Peppercorn Street (9 page)

‘What study assignments?’ the grey woman asked sharply.

‘At the college. I’m going to finish my A levels.’ Why did the woman look so surprised?

‘What about the printer? And the spare cartridge?’ the policeman asked.

‘The courier brought them with the computer last night, so presumably my parents sent them.’

‘When did you leave home?’

‘Eight months ago. My parents threw me out when they found I was pregnant.’

‘Why was that?’

Janey was beginning to feel seriously worried now. This was more like an inquisition than a mistake. What did they really want? ‘I can’t see how that’s relevant to your visit. Look, all you have to do is contact my parents and they’ll confirm that they gave me my computer back.’

‘They’ve already said that they gave you back the computer, but it’s your father who reported the printer and cartridge missing, presumably stolen.’

She was unable to speak, so shocked was she by this.

It was the woman officer who came up to her. ‘Why don’t you sit down properly, Miss Dobson? You’ve gone white as a sheet.’

She let herself sink into the armchair. ‘I can’t believe what you’re saying. There must be some mistake. The computer and printer were delivered here by a courier last night.’

‘Which courier service?’

Her mind went blank, then she admitted, ‘I don’t know. I was just so pleased to have them back, I signed the piece of paper and the guy went away.’

‘There has also been a suggestion that you’re not capable of caring for a baby properly,’ the woman in grey said. ‘Which is why I’m involved today. I’m from the council.’

That was when terror came to sit inside Janey because she knew it was
him
, reaching out to hurt her again. He’d have told her father what to do to get her baby taken away from her. He’d said he didn’t want her to keep it and
bring it up in the town he lived in. It could cause too many complications if it looked like him or his other children.

What was she going to
do
?

At about nine-thirty in the morning, Kieran saw the police arrive and with them a woman he’d met before, a council official who had treated him like a criminal for getting injured by one of the council vehicles, even though it’d been driven by a driver who’d forged his large vehicle licence and had a few other accidents. And when Kieran had dared to claim compensation, she’d seemed to take it as a personal affront.

What the hell was she doing here? She was one of the nastiest people he’d ever met.

He went out into the hall and heard the words, ‘Because you’ve been accused of theft’ echo down the stairwell from above.
Theft? That nice young lass? Never
.

It was none of his business so he went back inside his flat, but as the minutes passed and the police didn’t leave, he began to wonder whether Janey might need help. If it was something that could have been easily cleared up, they’d have left by now. And theft didn’t explain why Miss Bossy Britches was there with the police.

Janey seemed so alone and everyone needed help sometimes. He’d seen no one except officials go up to her flat, no people who might be friends or family. If he hadn’t had his brother there during the blurred nightmare time after the accident, he didn’t know how he’d have stood up for himself, let alone fought for the compensation he richly deserved for the injuries that had ruined his life.

Uncertain whether to get involved, he went out into the
hallway again, then gave in to the urge to interfere. If he wasn’t wanted, she could always tell him to leave, after all. Limping up the stairs, he cursed under his breath at the stabs of pain this caused.

But it was the pain which carried him forward, reminding him how innocent people could be stamped on – by chance, as he had been, or on purpose by people like Bossy Britches.

He didn’t even hesitate but knocked loudly on the door of Flat 3.

The conversation inside stopped but no one came to answer it. Then, just as he was about to knock again, the girl opened it, looking so young and scared his heart went out to her.

‘Is something wrong, Janey?’ he asked, seeing how white and strained her face was.

‘Yes. They’re saying I stole something, and I didn’t.’

‘Do you need a friendly witness to this conversation?’

‘Would you really do that? Yes, please.’ She held the door open.

Old Bossy Britches sucked in her breath audibly at the sight of him. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

He smiled at her and raised one hand, waving his fingertips mockingly. ‘Lovely to see you too. I thought my friend Janey could do with a little support. Three against one is pretty poor odds, don’t you think?’ Was it his imagination or did the policewoman give him a quick, approving nod?

‘This matter is no concern of yours, Mr Jones,’ Bossy Britches snapped.

‘When my friends are upset by bureaucracy, of course
it’s my concern. What exactly is the problem?’

When they’d explained, he couldn’t hold back a disgusted snort. ‘I never heard such a specious reason for accusing someone of theft in my whole life. However, as it happens, I can back up some of Miss Dobson’s claims. Since I live on the ground floor, I see all the comings and goings in this block of flats. A courier did arrive late yesterday evening and carried up several boxes.’

‘Did you see the printer?’

‘No, of course not. I saw a courier bring in several boxes.’

‘She could still have gone back home and stolen that printer,’ Bossy Britches insisted.

He waited for the police to protest this assumption and when they didn’t, he said calmly – he could always keep calm when dealing with an issue, however angry he got afterwards, ‘Where do her parents live?’

‘On the other side of Swindon.’

‘Well, there you are. She doesn’t have a car. That’s got to be at least twenty miles away from here. How would she get there and back with a baby in its buggy? Anyway, I saw her coming and going several times yesterday, so I know she didn’t have time to get the bus into Swindon and back.’

‘That’s as may be, and will be fully investigated, but there is another, much more important complaint, that she’s a negligent mother. We shall need to establish how well that child is cared for. Such claims are extremely serious, can be a matter of life or death for an infant of that age.’

‘Who has made this claim?’

‘Confidential information.’ She turned to the male police officer. ‘I think for the child’s sake, we’d better take it into protective care temporarily till we can make sure of the facts.’

Fury rose in him but the woman police officer spoke while he was still trying to rein in his anger.

‘I’ve two children of my own and I’d say that this baby is very well cared for, Miss Stevenall. I’ve been watching carefully how Miss Dobson deals with her daughter and how the child looks. It’s quite clear to me that she loves the baby and though she had no warning of our visit, the baby is clean and well clad, and the flat’s clean, too.’

‘All the same—’

‘You can ask the health visitor about what sort of mother I am,’ Janey blurted out. ‘Her card’s on the mantelpiece.’

The woman officer went to get it. ‘Sally Makepeace. She was my health visitor too, after I had my second son. I’d trust her word absolutely. I’ll phone her straight away. We don’t want to upset anyone unnecessarily, do we? And a baby can get very upset when taken away from a loving mother.’ She whipped out a mobile phone and dialled the number, waiting impatiently, foot tapping.

Kieran saw tears rolling down Janey’s cheeks even though she held her head up defiantly, except when she bent to murmur soothing nonsense to her daughter. If ever a mother loved a child, that one did, he thought angrily. What was it with Bossy Britches? Did she enjoy adding to the misery of people in trouble? Didn’t she recognise love when it hit her in the eye … or did she have some ulterior motive for getting at Janey? He couldn’t think what, but he’d seen far stranger things during his twenty years as a journo.

He’d find out what lay behind this, though. He was good at doing that. And it’d give him an interest, the sort of interest that used to be his
raison d’être
.

After a short conversation, the policewoman snapped her phone shut. ‘The health visitor is convinced that even though she’s so young, Ms Dobson is a capable and loving mother, but she’ll keep an eye on the situation. I’ll contact Dawn Potter later about the computer pickup.’

‘She’s gone away for a few days, but someone else at
Just Girls
may be able to help you,’ Janey said.

‘Fine. Thank you for your co-operation, Miss Dobson. We’ll leave you and your daughter in peace now.’

Kieran watched Bossy Britches hesitate, glare at Janey as if she’d done something wrong and follow the police officers out. He shut the door after them with a bang and said what he’d been thinking, ‘Who’s got it in for you?’

She closed her eyes for a moment, then said, ‘My father made the complaint. And he has a friend in the police force.’ She shuddered at the thought of
him
. ‘I’d guess they hatched this between them.’

‘Why on earth would they do that?’

‘My father hates me.’

‘There must be more to it than that.’

She shook her head, ‘I’d rather not say any more.’

‘You know something else, though, don’t you?’

She nodded. ‘But I daren’t tell you. Believe me, sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.’

‘But this particular dog isn’t sleeping, is it? It’s trying to bite you.’

‘Nonetheless, I can’t say anything.’

‘Or you daren’t.’ When she bent her head avoiding his eyes, he knew he’d hit the bullseye.

For the first time since his accident, Kieran felt fully alive. ‘We’ll talk about that again. You look like you need a bit of peace and quiet now.’ He saw a piece of paper and scribbled his phone number on it. ‘If they come back, if anyone at all hassles you, give me a call and I’ll come straight up.’

She took the paper from him. ‘I’m grateful for your help, really I am, but I can’t understand why you’re doing it. You hardly know me. And you have your own problems.’

‘I used to be an investigative journalist, then a damned stupid accident nearly ended my life. Until tonight I’ve been stumbling along, thinking my useful life was over. You can see how difficult I find it to get around now. But suddenly, because of this incident, I’m feeling alive again. It might seem strange logic to you, but I’m really grateful to have something to get my teeth into, something to prove that I can still help the underdog.’

‘It’s very kind, but I don’t want you investigating this.
Please
. It’s best to … let things go. It’s not worth provoking him.’

‘I’ll do nothing to hurt you,’ he said soothingly, moving towards the door. Who the hell was this person she was so afraid of? Not her father, he felt sure. ‘Will you be all right now?’

She nodded.

‘Then I’ll go back to my flat.’

She went with him to the door, balancing her baby on her hip as if Millie was part of her. The baby was rosy and happy, reaching out towards him, smiling and showing a
couple of half-grown teeth. Bad mother, indeed!

‘If you’re an investigative journalist, why are you living in subsidised accommodation like this? Have you run out of money?’

He grinned. ‘On the contrary. My very capable lawyer brother got me an excellent compensation payout, then helped me invest it carefully, which included buying this block of flats. We didn’t know then whether I’d ever be able to walk again, so I kept the largest flat for myself, on the ground floor, and the others provide me with a decent income.’ He’d chosen to offer them as subsidised accommodation because he knew how often people in need were given substandard places to live. His brother said he was an idealist and could have got far more in rent, but he’d lived his whole life by a certain set of standards and he wasn’t going to stop now. Anyway, he didn’t need more money, had plenty put aside from his work before the accident.

‘Oh, I see. I’m glad for you.’

‘I’d be grateful if you’d keep that information to yourself. I’ve got the place managed, because I don’t want to deal with the day-to-day collecting of rent and that sort of thing. Actually, I don’t want the other tenants even knowing I’m the owner, because they’ll run to me whenever things go wrong.’

‘That’s why you knew who to phone about the washing machine – and why they hurried to repair it!’

‘Right first time.’

‘OK. I won’t say anything. And Kieran – thank you. I was panicking when you turned up.’

‘Never panic. Keep calm and fight back.’

He found himself whistling as he made his way slowly and carefully down the stairs. Janey reminded him of his little sister, who emailed him more regularly than he emailed her. On that thought, he went to the computer and sent off an email to her.

Then, because he realised he’d not bothered to fix himself a proper breakfast, he made himself some cheese on toast and munched an apple while he waited for it to grill.

Perhaps he might manage on a smaller dose of painkillers today? Maybe adrenaline helped keep pain at bay.

Whatever. The world suddenly looked a brighter place.

In the afternoon, when Margaret came to pick her up and take her to the college, Janey immediately asked, ‘Did the police contact you about the courier?’

‘About the printer? Yes. I gave them the details. You look … upset. Are you all right?’

‘I don’t know. Someone has claimed that I’m a bad mother and a horrible woman from the council wanted to take my baby away.’

Margaret stared at her in shock. ‘
What?
’

Janey explained what had happened and Margaret’s expression grew grim. ‘That Stevenall woman is a constant thorn in our flesh. She doesn’t like
amateurs
like us doing social work, or council money being spent on people in need. If she tries to take your baby again, you must phone me or Dawn. Here. This is my private mobile number. And this is Dawn’s. Call us any time, day or night. Don’t give the numbers to anyone else, though. We
only hand out these cards in emergency situations.’

‘Thanks. I’m grateful, not only for this but for all you’re doing.’

‘You’re doing things, too. You’re looking after Millie beautifully. And it’s good to see someone taking advantage of the other chances offered to her. What sort of student were you before this happened?’

‘I used to get good marks,’ she admitted. Well, she’d not have dared do other than her best with her father ready to jump on her for the slightest thing.

‘I’ll come into the interview with you, if you don’t mind. I won’t interfere, but I’ll hold Millie and back you up if necessary.’

‘With a bit of luck, she might go to sleep in the buggy. She often has a nap at this time of day.’

They had to wait ten minutes at the college, then were shown into an office and a man interviewed Janey. Only it felt more like a friendly chat.

‘We’ve got your records from school and you were doing very well till – this young lady happened.’ He smiled at Millie, who was fast asleep. ‘Bad timing, eh?’

‘Something like that.’

‘It’s good that you want to go back to studying. What do you plan to do after the A levels?’

‘I wanted to go to university to study English before. Now, I’m not so sure. I still want to go to university, but I want to do something more practical that’ll help me earn a decent living as Millie gets older.’

‘Teaching might fit, especially if you go on the maths or science side. You’d have the school holidays to look after her, then. If you’re any good at those subjects, you might consider
that. They’re always short of maths and science teachers.’

Janey nodded, filing the information away.

After only a few minutes of chatting, he said, ‘I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t carry on with your studies here, and if your tutor thinks you’re on track, you’ll be able to take at least one A level this year.’

‘That’d be brill! It’ll give me something to do in the evenings. I’ll work really hard, I promise.’

‘We’ll go through all the paperwork, then you can go and see them at the crèche while I find out if your tutor can fit you in for a quick chat before you leave. You’ve only missed a couple of classes this term, so far.’

The crèche was a delightful place and the baby room was supervised by a woman with a soft West Indian accent and the widest smile Janey had ever seen. They had to speak in low voices because other babies were taking a nap. Millie slept through it all, stirring once and mumbling to herself, then snuggling down again.

On the way home Margaret said again, ‘Don’t forget. If you need help, get straight on to me. Dawn will be back next week, but if something really serious happens, I know she’ll want to be told and will come back early if necessary.’

‘You people at
Just Girls
are so lovely,’ Janey replied in a choked voice. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

‘You’d have managed. You’re a capable young woman. But maybe we’ve made it a little easier. We try to.’ She drove away with a wave.

But Janey knew she wouldn’t have been able to manage on her own, not with
him
pressuring her first to have an abortion, then to have her baby adopted.

Winifred dressed as smartly as ever because she’d always loved clothes, but her heart was heavy as she walked into town. She’d heard of old people changing their wills at a whim, threatening their heirs with disinheritance. Was this a whim? Was she being foolish?

No. The conversation she’d overheard between Bradley and that sharp-faced female had been all too revealing. There could be no doubt about it. For all his show of caring, he didn’t give two hoots about her, just his inheritance. Not only that, but he was planning to swindle her if he could get her to hand over the house to him. That explained why his help was always focused on the house and not her needs.

The callous way he’d spoken of her had upset her greatly. ‘The silly old biddy’. What a dreadful thing to call her!

Well, he’d not be walking into her house at will again. She made a mental note to visit a locksmith on her way back, however tired she was.

Her lawyer was as cool and pleasant as ever, but when Winifred explained why she’d come, Mrs Farley frowned.

‘Are you sure about this, Miss Parfitt?’

‘Yes, I am. I’m not in my dotage yet. I’d rather leave my money to charity than to someone who considers me a gullible old fool.’ She was aware of a searching scrutiny and waited, meeting Mrs Farley’s gaze without flinching. ‘It’s not easy being the last of my generation. I try to think very carefully about important things like this, because I no longer have anyone to discuss them with.’ She waited and added, ‘Do you believe me about what I overheard?’

‘I do, actually. There have been some rather pushy
property deals in town lately by certain companies.’

She didn’t elaborate or name names, and Winifred didn’t expect her to. But it was a good bet that Mrs Farley had heard of Ebony’s firm in this connection.

‘Who exactly do you wish to name as beneficiary?’

‘I’m not sure, so as an interim measure, until I can gather more information about my distant relatives, I’d like you to draw up a will leaving everything in equal shares to these charities.’ She handed over the list she’d drawn up. ‘Make it very simple because if I’m spared long enough, I’ll be changing my will again within the next few months, once I’ve checked the other members of my family out. For the time being, I simply wish to make sure that Bradley doesn’t inherit.’

‘That will be quite a simple task. And haven’t you given him a power of attorney? Do you want to cancel that?’

‘Yes, definitely. I’m glad you reminded me.’

Mrs Farley fiddled with the piece of paper, staring down at it as if uncomfortable about what she was going to say. ‘If you can drop in tomorrow afternoon – around say, three o’clock – I can have the new will ready to sign. I would, however, advise you to see your doctor before you do sign and get a letter from him confirming that you are of sound mind.’

‘
What?
Is that really necessary?’

‘Not now, but your nephew may contest the will after you die and your eventual heirs may need proof that you were in your right mind when you changed your will.’

‘Oh. I see. Well, in that case, I’ll do as you suggest and let you have the doctor’s letter.’

‘Good. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Not directly but I wondered if you could suggest the best way of selling this? I find the thought of dealing with a pawnbroker rather distasteful and even if I was prepared to do that, I don’t like the looks of the one in the high street.’ Winifred got out the brooch she’d chosen for selling, a small, ugly piece, which she’d never liked. Her mother had always insisted the stones were of superb quality and valuable, but she’d never worn it, either.

Mrs Farley took the brooch from her. ‘What gorgeous diamonds! See how they sparkle in the light. You can’t fake that.’

‘I think it’s rather vulgar and clumsy-looking, but I’m sure my grandfather wouldn’t have bought anything shoddy.’

‘I’d suggest you try Doring’s on the high street. They’re old-fashioned in many ways, but have an excellent reputation as a jeweller. Ask to see Michael Doring and tell him I sent you. I know him socially and he seems a decent fellow.’

‘Thank you. I’ll go straight there.’

‘Do you keep any other jewellery in the house?’

‘Only one or two pieces. Most of my jewellery is safely locked up in the bank.’

‘If your other pieces are of as good quality as this, I’d suggest you put them in the bank, too.’

‘Perhaps you’re right.’

She went straight from the lawyer’s to the jeweller’s and found it embarrassing to explain what she needed but steeled herself to do it, because she had no other choice. The man with whom she was dealing – she’d not expected Michael Doring to be so young – was very kind and noticed
how she was feeling. He showed her into a private room to continue their bargaining, for which she was grateful.

After he’d studied the brooch, he brought in an older man to give him a second opinion.

‘You’re right, Miss Parfitt. It’s a very good-quality piece,’ he said in the end. ‘You could get more than I’d be able to offer by putting it into a fine jewellery auction.’

‘How much are you offering?’

‘Two thousand pounds. You might get another thousand on top of that in an auction.’

‘Or I might not. In any case, I don’t want to wait for the money, so I prefer to sell the brooch to you now. Could you give me a cheque, do you think? I don’t like to carry large sums of cash around with me.’

‘Certainly. Very wise.’

That transaction completed, she visited the bank to deposit the money. She felt rather tired by now, but since the locksmith’s was on the way home, she called in and arranged for a man to come and change her locks, front and back the very next morning. Bradley was never going to walk into her house like that again.

As she passed the newsagent’s, she stopped for a rest, idly gazing at the display of small local advertisements in their window while she got her breath back. It was getting too much to do the heavy shopping herself. Now that she had a little more money, she’d see if she could find someone to do that job for her. She’d write out a postcard and place it in this window the next time she was in town.

She had to sit down when she got back, feeling extremely tired now but satisfied that she’d taken the right steps. Of
course she dozed off, something she detested. It seemed so lazy to take naps in the daytime.

She was getting very old in body, had to face that every time she looked in a mirror, though she hoped she wasn’t losing her wits, whatever Bradley said. He’d probably lied about that too.

Maybe at her age the odd nap wouldn’t hurt? She’d ask the doctor. Her mother hadn’t been right about everything.

When Nicole left the library that evening, she walked home briskly, shivering as an icy wind speared into her face. She did hope it wouldn’t snow. She’d decided to walk to and from the library every day. It was not only good exercise, but it was hardly worth taking her car to work when she lived so close, well, not unless the weather was bad.

As she turned into Peppercorn Street, she thought she saw William’s reflection in the shop window on the opposite corner, and spun round. But there was no sign of him. She’d only seen the person out of the corner of her eye. It must just have been an illusion, someone who looked a bit like him.

She loved her new street, which had real character, and had strolled up and down it a couple of times, studying the other houses. Such a varied group of dwellings. From the information in the library records, she knew a Parfitt still lived at the top end, but she hadn’t realised what a magnificent old house this Miss Parfitt owned until she’d gone exploring. The garden was in a sad state, though.

The garden at her block of flats was minimalist – and that was a flattering way to describe it. Almost bare was perhaps more accurate. Maybe she’d ask if she could plant
a few annuals once the weather warmed up a little. She missed her garden.

When she turned into the car park of her flats, she stopped in shock. Her car was still parked where she’d left it, but the tyres on this side had been slashed.

As she cried out in shock, a man who was limping slowly past stopped. ‘Are you all right?’

She turned to him. ‘Look at my car! I can’t believe this!’ She walked round it. ‘The other side’s the same.’

He stared at her tyres. ‘Better call the police, though I doubt they’ll be able to find out who did it. I’ll stay with you till they come, just in case whoever did it is still hanging round. I live a few doors down the street at number twelve.’

She made the call. ‘The police will be here as soon as they can.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Nicole Gainsford.’

‘I’m Kieran Jones. I’ve seen you going past, but only recently. I was just out for a bit of exercise.’ Exercise! Walking a short way up the street and back, though he made it a little further each day.

‘I’ve only just moved in. Fancy you noticing!’

He looked down at his leg with a grimace. ‘I do a lot of staring out of the window since I got injured. It’s only recently I’ve been told to go out for walks, which is a welcome improvement. I’d volunteer to keep an eye on your place but I can’t see it from where I live and in any case, I’m in no fit state to tackle vandals. Strange that they should target your car when there were plenty of others closer to High Street. You’d think you’d be safe in the part where our street starts to get posher.’

His grin said he was teasing and she smiled back at him.
‘Do you want to wait inside the lobby? That wind must have come straight from the Arctic.’

‘Good idea.’

The police didn’t get there for another half-hour, by which time she’d decided Kieran was harmless and invited him in for a cup of coffee. She stayed near the window as they chatted to watch out for the police.

Conversation didn’t falter because he was an avid reader too. He took one look at her bookshelves and began to study the titles. Soon they were comparing books. Then he broke off abruptly in mid sentence. ‘They’re here.’