The Grave Tattoo (25 page)

‘A lucky guess. I was on my way to see you, Ms Gresham. Why don’t you hop in for the last few yards?’

She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture. ‘You’ll excuse me, but how do I know you’re who you say you are?’ She looked as if she was barely holding herself together.

‘You’re wise to be cautious.’ Rigston took out his photo ID and held it low in the beam of his headlights so she could see it clearly. ‘I hoped we might have a word?’

‘It’s gone ten o’clock,’ Jane said. ‘Won’t this wait till morning? I mean, I was nearly run over a minute ago.’

‘I’m afraid not, it’s a serious matter.’ Interesting, he thought, that she didn’t immediately ask what it was about. And that she wanted to procrastinate.

A few minutes later, he followed Jane into a cosy farm kitchen. In the light, he could see she was attractive in a dark, strong-featured way. It was a face you wouldn’t forget in a hurry, with its deep-set eyes, firm mouth and a nose that was definite without being too big. She threw her filthy jacket over a chair and went to the sink, rubbing her fingers through her hair to dislodge leaves and twigs. ‘Give me a minute,’ she said, running the taps and washing her face and hands. Then she leaned against the Aga, her arms folded over her chest, her face pale. ‘Is this about Tenille?’

‘Now why would you think that?’

‘We do get TV up here, Chief Inspector. I saw the appeal for anyone who’d seen Tenille to come forward. And I can’t think of any other reason why a senior police officer would be demanding to talk to me at this time on a Saturday night.’ She glared at him.

‘Have you seen Tenille Cole since Wednesday evening?’

Jane shook her head. ‘I came up here on Wednesday. So no, I haven’t seen her.’

‘Have you heard from her? An email, perhaps? A text, a phone call?’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you. No, I’ve heard nothing at all from Tenille. Which is not surprising, I don’t think she’s ever emailed me or texted me or phoned me as long as I’ve known her. You can check my laptop if you don’t believe me.’

‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary at this point. How does she usually make contact?’ Rigston asked.

‘She turns up on my doorstep.’

‘How would you characterise your relationship with Tenille Cole?’

‘I suppose I’d call myself her mentor. And her friend.’

‘Her mentor? In what sense?’

Jane sighed. ‘I know it’s hard for people like you to believe this about a black teenager, but Tenille loves poetry. She doesn’t just love it, she grasps what it’s about. She has an understanding of the Romantic poets that would shame most English students. That happens to be my subject area. So mostly she hangs out at my flat and reads poetry and literary criticism, and sometimes we talk about what she’s been reading.’

‘You talk about poetry?’

‘And criticism.’ Jane’s smile was condescending. Ewan thought it was a deliberate attempt to rile him.

‘And you don’t think that’s odd?’

‘It’s very odd. But that’s the way it is. Nothing unhealthy. Nothing depraved. Nothing criminal.’

Rigston shook his head, baffled. ‘You talk about her personal life?’

‘Very little. She comes to my flat to get away from the rest of her life. She tries to leave it at the door.’

‘So you don’t know why she might have shot…’ Rigston glanced at his notes. ‘Geno Marley?’

‘Tenille did not shoot Geno Marley,’ Jane said with a familiar degree of conviction that depressed Rigston. He had seen too many people make that tragic mistake.

‘How do you know that?’ he asked mildly.

‘Because it’s not who she is. She doesn’t run with the wannabe gangstas and the aspiring baby mothers. She despises that life.’

‘According to what I’ve been told, her father’s right at the heart of that life.’

Jane shook her head impatiently. ‘Tenille doesn’t have a father. At least, not one she’s aware of. She’s been brought up by her aunt. Her mother’s dead. She’s never had a dad in her life.’

‘So the name John Hampton doesn’t mean anything to you?’

‘Of course it does. I live on the Marshpool.’

‘Were you aware that he’s Tenille’s father?’

‘I’ve heard gossip to that effect. But I’ve never seen him so much as acknowledge her in passing.’ Jane looked away, her expression sad. ‘Tenille says she doesn’t have a father. I’m inclined to take her word for it.’

Rigston switched tack, hoping to catch Jane on the back foot. ‘Is she here, Ms Gresham?’

Jane looked up, shocked. ‘Of course not. She wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to find this place.’

‘Then you won’t mind if I take a look around?’

Jane looked baffled and angry. ‘You people,’ she said bitterly. ‘If I say no, you’ll think I have something to hide. If I say yes, I’ll feel insulted and invaded.’ Her head came up and she looked Rigston straight in the eye. ‘Fine. Look all you want.’ It was a direct gaze that told Rigston he was wasting his time. Still, it didn’t do to be seen to back down.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘You’re only doing your job. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

25

Tenille shivered in the sharp gust of wind that swirled into the gap in the rock formation where she had taken shelter late in the afternoon. After she’d seen Jake on the hillside, she’d scrambled up the fell away from the path, scrunching down among the brown fronds of bracken till he had finally walked out of sight. Damp and cold, she’d headed cautiously in his wake and stood where he’d been standing.

There was one farm in his line of sight, and she reasoned that it must be Jane’s home. Who else would he be spying on, after all? She supposed she ought to be grateful to him. She’d been uncertain how she was going to find it. She didn’t want to break cover and ask anyone for directions. And although she was pretty sure she would recognise the place from Jane’s photographs, she wasn’t sure how many farms would be scattered around Fellhead.

Once she’d spotted the farm, the next problem was how to get to it. She frowned at the map. The obvious way was to carry on along the path till she came to the road that led down into Fellhead. Then she would have to walk through the village and up the lane to the Greshams’ farm. If she was going to do that safely, she’d need to wait for darkness to fall and she’d have no way of knowing who was in the farmhouse. Making contact with Jane without anyone else knowing would be difficult.

The alternative was to strike out over open country, cutting down the hill at an angle that would bring her out above the farm. She could see a rocky outcropping that might give her enough cover to keep watch and wait till she could be sure of getting Jane on her own. Unappetising though her route looked from here, it was the only sensible option.

She’d set off down the slope, realising within minutes that this was a lot harder than walking the paths. The ground was uneven, tussocks of coarse cottongrass and heather threatening her ankles. Every now and then she would step unwittingly into boggy peat that threatened to pull the shoes from her feet. It was slow going, and the afternoon had worn away by the time she reached the rocks she’d set as her target. To her relief, there was a narrow cleft in the outcropping on the side facing the farm and she squeezed into it. The ground was fairly dry, being protected by an overhang, so she sat down with a deep sigh of relief. She couldn’t remember ever having been so tired. All that kept her awake were the sharp pangs of hunger that made her stomach grumble.

Tenille was surprised by the sprawl of the farm and its outbuildings. When she thought of farms, she thought of thatched cottages surrounded by fields, maybe with an occasional charming stone barn thrown in. But here, three sides of the farmyard were flanked by buildings. The farmhouse itself was a sturdy two-storey building that took up most of the width of the side facing the gate. The two longer sides were occupied by an assortment of outbuildings, ranging from a long low shed with metal panelled walls and a corrugated plastic roof to a variety of squat stone buildings. She had no idea what they were all used for.

The first sign of life was the arrival of a Land Rover which pulled over to one side of the yard. A man got out of the driver’s seat, followed by two black-and-white dogs. The dogs disappeared into a wooden hut near the big shed and the man went into the house. Half an hour later, he came back out again, loaded a couple of hay bales into the Land Rover and drove off with the dogs. He returned twenty minutes later.

Just before seven, a dark green 4×4 pulled into the yard. A man and woman came out of the house and got into the back seat before it drove off again. Jane’s parents, she assumed. But still no sign of Jane herself. Tenille was starting to fret. What if Jane wasn’t here? What if she was off with her mates, having a night out and staying over? What if she’d had to go somewhere else for her research project? Tenille didn’t know what to do. She felt faint with hunger and her mouth was so dry she didn’t think she’d be able to speak.

A little after eight, the yard lights came on to reveal a red Fiesta driving into the yard. Tenille jumped to her feet with delight when she saw Jane emerge from the driver’s seat. But instead of making for the house, Jane walked back out of the gate, turning down the hill towards Fellhead.

Dejected, Tenille slumped against the rock. She blinked back tears. She’d come so far in every sense, but she had practically exhausted her reserves. She knew there was no way she could endure a night on the fell in the open. She made a deal with herself. If Jane wasn’t home by midnight, she’d creep down to the farm and find somewhere she could sleep. How hard could that be?

Time dragged by. Tenille found things to be amazed by: the quiet that fell like a blanket with the dark; the carpet of stars entirely alien to one brought up in the light pollution of London; the way the air changed its smell as it grew more chill; but most of all that she didn’t find all this strangeness scary. How did Jane endure the noise and the stink and the perpetual neon of London when she’d grown up with this?

Just after ten, a different 4×4 drove in. And hallelujah, there was Jane. The man driving it got out and followed Jane into the house. Minutes went by, then lights started going on and off all over the house. What the fuck was going on?

After darkness had returned to the house except for one window, the door opened and the man came out again. He went from building to building, entering each one then finally returning to the house. Tenille had enough street smarts to understand exactly what was going on. The man might be alone and without a uniform, but she knew a police search when she saw one. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging her shoulders. They knew about Jane. She’d known deep down they’d get there eventually, but part of her had wanted to believe Jane would be her safe haven.

What was worse was that Jane knew about her. Well, she knew the police version. Tenille had no expectation of a fair crack of the whip from the cops. She didn’t know if there was any evidence against her, but whether there was or not, she was connected to the flat and she would be high on any suspect list. They might pretend they only wanted her as a witness, but she knew it would be more, much more than that. And if they got their claws into her, she was fucked. She couldn’t grass up her dad, no way. Not because she was afraid of him, but because he had proved that he was her dad in the sense that counted. He had protected her; she would do the same for him because nobody else in her whole life had ever done that for her.

Except for Jane, of course. But much as Tenille loved and respected Jane, she knew they were different breeds. Not because of the colour of their skin but because the lives they’d led had brought them to diverse understandings of the way the world worked. Jane truly hadn’t known when she’d gone to the Hammer how it would end. Tenille had known there would be violence, though. Extreme violence. And she’d done nothing to stop it. So although it was Jane who’d sown the seed of Geno’s destruction, it was Tenille who could have stopped it. And she knew her friend well enough to know that Jane would nevertheless take the burden of guilt on herself.

So she owed Jane too. She had to protect Jane just like she had to protect her dad. And that meant not falling into the hands of the cops. Just as well she hadn’t already gone down to the farm to find a hiding place for the night.

After what felt like a long time, the man returned to the farmhouse. A few minutes later, he re-emerged, got into the 4×4 and drove off towards Fellhead. Tenille watched the swathe of light from his headlamps as he turned right at the junction and headed down towards the main road. He was really gone.

That left Jane.

It took much longer than Tenille had expected to get down to the farm. Nothing in her past had trained her for negotiating treacherous terrain in the dark. Tenille lost her footing several times, twice ending up flat on her back. By the time she made it to the corner of the farmhouse, her trousers were soaked and there was a long streak of black mud down one sleeve. She stuck her head round the corner of the building, trying to make out the sensor for the yard lights. She eventually spotted it, set to one side of the door. This was the kind of thing she did know about. She reckoned that if she stayed hard against the wall, she would clear the inside edge of the arc covered by the sensor. There was only one way to find out.

Tenille crept round the corner, face to the wall. She inched along, past a pair of darkened windows, past the door, to the edge of the uncurtained window that cast an oblong of yellow light on the pitted concrete of the yard. She risked a quick peek. It was the kitchen. One of those cooking ranges that they had in posh houses on the telly, the end of a kitchen table. But no sign of Jane.

She ducked under the window and straightened up at the far end. This time, her swift glance was rewarded. Jane sat at the dining table, a sheaf of papers in front of her and a glass of wine to hand. There was no sign of anyone else in the room. Tenille took a deep breath and stepped in front of the window. She tapped hard on the glass.

Jane’s head shot up and she stared at the window. Tenille moved right up to the glass. Jane’s mouth widened in shock and she leapt to her feet, almost knocking over her chair in her haste. She disappeared through the kitchen door. Moments later, the outside door opened. As she stepped out, the yard lights sizzled into life. Tenille stood awkwardly, head cocked to one side, unsure of her reception.

‘Tenille?’ Jane sounded wary. ‘Is that you?’

Tenille pulled the baseball cap from her head. ‘Yeah. I had to cut my hair.’ Of all the ways to start the conversation that she’d been rehearsing all day, that hadn’t even featured in the long list.

‘What the hell are you doing here? The police are looking for you.’

Tenille felt her bottom lip trembling. She’d been holding herself together for so long and now she just couldn’t do it any longer. Tears sprang from her eyes. ‘Can I come in? I’m freezing,’ she said piteously, her whole body shivering.

‘Of course, come on. Look at you, you’re soaking.’ Jane hugged Tenille to her then hustled her into the kitchen. ‘Wait there, I’ll get you some dry trousers.’ She returned a few minutes later with a pair of fleecy sweatpants. ‘Get these on. Stand over by the Aga where it’s warm.’

Tenille was too exhausted to do anything other than what she was told. The heat from the Aga felt blissful. She pulled off wet trainers and changed her trousers. Meanwhile, Jane had taken a brick of homemade soup from the freezer and was zapping it in the microwave. She kept glancing at Tenille as if she had a million questions, but she said nothing.

‘I legged it,’ Tenille said once her teeth had stopped chattering.

‘So I gathered,’ Jane said, busying herself getting a bowl and spoon on the table. ‘I had the local police round here earlier.’

‘I know, I was watching.’

Jane raised her eyebrows. ‘The cops in London sent them. But I already knew about Geno from the news. Come on, sit down and eat this soup. Then we can talk properly. My parents won’t be back for an hour or so.’

The first bowl of soup barely touched the sides. As Jane ladled out a second helping, Tenille said, ‘Got any bread?’

Jane fetched a couple of rolls and some butter and watched while they disappeared at record speed. ‘You were ready for that,’ she said when Tenille finished.

‘I haven’t eaten since last night. And I did a lot of walking today. I made it over the hills from Grasmere and I didn’t get lost once. I tell you, you need a map up there. I nearly got all turned around a couple of times before I figured out which hill was which. Like, I dunno how Wordsworth and them managed all that walking around without maps.’ She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘That was great. Thanks, Jane.’

‘You’re welcome. But you have to tell me what’s been going on.’

Tenille hunched her thin shoulders and sighed. ‘My dad blew Geno away. I found him lying dead in the flat. I wasn’t, like, thinking straight, I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get caught for it so I set fire to the flat. I tried to hide out in your flat, but the cops came calling and I knew it was only a matter of time before they found me there so I did one.’ Her mouth twitched in a grimace. ‘I didn’t have anybody else to go to. So I came here.’ She gave a quick up and under look. ‘You’re not, like, angry with me, are you?’

‘I’m not angry, no. I’m concerned. Like I said, the police were round here earlier–’

‘Did you tell them about going to my dad?’ Tenille interrupted.