Page 83 of Worse Than Murder
A feeling of sadness is heavy in Claire’s heart, as she takes in the undeveloped bones. There are two skulls, both small, both obviously children. She hopes to God they were dead before they entered the water. If not, their final moments together will have been agony as they slowly suffocated or drowned. She looks down at the collection of phalanges that will have made up the fingers. She likes to think they were holding each other’s hand for the last thirty years, together in life and death. She feels the swell of emotion rise up and she has to turn away. It’s her imagination, as she’s only two months’ pregnant– she isn’t even showing yet– but she’s sure she can feel her baby inside her.
‘Are you all right?’ Brian asks her as she walks away, head down.
‘Uh-huh,’ she says, non-committal.
‘Grim, isn’t it.’
She doesn’t answer. She can’t. Grim doesn’t cover it. What kind of a person could put two innocent children into the back of a car and leave them in a watery grave to disintegrate into nothingness? Not for the first time, she wonders whether bringing a child into a world where evil exists is the right thing to do.
* * *
By the time Specialised Rescue UK are finished, light is fading. It has been a successful day, and many items have been found on the floor of Lake Windermere. Some are random and could have been there for much longer than the car, others would need to be verified to see if they belonged to Celia and Jennifer Pemberton. It’s times like this that Aaron is pleased to no longer be on the police force. Showing weathered personal items to a grieving mother is never going to be a pleasant task.
Throughout the day, Sally Meagan has been coming down from Nature’s Diner with takeaway cups of tea and coffee for the recovery team. At lunchtime, she brought a selection of panini, and when she knew they were finishing she told all six of them to come to the restaurant once they’d packed everything away and they could have a meal on the house. Aaron had graciously told her it wasn’t necessary, but Sally insisted and, once she saw Inspector Forsyth turn her back, quietly told Aaron that Matilda would like a word with him.
‘We’re very grateful for your hospitality, Mrs Meagan,’ he’d said loudly enough for Gill to overhear. His acting skills left a lot to be desired, and Sally walked away rolling her eyes. No BAFTA nomination for Aaron this year.
Tania drives her Fiat Punto along End Lane. The atmosphere in the car is tense. I’m glaring out of the side window. There’s a smattering of houses dotted about, each with a lengthy driveway and high privet hedges hiding them from the road. It’s called End Lane simply because it’s the final road of High Chapel. Turn left at the end and open countryside is revealed all the way to Kendal. Tania pulls up beside an oak tree.
‘Which house does Lionel live in?’ I ask, looking around, trying to get a glimpse of the properties hidden by nature.
‘It’s the very last one down there.’ She points.
‘Why have we parked here?’
‘I don’t want Lionel to see us arrive. We don’t speak much now. In fact, Lionel doesn’t speak to anyone much now, apart from his daughter and granddaughter. People around here have long memories, and according to them, he stole Gideon Oliver’s money.’
‘Haven’t you tried to put them straight?’
‘I believed Lionel,’ she says, turning to me. ‘I couldn’t prove it, though. Neither could he. I believed him because I knew him.’
‘But surely the people of High Chapel knew him, too.’
‘Yes. But people are quick to condemn.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I… I just didn’t, that’s all,’ she says, climbing out of the car.
I follow. The temperature is on the rise again. There is the merest hint of a breeze, but it doesn’t alter the fact it’s an intensely hot day. I dig out a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of my jeans and put them. Tania is already far up the road, heading for the final house of End Lane, a picturesque bungalow. I have to trot to catch up to her.
‘You loved him, didn’t you?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘Lionel. You fell in love with him.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she says, without looking back.
‘Why is it? You said, not an hour ago, that people see you as a hard-faced journalist but you’re not, you have emotions the same as everyone else. Your words, Tania. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love. Nobody is going to judge you. We all do it.’
Tania stops at the entrance to Lionel’s driveway. When she turns, I see tears in her eyes.
‘Yes. I loved him. I told him so, too. This was long after his Doreen had died.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said he couldn’t love me as he still loved his wife. I knew then there would be no future in it for us. I couldn’t compete with a dead woman. We kept seeing each other. I think he saw me as a comfort shag while he was going through so much crap. I was punishing myself by allowing myself to fall deeper and deeper in love with him. Stupid, right?’
