Power on Her Own (34 page)

‘And it's not just prevention we're after, I suppose. It's discreet prevention. And apprehension if he should try anything.'

Graham nodded. ‘Believe me, he won't even scratch his backside without us knowing. I'll talk to Kings Heath about rostering. Now, you two have done well. Time you were – Hang on.' He picked up the phone.

It was all too obvious that the call wasn't about work. He turned from them; simultaneously they started to talk quietly about how Kate could occupy all three children that evening.

‘And if you don't go now,' Colin said, opening the door, ‘there won't be an evening.'

He was right, of course. But she didn't want to go without Graham's agreement – he might have some last minute instructions. She hovered. At last, still listening to the phone, he turned to them both, gave them a thumbs-up and waved them away.

During the whole of the journey home – not as long as usual, because the rush-hour was over – Kate was clenching her fists against the fear that she would find the Manse completely empty and she would have to raise the alarm. The scenarios became more convoluted with each red traffic light. But she wasn't alone. She had to keep reminding herself she wasn't alone. She was backed by a large – if invisible – team. Kings Heath carrying out surveillance. The boffins ready to plant all sorts of extraordinary electronic equipment. Her colleagues from central Birmingham – yes, she felt safer now Graham was back in charge. So stop gripping the wheel as if you were on a white-knuckle ride!

When she got to the Manse Maz and Giles were just getting into their car. Feeling a heel, she parked and ran over: ‘Not a very long weekend,' she said.

‘Meeting overran,' Maz said. ‘You know how they do. Anyway, we're off!' She cupped her ear. ‘I can hear that jacuzzi calling from here. Drive on, Macduff!'

The cluster on the steps did not include Lynn.

‘She's off at a friend's,' Tim said airily. ‘Sleeping over.'

‘You mean she won't be back to watch the game tomorrow? But I was relying on you all! You'll be there, Paul? And Jenny? Tim?'

‘I was thinking of taking them out for the day,' Paul said, scooping them back into the house.

‘Hell! Tell you what, you couldn't postpone it till Sunday? We really are hoping for a decent result. Young Marcus is coming on by leaps and bounds. You can't all let us down!'

‘Does it really make a difference?' Tim asked. ‘Do you think it's time we switched the central heating on? Dad said we could.'

‘It really does make a difference. Like putting the heating on!'

‘I want to go,' said Jenny. ‘And I'll bring Wol too. He's wise. He'll help.'

‘You're too big for toys,' Tim said over his shoulder. ‘I'm going to switch on the heating.'

‘D'you think there's any point? I was going to take you all out for burgers,' Kate said.

‘BSE and rainforests,' Tim said, stopping short. ‘But there's a lovely pizza place in Harborne. We'd have to book.'

‘I was going to cook one of my specials,' Paul said. ‘Steak –'

‘Won't that have BSE?' Kate asked, conscious of her lack of logic.

‘I go to this organic butcher.'

‘Pizza! Pizza! Don't want to go mad!' Tim yelled, putting hands to his head for horns and charging around. Jenny joined in.

‘So we have steak tomorrow. With chips and onions,' Kate said.

‘And I'll make some of my own ice cream.'

‘I suppose you two will want wine,' Tim said.

‘What do you and Jenny have if we do?'

‘We have wine too! Wine too!' Jenny declared. ‘With fizz.'

‘Soda water,' Tim explained.

‘Wine and water it shall be,' Kate said.

‘Sounds like a wedding in Cana,' Paul agreed.

Kate had persuaded the children into bed by promising a small but valuable prize to whichever was undressed, washed and in bed first. Without assistance from either grown-up, she had added, as if it were an afterthought, not something she'd been taxing her brain over for the best part of the evening. She and Paul had declared a dead heat – two small but valuable prizes coming up! – and together kissed the children goodnight. There was no sign anywhere that Kate's colleagues might have been busy. But she would bet her teeth they had.

Paul had poured a couple of glasses of wine and retired to the living room when she came down from the bathroom. He was squatting by the CD player, going through the small collection beside it.

‘English string music OK for you?' He flourished a double album. ‘There's not much choice. They only had the player last Christmas. We all chipped in – all the family, that is. Maz loves music, but she hardly gets a chance to hear any – what with the kids and the cost. I mean, some of the Symphony Hall prices are absurd.'

Kate nodded. She wasn't sure of his mood. She hoped it wasn't romantic. She prowled round looking at books till he sat down. Then she came to rest facing him. She gestured with the wine glass: ‘Cheers!'

He responded, almost absently, then slumped back in his chair. ‘You were really good with those kids,' he said.

‘It was a lovely evening all round,' she said. ‘They obviously think the world of you, Paul.'

‘I love them more than I can say. They are all the world to me. I wish they were mine.' He drank slowly. ‘I just haven't met the right woman, I suppose. One I could care for and who could return my feelings. It's always been unrequited love, one way or the other. I mean – you know how attractive I find you, but you're still grieving for – for –'

‘For Robin,' she agreed quietly. She nodded as if she understood what he was saying. It sounded so right, so honest and truthful. If it hadn't been for the business of the folders, she might have believed him. Perhaps she still should. She drank too.

‘I'd die for them, you know. Literally die. And yet they're growing up and they won't want me any more.'

‘They will. In a different way. But just as much. It must be hard, growing up in a Manse – all these people popping in and out. Your parents public property. God's property, come to think of it. All the congregation expecting you to be somehow “gooder” than your friends and contemporaries. Imagine being caught puffing your first spliff!'

‘“Spliff”?' He sat upright. ‘Surely you never smoked cannabis, Kate?'

‘At Uni I did – didn't you?'

‘Never!'

No, he was too busy being good, no doubt. And maybe buggering little boys. ‘See what I mean? A bit of honest, decent law-breaking in your teens can have a lot to commend it. And it might become an absolute necessity if your dad's a clergyman. Which is where you'd come in. The non-judgmental shoulder to cry on when it all goes pear-shaped.'

‘I could never encourage them to do anything like that.'

‘Not encourage. Just understand.'

He frowned into his drink.

So how could a man with such morals do what she thought he was doing? She too frowned into her wine. The music played on.

‘Please, Uncle Paul, please,
please
, PLEASE!' Jenny held on to his hand, swinging it from side to side. ‘Please say yes! A sleep-over!'

Jenny had met her best friend, her very best friend, at the playing fields, where, on a fine mild morning, Brayfield Road were trailing three-one.

‘I'm cooking your very favourite dinner tonight,' Paul objected. ‘Why don't you stay till six o'clock and then come home? Yes, Marcus! Yes!'

The joys of surrogate parenthood, Kate thought with dour amusement. Robin's kids had been just the same. Robin had always been hurt that they didn't want to spend whole weekends with him and Kate; Kate had always tried to remind him that kids had social lives too. They'd had rows about it. ‘Yes, Marcus! Shoot!'

Three-two! That was better.

‘None of your friends here today,' Paul observed.

‘They'll still be up to their elbows in your files,' she said, carefree as if he hadn't tried to get rid of the important ones. She could see them toiling away, and felt momentarily guilty. But her job was just as important as theirs – more! – and a good deal more delicate. And now a good deal more difficult. With the family splitting up, it would be really tricky if Paul had the nous to play on Tim's vanity and suggest they go off and do manly things together.

No. However evil he might be, Paul would never harm Tim. Not his own flesh and blood. Not someone he loved as much as he loved Tim. Unbidden – and she found herself shuddering – came the memory of Cope crying the night Darren had been killed.

She hadn't mentioned her fears – scarcely even suspicions – to anyone. Not even Graham. There was the business of the incomplete file to explore.
Could
Cope be bent? Could he?

There was a flurry in Halesowen's goal-mouth. She'd no idea what had led up to it. But Marcus was in there somewhere! And on the ground!

‘Foul!' A pity Cope wasn't here with his stentorian yells. But the ref had got the message, and blew for a penalty. And Marcus, dusting himself down, was preparing to take it. It didn't make sense. He'd be shaken. It would be better for someone else to take it. She didn't know which would be worse, absolute silence or the chorus of ‘Come on, Marcus!' from the touchline.

Cool as a pro, Marcus re-adjusted the ball to his liking, ran, and kicked. And as accurately!

Yes!

It was too much to hope for another. There were only five more minutes to go, and Brayfield always flagged with fatigue at the end. But it was as if someone had switched them on to overdrive – they brought the ball back effortlessly into the opposition's penalty area, and won a corner. They'd been through this scenario with her at practice. Marcus was to stay in the middle, Martin to take the kick. So what the hell were they playing at now? What was tubby little Leo up to?

Kicking like an angel, that's what!

But it was too high, too high! She'd give him clever stuff when she saw him. But there was Marcus, jumping like a young gazelle, and heading it home, sweet as if they'd rehearsed it a hundred times.

Three minutes, and still Brayfield were swarming round the opposition goal. You couldn't pray for something like another goal, could you? Could you? If she couldn't, Kate could still will them through. Another. Another. Please. She was running to get closer. And then she realised they all were, all the parents and brothers and hangers-on. All that will-power concentrated on those young feet.

It worked. Young Marcus again, with a touch like silk.

She was hugging Tim and Jenny and even Paul. Certainly young Marcus the minute he came off the field. And suddenly she found she was hugging Graham. Graham!

‘Just popped round for the last couple of minutes. And what do I get? Two smashing goals. Well done, lad.' He'd pulled away from her and was patting Marcus on the back.

They all surged back to the pitiful apology for a pavilion, Graham and Kate in the midst of the yelling, sweaty kids. Paul too.

‘Tell me,' he called across the bobbing heads, ‘have you found what you were looking for, Graham?'

‘Needle in a haystack time,' Graham smiled affably. ‘But we usually find what we're looking for. Sooner or later.' His smile and voice were sociable but surely no one could have missed the implicit threat. ‘Are you and Kate going to celebrate?'

‘With Tim,' Kate said quickly. ‘Jenny here's going to her best friend. But you will be back for six, won't you, love?' She smiled across her head to the best friend's mother. ‘Paul and I are cooking a special dinner.'

‘We're going to have fizzy wine,' Jenny added.

‘And what are you all doing this afternoon?'

Kate almost saw the idea coming into her head. ‘Let's go on a train!' she said. ‘On a real steam train. How about that, Tim? My treat. Though I shan't have time to make my special ice cream.'

‘We can get some from Sainsbury's,' he said, irrefutably.

She was aware of Graham listening in silence to all that was being said. She'd have his approval, she was sure of that. What she wanted was two minutes' conversation with him. That was all. Two.

‘I'll go in there and keep some sort of order,' Paul announced, heading into the pavilion.

Over Tim's head, Graham looked at her, his face exuding angry amusement. She pulled a similar face back. ‘Everything's set up,' he said. ‘Took a lot of talking: money, cost centres, ethics – I've been through the lot with the management. Gordon took an enormous amount of persuading. You don't half owe me, Kate!'

‘Yes, Gaffer!' She returned his smile. ‘How's the rest of the business?'

‘Kings Heath surveillance has thrown up a very nasty development – hell!'

Paul was coming out.

‘Forgot his camera,' Graham muttered.