She said, Sorry. This has knocked me out. Im not usually so slow. It was just a bit of a shock. I thought you were trying to tell me theres been an accident
Nothing like that, said the woman. Really.
And did you talk to Mr Johnson, the head, yourself? Youre sure he said it was nothing to worry about?
Yes, I spoke direct with Mr Johnson, said the woman firmly. Just a tummy bug, he reckoned. But she really wants to be home rather than bumping around on a bus all day.
And if it was anything more serious, the sooner we get out there, the better, eh? said the man heartily.
Jim, please! said the woman reprimandingly.
No, its OK, said Ellie, stepping forward and smiling at the man. Its always best to be ready for the worst. Are you ready, Mr Westcombe?
Then she brought her knee up as hard as she could between his legs.
It was good to see his face drain pale as her own.
Now she swung her right arm round hard at the womans neck. The blow would probably have felled her, but she was quick and ducked low, though not low enough to avoid all contact. Ellies hand caught her on the temple just above the right eye with enough force to send her reeling back into the Climbing Pompon de Paris growing up the pillar to the left of the front porch.
When Ellie had bought it, Peter had grumbled that nowadays it was surely possible to get a less prickly, more user-friendly rose, but shed been unrepentant. The tiny pink pompom blossoms had been her fathers favourite before Alzheimers robbed him of even that. And now, as she heard the woman scream, Ellie knew shed always love the thorns too.
She retreated over her threshold and slammed the door shut. Ramming the bolts home, she became aware of pain in her right wrist, and as she slid to the floor with her back against the door, in her right knee too. She sat there, breathing deep, as if shed just run a hundred metres up a steep hill. Outside she heard car doors shut and an engine start up and reverse away.
She sat there till there was nothing to hear but her own harsh breathing, and when that too finally faded, she rose and went to an upstairs window and looked down at the empty driveway.
Whatever had happened was over. So why did she feel it had just begun?
iii
memories are made of this
And you kneed him in the balls? said Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel gleefully. Well done, lass.
Sure. Except they must have been made of brass, said Ellie, who was sitting sideways on a sofa with a large pack of frozen oven chips draped over her knee and a smaller pack of fish fingers pressed against her wrist. Having a non-gourmet kid sometimes came in useful. Have they got hold of Peter yet?
This was aimed at Detective Sergeant Edgar Wield whod just entered the room, carrying a mobile phone.
No, but theyre still there, theyve located the coach. Ive sent Seymour down there. Hell spot them eventually, but Tegley Hall Theme Parks a big place. And you said you didnt want him paged over the speakers.
No, said Ellie firmly. Softly, softly. I dont want him getting the kind of shock I had.
The two detectives exchanged glances, then Dalziel said, Talking of which, lass, as you wont let us take you to the quackery, Ive got Wieldy here to organize the quack to come to you. And afore you start sounding off again, I reckon you could do with a bit more than fish and chips for them joints of yours. Also, I dont like your colour.
And I bet youve arrested people for less than that. Sorry, Andy. That was stupid. Im still feeling so angry. As for my colour, you should have seen me half an hour ago. I was grey. Not as grey as that bastard, though, after Id kneed him.
Aye, thats where wed got to, wasnt it?
Second time round!
Aye, well. You were a bit excitable, first time.
Hysterical, you mean?
Nay, lass. You know me, if Id meant hysterical, Id have said it. Wieldy, youre lurking. Summat else?
Checked with the Education Department. No one there called Westcombe or fitting the descriptions.
Christ, youre checking up on me! exclaimed Ellie angrily. You think maybe I just lose it when Im confronted by stupid officials? Well, you could be about to find out youre right.
Wield went on as if she hadnt spoken. The cars number. How sure are you you got it right?
As sure as I could be considering it was going through my mind these two wanted to abduct me in order to do God knows what to me. So if I got a figure wrong, it wouldnt be surprising, would it? But it was definitely a dark-blue BMW, one of the big ones. Look, whyre you wasting time grilling me like this? I scribbled everything I could remember down soon as I could. Christ, I havent been married to the Force all these years without picking up some of your nasty habits. Why arent you out there looking for these people?
Youd be surprised how often I get asked that question and Ive not worked out a smart answer yet, said Dalziel. Cant even say its raining. Whyre you asking about the car, Wieldy?
Did a check, sir. And according to Swansea, what Ellie gave us isnt a number in use.
False plates then, said Dalziel. But try the obvious variations just in case.
Yes, sir. By the way, phone wire was shorted with a pin where it goes into the hall window. Pull it out, it should be OK, but we wont touch it till Forensics finished out there. Oh, and Novellos here.
Ivor? Good. Send her in.
Hang about, said Ellie. If youre thinking I need a friendly female copper to unburden my heart to
Nay. I brought her for the strip search but Ill do it if you like, said Dalziel.
Wield made for the door.
Ellie said, Wieldy, sorry I snapped at you. I think I may still be a bit excitable.
The sergeants generally inscrutable features which, in Dalziels words, were knobbly enough to make a pineapple look like a pippin, smoothed momentarily into a warm smile, and he said, Ill let you know soon as we get a hold of Pete.
By God, said Dalziel after the sergeant had gone. Was that a smile, or has he got toothache? Nearest yon bugger ever came to cracking his face at me was the time I fell into the swimming pool at the mayors reception. Oh aye. I see you remember that too.
A smile had touched Ellies lips, and she forced it to broaden as she saw the Fat Man observing her closely. Anything was better than having a womanly weep in front of Andy Dalziel. And even more, in front of Detective Constable Shirley Novello, who had just slipped into the room. Five-four, sturdy frame, minimum make-up, dark-brown hair neat but nothing fancy, baggy sweatshirt and matching slacks, she should have been two steps from invisible, which was presumably her intention. Down-dressing did not deceive Ellie Pascoes expert eye, however. Shed heard her husband talk a little too appreciatively of the girls professional qualities, and she saw the way even Fat Andys spirits perked up a notch or two at her entry. This was definitely one to watch.
You going to make an old man happy, lass? said Dalziel.
Dont think so, sir. Just a first take on house-to-house. Weve got two people who noticed the BMW. Confirmation of colour, but nothing extra on the numberplate. One of them thought it had an unusually long aerial compared with her husbands car, which is the same model.
Well-heeled neighbours youve got, Ellie, said the Fat Man. Mebbe were paying Pete too much. That it, Ivor?
Except for an old lady lives at the corner, towards town, that is, says she looked out to see what all the fuss was when she heard the sirens and saw a car doing a three-point turn and going back the way it came. Metallic-blue, sounds like a Golf. Driver looked swarthy and sinister, she says.
Watch a lot of telly, does she? Ivor, its what happened before we came that Im interested in. Afterwards, any poor sod driving along and seeing the street full of flashing fuzz is going to find another route, specially if hes had a swift snort or two at a business meeting.
The notion was suggestive. Ellie looked longingly at the bottle of Scotch which the Fat Man had dug out as soon as he arrived. At the time it had seemed virtuously sensible to quote what her first aid course said about avoiding alcohol in cases of shock, but now it seemed merely priggish.
She said, OK, Andy. Lets do it one more time. Then I dont care if it brings on complete amnesia, Im going to have that drink you prescribed.
Im feeling better already, said Dalziel. No, Ivor, dont sneak off. Got your short stubby pencil ready? I want you taking notes. Everything, not just what you thinks important, OK?
Sir, said Novello.
Her eyes met Ellie Pascoes and she gave a little smile. All she got in return was a small frown. Confirming what shed felt on their previous few meetings, that La Pascoe didnt much like her. Couldnt blame her, the WDC thought complacently. When Im her age, Ive no intention of liking good-looking women ten years my junior who work with my husband. Not that her own husband, if she ever bothered, would be anything like Chief Inspector Pascoe. It would probably be a comfort to Ellie Pascoe to know that her fantasies featured chunky, hairy men on surf-pounded beaches, not slim, nice-mannered introverts who would feel it necessary to buy you a decent French meal before checking into a good four-star hotel. But it was not a comfort she was about to offer.
The Great God Dalziel was speaking.
Right, lass. One more time. You were really taken in at first?
Damn right I was. All I could think was, not again, oh God, its not all happening again. You know, Rosie in hospital, me camping out there, all the fears
The memory of that time was still so powerful, it had the therapeutic effect of reducing her present aftershock to manageable size, and she went on more strongly, Shed only gone back to school for this final week before the summer hols she insisted, and you know Rosie, when she makes up her mind
Cant think who she takes after, said Dalziel. Wanted to see all her mates, did she? And not miss this end-of-term outing.
Both of those. Also to get out from under me, I suspect.
Eh?
Ellie said, Andy, Im ready for that drink now. Please.
She took the proffered tumbler and said scornfully, That wouldnt drown a tall gnat. Cheers.
It went down in one. Dalziel, whod poured himself a good three inches, poured her another millimetre.
God Almighty, man! And its not even your whisky, she said.
Not my stomach either, said Dalziel. You said something about Rosie getting out from under you. Never had you down as the clinging-mother type.
No? Perhaps not.
She brooded on this for a moment, glanced at Novello, then, with an effort at matter-of-factness, went on, Since we got her back, after the meningitis, Ive hardly been able to bear letting her out of my sight. She goes in the garden to play and two minutes later I have a panic attack. I think in the end I just began to get on her nerves, so school seemed a desirable alternative.
Nay, you know what kids are like about missing things
The trip to Tegley Hall, you mean? Well, theres another thing. They invite any parents who feel like giving a hand to go along. Its a big responsibility, ferrying that number of kids around somewhere like that. I was going to go, but last night Rosie suddenly said, Why cant Daddy go? Miss Martindale says it doesnt just have to be mummies. Peter, bless his heart, said, why not? Hed like nothing better than a day in the company of his daughter and a hundred other kids. And he rang you and you kindly said that considering how hard youd been working him for the past hundred years or so, he was long overdue a bit of time off
Dont recollect them as my exact words, said Dalziel.
Peter is one of natures paraphrasers. So, nothing for me to do but say, Great. Itll give me the chance to get on with some work, and smile through my tears.
So you worried?
Of course I worried. I worried about what kind of mother I was. And I worried about them out there in the big wide world without me to look after them. And I worried about myself for worrying about them!
Plus the other worries she wasnt about to air in front of Novello. Or Dalziel either, for that matter. Or indeed herself if she could help it. Worries like damp patches on a kitchen wall, that you could stand a chair in front of, or hang a wallchart over, or even just ignore, but you knew that sometime you were going to have to deal with them.
So I went upstairs, switched my laptop on and started working, she concluded.
That help with worries, does it? He sipped his Scotch and looked at her doubtfully.
Something else she wasnt going to lay out in present company.
The poet Cowper managed to keep religious mania at bay for several decades by dint of writing, she said spiritedly.
God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform, said Dalziel, whose capacity to surprise should have ceased to surprise her. Then the doorbell rang?
No. I heard their car and spoke to them out of the window. Then I went downstairs and opened the door.
Oh aye, you said. No print on the bellpush then. Pity.
Im sorry. I should have thought on.
He smiled at her sarcasm, then said seriously, When they mentioned Rosie, it must have been right bad.
Bad? It felt like the bottom had fallen out of the universe. It was like getting the worst news you could imagine, and knowing it was all your own fault.
She spoke with a vehemence which came close to being excessive.
All your fault? Nay, luv, cant see how you could ever think that, he said, viewing her closely.
If Dalziel had been by himself, she might have stumbled into an explanation.
Maybe something like, I felt so relieved that morning not to be going with Rosie, to know she was in Peters care, to have a day at last when I could stop worrying about her. But not just for her sake, and not even because I could probably do with the rest myself, but because when we nearly lost her, I knew then what I must have known before but never had occasion to look straight in the eye, that my single-handed sailing days were over forever, that Id been pressed as part of a three-man crew on a lifelong voyage over what were hopefully oceans of absolute love. Except if its so absolute, how come theres a little part of me somewhere which, like Achilless heel, didnt get submerged? Forgive me muddling my metaphors, its probably this story Im writing. But thats another story. No, what Im trying to say is, no matter how I try to hide it from myself, theres something in me that sometimes yearns to be free, that gets nostalgic for the long-lost days of free choice, that comes close to seeing this love I feel not as a gift but as a burden, not as a privilege but a responsibility. Perhaps Im simply a selfish person who knows now she can never be selfish again. Does anyone else feel like this? Am I a monster? Thats why I was so ready to believe them, thats why I felt so guilty. It was like God had decided I hadnt got the message loud and clear last time and I needed another dose of the same to get me straight.