The Outcast Dead (32 page)

‘Of course she didn’t,’ says Clough.

‘Well, all this can wait,’ says Nelson. ‘Let’s get this little boy home. Here, Cathbad, take your dog. He’s a complete nutcase, like you.’

Cathbad grabs hold of Thing’s collar. Darren takes Judy’s arm and they start to walk away. As Judy passes Nelson, she says, ‘Thank you, Boss.’

*

Suddenly the little park seems full of people. More uniformed policemen are looming up behind the swings and the climbing frame. Ruth can hear Nelson barking orders. Judy, Cathbad and Darren are making their way across the grass. Darren is now carrying Michael. Ruth sees Judy and Cathbad touch hands, just for a second, before Thing jumps jealously between them. At the edge of the crowd, she finds Frank.

‘All’s well that ends well?’

‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘Michael’s back with his parents.’

Frank shakes his head. ‘It all seems totally unreal. Why would Dani do something like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ says Ruth. ‘Why does anyone do anything?’

Back at the cars they find Clough deep in conversation with Nelson. Ruth just hears the words ‘heart’ and ‘tower.’ Nelson looks up as they approach. Ruth thinks that he seems irritated about something. ‘I’ll get a car to drive you home, Ruth. And you,’ he adds as an afterthought to Frank.

‘I need to go back to Norwich and pick up my car,’ says Ruth.

‘I’ll have someone collect it in the morning,’ says Nelson. ‘Right now, you need to get back to Katie.’

Ruth opens her mouth to protest, then shuts it again. After all, it must be nearly two and she does need to get home. And Nelson has returned a missing child to its mother, why choose this moment to complain about his dictatorial tendencies?

‘I do need to get back to Norwich, I’m afraid,’ says Frank. ‘My car’s there and I have to drive home to Cambridge tonight.’

‘Cloughie’ll take you,’ says Nelson. ‘I must get back to the station.’

And he gets into his car without saying goodbye.

*

Nelson drives back to the station wondering if he’s ever felt so many emotions at the same time. There’s relief – of course that’s uppermost – utter joyous relief that Michael has been found safe and well. He will never forget the sound that Judy made as she sprang though the trees to launch herself on her son. It was almost inhuman, a moan of anguish and happiness and undiluted mothering
instinct. Who would have thought that self-contained Judy could ever make a noise like that? Michael is back home and, whatever’s going on with Judy, Cathbad and Darren, he’s sure they’ll sort it out. Whitcliffe will be pleased, a good news story at last, and Nelson will skim over the combination of luck and voodoo that took Clough to Dani’s hotel in the first place. He is still disturbed by the idea that his stolid sergeant not only consulted a psychic but actually acted on her words. It’s pure codswallop of course, but Clough seemed really shaken by the combination of towers, hearts and white women. ‘That was her name, you see, Boss. Danielle White. And Madame Rita told me to look out for a white lady. You see? Danielle White. White lady.’

‘I get it, Cloughie, but it’s just a coincidence.’

‘What about the tower? There was a picture of The Devil’s Tower in the bedroom. And the hotel overlooked the castle. And it was called The Red Hart. That’s what Madame Rita said, a red heart. Of course I thought she meant a heart like in your body …’

‘You did well, Cloughie,’ Nelson had interrupted him. ‘Go home and get some rest now.’

Now, as he negotiates the familiar roads, he asks himself if he is jealous that it was Clough (supernaturally inspired or not) who made the final breakthrough. He doesn’t think that he is. Maybe it’s a sign of arrogance but he usually takes good work by his officers as a compliment to the team – and, by extension, to himself. He trained them, after all, and Clough is, in some ways, the
officer closest to him. No, he doesn’t resent the role that Clough played in the rescue. He is proud of the fact that Clough both trusted to his instincts and had the sense not to race after Dani with all guns blazing. Clough is growing up at last.

It’s Ruth’s part in the whole thing that bothers him. Why did she have to be there and why did she have that American bloke with her? Is he really her new boyfriend, like Shona said? In one part of his mind he accepts that Ruth might find a new boyfriend – in his more rational moments he even hopes that this will happen – but a far greater part of him wants her to forswear men altogether and concentrate on Katie. It’s unfair, he knows. He’s married, why shouldn’t Ruth have a partner? But, in his heart, he likes it the way it is. He has both women, all three children. Michelle is his wife and he will never leave her, but over the years Ruth has somehow become essential to his happiness. It’s not right, he knows that. Nelson isn’t a Catholic for nothing. He knows that someone has to pay, and in the last few days he has sometimes wondered whether, in some ghastly Old Testament way, Michael was taken as a punishment for Nelson’s sins.

But it’s all right. God has forgiven them all. Michael is safely home with his mother. But Nelson had better stop pushing his luck. If Ruth wants to start a relationship with a smug-looking American, he has to let her. Maybe that’s his punishment. As he parks outside the station he
considers that he’d give almost anything – barring his children – for a good night’s sleep.

*

Ruth opens her front door, trying not to make any sound. The house is quiet but there’s a heap of blankets breathing gently. Ruth looks down at her brother. In sleep he looks much younger, his thinning hair ruffled, lips pursed slightly. A memory comes back to her. Looking down at Simon from her vantage point of the top bunk in the caravan. He would always fall asleep first and Ruth, who often used to feel frightened at night, was always comforted by the thought of the sleeping presence below her. It was kind of him, she thinks now, to let her have the top bunk. He’s not that bad, as brothers go.

Ruth smiles as she climbs the stairs. Just now, she loves everyone. She could even be pleasant to Phil (though she wouldn’t kiss him because he’s grown a horrid little beard). Bloody hell, is this what her parents are always talking about? Heavenly bliss and all that. She doesn’t know about heaven but this world is looking very good just at the moment. She bends to kiss the sleeping Kate, reflecting that Judy will now be able to do the same with Michael. In her own bedroom, she opens the Tennyson book, now a night-time ritual.

‘Peace and goodwill,’ she reads, ‘goodwill and peace

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.’

You said it Alfie, thinks Ruth, shutting her eyes.

*

Nelson is woken from the sleep of the just by his ring tone.
Instinctively he stretches out an arm but Michelle isn’t there. Nelson reaches for his phone. The digital clock says 9.10. Bloody hell, it’s been years since he’s slept this late. A message flashes: Maddie Henderson calling.

‘Hi Maddie. What’s up?’

‘Nelson, you’d better come. I’m at Liz’s house.’

Liz Donaldson is dead. Nelson knew as soon as he entered the room, in fact as soon as he entered the house. He’d arrived to find Maddie sitting on the wall outside. Like her father, she doesn’t waste much time in pleasantries.

‘Something’s wrong, Nelson. I know it. I arranged to meet her here at nine but there’s no answer. I know she’s inside. Her car’s parked on the road.’

Nelson peered through the window. The immaculate front room was the same, minus the cards and the flowers. Nothing out of place, no newspapers on the table, not a spare cardigan on a chair, cushions neatly plumped and standing on their points like ballet dancers. Nelson couldn’t say why, but the perfect room struck a chill to his very soul. He turned to look at Maddie, who, despite the warmth of the summer day, was huddled in her green jacket, looking a lot younger than nineteen.

‘Could she have just popped to the shops?’ he asked.

‘She could but I don’t think so. She was very particular about me getting here exactly at nine. Kept saying “you
will be here won’t you?” I thought then that she sounded odd.’

Nelson hammered on the front door and the sound echoed up and down the street. No-one came to investigate the noise. It was nine-thirty on a Thursday morning. All the inhabitants of the neat terraced houses were either at work or involved in some equally respectable activity.

‘Have you called her?’ he asked Maddie.

‘Loads of times.’

Sighing, Nelson set his shoulder to the front door. It gave way easily. After a quick look around the sitting room and kitchen, he took the stairs two at a time, Maddie following.

Liz Donaldson is lying on her bed. She is fully dressed, hands clasped on her chest. On the table next to the bed stands an empty pill bottle and a letter addressed in heavy black ink, ‘To the police.’

Nelson calls an ambulance but he knows, and he suspects Maddie knows too, despite her rather halfhearted attempts at mouth-to-mouth. He takes Liz’s wrist in one hand and, with the other, pats Maddie on the back. ‘She’s gone, love.’ Maddie nods, her mermaid’s eyes full of tears.

They wait in silence for the ambulance. Nelson calls the station and asks for a SOCO team. He doesn’t think that a crime has taken place but he knows that in this house and with this woman he has to go by the book. He doesn’t touch the letter. He is grateful that Maddie doesn’t speculate why or how Liz took her life. They sit
either side of the bed as if they’re visiting a patient in hospital. Nelson finds it unbearably poignant that Liz took off her shoes before climbing onto the bed.

The paramedics pronounce Liz dead at the scene. They can’t take a dead woman in the ambulance so they call for the coroner’s van. The SOCO team arrive and begin dusting the room down. Nelson and Maddie wait in the silent sitting room which still, somehow, smells of lilies.

‘Air freshener,’ says Maddie when Nelson comments on this fact.

He is more relieved by this explanation than he cares to say. He asks Maddie if she has phoned Bob. What did Cathbad say about Maddie and Bob? It all seems so long ago.

‘I left a message on his answer phone,’ says Maddie.

Bob and the coroner’s ‘private ambulance’ arrive at the same time. He stands back to let the covered stretcher go past.

‘What’s going on?’ he sounds very scared.

Maddie puts an arm round him and leads him back into the house. They sit side by side on the sofa, disturbing the cushions.

‘Liz’s dead. I’m so sorry, Bob.’

‘Dead?’ Bob looks accusingly at Nelson. ‘Dead? How? I don’t understand.’

‘It’s looks as if she killed herself,’ says Nelson. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Donaldson.’

Bob’s reaction is depressing but not, to Nelson, unexpected.

‘You see,’ he says. ‘She was guilty all along.’

*

Judy, Darren and Michael are on the way to Southwold. There has been so much press interest in the case that Nelson has advised them to get away for a few days. Darren’s parents, delirious with relief and also desperate to help, were only too happy to invite them to stay. Humans, thinks Judy, are remarkable creatures. She and Darren have just been through the worst experience of their lives. She feels as if she has plumbed the very depths of the human soul but here she is, sitting in the family car listening to Radio 2 with Michael in the back, almost as if nothing has happened. Michael seems quite content, holding his toy giraffe and humming to himself, just as if he hasn’t spent three days being kept prisoner by a mad woman. Will he remember it? Judy wonders. Will the experience leave him scarred for life? Will it leave him with a terror of swings and a hatred of Chanel Number 5? She remembers how it had felt last night, smelling Dani’s perfume on her baby. When they got back to the house, the first thing she had done was to give Michael a bath. Then she had thrown the clothes he was wearing into the bin and dressed him in his well-worn blue pyjamas. Then she, Darren and Cathbad had watched their baby sleep.

‘I was surprised that Cathbad said he was leaving,’ Darren says as they drive along the seafront. ‘What do you think he’ll do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ says Judy. ‘He’s a free spirit, Cathbad.’

‘Has he still got a place in Norfolk?’

‘He’s got a caravan in Blakeney,’ says Judy, ‘but I don’t think he’ll go there.’

‘He’s been a real support over the last few days.’

‘Yes, he has.’

‘Maybe he’ll catch up with that daughter of his?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Things like this,’ says Darren, ‘they make you appreciate your family more.’

Judy agrees that this is true and they drive in silence past the lighthouse and the pier and the multi-coloured bathing huts.

*

Cathbad and Ruth are also by the sea. Simon has taken the boys to see the seals at Blakeney and Ruth was alone when Cathbad appeared at her door just after nine. ‘You look exhausted,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you have a few hours’ sleep? The spare bed’s made up.’

‘I can sleep on the beach,’ said Cathbad. ‘Right now I need fresh air.’

So they had taken the path through the marshes to the sea. And now Cathbad lies stretched out on a blanket watching Kate build an elaborate sand monolith.

‘It’s positively Neolithic,’ he says.

‘It’s a tower,’ says Kate. ‘Like in Rapunzel.’

‘I used to have long hair like Rapunzel,’ says Cathbad.

‘Silly,’ says Kate, not looking up. ‘You’re a boy.’

Ruth looks out to the sea where a single wind-surfer
is tacking across the horizon. She wants to ask Cathbad whether he’s going back to Lancashire and what is happening with Judy. So far they have only talked about Michael, about how he appears to have emerged from the ordeal unscathed, albeit with two new words, ‘Kate’ and ‘Daddy’. Ruth wants to ask which Daddy Judy will choose but she doesn’t want to spoil the peace of the morning. Luckily, Cathbad’s sixth sense is still in working order.

‘It’s up to Judy,’ he says now, shutting his eyes. ‘She’s not happy with Darren but she feels guilty about him.’

‘But …’ Ruth struggles to find the words. ‘Do you want her to leave Darren? Do you want to … to set up home together?’ She can’t imagine Cathbad in a nuclear family: Druid, mother and child. But Cathbad sits up and turns to her, his face touching in its intensity.