The Grave Tattoo (28 page)

‘I’m sorry for your loss. I was very fond of your gran,’ Jane said truthfully.

Alice frowned slightly, as if trying to place her. ‘This is Jane Gresham and her friend Dan Seabourne,’ Jimmy interjected helpfully. ‘You remember Jane, don’t you, Alice? From Fellhead? I used to play with her and her brother Matthew up at Langmere Stile.’ He held the cake up. ‘She’s brought a cake.’

Alice tilted her head back in acknowledgement. ‘Thank you. Of course I remember you. You’re in London now, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right. I’m back for a couple of weeks to follow up on some research with Dan. Mum told me the news yesterday and I wanted to drop by and say how sorry I am.’

‘That’s nice that you come back home. Some people need a death in the family before they’ll grace us with their presence,’ she added pointedly.

Jimmy sighed with the air of a man who has heard it all before but knows better than to argue.

Jane smiled at Alice. ‘Actually, we were hoping to see your gran this week.’

Alice looked puzzled. ‘I didn’t know you visited her. She never mentioned it.’

‘No, I hadn’t been yet. But I thought she might possibly be able to help us with our research.’

‘Gran?’ Alice sounded incredulous.

‘Cool,’ Jimmy said. ‘What are you doing, some kind of oral history thing? Gran had a great memory, loads of stories. She’d have been just the person to talk to about that stuff.’

‘You two didn’t come from London to hear my gran’s life story,’ Alice said baldly, her expression challenging.

‘No, I didn’t.’ Their faces were expectant, Alice’s markedly less friendly. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not but, six generations back, a member of your family worked for the Wordsworth family at Dove Cottage. She was a maid. Dorcas Mason was her name. She went on to marry your great-great-great-great-grandfather,’ Jane said, ticking off the generations on her fingers.

‘And you thought my gran might know something about this Dorcas woman?’ Alice sounded sceptical.

‘Actually, I hoped she might be able to tell me if there were any papers that had been handed down from that time. Diaries, letters, maybe even some drafts of poems that William had discarded.’ Jane gave what she hoped was a propitiating smile.

Now Alice looked positively hostile. ‘What is it with your family? First your brother rings her up wanting to know whether she’s got any old family papers, then you show up pretending to be offering condolences but actually sniffing around to see if my gran left anything worth pawing over.’

‘My brother?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. I expect you got him to make the first approach because he’s the headmaster, he teaches our Sam and she’d trust him. And when that failed, you turn up here like a vulture, trying to see if we’ve got anything worth conning us out of.’

Jane shook her head, bewildered. Aware of the eyes turning towards her, she stuttered as she spoke. ‘I’ve no intention of conning anyone. I’m an academic, a scholar. I’m not some con artist. All I want is to look. And I had no idea my brother had spoken to Mrs Clewlow.’

Alice snorted. ‘You must think we’re country bumpkins up here. Well, before you go hounding the rest of my family, here’s the bottom line. My gran had nothing of value. No old papers, no valuable jewellery, no stocks and bonds. So you might as well leave now, because there’s nothing for you here. Go and take your London graverobbing ways with you.’

By now, a hush had fallen on the room and all eyes were on them. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Ms Clewlow,’ Dan said, his voice conciliatory. ‘We don’t want to take anything from you or your family.’

‘And I don’t believe you. So it’s just as well there’s nothing to take, isn’t it? Now, I’d like you both to leave my house.’

Jimmy looked stricken, but he put out a hand and touched Jane’s elbow. ‘Come on,’ he said softly, leading them from the room.

Jane felt the deep shock of unjust accusation. She could barely trust herself to speak. ‘We’re really not trying to pull a fast one,’ she said as they reached the front door.

‘I know that. Alice is just upset. She really loved Gran. She’ll be mortified tomorrow.’

‘I can’t believe she got me so wrong.’

‘It’s like Jimmy said, she’s upset. People behave oddly when they’re bereaved,’ Dan said.

Jimmy nodded eagerly. ‘Don’t worry about it. Listen, are you guys around for a while? Only, I’ll be here till the funeral. I’ll go spare if I have to listen to this lot till then. Do you fancy meeting up for a drink?’

Jane felt dizzy with the constant change of direction of her visit. ‘OK, yeah. Call me at my parents’. They’re in the book.’

Dan smiled at Jimmy. ‘Great idea. Listen, I know this isn’t the time or the place…but I really like your music’

Jimmy looked surprised. ‘Thanks. I don’t often hear that up here.’

‘It would be a real privilege to buy you a drink,’ Dan added.

‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Jimmy opened the door and stood there as they set off towards her car. ‘Jane,’ he called when she was only a few yards away. ‘There are no papers. Honest.’

She looked over her shoulder at his anxious smile and knew he was telling the truth. ‘Back to square one,’ she muttered.

Dan glanced back at Jimmy. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that was entirely wasted. He’s very cute.’

Jane rolled her eyes. ‘He’s straight. And you have a boyfriend.’

Dan opened the car door. ‘Whatever. I think Jimmy could be very useful to us. We need to get him on our side and keep him there.’

Sharon Cole sat huddled into herself in Donna Blair’s office. As soon as she’d fished the postcard out of her pocket and handed it over to the detective, Donna had taken off, holding the card by its edges, telling Sharon to sit tight till she got back. That had been almost twenty minutes ago, and Sharon was wishing she’d never bothered. She was going to be late for work at this rate, and for what? Tenille wasn’t stupid. She just wanted Sharon to know she was OK. She’d assume Sharon would show it to the police. If she’d posted that card in Oxford, as sure as God made little green apples, she was planning to be out of there on the next bus or train. It wasn’t going to take the cops one inch forward in their search for Tenille, and it was buggering up her day royally.

Another ten minutes passed before Donna returned. ‘Thanks for bringing that in, Sharon,’ she said, like they were old mates or something. ‘Makes me more inclined to believe you when you say all this was nothing to do with you. And you’re sure that’s Tenille’s handwriting?’

Sharon nodded. ‘She always puts them funny little circles over her i’s.’

‘I’ll be checking, you know. She must have done the occasional piece of written work at school.’ She paused for a reaction but got none. ‘As far as you’re aware, does she know anybody who lives in or near Oxford?’

Sharon gave Donna an ‘Are you crazy?’ look. ‘How would she know anybody from there? She’s hardly ever been out of London, never mind to Oxford.’

‘Maybe a schoolfriend who moved away?’ Donna tried.

‘Not that I ever heard about. I told you, she didn’t have many friends. Anyway, she couldn’t run to a schoolfriend. How would they hide her? They’d have family, and even crap families notice when there’s another kid in the house.’

‘I have to check out all the possibilities. So you don’t think she’d make Oxford her destination?’

Sharon snorted. ‘I doubt she even knows where Oxford is.’

Donna crossed her office and stared at her crammed shelves. She pulled something out, almost causing an avalanche of paper in the process. She slapped the road atlas on her desk and opened it up to the route planner spread. ‘I know where Oxford is,’ she said. ‘And I know where it’s on the way to.’ She stabbed a finger at the map.

Sharon frowned. ‘Where’s that, then?’ she said, looking blankly at the names of towns she’d never heard before.

‘It’s the Lake District, Sharon. Where Jane Gresham comes from.’

28

Jane drove back into the centre of Keswick, wondering how she was going to distract Dan so she could shop for Tenille. ‘I’ve got a few errands to run. And we need to get current addresses for the names on the list,’ she said.

‘I could do that if you drop me off at the library,’ Dan said. ‘Normally I’m good at that sort of thing,’ he added ruefully.

‘It helps if you have the right spelling. Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘No. And you can do me a favour–if you’re anywhere near a supermarket, could you get me some ground coffee?’

‘No problem. I’ve got some things to get for home.’ They arranged to meet in a café in the town centre, then Jane escaped to the supermarket to stock up on supplies for Tenille. Luckily, it was Monday, and Judy had a regular arrangement for lunch and an afternoon of whist at a friend’s house in the village. From noon, the coast would be clear for her to deliver her purchases. If her dad was around the yard, she could just leave the shopping in the car till he went back up on the fell.

In the middle of the morning, the café was crowded with women taking a break from shopping and tourists fortifying themselves for the fells. She managed to find a table right at the back by the kitchen door and ordered a mug of hot chocolate and a teacake. Comfort food, that was what she needed. Something that would still the noise in her head. So much going on, so little that made sense.

At Sunday lunch, she’d almost let herself believe that Matthew was telling the truth. Even after a lifetime of bad experiences at his hands, she still couldn’t help wanting to believe he was capable of change. But when Alice Clewlow had revealed Matthew’s call to Edith, Jane had been forced to accept that she was right. Matthew was her enemy in this quest. His self-righteous claim to be on her side was nothing more than another of his expedient lies designed to get him off the hook while making her look petty and paranoid.

Please God, let him not form an inkling that she was hiding Tenille. He’d shop them both to the police without a second thought. And of course, that was the next problem. What was she going to do about Tenille? She couldn’t think of a way to penetrate that adamantine determination to protect the Hammer. It wasn’t as if Tenille didn’t understand the risks involved in her current strategy. She wasn’t being stupid, just stubborn. But something had to give sooner or later. The present arrangement couldn’t be more than a holding pattern till Jane could come up with the resolution that was beyond Tenille right now. It couldn’t go on. Harbouring a fugitive who happened to be the daughter of a man who would apparently stop at nothing to protect her was bad enough, but lying to the police and her parents had her awake all night worrying about what was going to happen next.

And then there was Jake. What the hell was that all about? She had to believe Tenille. There was no reason for the girl to lie. She stared into her hot chocolate, as if there were answers to be found in its dark depths.

She was startled back into consciousness by the sound of the chair opposite being pulled back. But the man with his hand on the chair-back wasn’t the one she was expecting. ‘Mind if I join you?’ Jake said.

‘So you are stalking me,’ Jane said, her voice surprisingly steady and cool.

Jake recoiled slightly, consternation on his face. ‘What do you mean, stalking you?’

‘Spying on me, following me. You should be grateful I’ve not called the police,’ Jane said, enjoying the adrenaline rush that came with indignation.

Jake held his hands palms outwards, a gesture of surrender. ‘Whoa. Can we just back up there? I came to see you, Jane. To talk to you. To tell you I made a mistake.’ He looked contrite. ‘Please, can I sit down? People are staring.’

Jane became aware that they had indeed become the focus of attention in the tearoom. She’d had enough of other people’s stares that morning. ‘Sit down if you must,’ she said through tight lips.

The waitress approached, undisguised avidity on her face. ‘I’ll have–’ Jake began before Jane cut across him.

‘He’s not stopping,’ she said firmly. The waitress drifted off, casting a couple of backward glances as she went. ‘What the hell is going on with you?’ Jane demanded.

Jake sighed and stared down at the tablecloth. ‘Just hear me out, please. I came back because I missed you. I realise I’ve been stupid. I wanted to see if there was still a chance for us. To try again.’ He glanced up quickly.

‘So why didn’t you just call me?’

‘Because it would have been too easy for you to hang up on me.’

It was hard not to be melted by his piteous expression. But Jane was determined to cling to her dignity. ‘So you thought you’d spy on me instead?’

‘I called the university and they said you were up here. So I thought I would come up and try to get you on your own. So yes, I guess you could call it stalking. But all it was about was getting a one-to-one with you.’ He looked hangdog. ‘I suppose it wasn’t very bright, but I couldn’t think of any other way to do it. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘I wasn’t scared, Jake. Just pissed off. So what happened in Crete? Did she kick you out?’

Jake looked hurt. ‘No, Jane. It’s like I said. I realised I’d fucked up big time and I wanted to try to make things right between us. What we had was special. And I was stupid enough to throw it away.’

‘So you’re saying you woke up one morning in Crete and suddenly thought, “Oh my God, I’ve made a terrible mistake”?’

Jake picked up a teaspoon and fiddled with it. She remembered the feel of those long fingers on her skin and tried not to show how weak it made her feel. ‘It was a bit more complicated than that.’

‘So let me hear the tale.’

‘I…uh, I saw a story in the papers. About the body in the bog. And I remembered how excited you would get, telling me your theory about Willy and Fletcher.’ He met her eyes directly, without flinching or blinking. ‘And I remembered how much more fun that was than any amount of messing around in Crete. So I packed my bags and came home.’

She didn’t know what to think. He sounded sincere. He looked sincere. She wanted him to be sincere. But he was good at sincere. She knew that of old. She cocked her head to one side, considering. ‘Did you come home for me or did you come home for first crack at the manuscript, if I managed to find it?’

‘Why would I think you’re even looking for it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve been talking about it for as long as I’ve known you. But you’ve never been actively hunting for it. Is that what you’re doing? Have you picked up a trail? Is that why you’re back here?’

‘Would it make a difference if I said no? Would you suddenly lose interest?’

Jake shook his head. ‘It’s you I came back for, Jane. Not some pie-in-the-sky manuscript which probably doesn’t even exist.’

She wanted to believe him. But he’d hurt her too badly for that to be an easy option. ‘Why would I want to try again?’ she said sadly. ‘You hurt me, you lied to me and you left me.’

‘I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I love you, Jane.’

‘Are you still working for her?’

‘Caroline? Yes. I don’t have any option, I need a job. But I’ll be looking for other work.’ He shrugged.

‘I’ve been a fool. Jane, please give me a chance.’

It was her turn to look away, to shield her face from his probing eyes. ‘I don’t feel ready for this, Jake,’ she said slowly. ‘But maybe we can meet again if you’re going to be around for a few days.’ She managed a half-smile. ‘Provided you stop stalking me.’

‘OK. It’s a deal. What about lunch?’

‘I can’t. I’m busy.’

‘Tomorrow?’

After a little persuasion, Jane agreed to meet him at his hotel for lunch. As he got up to leave, he leaned across and kissed the top of her head. A tingle ran through her from head to toe. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said. Then he was gone, leaving her to wonder.

Tenille inspected the contents of the shopping bag, finally pronouncing herself satisfied. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll pay you back when I can.’

‘No need,’ Jane said. ‘Call it a late birthday present. So, how are you doing?’

Tenille picked up one of the paperbacks Jane had bought in the supermarket. ‘Basically I’m bored shitless. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to these.’

‘I’ll bring you some more from the house. Mine are mostly down in London, but my dad has a great collection of old detective novels, if you like those?’

‘Never read any. I guess I can give them a try.’

Jane sat down on the bench next to her. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said. ‘How would you feel if I called your dad and explained the situation to him?’

Tenille scowled. ‘I don’t want him thinking you’re asking him to dob himself in.’

‘That hadn’t occurred to me.’

‘Well, it should’ve. Just like I’m loyal to him, he’s loyal to me. I don’t want him to hand himself over to the Bill because of me.’

‘I just thought he might have some ideas about how we get you out of this mess. He’s had more dealings with the law than we have, he might come up with something. Besides, I want him to know I’m no threat to him.’

Tenille looked dubious. ‘Maybe. But how would you get in touch with him? I don’t have no phone number.’

‘I’ll think of something,’ Jane said, her mind a complete blank.

‘Maybe your mad next-door neighbour could get a message to him.’

‘Mrs Gallagher?’ Jane looked baffled. ‘Why her?’

Tenille looked shifty. ‘I just think she’d help, that’s all. She’s always been nice to me, know what I mean?’

‘I’ll think about it.’ Jane stood up. ‘OK, I need to go, Dan’ll be back down from the cottage in a minute then we’ve got to go to Grasmere. Oh, and by the way, you were right. Jake is here. And he has been spying on me. He said he wanted to make sure he got me on my own, that’s why he was watching me.’

Tenille scowled. ‘I told you he was up to no good. What’s he after?’

‘He wants us to get back together.’

‘Tell me you’re not going to. You’re way too good for him. I saw how upset you were when he pissed off. Nobody that really cared for you would treat you like that. I tell you, Jane, you should just tell him to piss off back to where he came from.’

Jane couldn’t help smiling at Tenille’s seriousness. Sometimes it was hard to remember she was only thirteen. ‘I appreciate your concern. And I will be careful, I promise you.’ She rubbed a hand over Tenille’s nappy head. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Tillie Swain was next on their list. She had been Edith Clewlow’s sister-in-law but, according to Judy, Tillie and Edith had never got on. Tillie considered that her brother had married beneath him, and the two branches of the family had been as distant as was possible when their homes were a scant half-dozen miles apart as the crow flies. Certainly Jane didn’t remember Jimmy ever talking about his Swain cousins, and she was fairly sure none of the Swains had been at Alice Clewlow’s that morning.

Tillie lived in a bungalow on the southern edge of the village, one of four that made up a little enclave set back from the main road. She’d been widowed in her early fifties when her husband Don had died in a car crash on the notorious Wrynose Pass. Since then, bitterness had settled on her in tandem with crippling arthritis. When she opened the door to Jane, bent and leaning on a stick, she looked up at her with suspicion. ‘Mrs Swain?’ Jane said.

‘Who wants to know?’

‘I’m Jane Gresham. I live up on Langmere Fell, just above Fellhead.’