Hands of the Ripper (13 page)

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Authors: Guy Adams

BOOK: Hands of the Ripper
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Perhaps, he decided, he should concentrate on his own problems and let Shaun do likewise.

Cycling home it once again occurred to him that he might be returning to a home damaged beyond recognition. With the carefree attitude of the morning now well and truly gone he found himself pedalling faster and faster in the need to get home and find out one way or the other. The sky was beginning to darken again, eager to fulfil the promises of the weather forecasters. By the time he returned home it was beginning to spot with rain and he ran from the side of the house where he chained his bike to the front door in order to avoid getting wet.

Unlocking his door he took a deep breath, determined to deal with whatever he might find. It was as the door swung open that he realised Alasdair and Glen might be waiting for him. It could be that their revenge would be nothing less than a beating.

‘Hello?’ he called, stepping cautiously into the hallway. There was definitely something different about the place, he decided, a smell …

Anna appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand, tea towel in the other. She was dancing to the music from her iPod, headphone cable swaying in time to her hips. When she saw him she screamed and threw the wooden spoon in panic. It painted an arrow of tomato sauce on the glass of the front door.

‘You made me jump!’ she shouted, before yanking out her headphones. ‘Sorry,’ she said, much quieter, ‘I wasn’t expecting you back for a bit yet. What time do school teachers finish work these days?’

‘University lecturers finish whenever they’re free,’ he replied, picking up the spoon. ‘Sorry I startled you.’

‘I’m cooking,’ she explained as he handed it back.

‘I hoped that was the answer,’ he replied, smiling. ‘If you’d been killing my cat with a spoon I’d have been furious.’

‘Oh he’s fine,’ she said, strolling back into the kitchen with John following, ‘I fed him some tuna at lunchtime and now we’ve come to an understanding.’

John saw that it was true, Toby Dammit sat on the kitchen table watching Anna calmly. He glanced at John, confirming that all was under control but that supervision would continue.

‘I haven’t had someone cook for me …’ John suddenly realised where that sentence was going and head it off at the pass, ‘well, it’s been a long time.’

‘It’s nothing special,’ said Anna, ‘because I’m a lousy cook, but I thought it was the least I could do, considering. It’s pasta, anyone can cook pasta.’ She stirred the saucepan of sauce. ‘How was your day?’

‘Fine. Actually, no, horrible. A student of mine’s lost his mother.’

‘That can be a blessing.’

‘Not in this case, he’s very cut up about it.’

Anna nodded. ‘I can’t even remember mine. You’d think at four I’d have some memories wouldn’t you? At least he’ll have that …’

‘Or maybe that just gives him more to miss?’

‘Maybe.’ She dumped the spoon in the saucepan and moved over to the kettle. ‘Do you want a drink? I can make you a drink.’

‘You don’t have to run around after me,’ he said. ‘It’s fine.’

‘I know, I just want to be … I don’t know, a good thing in the house rather than a problem.’

‘Don’t worry, you’re not a problem.’ The phone rang, saving him from any further awkwardness.

‘Hey,’ it was Michael, ‘how’s things?’

‘Fine,’ said John, not wanting to discuss Anna with him over the phone, aware that his son would disapprove. ‘You?’

‘Not brilliant, just heard I didn’t get that Stoppard thing. Didn’t fancy touring anyway but, well, you know.’

‘The money wasn’t bad.’

‘Surprisingly. I wondered if we could come round?’

‘What, here?’

‘Obviously there, Dad, unless you’re going out or something?’

‘No,’ John wasn’t quick enough to think of a suitable lie, ‘no, it’s fine. You just don’t often visit so I was surprised.’

‘Well, Laura and I’ve been talking about your suggestion.’

‘My suggestion?’ John’s head was all over the place, imagining what Michael was going to say about Anna.

‘You know, about the house.’

‘You two moving in, of course, sorry …’

‘If you’ve changed your mind …’

‘Not at all, just had a lot on today, my head’s not with it.’

‘No change there. What sort of time would be good?’

‘Whenever you like,’ John decided the only way forward was to be brazen about it. ‘Tell you what, come at seven and we’ll feed you both.’

‘“We”?’

‘You’ll see, tell you about it later.’

Eight

A Nice Man

‘I SHOULD JUST
go out,’ said Anna, fretting over the pasta, ‘give you some space for a couple of hours. There’s no need for me to stay. After all, it’ll only be awkward.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ John said, grating cheese, ‘it’s only my son. It’s not a problem. It’s my house.’

‘But he’ll ask about last night, I really don’t want to talk about that …’

‘Then we don’t have to. I’ll explain everything.’ He put down the grater, exasperated with his own nerves more than hers. ‘For God’s sake! I’m only putting you up for a couple of nights, what’s the big deal?’

‘Nothing,’ she agreed, her voice calmer. ‘Nothing, you’re right.’

They carried on in silence for a minute. John glanced at the clock. It was still half an hour before Michael and Laura would arrive.

‘I wish I’d packed more clothes,’ said Anna looking down at the baggy jumper and jeans she was still wearing. ‘I didn’t think.’

‘There’s stuff upstairs you can borrow if you want,’
said
John, dumping the cheese in the sauce. ‘In the wardrobes in your room. Most of it should fit.’

‘Your wife’s clothes?’ Anna looked uncomfortable and, now he thought about it, with good cause. What had he been thinking?

‘Actually, yes … probably you don’t want to … I just never seem to find the time to clear them out.’ He grabbed some cutlery and began laying the table. ‘Sorry,
I
didn’t think …’

‘No,’ she insisted, ‘it’s fine, honestly. It’s very kind. I mean they’re only clothes I’m sure there’d be something in there better than …’ she looked down at herself.

Relieved, he nodded. ‘She wouldn’t have minded. She’d certainly have lent you something had she been here.’ Had she not been dead. Oh shut up, John Pritchard, he thought, just shut up.

There was a moment of slight awkwardness, with both of them looking at each other. Anna broke first.

‘If you’re sure it’s OK, I’ll grab a quick shower and get changed. I’d feel more comfortable I think …’

‘Go ahead, please, there’s nothing left to do here anyway.’

She ran upstairs and he sank back against the table, trying to convince himself that it was fine. It was only stuff, clutter he should have cleared out months ago. It really didn’t matter did it?

And before he could even steel himself against it he could picture Jane, the grey, lifeless remnant of her that always lingered close by, watching as Anna ran her hands through the old clothes. He could imagine her dead eyes, almost as white as those of a boiled fish,
staring
on in jealousy, reaching out to stop this act of desecration.

He dropped the cutlery and the clatter brought his mind back to the present.

‘You all right?’ Anna shouted from upstairs.

‘Fine, just clumsy.’ He heard her opening the wardrobe doors and clenched his fists in anger at himself.

He picked up the knives and forks and finished laying the table.

‘He’s allowed to meet someone, you know,’ Laura laughed, hugging Michael’s arm as they walked together up the street.

Michael shifted the umbrella slightly, wanting to make sure that she was fully covered.

‘Of course he is,’ he agreed, ‘if that’s what it is. Probably it’s just an old friend visiting or something …’

‘If it was an old friend he’d have told you, wouldn’t he?’

‘Maybe the IT guy from the Uni, I think they’re friends …’

‘Then he would have said “The IT guy’s here too.”’

‘Ray, his name’s Ray.’

‘Whatever. You know what I’m saying. You know I’m right as well. Whoever it is it was too complicated to explain on the phone.’

‘Doesn’t mean it’s a woman.’

‘Oh Michael,’ Laura laughed and he was given cause once again to bask in her sheer ebullience. She went through life seeming to constantly erupt with joy. He frequently wished it was contagious.

‘Well? It doesn’t. But if it is then that’s OK too, I’m just surprised. He really doesn’t seem to be over Mum, that’s all.’

‘He probably never will be “over” her. Neither will you. Doesn’t mean you can’t get on with your life.’

‘I know, it was just the way he was talking. About sharing the house and the medium thing …’

‘Maybe he met someone there?’

‘What? Amongst the gloomy pensioners and weird new-agers? I doubt it. Though there was a widow who kept talking to him, maybe she’s kidnapped him.’

‘Maybe. She keeps him chained up except when he has guests, if he looks panicked we’ll try and break him out, all right?’

‘OK.’

They stopped at the kerb, Michael waiting for a slow bus to head past rather than dragging Laura across at speed. He had learned to become a patient set of eyes for her and was proud at the trust she placed in him. He had never felt like someone who was reliable, she made him feel exactly that. With the road clear, they crossed and walked past the last couple of houses to his father’s house.

‘It’s a nice area,’ said Laura, ‘peaceful.’

‘Yeah,’ Michael agreed, ‘takes ages to get into town though.’

‘Good,’ Laura teased, ‘it’ll encourage you to stay home more often with me.’

‘Like I need encouraging. Mind the step.’ He guided her under the porch, turned and furled his umbrella, shaking as much of the excess water off as possible.
Laura
stroked the bricks by the door, finding then ringing the bell.

‘They’re here!’ shouted a woman’s voice, audible beyond the door.

‘Told you,’ said Laura, ‘and she sounds young too.’

‘Oh God,’ mumbled Michael, chuckling slightly.

The door opened and John appeared. ‘Hello!’ he gave Laura a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks. ‘He never brings you to see me,’ he moaned.

‘Kiss her like that again and I never will,’ his son joked.

‘Come in, come in.’ John stepped back to let them pass. ‘Go straight through to the kitchen.’

‘Such class,’ said Michael.

‘Only use the dining room for people you don’t know,’ John joked as they filed through.

‘I brought this,’ said Michael, handing over a bottle of wine, ‘so there was something drinkable in the house.’

‘I’ll get you a straw.’

Michael sat Laura down at the table, noticing the four place settings. ‘I didn’t mishear then,’ he said, ‘four for dinner.’

‘Ah,’ said John, ‘yes, I want to explain about that.’

‘Hello,’ said Anna from the doorway, ‘shall I go away and come back in a minute?’

John couldn’t help but stare. She was wearing a dark brown dress of Jane’s, an absolute favourite, embroidered with small flower patterns. His wife hadn’t been able to wear it for a long time as once the weight loss got so bad it hung off her. It was like looking at a happy memory.

‘Oh,’ said Michael, clearly shocked and incapable of hiding it. ‘It’s you.’

‘That’s not how you greet a lady, Michael,’ said Laura, getting to her feet, ‘God knows how you ended up with such a beautiful girlfriend.’ She laughed and Anna joined in, walking over and taking Laura’s hand so she didn’t have to walk over and meet her.

‘I’m Anna,’ she said, shaking the hand gently.

‘Laura, and that lump of bad manners is Michael.’

‘Sorry,’ Michael recovered himself, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Anna, taking his hand. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ he nearly said ‘again’ but managed to stop himself. ‘I saw you at the medium thing a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Yes,’ said John, ‘there’s a bit of a story behind that.’

‘I’ve run away from home and your father is very kindly putting me up for a couple of days while I get myself straight.’ Anna explained simply.

‘Yes,’ said John, vaguely, ‘that’s the quick version.’

‘“Run away from home”?’ said Laura. ‘How wonderfully dramatic! Tell us all.’

And, while they ate, Anna did, avoiding any mention of Father Goss but only too happy to be candid about the rest. If John had been concerned he was at his ease by the end of the meal. For all her nerves, Anna was the very epitome of social confidence, warm, honest and funny. It was clear that both his son and Laura were taken with her. As was he, though that was something he was certainly not willing to address for now.

‘I thought I recognised the dress!’ said Michael, laughing. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t faint thinking a ghost had walked into the room.’

‘I’m sure she looked better in it,’ said Anna, tugging at the fabric self-consciously. ‘I’m just glad you didn’t mind, it was so kind of John and so stupid of me. I’ve never been much of a planner, I just took to my heels and ran here, not a thought about practical things.’

‘Why did you come here?’ asked Laura. ‘If you don’t mind my asking’

‘Of course not,’ said Anna, ‘John just seemed safe, you know? I suppose I could have got myself in a lot of trouble just turning up on a stranger’s doorstep but sometimes you can just tell. I knew he was a good man.’

‘He’s an ogre,’ joked Michael, ‘he beat me every day until I was twenty.’

Laura slapped him on the arm. ‘Be nice!’

‘I was only joking.’

‘I know,’ said John, ‘besides, it’s true. I used to lock him in the cellar and feed him on vegetable scraps.’

‘He’s the softest man I know,’ said Laura, leaning over towards Anna as if imparting a secret, ‘and the nicest.’

‘Oi!’ said Michael with a laugh, ‘I’m sat right here, you know.’

‘There’s no point in arguing, son,’ laughed John. ‘She’s right and you know it.’

‘I’m sure she is,’ agreed Anna getting up, ‘if you’ll excuse me a moment?’

She left the room, heading upstairs towards the bathroom.

‘See,’ said Michael, ‘you’ve scared her off. Probably thinks you’re trying to matchmake.’

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