The Cradle in the Grave (30 page)

Liv would ask if Simon had signed the letter, or put kisses at the bottom. No, and no. She'd ask about the paper. Charlie would have to tell her it was a corner of a page torn off the pad of lined yellow A4 she kept by the phone. She didn't care. Simon was a man – he was hardly going to use scented pink paper with a border of flowers. Liv would say,
Would it have killed him to use a whole sheet instead of tearing off a corner?
She'd say,
Big deal. You've been engaged for a year and a half and you still haven't had sex, nor is he any closer to explaining why he won't, but, hey, what does any of that matter now that he's written some words on a scrap of paper?

Perhaps, after tonight, there would be no need for Simon to explain why he wouldn't. He'd left a message on Charlie's voicemail half an hour ago telling her he'd see her later, to try to get back as early as she could. He had to have written that note for a reason – he'd never done anything like it before. Maybe he'd decided it was time.

Charlie had torn a scrap from the pad herself before leaving for work. She'd written, ‘About the honeymoon: whatever you want is fine, even if it's a fortnight at the Beaumont Guest House.' That should make Simon laugh. The Beaumont was a bed and breakfast across the road from his parents' house. You could see it from their lounge window.

‘He wants you at a disadvantage,' Sam was saying. ‘That's why he's sent me to collect you. You're supposed to wonder if you're in trouble.'

‘Sam, relax. I've done nothing wrong.'

‘I'm only saying what Simon would say if he were here.'

Charlie laughed. ‘Did you just snap at me? You did. You actually snapped. Are you okay?'

Sam's nickname, originally invented by Chris Gibbs, was Stepford, on account of his impeccable courteousness. He'd once admitted to Charlie that the part of his job he hated most was making arrests. She'd asked him why and he'd said, ‘Putting handcuffs on someone seems so . . . rude.'

He stopped walking and leaned against the wall, his body sagging as he sighed heavily. ‘Do you ever feel as if you're turning into Simon? Too long spent in close proximity . . .'

‘I still have no desire to read
Moby-Dick
, let alone reread it twice a year, so I'd have to say no.'

‘I interviewed the Brownlees the other day, the couple who adopted Helen Yardley's daughter. Both are alibied up to the eyebrows – I wasn't planning to spend any more time on them.'

‘But?' Charlie prompted.

‘When I told Grace Brownlee I was a detective, the first words out of her mouth were, “We did nothing wrong.”'

‘Exactly what I've just said.'

‘No. That's the point. You said, “I've
done
nothing wrong.” She said, “We
did
nothing wrong.” They're basically the same, I know, but I also knew what Simon would have been thinking if he'd been there.'

So did Charlie. ‘“We've done nothing wrong” means “I can think of nothing we've done that was wrong”. “We
did
nothing wrong” means “That specific thing we did was entirely justified”.'

‘Exactly,' said Sam. ‘I'm glad it's not just me.'

‘Even the strongest mind can't withstand the Simon Waterhouse brainwash effect,' Charlie told him.

‘I wanted to know what Grace Brownlee felt so defensive about, so I turned up unannounced at her house last night. Didn't take long to trick her into telling me by implying I already knew.'

‘And?'

‘How much do you know about adoption procedures?'

‘You need to ask?' Charlie raised an eyebrow.

‘Normally, if there's any chance a child in care might go back to its biological parents, that's the favoured option. While the case is being decided, the kid might go to foster parents. If the final family court decision goes against the birth mother, that's when Social Services start looking for an adoptive family. But some local authorities – and Culver Valley's one of them – have something called concurrent plan adoption that they use in a few select cases. It's massively controversial, which is why a lot of councils won't touch it with a bargepole. Some people say it violates the birth parents' human rights.'

‘Let me guess,' said Charlie. ‘Paige Yardley was one of those special cases.'

Sam nodded. ‘You take a couple that you think would be ideal to parent a particular child, get them approved as
foster
parents, which is quicker and easier than getting them approved to adopt, and you place the child in their care as soon as possible. In theory, there was a chance Paige would go back to her birth family, but in reality everyone knew that wouldn't happen. Once it was official, once Helen and Paul Yardley had been told their daughter was no longer theirs –
then
the Brownlees were approved as adopters, and adopted the child who already lived with them, with whom they'd formed a stronger bond than you'd normally expect in a fostering situation, because, unofficially and off the record, the social workers had given them to understand that they were getting Paige for keeps.'

‘Isn't that also a violation of the prospective adoptive parents' human rights?' said Charlie. ‘There must be cases where the family court surprises everyone by deciding in favour of the birth mother. Presumably the social workers then have to say to the foster parents, “Oops, sorry, you can't adopt this child after all.”'

‘Grace Brownlee said they were told repeatedly that there were no guarantees, so in theory they knew things might not go their way – they wouldn't have been able to say they were misled, if it came down to it – but heavy hints were dropped that it
would
go their way, and that Paige would soon be their legal daughter. She was a high-profile baby, the only surviving child of a woman suspected of murder. Social Services were determined to do their very best for her, and they thought the Brownlees would be ideal. Both lawyers – middle class, highearning, nice big house . . .'

‘Nose-rings? Serpent tattoos?' said Charlie. Seeing Sam's puzzled expression, she said, ‘I'm kidding. People are so predictable, aren't they? Wouldn't it be fantastic, just once, to meet a respectable solicitor with a serpent tattoo?' She let out a yelp of a laugh. ‘Ignore me, I'm in love.'

‘The Brownlees were hand-picked,' said Sam. ‘They were in the process of jumping through all the hoops would-be adopters have to jump through. One day they were invited to a meeting and told a baby girl was available for them – there were still formalities to be gone through, but that was all they were. But the good news, they were told, was that they didn't have to wait for the legal stuff to be signed off – all they had to do was apply to be foster parents and they could have their future daughter living with them within weeks. Sebastian Brownlee was keen but Grace had her doubts. She's less smug than her husband and more cautious. She hated the nudgenudge-wink-wink element.'

‘So that's what she meant by “We did nothing wrong”?'

Sam nodded. ‘Even once it was all done and dusted, courtapproved and official, she was paranoid that one day Paige – Hannah, as she is now – might be taken away from them because of the underhand dealings at the beginning. Nothing her husband said to her could convince her it wasn't dodgy.'

‘Was that likely? Paige being taken away, I mean.'

‘Impossible. Concurrent plan adoption's not illegal. As you say, technically the verdict can still go in favour of the birth parents, and if it does, the prospective adopters have to lump it, which they know from the start.'

‘In some ways, it's quite sensible,' said Charlie. ‘I mean, from the kid's point of view, it has to be better to be placed with the adoptive parents as soon as possible.'

‘It's barbaric,' said Sam vehemently. ‘All the time the birth mother thinks she's in with a shot. Helen Yardley must have thought she and Paul stood a good chance of keeping Paige – they knew their sons had died naturally and they believed they'd be treated fairly. Some hope! All along, Social Services and Grace and Sebastian Brownlee – two strangers – knew that Paige was well on her way to her new family. Grace has felt guilty about that ever since, and I don't blame her. It's no way to treat people. It's not right, Charlie.'

‘Maybe not, but lots of things aren't right, and a good proportion of those lots of things are stacked up in our intrays. Why's this got to you?' ‘I'd like to pretend my reasons for feeling like crap are noble and altruistic, but they're not,' said Sam. He closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I shouldn't have said anything to Simon. What was I thinking of?'

‘You've lost me,' said Charlie.

‘There was one thing I didn't understand: how could the social workers be so sure Paige Yardley wouldn't be returned to Helen and Paul? I mean, it was hardly your average care case. I can imagine a local authority knowing all about some unsavoury families' long histories of abusing and neglecting their children, saying they'll never do it again, then getting wrecked and doing more and worse. Those children being taken away from their mothers might seem like a done deal, but Helen Yardley was different. If she wasn't guilty of murder, then she was completely innocent. If her two sons were victims of crib death – which hadn't yet been decided in court, so no one could claim to know – well, then Helen had done nothing wrong, had she? So why risk concurrent plan adoption? That was what I wondered.'

Sam exhaled slowly. ‘Shows how naïve I am. So much for innocent until proven guilty. Grace told me the social workers all
knew
Helen had killed her babies, and they had friends at the hospital who
knew
it with as much certainty, who had been there when Helen had taken both boys into hospital, when they'd stopped breathing on several occasions. A social worker even said to Grace that she'd spoken to lots of doctors, one being Judith Duffy, all of whom had told her that Helen Yardley was, and I quote, “the classic Munchausen's by proxy mother”.'

‘Maybe she was,' said Charlie. ‘Maybe she did murder them.'

‘That's not fair, Charlie.' Sam started to walk away from her. She was about to follow him when he turned round and came back. ‘Her convictions were overturned. There wasn't even enough evidence for a retrial. It should never have gone to court the first time. Is there anything more insane than making a woman stand trial when there's no solid evidence a crime's been committed? Never mind whether Helen Yardley committed it – I'm talking about a high chance that there was no “it” in the first place. I've seen the file that went to the CPS. Do you know how many doctors disagreed with Judith Duffy and said it was entirely possible Morgan and Rowan Yardley died of natural causes?'

‘Sam, calm down.'

‘Seven! Seven doctors. Finally, after nine years, Helen clears her name, then some bastard murders her, and there I am, supposedly investigating her murder, trying to get some kind of justice for her, for the sake of her family and her memory, and what am I doing? I'm listening to Grace Brownlee tell me about some contact centre care supervisor who claimed to see Helen try to smother Paige right in front of her.'

‘Leah Gould,' said Charlie.

Sam stared at her blankly. ‘How . . .?'

‘I'm reading
Nothing But Love
. Simon wanted me to, but he was too proud to ask. Luckily I can read his mind.'

‘I'm supposed to read it too.' Sam looked guilty. ‘Proust wasn't too proud to ask.'

‘Not your cup of tea?'

‘I try to avoid books that are going to make me want to top myself.'

‘I think you'd be surprised,' said Charlie. ‘It's full of brave, inspiring heroes: the Snowman, if you can believe it; Laurie Nattrass; Paul, the loyal rock of a husband. And that lawyer, her solicitor – I can't remember his name . . .'

‘Ned Vento?'

‘That's the one. Interestingly, he had a female colleague, Gillian somebody, who seems to have worked just as hard on Helen's behalf, but so far she hasn't once been described in heroic terms. I get the impression Helen Yardley was a man's woman.'

‘Doesn't make her a murderer,' said Sam.

‘I didn't say it did. I'm only saying, she seemed to lap up any attention that came her way from valiant male rescuers.'
A classic Munchausen's-by-proxy mother
. Wasn't Munchausen's all about getting attention?

Something else bothered Charlie about
Nothing But Love
: several times in the first third of the book, Helen Yardley had asserted that she hadn't murdered her two babies; rather, they had died of crib death. Unless Charlie had misunderstood, and she didn't think she had, crib death, or SIDS, meant an infant death for which no explanation could be found, so it was odd for Helen Yardley to say that was what her boys had died of, as if it were a firm medical diagnosis. It was as nonsensical as saying, ‘My babies died of I don't know what they died of.' Wouldn't a mother who had lost two children to SIDS be more likely to search for a proper explanation, instead of presenting the absence of one as the solution rather than the mystery? Or was Charlie reading sinister undertones into
Nothing But Love
that weren't there?

‘What shouldn't you have mentioned to Simon?' she asked Sam.

‘Any of this. I was angry about Social Services stitching up the Yardleys and I was letting off steam, but it's got nothing to do with Helen's murder and I should have kept my mouth shut, especially about Leah Gould. Simon waved an
Observer
article in my face in which Gould was quoted as saying she'd made a mistake – hadn't witnessed an attempted smothering, had overreacted, was deeply sorry if she'd contributed to a miscarriage of justice . . .'