Eleven liars, p.24
Eleven Liars, page 24
part #2 of Ben Harper Series
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘Coffee’s plenty.’ When I take a seat on the sofa, Pamela perches on the arm of her chair. ‘I was with Dani this morning,’ I say. ‘We were with the missing boy, from the neighbourhood app.’
‘You’ve found him. That’s a relief.’
‘He’s the same boy who was trapped on the night of the community centre fire.’
‘Really?’ Pamela raises her eyebrows. ‘But he’s home now?’
‘He soon will be.’
The kettle starts to whistle, and Pamela is quick to her feet. I follow her and stand in the kitchen doorway. ‘He could have been killed in the fire,’ I say.
‘He’s a lot to thank you for,’ she replies, picking up the kettle and filling her teapot.
‘In the same way Dani and Jack owed their lives to you?’
Pamela returns the kettle to the hob. ‘You asked me that question yesterday,’ she says.
‘I did, but you didn’t give me an answer.’
‘Yes, it was me who helped them on the night of the fire. Jack always left his back gate open. When I heard him shouting I ran straight around. I’d borrowed his ladder a couple of times and knew he always left it resting along the side of the fence. I was relieved I was able to help but it was purely by being in the right place at the right time. I’m only sorry I was too late to help Angela.’
I look at Pamela. ‘But I think we all know now, Angela was already dead.’
She reaches for a spoon and quickly stirs the pot. ‘We’ll just leave that to stew for a couple of minutes.’ She busies herself in the fridge, opening a carton of milk and pouring some into a small jug. ‘If you won’t have lunch, I know you’ll eat a couple of biscuits,’ she says, reaching for her tin. ‘Now, let’s see what we have in here. Chocolate digestives, bourbons and some Jaffa cakes. Will that do you?’
I step forward and pick up the tray she’s loaded. ‘Let’s go and sit down,’ I say. ‘You lead the way.’ I follow Pamela back into the living room and she sits in her chair by the window. For a moment, she closes her eyes. ‘Shall I pour?’ I say, and before she has time to answer I add milk and tea to our cups. I place Pamela’s on the table next to her. ‘Take a couple,’ I say, offering her the plate of biscuits. When she reaches for them, I see her hand shake. She picks up a chocolate digestive. ‘Go on, have another.’
‘Dr Jha wouldn’t like that,’ she says.
‘I won’t tell her if you don’t,’ I reply, smiling, as Pamela places a Jaffa cake on her saucer. I sit in the corner of the sofa closest to her. She sips on her tea and bites into a biscuit. When I lean back on the sofa, Pamela relaxes into her chair.
‘Dani told me of your conversation by the river. She remembers the inside of your house,’ I say.
Pamela nods. ‘Surprising what remains hidden deep inside our memories. I was touched that it was Jeannie she remembered. She was so good with Dani; they spent hours playing in her bedroom. Jeannie would’ve been a lovely mother.’ She pauses before getting to her feet and kneeling by the cupboard under the window. ‘I’ve got some photographs of the two of them together.’ She pulls out an old album and comes to sit beside me on the sofa. She flips the pages. ‘Jeannie would be fourteen, perhaps fifteen,’ she says, pointing to a photograph of her daughter standing beside a pushchair. ‘Dani wouldn’t be quite two.’
‘Is that taken in your back garden?’
Pamela leans forward. ‘I think it is.’ She turns the pages and shows me more pictures of Dani and Jeannie together, taken in Haddley Hill Park. Her hand rests on a smiling image of her daughter. ‘I still miss her every day,’ she says, her voice fading to a whisper.
We sit in silence until I turn the page again.
‘Look at my hair!’ says Pamela, wiping a tear from her eye. ‘Such a long time ago.’
I rest my hand on the page and stare at the image. Pamela has her arm wrapped around Dani, who curls into her as they sit together inside a pedal boat.
‘Where was this taken?’ I ask.
‘Jack needed a break; we all needed to get away. It’d been such a horrible year.’
‘But where was it taken?’
‘A place on the North Yorkshire coast, a lovely little seaside town called Filey. I’d visited as a girl. It had hardly changed. We did have a lovely week but by then I already knew …’ Pamela closes the album and gets to her feet. ‘I’m sure Dani would remember the place. I think she and her father kept going after we …’ She pushes the album back into the cupboard and returns to her chair.
I realise now the distant memories of her mother, which Dani clings to so desperately, are in fact memories of Pamela. I wait for her to continue. ‘We went to Filey six months after Angela’s death. Jack and I were close for a while, but I knew by then it couldn’t last.’
‘Why did you lie to me?’
‘After the fire, when Dani and Jack moved away, I was forced to let them both go. Jack built his life around Dani and the police. In the end there wasn’t room for me.’
‘You and Jack?’ I ask.
‘That feels like a long time ago. Thomas I adored,’ she says, looking fleetingly towards his photograph. ‘And I know he felt the same way about me. I hope you find that person one day, Ben.’ I half smile and wait for her to continue. ‘Jack, I cared for, but never in the same way. He was a hard man to love. His job defined him, everything else came second. Except for Dani.’
‘And Angela?’
‘I’m sure at first there was passion between Jack and Angela, but anyone could see they were never really suited. She could never live with coming second to Jack’s job. He was a workaholic, she needed constant attention. How was that ever going to work?
‘By the time Angela fell pregnant with Dani, it was clear the marriage was struggling. Very quickly she’d become bored. He was out most nights and so, in the end, was she. I think they both thought having a child would make things better. It rarely does.’
‘I’m sure you’ve heard it was Angela’s body discovered beneath the community centre,’ I say.
‘Mr Nowak seems to be the first to know everything. He should be on the neighbourhood app. He’d be sure to get lots of followers.’
‘Early this morning, the police exhumed the body buried in Angela Cash’s grave. Tests are still to be done but I will be very surprised if it doesn’t turn out to be the body of Charlie Baxter.’
Pamela is quiet. She looks out of the window with an expression on her face I can’t read. Then she says, gently: ‘Are you tightening your net around me, Ben? It feels that way.’
I pause.
‘Why don’t you tell me about Angela and Charlie? They did know each other, didn’t they?’ I say, thinking of Charlie’s rant at Sam in the pub.
‘It’s impossible to win against drugs and dealers. However hard you try, in the end, they will destroy you. They don’t play by the same rules. Charlie didn’t care what drugs she sold and she didn’t care who bought them. Or, what happened to people’s lives afterwards.’
‘She sold drugs to Angela?’
‘Supposedly they were friends, but yes. Angela was an addict. Charlie supplied her; perhaps they even dealt drugs together. I don’t know, or care. In that last year they were out most nights, and often days. So many times, Angela came home in a terrible state.’
‘Jack tried to help her?’
‘We both did.’
‘But there was no way to stop her?’
‘No,’ says Pamela. ‘Jack hated the Baxters with a passion the like I’d never seen. Because of Angela, it was all so personal to him.
‘So he did the only thing he really knew how to – went after them in court?’
Pamela nods. ‘And even that didn’t work. He was willing to do anything to destroy them.’
‘Including burying Charlie Baxter in his wife’s grave?’
‘Yes,’ Pamela replies, her voice barely audible.
CHAPTER 77
‘I’m sure we could both do with some lunch now,’ says Pamela, getting to her feet. I watch her walk slowly back into her kitchen. After a moment I follow and find her busying herself with bread from the cupboard, ham and cheese from the fridge.
‘The bread’s fresh this morning. I bought it while I was …’ For a second she hesitates but then quickly continues ‘… while I was shopping on the high street. Are you sure I can’t make yours toasted?’
‘A regular sandwich is fine,’ I reply, pulling out a chair from the small table tucked in the corner of the room. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about you and Jack?’
‘I don’t know if there ever really was a me and Jack. We were both a bit lonely, perhaps a little unhappy. It never was a great romance. We cared for each other.’ Pamela stops buttering bread and turns to face me. ‘We were both trying to protect that little girl.’
I think of the way Pamela looked in that picture with her arm around Dani, and nod.
‘In the three months after the fire, before Jack found the house in Clapham, we lived here together. I thought we were happy but in the end, after everything that had happened, it was all too hard.’
Pamela crosses the kitchen, bringing a plate of sandwiches to the table. ‘You start,’ she says, ‘I’ve made you two rounds.’ She goes back to the sink and runs the tap. ‘Glass of Ribena?’
‘I haven’t had that for years,’ I reply.
‘I tell Dr Jha I buy the sugar-free variety, but I don’t. It doesn’t taste the same at all.’
Pamela brings our drinks and sits across from me.
‘You said Angela and Jack hoped having a child would save their marriage. What happened after Dani was born?’ I ask.
‘Angela struggled,’ replies Pamela, picking up a sandwich. ‘I tried to help where I could. Perhaps I shouldn’t have got involved, I don’t know. I said to Angela if she wanted the odd night out, I’d take care of Dani. It wasn’t long before Angela fell back in with the wrong crowd.’
‘Charlie Baxter?’
Pamela nods.
‘That’s when the drugs started up again?’ I ask.
‘Started? Who knows? Maybe she’d never stopped, but things got a lot worse. She tried to hide it from Jack, and stupidly I would help her. You always tell yourself you’re helping, trying to do the right thing, that things will change. They don’t. She soon spiralled downwards. Jack realised and got more angry with her. He thought he could make her stop if he tried hard enough. It doesn’t work like that.’
When she looks across at me, Pamela’s eyes are dark and tired. She’s hidden the truth for too long.
‘I found Angela sick in the back alleyway,’ she says. ‘And then I found Dani wandering alone. It wasn’t just once, it was time and time again. By the end it felt like it was almost every single day.’
‘Is anything Dani remembers about her mum real?’
Pamela takes a deep breath. ‘Ben, the hardest thing for any parent is to see their child unhappy or unloved. That’s all Jack wanted to avoid. He didn’t want Angela’s story to become Dani’s. Turning Angela into something she wasn’t made Dani happy. Is that so wrong?’
‘When Dani doesn’t know what’s true and what’s not, I think it is.’
Pamela picks up her glass. ‘After Jack and I drifted apart, I think he relied even more on Angela, or the woman he’d created, to help him parent Dani. He never meant any harm.’
‘Will you tell me what happened to Angela?’
‘I think it’s time I did,’ she says softly. ‘It was the first week of December. I heard her leave the house around lunchtime and almost immediately Dani wandered into my back garden. No shoes on. You should have seen her, Ben. Those soft blonde curls and bright blue eyes. She was such a lovely little girl. I brought her inside and made her macaroni cheese. That was always her favourite. I phoned Jack, told him I was happy to look after her but we both knew what state Angela would be in by the time she got home. Dani and I spent the afternoon decorating my Christmas tree. We stood it in the window and covered it in lights so everyone who walked past could see. I still do that now.’
Pamela rubs her neck before resting her hands together on the table. ‘I had a key for Jack and Angela’s, for emergencies. It was early evening and Dani needed a bath and her bed, so I carried her round and let myself in. She loved a bubble bath, covering her face with a Father Christmas beard.
‘I heard Angela come in through the front door. That time of year she’d had no problem finding some fool to buy her drinks, drugs and whatever else she wanted. I could hear her struggling to get up the stairs. When she eventually did, she stumbled into the bathroom. She was in a terrible state and could barely stand.
‘I told her to go and lie down, and once Dani was in bed I would come and help her. She started shouting, grabbing at Dani. Dani was scared, crying. When Angela grabbed for her again, Dani slipped under the water, hit her head on the side of the bath. I was terrified.’
‘What did you do?’ I ask.
‘I managed to get Dani out of the water somehow, but Angela wouldn’t leave her alone. She began clawing at Dani, screaming at me to get away from her child. Dani fell from my arms onto the bathroom floor. I needed to get Angela away from us.’ Pamela’s eyes are wide; she’s willing me to understand.
‘I pushed her. But I was angry and scared, and I pushed too hard. She fell straight back, smashing her head on the sink as she fell. As soon as she hit the floor, I knew she was dead.’
Eleven
‘I don’t think he ever saw it as lying. He loved you.’
WEDNESDAY
CHAPTER 78
Beneath a brilliant blue sky, I sit on a wooden bench in the middle of Haddley Hill Park and wait. Making their way towards the Grammar School are the last of the morning stragglers, their late arrival for mid-week lessons already guaranteed. Yesterday afternoon, I had no desire to push Pamela any further. She ended our conversation by asking me if she could be left alone to spend the night in her own home. It was where she felt closest to Thomas. It would’ve been heartless not to agree. Late in the evening I met Sam at the Cricketers, and over one too many pints, I told him what I’d learnt. We agreed Pamela posed no threat.
Early this morning, I messaged Dani asking her to meet me and when I look towards Haddley Hill Road I see her entering the park. A bright smile lights her face as she crosses towards me. She has no idea of what I’m about to tell her.
‘I can’t believe it’s still so cold,’ she says, her gloved hand touching my arm. ‘Archie’s had a good night and the doctor’s pleased with his progress. He could be discharged by the weekend. Mat’s still pushing hard for Bertie Baxter to be questioned.’
‘I think he should be,’ I reply.
‘I’m officially on leave but I spoke to Barnsdale last night. She’s going to talk to Archie today before deciding if there is a chance of building a case against Bertie.’
I nod, but I’m not really listening. I’m focused only on what I’m about to tell Dani.
‘Ben?’
‘Let’s walk,’ I say, my hands deep in my jacket pockets.
‘Sure,’ she replies, after a slight hesitation.
As I tell Dani everything I learned from Pamela yesterday, her eyes remain fixed on the path ahead. Listening intently, she says nothing until I reach the end of Pamela’s story. When I do, we stop, and she turns to face me.
‘I don’t believe her, not what she says about my mum. She’s lying. She’s turning my mum into something she wasn’t. I won’t let her do that. The picture she’s painting of her protecting me, of what happened to my mum being an accident, it’s simply not true. That’s not how it happened; I know it’s not. That’s not who my mum was.’ She turns away from me and begins to walk quickly across the park in the direction of Pamela’s home. I go after her.
‘Dani, stop,’ I say, reaching for her hand.
‘Was she jealous of my mum and dad? Is that what drove her? She’d lost her own husband and her own child, so she killed my mum to get my dad all to herself.’
‘Dani, listen to yourself. That’s not who Pamela is.’
For a moment, we stand in silence. Then Dani’s shoulders drop and she exhales. Keeping hold of her hand, I lead her towards the nearest bench.
‘She killed my mum?’ says Dani, her voice breaking as she lowers herself onto the bench. ‘Did my dad know?’
‘I think you should hear it from her.’
Dani’s breathing slows.
‘I want us to meet with her,’ I say, ‘but first I need to show you something.’
Before I left Pamela’s home yesterday afternoon, I asked her for the photograph of her, Dani and Jack together on Filey boating lake. ‘I believe Pamela genuinely cared for you and for your dad,’ I say, as I reach inside my jacket for the image and pass it to Dani. She studies it carefully and, as she does, her hand begins to shake.
‘This was my mum,’ she says, ‘not Pamela.’
‘I wish it was,’ I reply.
‘There must be an explanation. This must have been taken a year later.’
I shake my head. ‘Filey was a place Pamela knew, not your mum. Whatever she might have done, Pamela loved you. And I’m sure she still does.’
Gripping the photograph, Dani leans against my arm. ‘Everything’s different to how I remember?’
‘You were four years old; memories become fragmented.’
‘But the woman I remember is Pamela, not my mum? My dad replaced whatever memories I had?’
‘I’m sure he thought he was doing what was best.’
‘Even if that meant lying to me?’
‘I don’t think he ever saw it as lying. He loved you.’ I look at Dani and in her expression I see the vulnerability Pamela must have seen all those years before. ‘Are you ready to hear what Pamela has to say?’
