there, aching inside her whenever she allowed herself to think too much about it.

Kate looked at Annie and smiled wanly. ‘Did you get the other girls’ names together?’

Annie nodded. Kate noticed she looked as harassed as she herself did and that, she felt, was a good sign. She never trusted police who could leave the job behind when they went home. It was a job that needed twenty-four-seven interest, and twenty-four-seven time and effort.

‘Quite a few more. Jennifer has been very forthcoming.’

‘Where are they? Are they coming here or do we visit them?’

‘Both. Most of them are happy to see us here, a few insist on seeing us on neutral ground.’

Kate nodded. ‘We’ll take some ourselves and give the others to a good WPC. That new young one, what’s her name? Amanda?’

Annie smiled. ‘Yeah. Mandy Tooley. She’s good with the working girls. I’ll get her on to it. I thought we could do the others either alphabetically or by location. You decide.’

Kate shrugged. ‘You decide, it’s your call.’

Annie was inordinately pleased that Kate was deferring to her. She knew it was petty, but somehow it made her feel as though she really was the one who was actually orchestrating everything. She knew it wasn’t true, and so did Kate, but it had gone a long way to getting them back on an even keel.

‘In that case, I thought we could go alphabetically, cross them off our list and move on.’

Kate nodded. Personally she would have mapped out the addresses and therefore prevented them both from crossing town over and over again. But she didn’t say that. Instead she smiled happily and picked up her handbag.

Janette Carter was tall, very tall, with a boyish body and thick, silky hair. She was wearing coloured contacts so her eyes were a very bright green, her teeth were white, and just perfect enough to give her a lovely smile. Kate liked her on sight; she had a warmth that was e would most li

Chapter Thirteen

Margaret Dole was waiting for Kate outside, in the car park. It was just getting dark, and a chill had settled in the air. It was one of those nights when the weather was finally letting up, and the rain was easing off for a while. Kate hoped it would keep up, she hated the bitter cold, especially when she had to work all hours. It could become depressing.

Kate inwardly sighed when she saw her, but forced a smile and said gaily, ‘All right, Margaret, what can I do for you?’

Margaret gave a small grin showing slightly yellowing teeth. Like a lot of the force, she chain-smoked, it was part of the job and the no-smoking law would never change that. It had just turned the police station grounds into one large fucking ash-tray.

‘It’s more what I can do for you, actually.’

Kate was intrigued. ‘So? Tell me.’

She settled herself against her car and waited patiently. Instinct told her this was going to be something interesting. Margaret was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a fool, not by anyone’s standards.

‘Let’s go somewhere and grab a coffee, shall we? Only, what I want to talk to you about is best said away from prying eyes.’

Kate was even more intrigued by Margaret’s words and her tone. Smiling archly, she answered her quietly, ‘This sounds more like we need a drink, a real one. Any preferences?’

Patrick was not a happy camper. He missed Kate. That was the crux of his problem. He was out and about like a geriatric clubber, and it was starting to wear a bit thin. In fact, it was getting on his fucking nerves; the same faces, the same smells, the same old war stories he had heard a hundred times before. His liver was on the verge of packing its cases and going on holiday for a well-earned rest, and he had a rash on his old boy that was driving him to distraction. The doctor had told him he was suffering from a fungal infection and given him some cream. He was relieved that he had not caught something suspicious, and felt badly that he had assumed Eve had given him a round of applause, the clap. Pat had known in his heart that Eve had not been the culprit, but it was only now that he knew it was because of his new-found penchant for tight Speedo-type underwear that he was finally calm enough to see things rationally. But it was embarrasing in an old man like him. sooner rather than laterse along knowing eventually

Mainly though, as a realist, he had to tell himself the truth, no matter how painful. He wanted Kate back. He wanted the body that he had grown to know so well, the conversation that he enjoyed, her argumentativeness when challenged. He now appreciated that her need for a job had actually given him plenty of time to play golf and listen to his music. Pat missed the meals Kate cooked too, the glass of wine together at the end of the day, he missed the companionship. For all his annoyance that they didn’t travel more, do more together, at this particular moment in time, he would accept her back on any terms.