Page 30 of Worse Than Murder

‘Yes. Lives opposite the church. Dark-blonde hair. Her husband’s a lollypop man.’

He nods. ‘I know who you mean.’

‘She was up at the restaurant cleaning this morning. She said that detective Alison was on about, DCI Darke, was asking about the twins and about Jack going missing.’

Iain swallows. ‘Alison must have spoken to her, then.’

‘I’ve looked her up, this Matilda Darke woman. She’s a bloody good detective. Remember that serial killer who was killing all those sex workers in Sheffield a few years ago? She was the one who caught him. And that children’s home sex scandal that we watched that programme about? That was her, too. If Alison’s got her looking into this… Jesus Christ, Iain, what if she finds out about Jack?’ she says, worrying at her fingernails as she spoke.

Iain sighs and places his spoon in the bowl, his appetite suddenly diminishing. ‘We need to think about this. What?—’

There’s a flash of lightning followed, almost immediately, by a loud crack of thunder. Both of them turn to look out of the kitchen window. It’s grown much darker in the last few minutes.

‘I was thinking, maybe tomorrow, I might pop round to Nature’s Diner and perhaps have a word with this Matilda Darke. If I tell her the truth– well, tell her what we told Alison– maybe she’ll realise this is a family thing and back off. What do you think? Do you think that’s a bad idea?’

Iain’s face drops. ‘Do you really want to involve someone else?’

‘Well, no, but it’s not looking as if we’ve got much choice. If this detective does start digging and she finds out… I don’t want Alison finding out that way. And if she does… Iain, we’ve left it far too long for Alison to think we were protecting her when she was growing up.’

Reluctantly, Iain nods. ‘I suppose, if you tell this detective all about Jack, it might stop her from interfering. If she’s a mother herself, she might see it from your point of view, that you were just trying to protect your daughter.’

‘I don’t know if she is a mother. I couldn’t find anything about her online. But she’s good friends with Sally Meagan. She’ll know all about protecting kids after what happened with her Carl.’

‘Fair enough. We’ll go first thing after breakfast.’

She thinks for a moment. ‘Erm… I was thinking that it might be best if I go on my own, have a woman-to-woman chat.’ She falls silent and begins to chew the inside of her mouth.

He looks up at her. ‘You might be right. Are you sure you don’t want me with you?’

She reaches across and places her hand on his. ‘I’d love you with me, but it might be better this way.’

‘I’ll probably be busy, anyway, depending on how much damage this storm ends up doing.’

‘Thirty years it’s been,’ Lynne says, a catch in her throat. ‘Thirty years, I thought it was all in the past. Nothing can ever stay buried, can it?’

‘I’m always here for you, Lynne, you know that. We’re a team.’

‘Thank you. It’s all about protecting Alison, though.’

‘And we will. Whatever it takes.’

She gives him a worried smile. ‘Tea?’

‘I could murder a cup.’

They take their mugs of tea into the living room. The lights flicker as a gust of wind whips around the house. Candles in holders and torches are already on the coffee table, waiting to be used should the power go out. A fire is lit, giving the room a warm glow.

‘I can’t believe I’ve had to light a fire in June,’ Lynne says as she goes over to the window.

‘The temperature’s suddenly plummeted,’ Iain says. ‘It feels colder than it actually is.’ He sits on the sofa and picks up his tablet. He logs onto the security system at the stables to make sure everything is as it should be.

Lynne peels back the curtains and looks out, watching the beginnings of the storm through the slats of the vertical blinds.

Heavy black clouds have rolled in from the Irish sea and turned what should have been a pleasant, early summer evening into the darkness of midwinter.

Lynne watches as the road is turned into a river, running downwards towards the school. She closes her eyes tightly shut and is transported back to that day in 1992 when Jack and Alison were out visiting his mother. She tries to think of the last conversation she had with Jack, and she can’t. Alison has often asked her what the last thing they’d said to each other was; had Jack known how much he was loved by his family? Lynne can’t give her the answer she wants to hear.

‘Shit!’ Iain exclaims. ‘That bloody felt roofing has come off the end stable block. What did I tell you? I said this would happen. Remind me never to ask Warren to do anything ever again.’