The Ladykiller (32 page)

‘I didn’t mean the things I said about you and Gran in the diary. I was just a bit stoned at the time and it all poured out . . . I love Gran, I always have.’

Kate sat opposite her and sighed.

‘It’s not just what you wrote that hurts us, Lizzy, it’s the way you’ve been living a lie all this time.’

‘I had to live a lie! If you knew what I was doing you’d have moved heaven and earth to stop me. It’s my life, Mum, my life.’

Kate lit a cigarette. Lizzy leant across the table and took one from her packet.

‘Yes, I smoke as well. You know everything else, you might as well know that.’

Kate shook out her match and Lizzy took the box from her hand. The touch of her daughter’s warm skin on her own was like an electric shock.

She watched Lizzy light her cigarette. Her fingers were stained with dirt, her nail varnish chipped. Her lips were cracked and dry. She looked like a girl who had been tripping all night. She also looked very young and unsure of herself, but Kate knew that was just an illusion. How many times had she pulled in young girls over the years? ‘Tarts’ was how she had described them in her own mind. Little tarts with too much make-up and too much to say for themselves. Now, here was the truth of her life in front of her. Her daughter had been sleeping with boys, and men since she was fourteen. Kate couldn’t even justify it by saying it was a boy Lizzy loved, whom her daughter had been with for a long time and so sex was a natural progression. From what she had read in the diary, it seemed any boy with a pleasing face and the latest clothes was in for a good time. Kate closed her eyes tightly.

‘Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s gone, Lizzy. I don’t know where.’

‘Figures. You never cared about him anyway.’

‘Listen, you! I let him stay here because of you. If it had been left to me I would have put him out on the street long ago. Turning up here as and when it suited him. I thought you needed a father, even a lousy father. A father who loved you was better than no father at all.’

Lizzy laughed softly.

‘I never had a father. I never really had a mother either, did I?’

Kate took a long pull on her cigarette and sighed.

What the hell had happened to her life?

Evelyn lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The shock of what she had read was just wearing off. In place of her anger was sorrow. Sorrow for her daughter. Not for her granddaughter, but for Kate. She had battled against all the odds to give that girl everything she could possibly want. Evelyn had watched Kate over the years putting her own life on hold for Lizzy, and for what? What?

She admitted to herself that she had been partly to blame. She had spoiled the child rotten. But what else could she have done? Who would have thought that that bright articulate girl would turn out like this? That the little girl who had sat on her granny’s knee and smiled and laughed, would grow up to give herself to anyone and everyone who asked her? Hadn’t she tried to instil morals into the girl? Not for the first time she missed her husband dreadfully. He would have known what to do. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Lizzy had never known the love of a father, a real father. Kate used to wait in the hallway, sitting patiently on the stairs, listening for her father’s boots to clump up the tiny pathway. Then, as he opened the door, she’d be picked up in a big hug. Kate had known the security of love, as a child and as an adult. It was the advent of Dan that had changed her. When he had left her with a tiny baby, she had hardened her heart somehow. Oh, she loved Lizzy with all her being, Evelyn knew that, but she had also channelled her energy into her work. On reflection, Evelyn wondered now if this was such a good thing. If Kate had maybe married again and given Lizzy a father figure . . .

She shook herself mentally. ‘What’s bred in the bone comes out in the blood.’ How many times had she said that to people? Lizzy was like her father. She used people for her own ends. Dan had been the same. He was still the same. He had packed his bags and disappeared, as he always had, at the first sign of trouble. He said he couldn’t cope with aggravation. Those were his exact words. Well, he generally caused any aggravation that was floating around, but he would never admit it.

She heard the bedroom door open and put her hands over her eyes to shield the glare from the landing light.

‘I’ve brought you a cup of coffee, Mum.’

Kate set the cup down on the dresser by the bed.

‘How are you feeling?’

Evelyn had closed her eyes. She felt the springs in the bed shift as Kate sat beside her. They clasped hands.

‘I don’t know how I feel, to tell you the truth. Now the shock’s wearing off, I keep trying to make excuses for her.’

She heard Kate sigh.

‘I know what you mean.’

‘Oh, Katie, that we would ever see the day . . .’ Her voice broke.

‘I know. Believe me, I know what you’re feeling. The worst of it all to me is that I never guessed anything. Me a policewoman, a DI, never saw what was in front of my face.’

‘That’s because you trusted her.’ Evelyn’s voice was so filled with despair that Kate felt rage again. Rage at her daughter, not just for what she had done but for all the unhappiness she had caused her grandmother. Evelyn was of a different era, a different breed. She had been a virgin when she married, had stayed faithful all her married life. Even when she had been widowed young, she had never wanted another man. Kate had envied her mother her nice clean life. Now Lizzy had taken all that her grandmother held dear and dragged it through the dirt.

For that Kate would find it hard to forgive her.

The two women sat together in silent despair. Then the phone rang.

Kate answered it and went back in to her mother.

‘Frederick Flowers wants to see me. No prizes for guessing why.’ Her voice was trembling now.

The Chief Constable had been quite nice, Kate conceded. He had asked her what was happening and she told him as truthfully as possible. The possession charge had been dropped because her daughter had only had a small amount on her. Not enough to be a dealer, only enough for what the police termed ‘personal use’.

Kate drove home in a stupor. She knew that this would be a black cloud hanging over her for the rest of her working life. But that wasn’t the issue here. The real crux of the matter was finding out why her daughter felt the need to take drugs. Why she lied and cheated. What the hell was going on in the child’s mind.

She pulled into her drive and sat looking at the house. It was early evening and the day had been too long. Far too long and far too fraught. She rubbed the back of her neck with a gloved hand. She had to walk into work tomorrow and face her colleagues. It was the talking point of the station, she would lay money on that.

Groaning slightly, she got out of the car. Inside the house, all was quiet. Kate went to the kitchen and turned on the light. She put the kettle on for a cup of coffee. Preparing three cups she went upstairs to her mother’s room. She opened the door slightly and listened. All she could hear were soft snores. She shut the door gently then went to her daughter’s room.

She opened the door and went inside. Lizzy lay in bed, with just her head showing. Kate tiptoed to her and looked down. Her long dark hair fanned out across the pillow. In the light from the streetlamp Kate could see the long dark lashes against her daughter’s cheekbones. Lizzy really was lovely. She had so much going for her, why had she felt the urge to destroy herself? Because as far as Kate was concerned, that was all people who took drugs wanted to do.

She felt a tear squeeze itself from the corner of her eye. Turning away, she looked at the familiar little room: the dolls, the make-up scattered over the dressing table, the books, haphazardly placed on their shelf. She had attempted to clean up at least.

Then Kate saw the piece of paper. Walking the few steps to the dressing table, she picked it up. Words registered in her mind, but she just could not comprehend them. She read the piece of paper again and again.

Sorry, Mum . . . Sorry, Mum. Tell Gran I love her . . . Tell Gran . . .

She dragged her eyes from the paper to the bed and the deathly whiteness of Lizzy’s skin made her spring into action. She dragged back the covers and stared. Even in the dim light she could see the blood. Somewhere in her mind she registered the fact it was still pumping.

Picking up a hand towel from a nearby chair, she wrapped both of Lizzy’s wrists tightly. Her fingers were suddenly stiff, she couldn’t control them. The hammering of her heart in her ears was like a drum beating.

She ran into her bedroom to phone an ambulance. She registered the blood on the white telephone. It was Lizzy’s blood. Lizzy’s. She answered the telephonist’s questions calmly and rationally, she had no idea how. It was the policewoman in her taking over.

Please hurry. Oh God, please hurry. She was not sure whether she was speaking out loud. She put down the phone and rushed back in to Lizzy.

Oh God, please let her be all right. I’ll do anything you want if you let her be all right. I’ll go to Mass every day of my life . . .

Like many another before, she was trying to bargain with God for her child’s life.

Then, somewhere in the stillness, she heard the ambulance siren.

It wasn’t until she was stumbling from the room that she saw her mother. Evelyn stood in her bedroom doorway, her face ashen.

Kate couldn’t look at her. She went in the ambulance with Lizzy.

Of all the things she had expected from life, the events of the last twenty-four hours had not been remotely near them. If someone had told her what was going to happen she would have laughed in their face.

Now, in the middle of the biggest case she had ever worked on, she had problems of a much larger scale and Kate was aware that her life would never be the same again.

Kate sat in the hospital waiting room. The young doctor was smiling at her. She noticed that his hair had scissor marks in it, as if it had just been dry cut. He had a day’s growth of beard covering a weak chin.

‘Well, we’ve stitched her, Mrs Burrows. The cuts were quite deep, but not really life threatening as such. She cut lengthwise along the arm and missed the main arteries. She was unconscious because she had taken some sleeping pills. But she’s awake now, though groggy.’

‘Can I see her?’

‘Of course. She’ll stay here tonight and the psychiatrist will see her tomorrow.’

‘Psychiatrist?’ Kate’s voice was small.

‘It’s standard procedure after a suicide attempt. Don’t worry, everything will be all right.’

Kate swallowed the trite remark. He was only trying to make her feel better.

She stood up and stubbed out her cigarette. It had in fact gone out minutes before but she hadn’t noticed.

‘Can I go and see her then?’

‘Of course. Try not to keep her too long. Sleep’s the best thing for her now. Sleep is a great healer.’

Kate felt an urge to tell him to get stuffed. But she didn’t. Instead she gave him a tight smile.

‘Thank you.’ Slipping past him she went into her daughter’s ward. Lizzy had the curtains pulled around her bed and Kate stepped towards them gingerly.

She saw Lizzy’s eyes open and tried hard to smile.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I really am sorry.’

‘Oh, Lizzy!’ All the pain and anguish inside her rose like a tidal wave and enveloped her.

Mother and daughter cried together.

‘Everything will be all right, Lizzy, I promise you. We’ll work this out, I swear. We’ll work this out.’

‘Oh, Mum, I wish Gran hadn’t seen my diary.’

Kate could hear the little hiccoughing sounds in her voice.

‘We’ll make it right between us. You just concentrate on getting better.’

A nurse rustled into the tiny space. Kate could smell Pears soap and the smell brought back memories of when she had been younger. When Lizzy had been a baby.

‘I think you’d best get yourself off home now. She really does need her sleep.’

Kate nodded. Kissing Lizzy on the lips, she pushed back her hair from her face and tried valiantly to smile.

‘I’ll be here in the morning, OK?’

Lizzy nodded and closed her eyes. Kate walked from the ward. As she pushed open the swing doors to the corridor, Patrick walked towards her.

‘Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry.’ He put out his arms and she walked into them. Feeling the strength of him, the security he offered. He pulled her to him, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. At the display of sympathy she was undone. She sobbed into his cashmere overcoat, smelling the peculiar odour of him, Old Spice and cigar smoke.

As he accompanied her out of the hospital and towards his car, it did not occur to Kate to ask how he knew where she was. How he knew what had happened.

She was just glad to see him.

Chapter Fifteen

Evelyn heard a car pull up and poked her head through the heavy curtains of the front room. She sniffed loudly. It was a big expensive car, must be someone for one of the neighbours. Then as she looked she saw Kate getting out of the back. She frowned. Too much had happened today for anything else really to surprise her. She saw the man emerge from the car and as they both turned towards the house she quickly shut the curtain.

She sat back on the settee until she heard Kate’s key in the lock. She couldn’t summon up her usual boisterous welcome for her daughter. She heard Kate speaking then a man’s voice, a deep, dark brown voice. Wiping her eyes once more with a sodden hanky, Evelyn waited for them to come into the room.

Patrick helped Kate with her coat then shrugged off his overcoat. He slung them on the banister in a casual manner. Somehow this little act pleased Kate. Her home was not very grand and she knew it. But Patrick was acting as if he lived her kind of life, which indeed he had once. Only, from his beginnings, Kate’s home would probably have been something to aspire to.

Patrick followed her into the front room, his eyes taking in her home. He noticed everything, from the good but worn carpets to the books that abounded in the room. It looked comfortable and warm. He saw a tiny woman sitting on the settee, dressed all in black. She had a remarkable face, one that denoted a quick intellect and a kind heart. He warmed to her immediately.