Microsoft Word - John Francome - Inside Track.doc (38 page)

`Where did you get that?' she hissed.

`From your bedside table.' Joyce's words were measured.

`You've been in my private things!'

The older woman was unabashed. `That's right. I don't make a habit of it, if that's what you're thinking. But I've had my suspicions about you since you started riding with Ros Bradey. I heard about her and her toy boy, Hutchison. Turns out I was right to be suspicious, wasn't I?'

Toy boy? What kind of ridiculous gossip had she been listening to? Joyce jabbed a large pink finger at the envelope. `What does this mean, Marie? I hope you've not been going behind our backs.'

Ì met him by accident, that's all. I didn't want to have anything to do with him.'

`But you've written to him, haven't you? It says so in here. What do you think your father would say?'

So she hadn't told him yet - that was something.

`He'd go mad, I know. But I can't let what happened destroy my life like it's ruining his. Jamie's not some ogre. He didn't do it deliberately. We've all got to make peace. I don't know how but we must.'

Joyce's face darkened. `You don't know what you're talking about. You lost your own brother to a selfish drunken hooligan. You can never make peace with scum like that.'

They stared at each other across the table, divided by the letter and all it stood for.

Marie snatched it up. `You've got some nerve poking around with my stuff. You're not my mother. If I want to talk to Jamie then I will and you can't stop me. I've got my own life to lead.'

As Marie stalked out of the room it occurred to her that nothing much had changed. She'd ended up losing her rag and running away just like she had in her darkest teenage years. Only this time she hadn't slammed the door, much as she had wanted to, in case she woke her father.

She didn't know what she'd do if Joyce told Dad.

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Dave tagged along with Jamie on his evening walk with Matilda. He'd have preferred a brisk run over the moor but Jamie had claimed he wasn't yet up to it.

Ìf you're not fit enough to go for a little jog,' Dave said, `how come you're riding next week?'

`That's different. I'm not using my own legs.'

Dave conceded the point. Strolling with the dog, chucking her the occasional stick and waiting for her to emerge from the enticing undergrowth, gave them a chance to chew over the hot news - Beverley Harris's death.

`Funny way to die, isn't it?' Dave said. Ì can imagine falling in the shower and smashing your head open. But not just sitting in the bath.' `She was drunk, apparently. Or maybe the booze reacted with the pills she was taking. That's what Malcolm says.'

And he would know, Dave thought. `How's he taking it?'

Jamie shrugged. `You can never tell with Malcolm, can you? He's always pretty cheerful. Except when Pippa's on his case.'

Pippa and Malcolm's argument had been the talk of the yard that morning, though no one had known the cause of it. Dave had kept his mouth shut, just as he had about Pippa's visit to his caravan the night before. He had rather hoped she might turn up again tonight but Jamie had appeared instead, with Matilda cavorting at his heels.

`Thank God, they've made it up,' said Jamie.

`What was it all about?' It was naughty of him but Dave couldn't help asking the question. He was dying to tell Jamie what he'd seen going on between Malcolm and Beverley - all he needed was an indication that Jamie already knew. But he was to be disappointed.

Ì haven't a clue. Ignorance is bliss, if you ask me. I just keep my head down.'

Fair enough but it was frustrating. How come Jamie didn't see Malcolm for the two-faced sod that he really was? At times like this Dave had to remind himself that Jamie was a lot younger than he was.

Àll I know,' Jamie continued, ìs that they are busy making it up tonight.

So I'm not in any hurry to get home, if you follow.'

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Dave followed all right but he wasn't happy about it. It sounded like Malcolm had got himself off the hook.

Joyce remained where she was in the kitchen, smoking the last of her cigarettes. What with Clem's condition she'd tried hard to cut down and she never smoked indoors. Tonight she didn't care.

She knew she couldn't stop Marie from seeing Jamie Hutchison if she wanted to. She was a young woman with a mind of her own - even if it was misguided.

That jibe about not being Marie's mother had hurt. It was an old wound, made a long time ago, but it was ripped open heartlessly every time they had a confrontation. She knew Marie had only said it in the heat of the moment but that didn't lessen the pain.

But there were other, greater pains that worried her. Jamie Hutchison was not just the hooligan who had carelessly knocked their lives off-track, he was a continuing menace. She missed her old job at the Roman Arms and he'd robbed her of that. Now he was a threat to Marie.

The girl wouldn't see it like that, of course, but Joyce knew more about men than she did. Suppose Marie fell in love with him - where would they be then? It would finish Clem off.

The one thing certain to draw Marie to Hutchison was for her to be banned from seeing him. Joyce was well aware that forbidden fruit tasted sweeter than any other kind. And she, stupidly, had just taken the first step in pointing Marie in that direction. She wished now shed thought the matter through before confronting her niece.

She lit her last cigarette. There was one course of action left open to her but it terrified her. Her conversation with Clem that morning had shaken her up until it had been driven out of her mind by her discovery in Marie's bedroom. But the two problems were tied together and maybe the solution was too. Of course, the personal consequences were frightening but she wasn't sure that she cared about that.

She'd lied to Clem that morning - she'd not thrown his gun into the river.

When she'd confiscated it during his terrible depression after Alan's death, she'd meant to get rid of it. But that was easier said than done. She'd imagined dropping it in the sea or throwing it down a pothole. Then she'd pictured it being found and traced to her and Clem. Just the thought of it 252

gave her the willies. It had been easier by far to leave it where it was, hidden on the top of her wardrobe, and to forget all about it.

But she'd remembered it now.

Marie's mobile finally burst into life an hour after she'd left the message. It must be Jamie returning her call. She checked outside her room to make sure she wasn't going to be overheard - she had to be careful.

`Marie?' He sounded puzzled, as well he might be. They had parted politely enough but she knew they'd both felt the meeting had been a failure.

`Hi,' she said, suddenly hesitant. When she'd fled from her aunt she'd known just what she was going to say but suddenly her mind was a blank.

She plunged in. `Look, I've been thinking about what you told me. I don't think I was very nice to you this afternoon. After all, it's not your fault you can't remember what happened in the accident.'

,I don't expect you to be nice to me, Marie.' `Well, I'm sorry anyway.'

He chuckled. `Saying sorry is forbidden. Remember?' ÒK.'

There was a silence. He was obviously wary of her.

`Can we try again, Jamie? Could you bear to go through it once more?'

Ìf you think it would help.' He didn't sound sure.

Ì do,' she said confidently. Ì definitely do.' And sod you, Auntie Joyce.

It's my life.

Clem smelled the cigarette smoke as he lumbered painfully upstairs. God, how he'd love one but he knew better than to ask.

He guessed his conversation with Joyce that morning must be responsible for her black humour. Well, that was too bad. Women were moody, it came with the territory. If Alan were alive they'd have had a laugh about it. But he was doomed to spending the rest of his days in the company of women.

Marie was the same as Joyce. When she'd come in to see him earlier, as he was snoozing in front of the box, she'd been in a right funny state.

Hugging and kissing him, saying, `You know how much I love you, don't you, Dad?' When a father gets that kind of treatment he knows what the score is.

`How much do you want, love?' he'd asked and she'd burst into tears. Then she'd said he must remember that when she went off to live on her own 253

she'd be fine and not to worry about her and she'd always, always love him, even if she didn't see him every day.

He'd told her to cheer up and said that even though he'd miss her when she went away to university he'd be damned proud of her. Honestly, what was that all about?

He'd reached his room by now and he flipped on the light, standing in the doorway to catch his breath. He noticed something on the bed but it took a few moments for him to realise what it was. And when he did so, a grin spread slowly over his face.

So Joyce had not got rid of his gun after all.

The weapon was still in the old shoe box that the man from Leeds had given him all those years ago. His name was Terry - or so he said - and the gun was in payment for a no-questions-asked turnaround on a pair of dodgy vehicles.

Clem wondered now why he had wanted it. Who had he been trying to impress? Himself, probably - a thirty-year-old self with no family ties and a romantic idea of the future. He'd been finding the legitimate motor trade a trifle boring and had been considering a walk on its wilder side.

Thank God that had never happened. He'd probably have spent the intervening years locked up. Instead he'd met a woman - sexy, irresistible and moody, of course - and married her instead.

He shuffled to the bed as fast as he could, eager to be reunited with this reminder of his past.

He removed the lid of the box. Everything was just as he remembered it: the yellow cloth wrapped round the gun, the dull glint of metal, the box of ammunition. The weapon was sleek and menacing, heavy in the hand. It would be old-fashioned now, out-matched and over-shadowed by the fancy automatic weapons that criminals used these days. But Clem had no doubt it would still work. `Thank you, Joyce,' he muttered silently in honour of his ever-loyal sister.

Jane peered closely at the varieties of salami in the Polish deli. Despite her best intentions, she didn't often get the chance to shop in Preston Market.

254

In the end she plumped for three different kinds which, she was assured, were all absolutely delicious. Judging by the moist flecks of fat and odour of garlic she had no doubt they would be. Robbie was in for a treat.

By the time she reached the cafe on the upper floor she was loaded down with bags. It had been impossible to pass the stalls of fruit and veg, cheese and fish and other foodstuffs without adding to her haul. Elizabeth Jacobs raised an eyebrow as she hove into view.

`So you are human,' Elizabeth said as Jane sat opposite her. Ì thought you were some robot who only ate and drank out of sufferance.'

Ìt's not all for me. I have a teenage son. It's like living with a boa constrictor - he devours things whole.'

Elizabeth laughed. She looked more relaxed than on any of their previous meetings. She'd left her brood at home with her mother-in-law, which probably accounted for it.

`There's nothing new on the case, I'm afraid,' Jane said, aiming to get the bad news out of the way. Ì'm very sorry, Elizabeth. I did say as much on the phone.'

Elizabeth was visiting Preston to buy material for a bridesmaid's dress at the market. She had been insistent that they meet. Jane had not felt able to say no.

`Did you learn anything from Toby Priest?'

`Not really.' Jane had no intention of mentioning the details of their conversation.

Elizabeth stared at her over the rim of her teacup. Àre you still interested in knowing about Mandy's love-life?'

`Sure.' Jane had rather let her interest slide but, as Elizabeth was here and at last prepared to volunteer information, Ì'm listening.' Elizabeth put down her cup. Ì should have told you this when I mentioned Mandy's affair with Toby, but I was livid with him for not coming to the memorial service. Also, I suppose, I wanted to protect Mandy's reputation.'

Ì don't make judgements, Elizabeth.'

`Well, anyway, since I've told you about Toby I ought to complete the picture. When Mandy was working at Ridgemoor she was also seeing Toby's son, Malcolm.'

Àt the same time, you mean?'

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`Yes. That summer and autumn she was involved with both of them.' `Did they know about each other?'

`No. She thought it was a great laugh, playing one off against the other.'

`She told you at the time?'

Òh yes. Mandy was quite shameless about it. She was having a great time. Then of course it all went wrong.'

There was a surprise. In Jane's experience it was hard enough keeping one relationship going, let alone two at the same time.

`There was a nasty car crash and a local boy was killed. The driver was one of the jockeys from the yard and he ended up going to jail.' That rang a bell with Jane. Ìs he the man who got out recently and went back to riding?'

`Jamie Hutchison. He's now Malcolm's brother-in-law.' Elizabeth leant forward in her seat. `The crash changed everything. Malcolm was a passenger in the car, and though he wasn't badly hurt, Mandy was worried about him. She decided she really cared for him and broke it off with Toby who, of course, went up the wall when he discovered she'd been seeing Malcolm.'

Jane was just about keeping up. `When was all this taking place?' `The crash was in September 1999. Mandy left a couple of weeks later - when she found out Malcolm was intending to marry Jamie Hutchison's sister.

Does this help at all?'

She had to be joking! But Jane did not want to sound ungrateful. Ìt's all good background.'

Ì'm glad I got it off my chest, anyway, even if it's not much use.'

`Hopeless,' Jane muttered to herself as she made for the escalator, trailing her bags. As ever, she was running late. It only occurred to her as she reached her car that Elizabeth had at least filled in one of the gaps in her knowledge. She'd been puzzling over who Toby Priest had been covering up for in the matter of the money. Now it seemed obvious. Surely it was the other man who'd been having an affair with Mandy and who was engaged to a third party. His son, Malcolm.