Night Visit (18 page)

15

PC Harper was reproachful when he finally arrived. Typical. Prang another car and they appear as if by magic. Summon them to an assault and robbery and they ignore you. And when they do come there’s no blue light or comforting siren. Just a marked car and a couple of reluctant coppers.

‘
I did warn you,’ he said sadly. ‘I did tell you to take care.’

I
had my defences ready. ‘I thought I’d be safe just walking from the surgery to the car park.’

‘
Unlit?’ he said.

‘
The light had been vandalised.’ I was in a defensive, truculent mood. I had not stood up to Danny so my anger was turning inwards, curling at the edges. My aggression was focused on the police. Why could they not control this epidemic of pushers, robbers, burglars? Why didn’t they do something? Protect us? Anything?

But
they
had
never
charged
Pritchard
,
had
they
?

So
there was resentment in my voice as I answered. ‘I did explain before. We have to carry drugs. We’re doctors.’ I risked sarcasm. ‘Sometimes we save lives.’

PC
Harper gave a slow, deliberate blink. ‘Let’s get our priorities right,’ he said slowly. ‘First of all, do you need a doctor, Doctor?’ I could have sworn there was a hint of malice, of mockery in the repetitive phrase.

‘
No,’ I said savagely. ‘I don’t need a doctor, thank you.’

I
’d taken a peep at my injury in the surgery toilet. An Elastoplast would have been overkill. However terrifying it had seemed at the time I’d known rose thorns do more damage than Danny’s knife. What troubled me was not what he
had
done but what he
might
have done.

‘
OK.’ Harper took out his note pad with an air of resignation. ‘So what’s gone?’ I started with the five pounds.

He
looked up briefly. ‘And?’

‘
Adrenaline, Prozac and Temgesic.’

I
was shrinking by the minute. Harper might have known that adrenaline would be normal emergency treatment and Prozac could be swallowed by the lorry load before having any ill effects. At a guess its street value was negligible. But Temgesic?

‘
He hit lucky then, didn’t he?’

I
nodded sheepishly. ‘They were drugs returned by a patient.’

‘
Get many of those do you, Doctor?’

‘
It happens occasionally.’

He
stopped writing to look at me. ‘And you just stuff them in the bottom of your bag?’ It was a kindergarten telling off.

I
made an attempt to divert his thoughts. ‘I’m concerned about the threats he made against my daughter.’

Harper
dismissed them with a wave of his hand. ‘They make these threats,’ he said. ‘They rarely carry them out.’

I
was unconvinced. ‘With someone like him,’ I said, ‘who knows? He said he knew which school she was at. He said he knew I wasn’t always there to meet her. I’m frightened for her.’ Even I had the good sense not to drag Pritchard’s name in at this stage.

Harper
looked paternalistic. ‘I should arrange for her to go home with a friend on the days you can’t be there. She’ll probably like that.’ He obviously didn’t have kids of his own. Rosie liked to flop, zombie-like, in front of the TV for an hour at least before she reverted to human form.

Harper
wrote something carefully in his notebook before looking up. ‘And you say you’re sure you know who it was?’

I
nodded.

‘
Then you won’t mind making an identification at the station?’ He smiled. ‘We’ve a sort of rogues’ gallery.’ It was a hugely unfunny joke.

‘
I’d like to go home now.’ I wished I didn’t sound so much like a child excusing herself from class.

Harper
was implacable. ‘Tomorrow then,’ he said.

‘
I’ll call in the morning, after surgery.’

*

I was glad to get home, glad Rosie did not seem to notice I was late picking her up and that I was disturbed. We ate together quietly. I was tempted to break a rule and switch the TV on during the meal to distract her. I knew I must look strange. Maybe she did pick something up. As soon as tea was over she disappeared upstairs to take a bath.

In
the silence I could think about it. As I drank my coffee I noted with almost clinical detachment that my fingers were trembling, my mouth dry. I felt cold. All the physical signs of shock were there. I must have sat for half an hour without moving. I heard Rosie’s bath water drain down the plug, her CD player thud out some music. I still didn’t move. My initial anger had been inconveniently replaced by the circular question: what if?

I
don’t know how much longer I would have sat there had I not been disturbed by a knock. I shook myself, but still seemed unable to move. The knock came again. It was followed by a voice. ‘Harry. Hello?’

Rosie
shot into the lounge like an excited puppy. ‘It’s Daddy. Mum, it’s Daddy.’

All
the pent up love spilt out as she raced across the room, flung open the door and hurled herself into Robin’s arms.

He
looked past her uneasily. ‘I heard about…’

‘
How?’

‘
Fern gave me a ring,’ he said. ‘She was concerned.’

For
a moment I was angry with Fern for her interference. That was before it hit me.

Old
habits die hard. And who else would she ring?

It
must have seemed natural for her to ring Robin. It was so logical. Robin loved vulnerability, women in trouble. And now his ex-wife and daughter needed him.

‘
We
are
still married,’ he said reproachfully, ‘just.’

‘
Only because you won’t send the papers back.’

He
gave me one of his beseeching smiles. ‘I thought I could put Rosie to bed for you.’

So
Rosie was part of the plot.

‘
You could read me a story,’ she said, adding, ‘Daddy,’ in a hesitant, questioning voice.

He
kissed the top of her head. ‘So I could.’

And
before I could say anything they had climbed the stairs together. From her bedroom I could hear them giggling.

I
sat back on the sofa. He was her father. What harm could it do? None to her, but I was still susceptible and tonight especially vulnerable. Fear could evaporate as quickly as it had appeared. I did not want to be alone. I wanted him to stay and I was not above feminine wiles.

I
peeped at myself in the mirror, made a quick swipe with a lipstick, fingers through hair. Lamp switched on, main lights off. I felt nervous, almost too nervous to pull the cork from a bottle of wine.

I
was on my second glass by the time he returned. I liked the way he knocked on the door and stood, while the light caught his blond hair. Maybe I had grown used to the inhabitants of this house being myself and Rosie. He looked enormous. ‘Rosie’s almost asleep,’ he said softly.

I
smiled invitingly at him. ‘Good.’

He
cleared his throat nervously. ‘That wouldn’t be wine, would it?’

I
held out the bottle. ‘Want some?’

‘
I’ll just get a glass.’

He
dived into the kitchen and was back in a long blink, closing the door deliberately. It evoked memories of sexy evenings on the sofa. It seemed years ago.

Robin
poured himself a glass of wine and settled down beside me on the sofa. ‘It’s good to be back.’

It
was not a neutral statement. ‘You aren’t back.’

He
turned and smiled, raised his glass to me. ‘Don’t make it hard for me, Harry. I just mean for a few minutes. I was so worried about you.’

I
smiled at him again. ‘That’s nice.’

He
eyed me warily over the rim of his glass and took two long gulps.

‘
So how are things?’ I said brightly.

‘
I’ll be honest with you, Harry,’ he said. ‘I wish...’

‘
Sssh.’ I put a finger to his lips. I didn’t want to hear it. Instead I looked full into his face. ‘Robin,’ I murmured, resting my hand on his leg. I felt his quadriceps twitch as though I had given him an electric shock. But when I glanced at his face he was still smiling. He was not really shocked. Instead, knowing I was throwing down the gauntlet, he was enjoying himself.

So
was I. My vulnerability was working as an aphrodisiac on him.

I
felt him harden against me. ‘Harry, I don’t want a divorce. Please, let me come home.’

But
I was more powerful than I had been eleven months ago, more powerful and more cruel. I was tempted to mock him. I even thought of the right phrase.
Not
down
on
your
knees
,
Robin
? It stuck in my throat.

‘
I want to come back.’ The sincerity in his voice was more of the same deceitful seduction. ‘I miss you and Rosie.’ He grinned. ‘I’m actually quite lonely.’

‘
What about...?’

Now
it was he who shushed me with a finger pressed to the lips. ‘Don’t even mention her.’ I was happy to oblige, for now.

‘
All I can say is it isn’t any good. And it never will be.’

I
should have felt elated to have had so much handed back to me. I didn’t. His offer felt like something from old charity shops, the soiled, worn goods, so much less attractive or valuable than when new. I felt incredibly flat and Robin must have sensed it. His jaw tightened and I knew he would not plead again. It was now or never.

I
stood up, agitated. ‘I need time,’ I said, ‘to think.’

Robin
stood up too. ‘How long, Harry?’ It was the humblest I had ever heard from him.

‘
I’ll tell you what,’ I said. ‘I promise I will let you know on New Year’s Eve.’

He
gave me a strange look. ‘That’s weeks away.’

‘
I know,’ I said. ‘But it seems fitting because that was when this whole, sorry business started.’ I remembered then that I had never confided my Yuletide superstitions to him as he had never confided his fears to me.

‘
Robin,’ I said, ‘who is Lorna Garbett?’

‘
How on earth did you...?’

‘
You left a little shoe box.’

He
laughed. ‘My old treasures.’

‘
A funeral notice?’

His
face took on a bleak expression. ‘She was my grandmother,’ he said finally. ‘Mother’s mother. She died of cancer when I was six years old. Mother took me to see her, lying in an open coffin. For weeks it gave me nightmares. I thought she would haunt me. She was like a living skeleton when she died. Bones sticking out.’

‘But
you kept the funeral announcement.’

His
clear blue eyes met mine. ‘Believe it or not I was fond of the old dear.’

I
was silent.

‘
So New Year’s Eve?’

Now
I knew why our marriage had failed. Before I had cared too much, let him know I worshipped him, adored him. As the seducer playing a part I would be much more successful. I was in control now. Not Robin. I curled my arm back around his neck, dropped us both back on the sofa and played my part.

16

PC Harper was waiting for me at eleven o’clock the next morning ready to take my statement, ponderously writing longhand. The slow, deliberate action robbed the entire event of drama. I kept butting in, trying to make him put the right emotions into the words.

‘
He held a knife against me.’

‘
A weapon was used.’

‘
It tore my coat.’

‘
Damaging the victim’s underwear.’

‘
I was frightened.’

He
met my eyes briefly. There was no sympathy. Instead he pushed the pages towards me. ‘Is that correct?’

I
nodded.

‘
There is another thing,’ he said and dropped a large album onto the desk.

‘
This is our “rogues’ gallery”.’ He was making an attempt to be funny and friendly. No mention today of the Temgesic. He and I were on the same side now.
This
was
illusion
.
He
knew
something
I
did
not
.

Even
as I picked out Danny Small almost too easily I felt betrayed. Harper should have felt more of an ally. Instead there was a careful distance between us. I jabbed my finger on the centre of his face, right over the nostril. The mug shot had all the details, the thin, rather ratty face, hair shaven short, gold sleeper in one ear, small, frightened eyes, an indecisive mouth.

‘
What will you charge him with?’ I asked curiously.

‘
Aggravated robbery,’ he said, ‘for a start. We might have a go at ABH. He did assault you with a knife.’ He clipped the sheaf of papers together. ‘We could even have a go at possession. The Temgesic,’ he explained nicely. ‘If there had been a few more we might have tagged on “With Intent to Supply” but with so few tablets it wouldn’t stick.’ He had rather nice green eyes, even if they did bulge, a big head and a lovely, ugly smile which I did not quite trust.

‘
And will he go to prison?’

Now
he was perceptibly embarrassed. ‘It’s difficult to say at this stage, Doctor.’

My
hands locked together beneath the desk. ‘But it was a violent crime. And he threatened my daughter.’ Even as I spoke I realised what a fool I must sound. To the police this was a minor assault. They must be used to worse things than this, rape, assaults which left their victims on life support machines. Murder.

‘Um
, how long have you worked in this station?’

He
was unsuspicious. ‘Nearly fifteen years.’

‘
Then you must remember other cases.’ He nodded sagely.

‘
Like the little girl who went missing. What was her name now? Melanie.’

‘
I do,’ he said. ‘My first serious case.’

I
leaned half across the desk. ‘And you charged no one?’

‘
We never even found the body.’

‘
You had no one under suspicion?’

‘
We had our ideas.’

Harper
was an innocent. And I wanted him to talk.

‘
I know the family.’

‘
I thought they were from London.’

‘
They were,’ I said. ‘I mean the grandparents. Her grandfather was a patient of mine.’

The
green eyes fixed on mine. Maybe Harper wasn’t so slow.

I
needed to prompt him. ‘He died recently, still under a shadow.’

‘
I never thought he had anything to do with it,’ Harper said slowly, ponderously.

‘
So who?’

But
he hid behind his woodenness. ‘We had our suspicions.’

It
was Pritchard. I could sense that slimy presence. They had suspected him, questioned him. Known it was him and been forced to let him go.

‘
There have been no more murders here,’ Harper said stiffly.

But
I knew there had. One many years ago.

Somehow
either Anthony Pritchard or his mother had poisoned Rupert Pritchard. And they had got away with it except for the old woman’s conscience that made her death-bed confession inevitable. And if Pritchard had successfully murdered his father what about his mother? How had she died? Of the same substance?

*

I had arranged to meet Jay Gordon in the bar of the Silken Thread, a small pub of the Victorian era that the major brewers had yet to get their hands on and make soulless. I arrived first and bought a glass of wine, sat in the corner and waited. He turned up ten minutes late, full of apologies but neatly dressed in dark jeans and a sombre sweater.

He
grinned his hello together with an apology. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘The boys just didn’t want to settle. And the more I tried to hurry them the more they delayed me. Let me get you a drink.’

It
didn’t matter. I had used the time to plan. It was no use being too blunt about this. I could make Jay Gordon my ally. At the school he could be my eyes and ears, protect the children, protect Rosie. For that I needed to take him into my confidence. It did not occur to me that he might take the same attitude that Arthur had, namely that having been neither formally charged nor found guilty Pritchard was innocent.

Could
no one see it clearly as I did?

As
soon as he was sitting opposite me I took the cue, mentioning his sons had helped me. ‘How old are your boys?’

‘
Seven and nine.’

‘
You’re divorced?’

He
nodded.

‘But
the boys didn’t go with their mother?’

‘
She wasn’t fit,’ he said and I dropped the subject.

‘
You must find it hard.’

‘
No worse than thousands of other single parent families.’

I
steered the conversation round. ‘Being responsible for two children.’

I
could see deep in his eyes he was puzzled by the direction of our conversation. He knew I wanted something from him but didn’t have a clue what.

‘
And are they in Merrivale Primary?’

Again
his nod held that vaguely puzzled look.

I
admit I found him pleasant, intelligent company. His face was inoffensive and Rosie liked him. But that was not my reason for meeting him at all. I needed someone on my side, someone at the school. Pritchard must be watched. Who better than a teacher?

I
plunged in. ‘Did you know that your janitor was once held on a charge of suspected child abduction?’

It
was too soon. I could feel alienation like a chilling breeze. ‘I had heard a rumour,’ he said carefully.

I
stood up quickly. ‘Let me get you another drink.’ It had been too obvious. There was something faintly regretful in his smile now, as though he had thought he would find me congenial company. And I had disappointed him. I knew it when I handed him a full pint beer glass.

‘
You know Pritchard wasn’t found guilty,’ he said awkwardly. ‘It really isn’t fair for you to judge him. The police would have acted if…’ His fine eyes held mine. ‘If you know something definite, Harriet, you should pass it on. Otherwise…’

‘
I have a daughter,’ I said. ‘She’s nine years old. Melanie Carnforth was just six when she vanished. She has never been seen since.’

‘
Pritchard’s fond of children,’ he protested. ‘It’s nothing unhealthy. He just likes them. That’s all.’

I
was quick. ‘Are you so sure? Would you let your sons go out alone with him?’

Jay
Gordon drained his glass and I knew I’d blown it. ‘I’m sorry, Harriet,’ he said. ‘I promised the babysitter I wouldn’t go out for long. And I’ve got exam papers to mark.’

As
a double excuse it was pathetic. I froze out a smile. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘See you around.’ It was a phrase I’d picked out from one of the soaps. It sounded just as false coming from my lips.

That
was it. A wasted chance. And that hurt just as much as the telephone call from the police to say no charges would be brought in connection with the incident of last week.

Danny
Small, it seemed, had an alibi.