Finally the prison officers took control and brought the show to a close. Leanne was taken down from the table top and led away and Miss Johnson brought the diary over to Tina and put it in her hands.
‘Thank you, Miss,’ said Jackie.
‘Jackie, take Tina back to her cell. You know you’ll all be on lockdown for this, don’t you?’ Jackie nodded and Miss Johnson squeezed Tina’s arm. ‘Don’t take what Leanne did to heart, pet. It’ll all be forgotten by the end of the week, it’ll be somebody else’s turn to get talked about.’
Tina choked back a sob. ‘Yes, Miss.’
Later that evening, Jackie caused a commotion in her cell to get the attention of the officers on the night shift. ‘Please,’ she begged them when they opened the door and rushed in. ‘Check on Tina next door. I could hear her sobbing earlier, but she’s been quiet for ages now.’
‘Probably cried herself to sleep,’ said one of the officers, as shouting broke out on the wing. ‘Not that anybody’s asleep now, thanks to you.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m worried—’
‘Help! I need some help in here!’
The officer dashed out of Jackie’s cell and Jackie followed. ‘Oh no, pet,’ she said sadly as she saw one officer take Tina’s weight as the other worked on the knots tying her dressing gown belt to the window bars. Within minutes medical staff were working on Tina, trying to resuscitate her, then she was taken away to hospital in an ambulance. Jackie had no idea if the girl was alive or dead.
It wasn’t the first time a woman on the wing had tried to kill herself and if Tina had succeeded, she wouldn’t be the first to do that, either. And while Jackie had got used to many things during her time in prison: the lack of privacy, the loss of identity, the casual cruelty some people showed, the mind-numbing banality of the days that could cause otherwise compassionate women to bray and howl with laughter at a young woman’s private thoughts laid bare by betrayal, she had never got used to the suicides. Sick at heart, she buried her head under the covers to deaden the sound of the shouting and prayed for morning.
***
On the day of Tina’s humiliation, Ruth pointed her car in the direction of Karen Fitzgerald’s house and used the spare key she still had to let herself in. She didn’t know what she hoped to see or find, but she missed her friend, was fearful for her wellbeing, and needed to feel close to her.
She shut the front door behind her and walked through the living room to the kitchen, where she put the kettle on. There’d be no milk, but she knew from previous visits there was coffee in the cupboard. As the kettle boiled, she reached out to the draining board for a mug, then stopped. The draining board was clear, and yet she and Rob had left mugs and plates to dry. Looking around, she could see that the place had been cleaned and reckoned Karen’s sister must have done it, probably needing, like Ruth, to feel close to Karen in some way. She made a cup of coffee and put it on the kitchen table to cool while she walked through the small house. She went upstairs, into the bathroom. The porcelain sparkled, further evidence of Karen’s sister’s hard work. Standing in the spare bedroom where she had stayed after nights out, or nights in for that matter, Ruth had a very strong sense of Karen Fitzgerald: laughing, drinking, joking, then there was her tenacity when it came to a case, her refusal to be beaten by anything, to fail to complete whatever she started. Ruth hoped it augured well for her friend’s survival.
The atmosphere at the station was alternately hopeful and despondent, depending on how people felt the investigation was progressing. Karen was a popular member of the team, although they would have moved heaven and earth to find her even had she not been, that was how it worked. You were ‘job’, you were family, and family looked out for their own. Ruth wondered if they were all that different from the churchgoers after all, since that was how they seemed to operate, too. They all had a faith, a sense of loyalty and duty, it was just that the focus was different.
Catching the scent of coffee on the still air of the house, Ruth moved into Karen’s room. The middle dresser drawer was slightly open, as was the wardrobe door. Ruth closed the wardrobe first, then pushed the drawer to. Turning to leave, she noticed that the back of the door was bare. The hook where Karen’s dressing gown usually hung was empty. Ruth wondered if that was the work of Karen’s sister again – what was her name? She couldn’t remember. Then on a whim she pulled open the drawer she had just shut. It was empty. She tried the ones above and below and found them to be the same. Heading downstairs, she saw that there was no post on the mat or on the hall table. Pulling her phone out, she rang Karen Fitzgerald’s mother.
***
‘It must be them, sir. Karen’s family confirm that they haven’t been near the place, and yet it’s clean, tidy, the post has been picked up and more of her things are gone.’
‘Get somebody over there to dust for prints. I doubt there’ll be any, but let’s not be careless here. I’ll organise surveillance, but in the meantime, can you and Winter keep an eye?’
Ruth nodded. ‘On my way.’
***
‘Well, that was stupid.’ Penny looked at Tina with ill-disguised irritation. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
‘I wasn’t thinking, Mum.’ It was the day after her suicide attempt and Tina was in considerable discomfort. She found it hard to talk. She was in a private room at the hospital and would be moved back to Weardale next day.
‘This had better be the last time you try this. My nerves can’t take it. I’m on tablets—’
‘I’m sorry, Mum. It won’t happen again.’ Tina’s voice was hoarse and faint, her neck sore from having the belt from her dressing gown around it. The doctor had said she was lucky it hadn’t been a cord. She most likely would not have survived had that been the case.
‘I hope you mean that.’ Penny fidgeted in her seat. She took a packet of cigarettes out of her bag, opened it and took one out, then put it back again. She stood up. ‘Can I get you anything from the shop?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Well, I won’t be long.’ She left the room for the second time since her arrival and Tina heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her mother travelling from Liverpool or that she wasn’t pleased to see her, she just had so little energy left for anything other than her own recovery.
Tina was again pleased she’d been found, pleased to have survived. Her attempt hadn’t been a cry for help, she really had been serious about wanting to die after Leanne’s performance, but she had since realised that was a knee-jerk reaction. People coped with far worse than a bit of public humiliation in front of people she most likely would never see again after a month or so. She could deal with it. She remembered the lesson she had learned earlier: let enough time pass and things came right. She had lost sight of that and reacted in the moment. She looked up as the door opened, thinking that Penny had been unusually quick to return.
‘Adam,’ she exclaimed, surprised and pleased to see him. ‘How on earth …?’
‘I was due to visit today, remember? I got a phone call telling me what had happened and I was desperate to see you. I managed to persuade the wing governor to let me visit you here.’ He looked around the room. ‘I thought your mum was with you?’
‘She’s gone out for a cigarette.’
‘Wow, you’d think she’d make the most of your time together.’ He moved closer to the bed. ‘Oh, poor you,’ he said, taking in the drip and the bandages. Tina’s hand lay on top of the bedspread and Adam covered it with his. ‘I wish you’d called me,’ he said. ‘You can, anytime, day or night.’
‘I didn’t like to.’
Adam took hold of Tina’s hand, gave her fingers a squeeze. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Tina. I care about you. You’re precious to me.’ He brushed a tear from her cheek then raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
‘Who are you?’ Penny asked, coming back into the room and seeing them together.
Adam laid Tina’s hand back on top of the covers. ‘You must be Mrs Snowdon,’ he said, standing and holding out his hand. ‘I’m Adam Masters, I’m Tina’s friend.’
Penny shook his hand more out of habit than anything else. ‘I’ve never seen you before. She’s been locked up in a women’s prison for years. So how did she meet you?’
‘I’m a volunteer prison visitor,’ Adam said, giving Penny his best smile. ‘But more than that, Tina and I have become good friends.’
‘I see. Well, it’s probably a good thing you’re here. I have to go now and the company will be good for her.’ Penny went over to the bed and pecked her daughter on the forehead. ‘I’ll call you when I can,’ she told Tina.
‘Thanks for coming, Mum,’ said Tina. She took hold of her mother’s arm. ‘Mum, I get out soon.’
‘I know, dear,’ said Penny.
‘Well, where will I go?’
‘You’ll find somewhere. The prison said they’ll help you get sorted. Maybe a little flat or a bedsit. I can give you some money.’
‘Can’t I come to you, Mum? You and James?’
‘Get that out of your head, Tina, it can’t happen.’ Penny looked at Adam. ‘I see what you’re doing, trying to embarrass me in front of your friend, but it simply won’t work. “No” means “no” in this case.’ She looked down at her daughter’s stricken face. ‘You’ll be okay, you’re strong.’ She buttoned up her coat. ‘I’ll visit you when I can. And there’s Ruth, she’ll help.’
By now, all Tina just wanted was for her mother to leave. ‘You’re right, Mum,’ she said, ‘I’ll be fine. You go now, before the traffic gets too bad.’
Penny took a step away from the bad. ‘Right, good thinking. Take care.’ She turned to Adam. ‘Nice to meet you, Aidan.’ Then she was gone.
Adam sat on the edge of the bed and held Tina until the tears stopped. Her throat was raw and crying just made it worse. When she was quieter, Adam took her face in his hands. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he said. ‘You’re not on your own. You have me, now, and I’m going to find you somewhere to stay when you’re released.’
‘How?’
‘The church has somewhere that will be just perfect. We’ll organise it so that you come to us. You’ll be safe and cared for.’ He smiled at her. ‘And loved,’ he added, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek.
***
That evening, Ruth visited Tina. She turned up with chocolate and magazines and couldn’t help remembering the visit to Tina she’d made with Karen Fitzgerald after her previous suicide attempt.
‘I won’t do it again,’ Tina promised.
‘Oh, I hope you mean that, Tina,’ Ruth said, hugging the girl. She looked so small and vulnerable, bandaged, tubes going in and coming out again.
‘Is there any news about Karen?’ she asked, her mind going back to the previous time, too.
Ruth plonked down in a chair, took in a breath and blew it out. She was exhausted. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’m here this evening and not this afternoon, as I’d planned,’ she told Tina. ‘We’ve been keeping an eye on Karen’s house and we caught a couple of kids going in.’
‘Who are they?’
‘They’re from the church.’
‘Mr Cotter’s church?’
Ruth nodded. ‘That’s the one.’
‘What’ll happen to them?’
‘Right now, I’m not sure.’
‘Will they go to prison?’ Tina asked.
‘No, love, I shouldn’t think so. Unless we can prove they’re involved in Karen’s disappearance, all they did was let themselves into her house with some keys they claim they found, after which they took a couple of paperback books. What did your mum have to say for herself?’
‘Oh, not much. I was surprised she came, to be honest. I think she was shamed into it.’
‘Did you discuss your release with her?’
Tina picked at the bedcover. ‘She doesn’t want me messing up her life, Ruth,’ she said, eventually, then she looked up and met Ruth’s eyes. ‘But I’ve got somewhere to go. My prison visitor, Adam, knows of a place for young people where I’ll be welcome. He’s putting things in motion for me to be able to go there.’
‘Well, that sounds promising,’ said Ruth. ‘Let me know how it all works out, won’t you.’
***
On the drive home, Ruth thought about the youngsters that had been caught in Karen Fitzgerald’s house. Cheeky little beggars had shown up with a key, strolled up the path and let themselves in through the front door. The surveillance team had given them five minutes then gone in after them, caught them looking through Karen’s bookshelves, a couple of paperbacks already stashed in the younger lad’s backpack.
The older lad had handled things reasonably well, but the younger one had got the fright of his life. By the time they’d been bundled into a car and driven to the police station he was white and shaking.
‘Not a career criminal, then,’ Rob Winter had observed as they watched the duty officer process the lads.
Ruth had snorted. ‘No, but you’ll never guess whose name has already been mentioned?’
‘John Surtees?’
‘Close. Jason Christopher. They were whispering about him in the car on the way over here. Now we need to get them to name him in the interview, then we can pull him in.’
‘That should make DSI Hardcastle happy.’
‘What should make DSI Hardcastle happy?’
Ruth turned to see Hardcastle standing there. ‘Oh, hello, sir.’ She filled him in on what she knew.