Ruthless (16 page)

The pub was warm and not too busy. Janet and Rachel got seats in one of the old-fashioned booths, benches with wooden panelling and frosted glass above which afforded them some privacy.

Rachel went for drinks. Janet asked for a double gin and tonic. She closed her eyes for a moment, images from the last twenty-four hours crowding in her head, the shocked tableau of youngsters at the party, Olivia on the stretcher, Elise sobbing when she learned about the death, Vivien alternately bewildered and frantic.

‘Where did you get the drugs?’ Janet had asked Elise when they got home from the hospital. Ade there, looking thunderstruck.

Elise had tugged at her hair, stalling.

Janet waited. Something she was used to, practised in. One of the tools of her trade as an interviewer. Patience, silence.

Ade opened his mouth to speak, Janet moved her hand, don’t.

‘This girl came to the party, she had them. She went round seeing what people wanted, I wasn’t that bothered but …’

‘Go on,’ Janet said gently.

‘Olivia really wanted to try something. She wanted me to buy some Ecstasy.’

‘You bought them?’ Janet said.

‘I had the taxi money,’ she said in a small voice. For the mythical taxi home. Except they’d intended staying out all night. And Olivia wouldn’t have had extra cash with her parents unaware of the party plan.

‘I wasn’t sure about it,’ Elise said, ‘but the girl said she’d got some Paradise. Legal. It would be like taking an E.’

Ade’s face drained as he heard the casual reference. Janet shot him a warning look.

‘It was legal,’ she said, ‘that’s why we picked it.’

‘It was bloody stupid,’ Ade growled, ‘that’s what it was.’

‘I know that now!’ Elise cried. ‘But Olivia was so … she really wanted to take something and everybody else was.’

‘Who was this girl?’ said Janet.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.’

‘Not in school?’

‘No.’

‘Was she there when Olivia got sick?’ Janet said. ‘No, she went, she wasn’t there long, just while she was selling things. Will they arrest me?’ She looked terrified, fists clenched together, mouth wide with panic. Shaking.

‘No,’ Janet said. She had moved closer and held her daughter by the shoulders. ‘But they will want to talk to you and you must tell them everything, OK?’

‘Bought you some crisps,’ Rachel said, breaking Janet’s train of thought. ‘Keep your strength up.’

‘They’ll do the job,’ Janet said sarkily.

‘Be grateful,’ Rachel said, ‘or I’ll eat them.’ She studied her friend. ‘Do they know what she took?’

‘Not yet, probably some variant on meow meow. Elise described it as a small white tablet with a palm tree on, called Paradise. Sound familiar?’

Rachel nodded. ‘Like we found at the Perrys’. Town’s awash with it, according to the drug squad, it’s new on the scene.’

‘She kept saying it’s legal. I said to her so’s bleach and caustic soda and ground glass – it doesn’t mean it’s safe. They’d have been safer with something illegal. At least people know what to look out for, how to deal with it, and if there’s a dodgy batch around word gets out.’

‘Elise took it too?’

‘Yeah, she felt weird,’ she said, ‘but you would, wouldn’t you, when your mate—’ Sudden tears robbed her of speech. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually.

‘Don’t be daft,’ Rachel chided.

‘What’s so awful is there is nothing, nothing Elise can do to make it right. It’s final. And she’ll have to live with that for the rest of her life.’

‘It wasn’t her fault though,’ Rachel said.

‘She lied—’

‘Yes, but she didn’t force Olivia to take the stuff, did she?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘She’d no idea it’d cause any harm, or she’d not have taken it herself,’ Rachel said.

‘OK,’ Janet agreed.

‘She got help as soon as she could, yes?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘So, it was an accident, you have to tell her that. How could she have known? No one could,’ Rachel said.

‘She’s so hard on other people, she’ll be the same with herself.’

‘Can’t think where she gets that from,’ Rachel said.

Janet put her glass down. ‘I’m not hard.’

‘Sure you are. Principled, you’d call it, conscientious.’

‘Fair-minded, maybe,’ Janet countered.

‘If you like. Keep my seat warm.’

Janet watched Rachel head off for a smoke. She was right. Horrible and tragic though Olivia’s death was, it was an accident, but Janet didn’t know how on earth she’d get Elise to accept that. Dorothy wasn’t helping matters. She regarded drug use with the same unreserved horror others might have for bestiality or cannibalism.

‘It’s part of the landscape,’ Janet tried to tell her. ‘Everyone who tries it doesn’t end up addicted to crack cocaine or turning tricks to fund a heroin habit.’

‘Some will,’ her mother had retorted. ‘You never messed about with drugs, did you?’

‘Only Librium and Mogadon,’ Janet said dryly.

‘Don’t be flip,’ Dorothy said. ‘You were ill. I mean for kicks.’

‘No, Mum, but these days I’d be a rare exception.’

Ade hadn’t said much at all up to that point but he chipped in, ‘She needs to take responsibility for her actions.’

‘How exactly?’ Janet demanded. ‘She’s torn apart with guilt, she’s lost her best friend. How does she take responsibility for that?’

He had evaded the question, he was blustering, and she saw that. He was worried for Elise, felt terrible about Olivia, but he didn’t know how to deal with it so he was talking rubbish. ‘I never wanted her to go in the first place.’

‘She’s too young,’ Dorothy had said.

‘We’re not doing this,’ Janet had said. ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing but it gets us absolutely nowhere. They went. It happened.’ Any further discussion was postponed by the arrival of Taisie, who had been sitting with Elise in a rare show of sisterliness.

Now Rachel came back into the pub smelling of cold air and tobacco smoke.

‘Has she been interviewed?’ she asked.

‘In the morning,’ Janet said.

‘It’s a lead story.’ Rachel showed Janet her phone. The tabloid headline:
LEGAL AND LETHAL. OLIVIA’S TRAGIC DEATH
.

Janet looked at the photo, the face she’d known so well. It wasn’t fair. That poor girl. Oh God. ‘Tell me about work, tell me something else, distract me.’

‘You don’t want to go back home?’

‘One more.’ Janet drained her glass.

‘Sure?’ Rachel stood up.

Janet nodded. Gestured to Rachel’s phone. ‘Can I? Mine’s charging.’

‘Course.’

She bent her head and began to read, gritting her teeth together, determined not to cry.

Dave’s mother answered the phone to Gill and went to fetch Dave without bothering to make any small talk.

The night before Gill had spoken to Sammy about his dad, tried to tread a careful line, not wanting to slag Dave off but needing to explain to Sammy that his father’s drinking was out of control.

‘How did he seem these last few visits?’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Why?’

‘He’s drinking more than he should be. Drinking in the day too. If you find him like that – well … He needs some help.’

‘What, like rehab?’

‘Yes,’ Gill said.

Sammy nodded.

‘You’re not surprised?’

He wrinkled his nose. A look in his eyes. Guilt? ‘What?’ she said.

‘Last time, he was off his face,’ Sammy said. ‘I went round and he was crying and apologizing and talking about how he’d messed everything up. So I left and went round to Orla’s instead. Dad didn’t rearrange on Thursday, I just didn’t go. I couldn’t face it.’

‘Oh, Sammy, why didn’t you say?’

‘I don’t know.’ He gave a sigh. ‘It creeped me out.’

‘Look, you don’t have to put up with that, nobody does.’ She could imagine how distressing Sammy would’ve found it. His father sobbing and sentimental, full of self-pity and theatrics.

‘I’ll tell him you won’t be seeing him again until he’s straightened himself out if that’s what you want?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Are you OK?’

Oh, you lovely, lovely boy
. ‘Course I am,’ she said. She could see the man he was becoming, not just his father’s son or hers but his own person. See how the disaffection of the last couple of years was being replaced by engagement now he’d found something he wanted to do. Happy with Orla too. She was so proud of him. And she would not let Dave undermine all this. If it meant keeping them apart then so be it.

‘Dave, I’m coming round, OK?’

‘Sure, yeah.’

She couldn’t tell if he was sober or not. ‘About half an hour. See you then.’

‘We could go out,’ the first thing he said when he answered the door.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Gill said, stepping inside.

They went into the living room. There was no sign of Dave’s mother, which was a relief; the conversation Gill intended to have was best conducted in private.

‘You want a drink?’

Seriously?
‘No,’ she said, sitting in an armchair. He sat in the other one. His eyes were slightly bloodshot but he had shaved, and she could smell aftershave. Sprucing himself up for her?

The room was tidy enough, no bottles or glasses half drunk.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘about yesterday, your office.’

‘You remember, do you?’

He stopped, disconcerted, but ignored her question. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘You’ve no way of knowing that.’

‘You have my word,’ he said, palm open, begging her to believe him.

‘Worth precisely nothing,’ she said.

He coloured. ‘If you came here to insult me—’

‘I came here to talk some sense into you. Your drinking is out of control, you are risking your job, your livelihood, never mind your health.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ he said, ‘it’s just been a rough patch.’

‘Hasn’t anybody said anything at work?’

‘I’ve a week’s leave.’

‘So what – this is your holiday? The lost weekend writ large? The bender of a lifetime? You need help.’

There was a pause. Dave stared at her, jaw working, temper in his eyes, then his expression softened. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ve made a mess of things – you, Sammy, Emma, the little one. I know I’ve let everybody down.’ He took a breath. ‘It was a mistake, Gill, leaving you. But I think if you and Sammy, if we could just try again—’

Aw fuck no
. ‘Stop there,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to waste my breath explaining to you all the many, many reasons why that is not going to happen. But it is never going to happen. It is over. Dead.’
How many times?

His mouth tightened. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’

‘I’m here because whatever else you are, you are still Sammy’s dad and I don’t want you to chuck that away.’

‘I’m not chucking anything away.’

‘Dave, he doesn’t want to see you. You get pissed and emotional and it freaks him out.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about—’

‘He told me.’ She fought to keep her voice level. ‘You have a problem, accept it, and deal with it. You won’t see him until you do.’

‘You’re giving me a fucking ultimatum!’ He stood up, walked to the bay window, turned back to face her. ‘I can stop, I can cut down. You’re blowing it out of all proportion.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘How long before you fuck up at work and have that meeting with HR? How long before your mother kicks you out and you end up sleeping in some B&B?’

‘That’s never going to happen, I won’t let it happen,’ he insisted.

‘You won’t be able to stop it, not unless you stop drinking. This murder I’m working, that guy had a business, family, the works. He lost everything. He was living on the streets—’

‘That’s not me,’ he said.

‘Don’t be an idiot, Dave. You’re not that stupid. You’ve seen it happen, Willie Deason, Patrick Barker. Or what about Julia Dalloway?’ Officers they’d both known, two of them dead from drink-related illnesses, the third a recovering alcoholic, a dry drunk back on the job. ‘There’s a million excuses,’ she said, ‘boozy lunches, a snifter at sundown, something in the morning coffee, something to celebrate, to commiserate, a good day, tough day, take the edge off. I like a drink as much as the next person but you are drinking way too much. You’re off your face. Every day. Every time I see you.’

‘Look,’ he said angrily, ‘if you’ve said your piece—’

‘You pissed yourself,’ she said quietly.

He glanced down.
Oh, sweet Jesus
. ‘Not now. When you came to my office. You couldn’t stand, you fell over and you pissed your pants.’

He shut his eyes and walked back to the chair and sat down. He didn’t speak for long enough, his gaze lowered so she could not read it, and when he finally looked up she saw tears in his eyes. Gill’s stomach flipped over. Her instinct was to go to him, comfort him, but she knew that would be dangerous and could be misconstrued. Used to buoy up Dave’s fantasy of a second chance with her.

‘It’s all shit,’ he said gruffly.

‘That’s the booze talking,’ she said. ‘Sort it, Dave, AA, rehab, whatever you decide but don’t get in touch until you have. I mean it.’

He glanced at her then away, the tension in him gone, and an air of defeat in its place.

She left him sitting there. She could not judge whether anything she’d said had sunk in. Had no idea whether he’d heard the wake-up call or whether he had further to fall before he acknowledged his addiction and took action towards recovery.

Day 5

Monday 14 May

16

Gill was dreaming, more of a nightmare than a dream. Dave had moved back in with her, bringing the whore of Pendlebury and her spawn, and Gill was having to sleep on the sofa while they took the master bedroom. The smoke alarm was beeping but Gill couldn’t find it. She ran upstairs and down again, Dave shouting at her to turn the bloody thing off but she couldn’t see it. They’d all die in their beds. She came awake to find her phone ringing, the middle of the night. She picked it up. Trevor Hyatt, the fire investigation officer.

‘Trevor?’

‘Sorry to be so early but I knew you’d want to hear.’