The Price of Failure (4 page)

4

Carr drove into the hospital forecourt and, since the time was outside official visiting hours, had no difficulty in parking. He climbed out of the car, turned and stared at the central building which, despite a very expensive facelift, still looked more former workhouse than hospital and was in such stark contrast to the two modern wings.

He remembered the past in a series of flashbacks. On Gloria's first ever visit, he'd taken time off to accompany her, as confident as she that all was going well, despite the fact that their GP had decided the visit was necessary. How could anything be wrong when she was, apart from some morning sickness, feeling on top of the world? A blood test had shown that either something was seriously wrong or the baby was dead; a scan showed it was dead. Pregnancy had been too advanced for an abortion and she had had to suffer an induced labour. As much as he'd tried to share her trauma, only she knew exactly what hell it had been – bringing forth death not life. The hospital had been unable to cite any cause for the death of the baby. She'd suffered from depression, but soon overcome it because she was a strong-willed woman. Her second pregnancy had ended in the same way, except that since she was only eleven weeks pregnant, she had had an abortion. This time, the hospital had discovered that she was suffering from pre-eclampsia, a condition which, if unchecked, could develop into eclampsia, putting her as well as the foetus at risk. They'd told her that now they could treat her, any future pregnancy should be successful. Should be, not would be. It had taken him weeks to help her lift herself out of the deeper depression following this second loss and to believe in ‘would' not ‘should'. Her third pregnancy had raised both her hopes and her fears, but thanks to the treatment of hormone injections and a low dose of aspirin, for a long time it was all hope. Then, suddenly, her blood pressure had risen and there had been a dangerous increase of protein in her urine. The hospital had told her that she must become a temporary in-patient in order that the closest possible watch could be kept on her condition and extra treatment be given immediately if this became necessary. Abruptly, fear replaced hope; fear so strong it overwhelmed her, bringing in its train a depression considerably deeper than those she had previously suffered. And with this depression had come the conviction – which to everyone but she was illogical – that if she remained in the hospital where she had suffered two losses, she must inevitably suffer a third. No argument on anyone's part could shake her conviction … One of the specialists had called him into a staff room for a ‘chat'. His wife was in so depressed a state that there were fears that her physical condition might be affected by her mental, with the potential result that all the treatment might be negated. It was to be hoped, the specialist had continued, that he made every effort to be cheerful when he visited her and did not burden her with his own tensions. It was, of course, difficult for the husband to be deprived of his wife when the marriage was relatively new, but it really was up to him … The specialist would have been surprised to learn how Carr had silently been describing him.

He reached into the car for the bag of peaches, shut the door and locked it. The doorman inside the main entrance did not stop him because this was outside visiting hours, but nodded a greeting – there were some advantages to being a policeman. He took the lift up to the fifth floor and went down the long passage to Hampton Ward. The duty nurse gave him a professional smile, said: ‘The latest scan shows that everything's fine.'

‘That's great. Has it cheered her up?'

‘For a while, but … I'm afraid she was very upset when she heard that a woman she'd met in here has just had twins.'

Twice the bitterness of another's success. He had learned that there would be no point in his now trying to get her to see things in a normal light; she could only view them subjectively. He walked between the beds, watched by the other women. Not so long ago, one of them had complained that he was allowed to visit his wife outside the usual hours and had refused to accept that his work with all its irregular times was a good reason. When he'd heard this, he'd silently cursed her for her bloody-mindedness – then had learned that her boyfriend had not visited her once.

Pregnancy and illness had not been kind to Gloria. It had aged her, adding lines and slackening flesh. He kissed her, put the fruit down on the bedside table, sat on the chair and held her hand. Sometimes she'd remain virtually silent, wrapped up in her own world; sometimes she'd talk with frenetic energy as if so little time were left; sometimes she'd behave normally and he'd find himself hoping that she'd overcome the worst, even while experience suggested that his hope would prove to be false. ‘The nurse says that the scan shows everything's fine.'

‘That's what they always say.'

‘Hugh asked me how you were and said that women ought to be like kangaroos and have babies too small to bother about. But as I pointed out, what woman's going to want to carry junior around in a pouch for the first few years?'

‘That's better than not having anyone to carry.'

Nought out of ten, he thought, for leading into that one in an attempt to lighten her mood. ‘Trish rang to find out how you were.'

‘So what did you tell her?'

‘That everyone's hopeful things will be fine this time.'

‘Everyone? You'd better tell the specialist, so that he knows.'

‘Love, the last time I spoke to him, he said that there's no reason why you shouldn't very soon have junior bouncing on your knees.'

‘If he thinks that, why's he always so bloody miserable?'

‘Because his wife is a terrible cook.'

She didn't smile, but she did change the subject. ‘Are you eating properly?'

It was usually a good sign when she worried about him rather than herself. ‘Like a fighting cock.'

‘But you must have finished the food I put in the deep freeze?'

‘I'm indulging myself. Last night I had duck and orange from Marks and Sparks.'

‘Was it good?'

About to say it had been delicious, he checked the words. Too much enthusiasm and she might think that he wasn't missing her cooking. ‘Not bad, but a little pricey … How are you doing for books?'

‘They came round yesterday.' She indicated two books on the bedside table. ‘The bottom one starts off with a baby dying.'

Life had never heard the old tag about never kicking a man when he was down; perhaps life was, in truth, sexist. ‘What about the other one?'

‘I've only read the blurb. It's set in the Highlands.'

‘Just so long as it's not written in a Scotsman's idea of English. I've always wanted to see the Highlands. What say that as soon as possible we drive up north and show them to junior?'

‘If you like.' She stared into the distance for a while, then focused her gaze. ‘Have you seen Anne and Andy?'

‘Not yet. They've twice asked me to a meal and each time I've had to call off at the last moment.'

She suffered another sharp change of mood. ‘It's such a beastly unsociable job.'

It was an old and universal complaint.

‘Freda says it can only get worse,' she added petulantly.

‘If she means with promotion, that's probably true as far as detective inspector. After that, it's county HQ and rumour holds that up there the only people who do any real work are the tea ladies. Talking about which, I'd better make a move.'

‘You've hardly been here any time.'

‘I know, but I'm not meant to be here at all. It's only because a job turned up nearby and Sean was a brick and made certain I had it.'

‘He's a kind man.'

‘One of the best, provided you play things straight.'

‘Freda told me how much he's looking forward to retirement.'

‘My guess is that it'll be a lot more than she is. He'll upset her routine if he's around the house all day long.'

‘Won't he try to find a part-time job?'

‘There aren't many of those around these days, not for men his age. In any case, given the chance to vegetate or work, he'll vegetate. He's always talking about the joys of sitting by the river and staring at a fishing line.' He stood. ‘What's the order for my next visit – grapes, oranges, bananas?'

‘A kilo block of Cadbury's Dairy Milk.'

‘I wish I dare, love, but if I did bring that, the nurse would have my nuts.'

She said bitterly: ‘Why the hell is it that as soon as one can't have something, one wants it all the more?'

It was a question that must have tormented her many times. He bent down and kissed her, whispered words that made her smile for the first time and briefly restored her looks that pregnancy and illness had stripped away.

He walked the length of the ward, spoke briefly to the sister who was standing by the desk, and carried on down the corridor to the lift. As he waited after pressing the call button, he remembered what she'd said about wanting. It seemed half a lifetime since they had made love.

5

As Carr left the room, Wyatt thought that there went a man who might or might not make the grade. People who joined the police force from a sense of public service that was touched with idealism had always been at risk; in the modern climate of selfishness and disregard for others, they were very much more so. Law and justice had drifted further apart, the trust between citizen and police had all but vanished, there were dozens of charities committed to defending the rights of criminals, but only one to support the victims of those crimes, the left wing did all they could to destroy existing society by maligning the police at every turn, and this was aided by the media, but it was impossible to turn the clock back. One could only retire.

The internal phone rang. The DI wanted a word. There was one man, he thought, who was going to make the grade, but only time would tell if it would be as high as he coveted. He was no idealist, being far too ambitious. Half-remembered lines from long ago schooldays briefly floated through his mind. Ambition was a grievous fault, grievously answered for … The DI would never accept that.

He went along the corridor to the DI's room. Hoskin was bundling papers into a briefcase. ‘I have to steam up to county, so you're holding the fort for the rest of the day. Anything fresh in?'

‘Nothing that need detain you. I've put in hand the two witness statements that A division is yelling for.'

‘When you send them on, add a note that we've better things to do than spend all day clearing up their work for them.'

‘I'll do that with pleasure.'

The DI briefly looked at him as if wondering whether he could be so stolidly unimaginative as to think that that had been meant seriously. He resumed putting papers into the briefcase.

‘There is one thing, Guv. Carr's had a word with Miss Varney about the heavy telephone calls. The Malicious Calls bureau have said they'll set up the equipment and so if chummy rings from a private address, we'll have him. If he's a shade smarter than that, there's not much to go on apart from the fact that just before the calls started her phone went wrong and the engineer who mended it struck her as being distinctly dodgy.'

‘Hardly a good lead. A sizeable proportion of the population looks definitely dodgy.'

‘There is the coincidence of the times.'

‘Did you ask Carr for his assessment of the woman?'

‘His description is, she'd get a hermit hopping.'

‘Not many hermits left these days … How's his wife?'

‘The child's still alive, but her depression doesn't get any better; worse, if anything.'

‘Must be like hugging a time bomb … I may or may not look in on my way back; depends what time I manage to get away.' As he finished speaking, the phone rang. ‘You answer. I left a couple of minutes ago and right now am driving out of the car park.' He left in a rush.

Wyatt lifted the receiver. ‘Wyatt, CID.'

‘It's Miranda Hoskin here, Sean. Is my husband around?'

‘He left for county just before you rang, Mrs Hoskin. Is it important?'

‘No, not at all … How is Freda and the family?'

‘Very well, thanks. Evelyn's having a child.'

‘That's wonderful news. She must be very pleased.'

‘Delighted.' But Bill, her husband, was less so, having recently been made redundant. Despite the good screw he'd been making, they hadn't a penny saved. The modern generation …

‘If you see my husband, you might be kind enough to ask him to ring me at home.' She said goodbye, rang off.

He always found her manner patronizing; the squire's wife making an effort to be sociable. Freda called him an old fool for thinking like that; Miranda Hoskin was more genuine than a lot of DIs' wives and he was mistaking shyness for superiority. Freda might be right. She usually was.

*   *   *

Although Wyatt had never thought in such specific terms, he accepted that in order fully to appreciate something, one had first to be deprived of it. Because as a boy he had lived in a back-to-back with small, dark, damp rooms on the walls of which had grown fungus and which lacked both bathroom and indoor lavatory, every time he drove into Meansworth Crescent and came in sight of number 16, he felt a glow of happy pride. Although an unremarkable semi-detached, number 16 was for him Buckingham Palace and Edinburgh Castle rolled into one.

When they'd married, it had been the policy of the force that officers lived in police housing, rent free. Years later, that policy had changed and officers were then encouraged to buy their own houses and to help them to do so they had been given a housing allowance; those who had not wished to make the change had been allowed to stay on in the police houses, but had been reminded that on their retirement they would have to leave and find other housing, and that would not be easy in view of the reduction in the number of council houses and the existence of left-wing councils who would take great pains to find reasons for failing to provide accommodation for retired policemen. Freda had accepted the idea of buying a house with enthusiasm, he had havered. It had been she who had found that they could obtain a semidetached in north Everden if they used almost all their savings to meet the initial ten per cent deposit of the purchase price – the minimum the mortgage companies would accept at that time. Initially, he had refused to consider the possibility. Their savings were the buffer between them and the world he had suffered when young; they owed not a penny and weren't going to put themselves into debt they might never be able to repay. Again and again she'd argued that a mortgage would merely be transferring their savings from one form to another; that after he retired, his pension would enable them to keep up with the payments until the house was theirs; that they would be able to leave the two girls something worthwhile … She was middle aged and normally far from pushy, but when she wanted something for her family she was prepared to battle her way around the moon and back to get it. She'd badgered him, braved his resentment at this badgering, and even out-faced him when, for only the second time in their marriage, he'd lost his temper and verbally assaulted her. And it was right after he had shamefacedly apologized for all he'd said – and had suffered additional shame because of her immediate forgiveness – that he had suddenly understood why the thought of purchasing a house had always panicked him. When he'd been young, there had been a terrible row between his parents over money and debt and his father had struck his mother, then stormed out of the house. He had crouched under the kitchen table, trying to hide from the catastrophe called debt which had overwhelmed them …