Unless it was raining, he was in the habit of dropping Fergus off on the corner rather than driving right up to the front door. When the weather was fine, as on this warm August evening, the first indication of his arrival would normally be the clang of the front gate, followed by the sound of his key in the lock, a series of thuds as he dumped his possessions on the hall floor and the resounding slam as the front door closed behind him. Like any normal teenage youth he seemed incapable of entering or leaving the house quietly.

  Tonight, however, the first indication that he was home came when he entered the room and said, ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Gus! You made me jump!’ One thing she had learned some time ago was to avoid any suggestion that she had been watching the clock. She swung her feet to the floor to make room for him to sit beside her. That was something else she had trained herself to accept: you didn’t chase your adolescent son off to bed the minute he arrived home, no matter how late. ‘You practising to become a cat-burglar or something?’

  He gave a faint smile but made no answering wisecrack, which was also unusual. ‘How was your weekend?’ he asked. ‘Did you see Jim?’

  ‘We went to the theatre yesterday evening and then out to supper. He’s been on duty today so I’ve spent most of it in the garden.’ She did not mention that Jim had stayed the night, but she knew Fergus would take it for granted that he had. In the magnanimous fashion of a young adult in the euphoria of his own first love affair, he had signalled his acceptance of hers, even before it had started.

  He gestured at the TV, where a round-up of the day’s sporting events was being shown. Normally, he would have settled down to follow it with interest; tonight he picked up the remote control and said, ‘Are you watching this?’

  ‘Not especially, if you want to talk.’

  He pressed the ‘Off’ button and sat for several moments in silence, staring at the blank screen. Sukey waited, guessing that something was troubling him and that he was trying to find the right words to tell her what was on his mind. Several minutes passed; sensing that he needed help, she said, ‘How was the cricket?’

  ‘Oh, the cricket was brilliant!’ His mood lightened as he launched into an enthusiastic account of the day’s play. ‘I just wish I could be there tomorrow, it’s turning into a really exciting match.’

  ‘Did Dad enjoy it too?’

  It was the lead-in he needed. His face clouded again as he answered glumly, ‘As much as he seems to enjoy anything these days.’

  ‘As bad as that?’ From remarks Fergus had let drop after previous weekends spent with his father and stepmother, Sukey had divined that the turbulent interludes in her ex-husband’s second marriage were becoming more frequent, but she was under the impression that they were short-lived and amicably resolved. She gave her son a searching glance; he had his hands clasped together and seemed to be mesmerised by the sight of his interlocked fingers moving restlessly up and down in a series of V-shapes. She put her own hand over them and they became still again. ‘Tell me,’ she said gently.

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ He turned and faced her, his young face troubled. ‘He’s so unhappy. She’s destroying him… she treats him like dirt… orders him about as if he was a servant. And he takes it, that’s what gets up my nose. Why doesn’t he stand up to her like he used to? Who does she think she is?’

  ‘She’s Queen Bee – and she holds the purse-strings.’

  ‘He doesn’t need her money. He’s got a good job, now he’s got a partnership—’

  ‘His income is a flea-bite compared to what Myrna’s worth. You don’t imagine Dad could afford what it takes to run her place, do you?’

  ‘I know… she’s filthy rich, but she won’t hear of a joint bank account. She even makes him contribute to the housekeeping. I once overheard them arguing about it.’

  ‘Yes, I remember him telling me, after the divorce. He used to trot out that same old excuse whenever I tried to get him to part with a little extra cash.’ Sukey gave a wry smile, remembering Paul’s self-righteous manner as he proclaimed, You don’t imagine I’m living entirely on my wife’s money, do you? I have my pride. It still rankled to think of her struggle to make ends meet before Fergus had been old enough for her to go back to work, but looking back and picturing the scene she found it almost laughable to think how naïve he had been while under Myrna’s spell – a willing fly walking into her gilded, silken web. It had been part of her strategy in those early days to feed his self-esteem while making sure of his subservience to her every whim.

  ‘So what’s the trouble this time?’ she asked.

  Fergus shrugged. ‘I don’t know all the details. Something to do with a takeover by some big company—’

  ‘Headwaters?’

  ‘That’s it. How did you know?’

  ‘There was something about it in the local paper. The workers are anxious about job losses. Not that that’s likely to worry Myrna, as long as she gets her pretty little hands on the dosh.’

  ‘It isn’t going to happen.’

  ‘What? I thought it was all settled.’

  ‘Myrna’s backed out and the deal can’t go ahead without her agreement.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like her – passing up the chance to fill her coffers. What’s the catch?’

  ‘She’s going to raise money by selling some land to developers. That’s what they’ve been rowing about. Dad says it’s going to mean some of the estate workers and an elderly widow having to move out of their houses.’

  ‘Dad told you all this? Does he often talk to you about the business?’

  ‘Not usually, but this has really got under his skin. It’s not official yet and he’s supposed to keep it to himself until the old bat gives the word, but he was so choked he just exploded as soon as we were on our own. You won’t tell anyone, will you, Mum, not even Jim? She’d give him hell if she knew he’d told me.’

  ‘Of course I won’t… and I wouldn’t worry about it, Gus. There’s nothing you can do.’

  ‘It’s Dad I’m worried about. There’s something strange going on. There was a woman staying at the house – her name’s Leonie but she likes to be called Leo.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s a lesbian.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Fergus stood up and began prowling restlessly round the little sitting room with his hands thrust into the front pockets of his jeans. ‘They weren’t being lovey-dovey or anything like that… Dad explained that this Leo woman’s some sort of secretary and she and Myrna were supposed to have business to talk about that was too confidential for the office. He kept saying it was no big deal, but I could tell he was really pissed off about it.’ Fergus swung round to face his mother and his voice, so recently broken that it was still liable to crack and squeak under stress, was unsteady. ‘Mum, I’m afraid for Dad.’

  ‘You mean, you think Myrna and Leo are having an affair?’

  ‘They could be, I suppose, but that’s not what’s worrying me.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid Dad might… do something stupid.’

  It wasn’t the first time Fergus had come home with tales of ructions between Paul and Myrna. There had been a time when Sukey experienced a certain spiteful satisfaction on learning of the cracks in the idyllic relationship which her ex-husband, with no apparent regard for her own feelings, had so confidently and enthusiastically described as he announced that he was leaving her. Myrna and I were destined for each other, he had told her. I’m sorry, Susan, – he had always avoided using her nickname, saying it sounded childish – I’ll make provision for you and Fergus, of course, but there’s no future for you and me any more. And he had packed his bags and walked out of the house leaving her too dazed with shock even to weep, although she had shed plenty of tears since.

  Time had helped the wounds to heal – time and her renewed relationship with Jim Castle, which had ended long ago when they both married other people. Their work – his as a Detective Inspector in the County Police Force, hers as a Scene of Crime Officer – had brought them into contact again. Recently their friendship had blossomed into an affair, and the happiness they shared made her more tolerant towards Paul. At times, she even found herself sympathising with him in his disillusionment, however well deserved. To give him his due, he had spent more time with Fergus since the lad was old enough for them to have shared interests. It worried her sometimes that their son was being torn in two directions: anxious to build a loving relationship with his father while not saying or doing anything to hurt his mother. On the whole, she felt, he was coping pretty well, despite having to witness the occasional marital spat. Normally, he shrugged them off; this one, she sensed, was more serious.

  ‘Whatever do you mean – something stupid?’ she asked. ‘What actually happened?’

  ‘Not a lot, really, not while I was there, but there was a horrible atmosphere at dinner on Friday evening. That was the only time the four of us were together, which was just as well or I think Dad would have exploded.’

  ‘Was there an argument then?’

  ‘Not exactly. Myrna made her usual snide wisecracks about cricket and what a stupid game it is, and she and Leo sort of giggled together. She’s got a way of kind of mocking Dad with her eyes… and now and again she and this Leo woman exchanged glances as if they shared some sort of secret. And Dad just sat there stony-faced, saying hardly anything, but I could tell he was seething inside. That’s what’s worrying me. He always used to defend his corner… there’d be an almighty run-in and then they’d make it up, but just lately he’s been different. Mum,’ Fergus sat down again and took one of his mother’s hands in both his own, ‘I really believe he hates her and I think… I’m afraid he might—’

  Sukey felt a contraction in her throat as she looked at her son. He was still so young, with his unlined face, the wisp of down on the upper lip and a sprinkle of teenage spots round the mouth, yet anxiety and apprehension made him look suddenly ten years older.

  ‘Might do what?’ she asked gently, as he seemed afraid to go on.

  ‘Sometimes he looks at her as if he’d like to kill her,’ he muttered.

  ‘I dare say he would at times – I know I used to feel like it, and I never even met the woman,’ said Sukey cheerfully, but he gave no answering smile.

  ‘If you’d seen the look on his face—’ he began.

  ‘Listen!’ Sukey put both hands on his shoulders. ‘Gus, I know your father. We lived together for over eleven years, remember, and we had our rows like everyone else, but he never said or did anything to suggest he might be capable of violence. He probably kept his feelings buttoned up the other evening because of Leo being there. You mustn’t worry, truly. They’re probably making it up at this very moment.’

  ‘I doubt it. They don’t share a room any more.’

  The revelation took Sukey by surprise. ‘Since when?’

  ‘I don’t know. Since last time I spent a weekend there, but that was quite a long time ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Sukey sighed. ‘It looks as though the marriage is cracking, but I don’t suppose for a moment that Dad would so much as contemplate violence. I expect what made him angry was the game Myrna was playing with Leo – hinting at a lesbian relationship, I mean – in front of you. He probably thinks you’re still an innocent little cherub and from what you’ve told me about Myrna, it’s just the sort of trick she would play. I’d try and forget about it if I were you.’ She yawned and stretched. ‘I don’t know about you, my son, but I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s a working day for us both.’

  ‘Right.’ He stood up and she was relieved to see that some of the tension had faded. ‘Is it OK if Anita has supper with us tomorrow? Her Mum’s got some committee meeting at the house in the evening and she says it’s an awful bore—’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Thanks. Goodnight, Mum.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek and made for the door. ‘Is the water hot enough for a shower?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He clattered up the stairs, his fears apparently allayed after her confident reassurance. But as she went round the house switching off lights, checking windows and locking the front door, Sukey found herself wondering whether, after all, those fears might be justified. It was true that Paul had never shown any tendency to violence. But neither had he, until the day he broke the news that he was leaving her, given any sign of having been unfaithful, although the affair with Myrna had been going on for months. Then she told herself that it was hardly a valid comparison and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

  Three

  The following week Sukey was on the early shift, finishing at four o’clock in the afternoon, which meant that she and Fergus – who, after finishing his GCSE exams had found a holiday job in a local supermarket – left the house at the same time each morning and arrived home within a few minutes of each other in the afternoon. For once the week passed uneventfully, with no serious crimes reported. On the Friday news reached the Scene of Crime Office at Police Headquarters that Sukey’s work on a bungled raid a few weeks previously, during which a badly cut suspect had left bloodstained fingerprints all over some of his abandoned haul, had led to the recovery of several thousand pounds’ worth of stolen property and gained the Scientific Support Department a pat on the back from their Superintendent. By way of celebration, on Friday evening Jim and Sukey went out to dinner; on Saturday, after a day spent alternately working and relaxing in the garden, they went to a concert in Cheltenham and on Sunday afternoon they watched a cricket match in which Fergus was playing for a local club against a neighbouring village.

  The weather was fine throughout, Fergus made thirty runs, took two wickets and was lovingly congratulated by his girlfriend, Anita. All was sweetness and light; there were no further references to his melodramatic forebodings of the previous weekend and the whole episode had sunk to the back of Sukey’s mind.

  When she reported for duty shortly before eight o’clock on Monday morning there was nothing to suggest that it was going to be anything but a normal day. The officer in charge, Sergeant George Barnes, was rifling through the computer print-outs containing details of incidents that had been reported since the previous evening. When Sukey entered, he greeted her with something less than his normal joviality.

  ‘What’s up, Sarge?’ she asked, as she dumped her handbag on her desk and sat down. ‘You’re not looking your radiant self this morning.’

  ‘Didn’t get much sleep, did I?’ he growled. ‘The baby was crying half the night.’

  ‘Colic?’

  ‘That’s what they tell Jane at the clinic.’ After the early death of his first wife and several years as a childless widower, George was now married to a woman fifteen years his junior and the somewhat surprised father of a three-month-old baby boy. ‘They say he’ll grow out of it, but it’s taking a hell of a time,’ he went on morosely.

  ‘That’s tough,’ Sukey sympathised, remembering a few sleepless nights when Fergus was that age. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  ‘Don’t bother specially, but if you’re making one for yourself—’ He wasn’t speaking out of politeness; the words were sincerely meant. That was one of the nice things about George; as far as the job was concerned he insisted that his officers do everything by the book, but there was nothing sexist about him.

  ‘That’s OK, I could do with one to wake me up,’ she said. ‘I had a slightly disturbed night as well.’

  ‘Oh? What’s your problem? Trouble with the boyfriend?’

  ‘Nothing so interesting, I’m afraid – just some amorous cats having a party in my back garden.’ Sukey, on her way to the door, glanced round in time to catch what struck her as a slightly prurient smirk replacing his downcast expression. It could have been simply a throwaway remark with no deliberate attempt to pry, but she often wondered how much, if anything, he – or any of the others in the department, come to that – had guessed about the nature of her relationship with DI Castle.

  From the outset, they had been careful to maintain a strictly professional attitude to one another during working hours, but more than once, after Jim had been into the office to discuss a case with her, she had caught George looking at her with a slightly quizzical expression. It was something she had noticed only after his own whirlwind courtship and marriage, as if the rebirth of romance in his own life had made him more aware of its potential effect on others.

  By the time she returned to the office with two mugs of tea, the rest of the morning’s shift had arrived: PC Ted Field, who had recently joined the department, and Mandy Parfitt, its longest-serving member apart from George and a civilian like herself. In between gulps of tea, George began allocating the morning’s jobs.

  ‘RTA on Cleeve Hill, two vehicles involved, ambulance on the scene, sounds nasty,’ he said, scanning a sheet of paper before handing it to the constable. ‘You’d better take that, Ted. Mandy, another couple of break-ins in Hopley village… same MO as before by the looks of it.’

  ‘House broken into, keys taken and car nicked?’ Mandy guessed.

  ‘You’ve got it. A BMW and a Range Rover this time. CID are pretty sure the Jackson boys are behind it – they reckon they’re running a car-ringing racket and they’ll be very grateful if you can find them some nice fat clues.’ George, his normal good humour apparently restored by the sweet, strong tea, gave a sardonic chuckle. ‘Those buggers have been giving our lot the run-around for months.’

  ‘Didn’t we nick them a while back for handling stolen radios?’

 

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