The Lazarus Secrets (7 page)

“You mean she's used to it,” laughed the Sergeant.

“Probably, but I'm in so much trouble already today it won't make any difference. On my first day off for weeks, I went to see my son compete in a race and ended up arresting the winner. I did ring and tell Sarah what had happened. I left her to explain to the vicar, who just happens to be my cousin, why he had no winner to accept the trophy but she didn't sound too impressed.” He smiled grimly, “But at least we've got Calway behind bars.”

The sergeant nodded, “Well, have a good New Year's Eve sir, although if you are anything like me you won't be very good company.”

Darrington smiled but didn't reply. He would be good company, he knew he would. He had been taught by an expert to imprison life's horrors to be dealt with at another time. It was an accomplishment he had perfected over the years but never could decide if it were a good or bad practise. For the first time in many years he thought of Leon Bauerman, the doctor who had certainly saved his sanity, but had also taught him how to lock away the darkness in his life — to stand firmly on the trapdoor where the demons of his past urged to be let out.

Chapter Five

The Oak Hathern cross-country race was held every year at 11am on the 31st of December and David had an excellent chance of winning it for the third year in a row, an unequalled record. Sarah had pleaded with Max to take just one day off especially as it was his birthday and he had finally agreed.

Over the years the race had become as much a social event for the spectators as a competition for the runners. In fair weather or foul, almost the entire population of the village and many outsiders crowded the green to watch. The Mothers' Union served hot chocolate in paper cups and the crowds milled about stamping cold feet and chatting to friends and neighbours.

From the starting point, Max's cousin, the Reverend Clive Longfield, waved to him and then after looking steadily at his watch for a few seconds, fired the starting pistol into the air. A cheer went up and the runners, bunched together and exhaling steamy breath at the starting line, sped off on the five-mile circuit around the outskirts of the village and back to the green. Sarah clutched David's tracksuit certain he would win and happy that, for once, his father would witness his achievement.

Clive and his wife Carol came to wish Max a happy birthday and were not the first to jokingly remark on his unusual appearance at a social event. He was beginning to feel uncomfortably guilty that Sarah normally fronted up to these occasions alone; so much so that everyone they met found his presence cause for comment. Taking her hand, he mentally vowed to forget about work and make this a special day. They sipped hot chocolate as they wandered along the green and he felt at peace with the world. He worked in Southampton, but Oak Hathern had been his home for almost thirty years. He had never had any desire to live anywhere else, although he could have furthered his career by doing so. He had met Sarah very near where they now stood.

It was 8
th
May, 1945, VE night and the Reverend Donaldson had led the village in prayers of thanksgiving and then the night had erupted into celebrations. A length of coloured lights was strung in the trees, beacons were lit, and the owners of the houses around the green, after six years of cowering behind blackout curtains, defiantly pulled them back letting light spill out into the spring night. The older children were roasting potatoes on a bonfire and three old timers who usually played in the pub wandered among the revellers with violins and an accordion.

Liberation from war and a barrel of ale provided by the local pub, set the crowds free and inhibitions were cast aside with unusual avidity as they sang and danced in the firelight and young couples moved into the shadows but Max, even with his family around him and his precious son in his arms, had never felt more alone. His mother and Uncle Alexander were there and Uncle Charles and Barbara, who were concerned about Clive, who seemed to have disappeared. Max had seen his young cousin and the vicar's daughter holding hands as they sneaked into the vicarage garden but said nothing. Dr Edwin Scott appeared with a tray of beer, only halves, but no-one cared and Max stood Jules down beside him while he supped the welcome brew. They raised their glasses to toast the peace and not for the first time, Max, thought he caught just a flicker of something between his mother and Edwin.

The musicians struck up a lively rendition of ‘Knees Up Mother Brown' and to the delight of the crowd two old ladies pulled the vicar onto the makeshift wooden dance floor where he good-naturedly joined in. His dance partners frolicked to the music lifting up their long skirts and showing glimpses of thick flannel knickers.

Alexander roared with laughter and the whole family joined in amused as much by his display of glee, as by the dancers. “You just wait until Margaret gets the Vicar home,” he choked, “I reckon he'll need divine intervention alright.”

“You're not dancing tonight Edwin?” Charles asked.

“No. I can't find Annie Rudge.” The tired old joke still evoked smiles.

“There she is,” said Barbara.

Pushing her way through the crowds Annie Rudge grabbed the arm of one of the old ladies, apparently her mother and dragged her away. “You're drunk!” Annie admonished loudly, “showing yourself up in front of the whole village,” she turned back to the Reverend Donaldson, “and you ought to be ashamed of yourself vicar, encouraging her.”

The smile fell from Max's face when looked down at the empty space where Jules had stood, fear struck through him and he swung around searching the crowds and calling out his name.

“It's all right, I can see him over there by the tree,” called Barbara pointing to where Jules and a little girl stood looking shyly at one another.

As Max reached him, a young woman took hold of the girl's hand and breathed out in relief, “Heather, I thought I'd lost you!”

Max smiled and picked up Jules, “Me too. Frightening isn't it?”

It was a chance meeting at an unexpected moment but for Sarah and Max it was the beginning of friendship, love and a new start.

Sarah was a war widow and everything Claudine was not. Her feet were firmly on the ground and while everyone who met her warmed to her, she was a strong woman with firm ideas of her own. Not classically beautiful, she had a dazzling smile and twinkling blue eyes hinting at the humour that was so much a part of her personality.

“She reminds me of sunshine,” Alexander declared after he had proudly walked her down the aisle to Max six months later, “and that's what Max needs in his life, sunshine.” As usual Alexander either liked very much or didn't like at all. He liked Sarah and always would.

Douglas Hood, who had been instrumental in Max becoming a special constable and then a regular policeman, was best man and after something of a false start, his adult life began again.

Heather and Jules grew up as brother and sister and twins Jane Eloise and David Xavier completed the family. Max and Sarah bought a large, old house primarily because it faced onto Oak Hathern Village Green and spent years pouring money and love into it.

Max looked at the house. It was the finest on the green now and a meeting place for all family members, his mother and uncles who still lived at Top Cottage and the youngsters who had now moved on to live their own lives.

“What are you thinking about?” Sarah asked, rubbing her cold hands together.

“I was just admiring our lovely house and thinking how lucky we are to own it.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, “Yes, but I wish we were lucky enough to be in our lovely house where it's nice and warm. I shouldn't be surprised if we get snow today.”

The race was an important event in the area having first taken place some 60 years earlier when an argument during a lunchtime drinking session on New Year's Eve had seen four drunken men run, walk or stumble around the green for a wager. By the time they had completed their disorderly course, half the village folk were out watching the amusing spectacle. No-one now remembered who the men were or who won but certainly by the next New Year they were in the pub once again challenging one another. Over the ensuing decades the event evolved from a quarrel among drunks into a respectable tradition with a trophy for the winner.

Competitors came from surrounding areas, some serious contenders others just joining in for the fun of it. The local boy scouts manned checkpoints
en route
to prevent any short cuts through the woods and the landlord of the pub where it all began served hot punch and meat pies through the pub window.

Sarah anxiously kept watch. It was only a race, but David needed even a small win in his life to negate some of the failures he had notched up recently. Having played more than he worked, he had just scraped through university and then come to a grinding halt. It was difficult not to compare him to his twin sister Jane who had gained honours in history and politics and landed a plumb job in the British Embassy in Berlin.

Max despaired of his son's casual attitude and after several unpleasant altercations about what he was doing and where he was going, at Sarah's insistence, they had called a truce. Not an easy task since David was living at home again.

The older children, Jules and Heather, were both happily married and had families of their own. Heather's husband, Stephen Young, was a local and they owned and lived behind the village garage with their five-year-old daughter, Helen. Jules and his wife, Anna, lived in London, but they and their sons, Christian and Jonathan, always anxious to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, were regular visitors to Oak Hathern.

Max fell into conversation with the local police constable, who, flattered by the attention of the famous ‘Red Max,' chattered amicably. Sarah supposed it was inevitable, but she had wanted him to clear his mind of work just for one day.

Suddenly, a cheer went up and much earlier than expected, a runner came in sight, but it wasn't David. It was a tall, good looking young man who was not from the village. Having knocked several minutes off the record, he took the crowds completely by surprise as he broke the hastily stretched tape at a still cracking pace. Sarah clapped enthusiastically hoping her disappointment wasn't too evident, and the crowds cheered and rushed to greet the winner.

Only Darrington remained perfectly still. The hair on the back of his neck rigid, his mind racing as the last piece of a grizzly puzzle fell into place, “Ivor James Calway that's how you did it,” he said under his breath.

“Did what?” Sarah asked, but Max was already giving orders to the bewildered village policeman.

“… and when you've done that come back here to help me with the arrest.”

Mouth open, the young constable didn't respond immediately then almost jumped to attention, “Yes, sir.” But as he made off toward the small police house that served as the village police station Darrington caught his arm.

“No fuss. Do it quietly.”

“Yes, sir,” he repeated, then lowering his voice, “But who are we arresting?”

“Ivor James Calway,” Darrington said glaring at the smiling young man now wearing a warm tracksuit and sipping a hot drink from a paper cup, “our champion and record breaker.”

“What's going on?” Sarah asked impatiently.

“I'm sorry but this is very important,” Max spoke distractedly staring over her head, anxious not to lose sight of his quarry. “I'll have to go into the station.” Before Sarah could protest, cheers and applause broke out and David pounded toward the tape gasping for breath and also beating the previous record but taking second place. Sarah rushed to congratulate him, but Darrington hovered in the background hardly daring to believe the pure chance that had brought him here on just the right day. His breathing was short with fear and anticipation, after twelve months he had got him.

Chapter Six

A small porch light flashed on above Darrington's head just at the moment Andrew Wilson opened the door and the two men stood looking at one another. They had met under tortuous circumstances but Andrew Wilson had kept his dignity and strength when many would have lost both and the Wilson family had survived because of it. Now the two men faced each other in silent sadness, the intrusion could only be connected to that which they would rather forget.

Suddenly Andrew Wilson stepped back, “Come along in Chief Inspector.”

The Wilson house was as Darrington remembered, small and welcoming, a cared for home full of happiness and love that tragedy seemed not to have blighted. In the living room Audrey Wilson, a dark, attractive woman, got up from her chair and shushed a small, black spaniel yapping from its blanket near the fire. The dog, Sally, lost on the Common was never found and Jean Morrison had organised a collection in the police station and bought the spaniel puppy for the other Wilson children. Darrington had never been more proud of his staff.

The Wilson children sat on the floor watching the television and but for a hint of sadness in the eyes of the parents, the scene was of blissful domesticity. Molly, the younger daughter of the Wilson family, got up and walked towards Darrington. Carrying a battered teddy bear and wearing a pink dressing gown and fluffy slippers, she looked up at him. “We're allowed to stay up until midnight because it's New Year's Eve,” she beamed.

Darrington caught his breath. The tiny, oval face smiling up at him was that of the dead and lifeless child he had last seen on a cold mortuary slab.

“Will you be allowed to stay up until midnight?” asked the child.

He cleared his throat and forced a smile, “If I behave myself.”

Audrey guided her daughter back to the others, then asked, “Have you some news, Chief Inspector?”

He spoke quietly, “We've arrested a young man called Ivor James Calway in connection with Sally's death and this evening he was formally charged. He'll appear in court in a day or two and be held in custody pending trial, but he has confessed.”