Merciless: a gripping detective thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book 2) Page 6

  She’d tried to get as far away as possible when she’d left home for university, and Bristol had been the perfect place. Three years of freedom and a geography degree gave her the confidence to move even further south and west, and she’d spent the next twenty years in and around Plymouth working for the city council as a planner. Thorpe had always been there, though, in the back of her mind – a throbbing tell-tale heart. Thorpe and Jeanette. She’d always known that she’d have to come back – for her sister.

  She slipped the laptop onto the coffee table and went through to the kitchen – her favourite room in the house. Standing at the sink to fill the kettle she gazed out at the back garden with its long stretch of lawn and carefully tended shrubs, both looking muted under a blanket of frost. She missed the garden during the winter; missed the feel of warm earth under her fingers and the satisfaction of edging the lawn and cutting back the plants. Caroline always felt connected to her mother when she spent time gardening; a deep-rooted link that was almost genetic. Her mum had loved the garden, loved her roses and chrysanthemums. Until Jeanette disappeared. Nothing had been the same after that. Her mum had barely left the house and her interest in the garden had dissipated almost overnight.

  Caroline poured hot water onto her teabag, still looking at the garden. The patio at the bottom would need a clean after the winter to get rid of the algae and moss. It was the only thing that she’d had to change before she could live in the house. She’d had the greenhouse dismantled and the patio laid before she’d been able to move in any of her furniture. She could barely remember what the garden had looked like when she’d first viewed the property.

  Her father had bought their council house after the first wave of sell-offs in the 1980s. It had been more expensive than if he’d bought it when he’d first had the opportunity but Caroline knew that he’d done it because of Jeanette and their mother’s subsequent depression. It meant that he could make alterations, to make the place theirs, but all she’d felt at the time was trapped by the memories of her sister.

  At nine years old, Caroline had been desperate to move away, to start again but she’d understood that selling the house was impossible and that, if she was going to leave, she’d have to do it by herself. So she’d worked hard at school, convinced that if she could get a good job she’d be able to live wherever she wanted. She’d considered university when she’d started her GCSEs and by the time she was seventeen, she’d known what she wanted to study and where.

  She would have probably stayed in the southwest despite having no real ties there. A few failed relationships had convinced her that she wasn’t likely to get married and have a family; she was too broken and too closed off and she didn’t really enjoy sharing her space with anybody. But the inheritance had changed everything. She had only met her mother’s brother, Ted, twice but she had been aware that he had a job that was something to do with lorries. What she hadn’t understood as a child was that he’d owned a haulage company and, after he died, his solicitor told her that he’d sold it in the late nineties for a substantial sum of money. Widowed and childless, he’d left it to her. So she’d moved back but still kept her distance; she was financially independent and she could rub Dennis’s nose in it by sending him details of her new address in Dore. Letting him know that she was close. Watching and waiting.

  Bren’s call had still come as a shock, though. Even though another part of the reason for Caroline sending her contact details was for something like this, she hadn’t really expected her father to keep her phone number, much less allow Bren to use it, so the call had left her shaking with confusion and anxiety – and anticipation.

  8

  The first GA meeting that Caroline had attended had been in a room at Doncaster library. The person leading the group had been very earnest and the five other attendees had welcomed Caroline without suspicion. But no Maddie.

  The Methodist church was her second option. It was on a side street just off one of the main roads heading south out of Doncaster; secluded and out of the way. From what Caroline had learned from Google, the two groups were run by the same branch of Gamblers Anonymous but they had to use different venues on different nights. She had asked about this at the library meeting, and it seemed that there was little overlap between attendees. The Tuesday library group rarely attended the Thursday church group and vice versa.

  The Methodist church was an imposing red brick Victorian building with three storeys of arched windows and a double entrance door. One side of the door had been propped open invitingly, and Caroline stepped through it into a large, oak-panelled vestibule area. She instantly felt the weight of years of religious practice and hope bearing down on her. She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself focussed on the task ahead. The library meeting had been quite small and Caroline hadn’t felt compelled to ‘share’ her story but, from the buzz of conversation coming from behind the panels, Caroline could tell that this meeting was going to be quite a bit bigger. She placed her palm on the cold brass fingerplate, imagining her handprint captured there for eternity, and pushed open the inner door, rehearsing her fabricated version of her past in her head.

  A knot of people was gathered at the front of the chapel in an open area beyond the rows of elaborate wooden pews. A few heads turned as Caroline approached but most went back to their conversations, allowing her the opportunity to examine her surroundings.

  The oak theme had been continued into the main chapel, and the pews and panelling glowing softly under the harsh electric lights. The seating was arranged in two stages; the first, plush with blue velvet cushions, flanked a central aisle which ran up to an elaborate wooden pulpit dominating the back wall. A small lectern stood in front of it; obviously modesty had won over ostentation in the twenty-first century.

  The second level of seating was above the first, arranged high above the main body of the chapel, supported by iron pillars; closer to God and swathed in shadow. Above the pulpit was a curtained alcove in front of the huge pipes of an organ which looked like something from a sci-fi film or a steampunk comic strip.

  Caroline stood in the central aisle, head raised as she turned and took in the varying tones of the wood against the plain white of the walls; it was a modernist interior designer’s heaven.

  ‘Hi,’ a voice next to her said. ‘Are you here for GA?’

  She turned to face a young man in a dishevelled-looking grey business suit. His dark hair was cut short on top and shaved close to his head at the sides, and his blue eyes regarded her with friendly curiosity.

  ‘I er…’ Caroline hesitated, momentarily flummoxed by the direct question.

  ‘It’s okay,’ the man said with a warm smile. ‘We’re all in the same boat. I’m Warren.’

  He held out his hand and Caroline shook it, surprised by the strength of his grip.

  ‘I’m a bit of a regular,’ Warren said. ‘Two years next month. It’s always a rush to get here straight from work but these meetings have given me my life back. I haven’t had a bet since I started coming but I don’t think I could give up meetings yet.’ It was a lot to admit in a few short sentences, and Caroline assumed that the tone of these meetings was generally confessional. So much so that it even bled into casual greetings.

  ‘He only comes for the free food these days,’ a woman across the aisle said. She walked towards them with two quick strides and towered over them both. Caroline looked up into deep brown eyes set in a face that was wrinkled and creased like chamois leather and framed by a tight cap of grey hair. ‘We all wish he wouldn’t keep coming, though. It’d be a lot simpler to do the catering.’

  Warren who smiled apologetically. ‘Vegan,’ he said. ‘Two years of bloody houmous and carrot sticks. You’d think somebody would have come up with something a bit more imaginative. Evelyn’s in charge of snacks.’

  The woman nodded as though accepting a compliment. ‘Seriously,’ she said. ‘We’re a friendly bunch. The meeting’s about to start if you’d like to take a seat.’ />
  She led the way to a circle of chairs which had been set up at the front of the church beneath the forbidding wooden pulpit, and gestured to Caroline to sit down. Caroline hesitated. There was no sign of Maddie, and Caroline was reluctant to stay for another round of stories and revelations if it didn’t help her to achieve her goal; but what choice did she have? Reluctantly, she took a seat opposite Warren and gazed round at the other members. As she’d expected, none of them were familiar from the meeting earlier in the week and, much like on Tuesday, they represented every walk of life. They were a mix of genders, ages and, judging by the business suits and uniforms, professions.

  The meeting began in the same way as the previous one with everybody introducing themselves. Caroline kept the details of her life to a minimum but one or two others were eager to share small details from their week. Each revelation or minor victory was greeted with approving smiles, and one woman received a polite round of applause for confessing to having driven ten miles out of her way to avoid passing a betting shop where she’d lost a lot of money in the past. Then it was time for one of the group to tell their story in depth. Caroline knew that she wouldn’t be asked as it was her first meeting so she allowed herself to relax a little as Evelyn asked Warren to share.

  He’d just started his story, a brief account of his time at university, when he was interrupted by someone walking down the aisle.

  ‘Hi. So sorry I’m late. Warren, please carry on.’

  The woman slipped into a chair a few seats away from Caroline on the same side of the circle and instantly devoted her attention to Warren’s story, allowing Caroline a chance to study her. It was the first time that she’d seen Maddie without the professional disguise of her nurse’s uniform and she was surprised that such a small difference could change her perception of the woman.

  At the hospital Maddie had been mostly brisk and efficient but here, leaning forward slightly to listen to Warren, Caroline saw again her empathetic nature, smiling sympathetically as he admitted his addiction. She must have had time to go home and change as she was wearing a cardigan and jeans under a smart black jacket and her make-up was much more obvious than when Caroline had seen her at work. Her hair was loose instead of pulled back into a ponytail and, in profile, Caroline could see that she was strikingly attractive.

  As Maddie turned to acknowledge another member of the group, her smile froze as she saw Caroline. She looked away, but Caroline could see that for the next twenty minutes she was struggling to focus as another member told their story. She was fidgety and seemed agitated.

  As the rest of the group dispersed to attack the food, Caroline hung back, hoping to speak to Maddie, make her fake apology and offer to leave. Maddie beat her to it.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed, her eyes flicking from the group of people at the snacks table to Caroline and back again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Caroline said. ‘I did warn you that I was looking for a meeting. This is the nearest one to my dad’s house. It’s been a stressful few days and I just needed to come.’

  ‘There’s one on Tuesdays at the library. You could have gone to that one.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Caroline said. ‘I was aware of it but I was busy. This was my first opportunity. They seem like a decent bunch of people.’

  Maddie’s face softened a little. ‘They are. I’ve not been coming that long but they’ve been really welcoming. You’ll know yourself that it’s not easy walking into a meeting for the first time and telling people what a mess you’ve made of your life.’

  Caroline nodded.

  ‘But there’s no judgement here. Just support and company.’

  ‘Look,’ Caroline said. ‘I really am sorry that I’ve gate-crashed your meeting. Can I buy you a drink? You know, to make up for it. I’m not the selfish bitch that you’re probably imagining.’

  Maddie shook her head and Caroline tensed. She was going to refuse the offer.

  ‘I’m not much of a drinker,’ Maddie said. ‘To be honest I’m trying to save every penny I earn so I don’t often get out. And I know you’re not selfish. I’ve seen the way you keep pestering my staff about your father. I can see that you only want the best for him.’

  ‘Look, I’m offering to pay. Just a drink. I can keep you on the straight and narrow,’ Caroline joked. ‘Or I’ll just buy you soft drinks. I’m driving anyway so I can’t indulge.’

  There was some hesitation in Maddie’s expression and Caroline wondered just how much her gambling addiction had cost her. Friends? Family? Was she lonely and unsupported beyond this group? Caroline really hoped so.

  She walked over to the food table and picked up a sausage roll. She didn’t want it but she needed to give Maddie time to think about her offer.

  Warren smiled at Caroline and gestured with a carrot stick. ‘Houmous is good,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, waving back with the sausage roll. ‘I’m a dedicated carnivore.’

  Warren winked at her. ‘Oh well. No judgement here, right?’

  Caroline smiled at him, reluctant to encourage further chat. She didn’t want to get embroiled in a conversation and miss her chance to talk to Maddie. Besides, his cheeky smile was more than a little flirtatious and Caroline really didn’t have time for that.

  She was relieved to feel a hand on her upper arm and she turned to see Maddie smiling at her.

  ‘I think I’d like to take you up on that offer of a drink. If it’s still on. I’m sorry if I was a bit snappy – just tired. It’s been another long day in another long week.’

  Caroline swallowed her last mouthful of sausage roll and followed Maddie up the aisle to the door.

  The pub turned out to be another church, which Caroline vaguely remembered from her teenage drinking days. In the early 1990s it had been a club with flashing lights and loud music – a place to hide, to be somebody else for a night – and it had been turned into a tastefully renovated wine bar complete with cut-down pews along the walls and organ pipes behind the bar.

  Caroline pointed to a table, close to the entrance. ‘I’ll get the drinks. What do you fancy?’

  Maddie stared at her for a few seconds as if she were considering which would be the safest option. ‘Vodka and coke, please. I’m not driving tonight.’

  Caroline slipped her coat round the back of a chair and made her way to the bar. The pub was fairly quiet – two booths occupied by couples and a group of four in an alcove that looked like it had once been a changing area for the clergy. She remembered the joke that people used to make about the place when it had first opened – to some outrage amongst the Christian community – if Jesus could turn water into wine then why not turn a church into a pub?

  A peek over her shoulder reassured her that Maddie was still in her seat so she didn’t need to lower her voice as she ordered a double vodka and coke for the nurse and a half of shandy for herself.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said, plonking the drinks down on the table. ‘You look like you’re ready for this.’ Maddie had removed her jacket and was looking at her mobile phone. She smiled up at Caroline, picked up her drink and took a big gulp, her throat rippling as she swallowed greedily.

  ‘God, that’s good,’ she sighed, not seeming to notice the strength of the drink or the irony.

  ‘Bad day?’

  Maddie shook her head. ‘Just long. I sometimes wonder why I bothered working for a promotion. It feels like I never get home from one week to the next.’

  She dropped her eyes and traced the pattern of wood grain on the table-top with the pad of her middle finger.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Caroline said, mainly to fill the silence. ‘The only good thing about my dad’s illness is that it gives me a break from work.’

  ‘What do you do?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘City council. Planning,’ Caroline lied. ‘And, yes, it is as glamorous as it sounds.’

  Maddie laughed and took another sip of her drink. ‘How long have you got off?’

&
nbsp; Caroline faked a heavy sigh. ‘As long as it takes. Compassionate leave. I work hard enough so it’s not like they could refuse. Not that they’re paying me, though.’

  ‘You know it could be quite a few months yet?’

  ‘I know,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s fine. I’m prepared for that.’

  They sat in gloomy silence for a while as Caroline tried to think of an appropriate subject to lead her to the information that she wanted. In the end, she decided on a direct approach. ‘So? GA? Have you been going long?’

  Maddie’s dark eyes flashed briefly with annoyance and Caroline wondered if she’d overstepped, misjudged, as Maddie stood up suddenly.

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry if… I just…’ Caroline stuttered.

  Maddie smiled at her. ‘I’m not leaving. I just think I’ll need another drink if I’m going to tell that story.’

  ‘Okay. But let me get them,’ Caroline offered. ‘I’m the reason you’re here telling the story.’

  She batted away Maddie’s feeble protest with a wave of her hand and went back to the bar.

  Two more double vodkas later and Maddie was deep into her story. A nasty divorce, a gambling habit which started as a way to escape a controlling husband and a mountain of debt which was being steadily tackled after a recent promotion.

  ‘And then there’s Ethan,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Ethan?’

  ‘My boy. Although he’s hardly a boy now. He’s nearly eighteen and he’s doing his A-levels. He’s the main reason that I go to GA. I need to clear my debts so I can help him. He wants to be a doctor and it’s a long course.’

  Caroline mentally examined this small titbit of information and stored it away for future use. Debts and a son. Could be useful. ‘How are you getting on with clearing your debts?’

  Maddie studied her drink then raised defiant eyes to Caroline’s. ‘Three months ago, I had a lapse. I lost two thousand pounds. It set me back but I’m on track now. Another eighteen months or so and I’ll have cleared the big loan. Until then, I’ll shop at Lidl and not buy any new clothes. Ethan’s got a job at Asda. He’s a good lad. He’s saving.’