Written in Blood Read online

  ‘Charles disapproved?’

  ‘It wasn’t so much that. It was more that he had plans for Geoffrey. Charles was a frustrated politician, though he’d never pursued his ambition further than the local council, and when Geoffrey expressed an interest early on Charles seized on it. He wanted Geoffrey to have the best possible chance of success, and having to support a wife and child so young would not have helped.’

  ‘He married six years later.’

  ‘Those years made a world of difference. I know that’s probably hard for you to believe, and I’ll understand if you choose not to, after all, there’s absolutely no reason why you should trust the somewhat biased opinion of a stranger. But that was really the way it was. Your mother was a remarkable young woman and wholly unselfish. She knew that Geoffrey had a promising career ahead of him. Geoffrey was only nineteen and still at university when you were conceived, and while he and your mother had a certain fondness for one another, neither pretended to be in love. I hope that in time you can come to accept it as the truth.’

  What she said rang true with what Mariner had read. ‘There were some letters, from my mother to Sir Geoffrey,’ he said. ‘They convey more or less the same thing. And it makes sense of what I know. I never remember Rose being bitter about our situation. I suppose I’d always thought that she’d had time to get used to it, but if she had harboured resentment I’m sure it would have emerged somehow.’

  ‘Your mother was a pragmatist, ahead of her time.’

  ‘You said “was”, so you know that she died last year.’

  ‘Geoffrey told me. He saw an announcement in The Times.’

  So he had seen it. ‘I put it there in the hope that he might show up.’

  ‘He almost did. He was devastated by the news. But he and Diana were having problems. Diana was unwell again; the past coming back to haunt them in other ways, so he didn’t feel that he could. Did your mother marry?’

  ‘No. She stayed single.’

  ‘These days of course no one would bat an eyelid at your situation, but it must have been hard for both of you.’

  Sympathy wasn’t what Mariner had been expecting and he was touched. ‘It’s had its moments,’ he said. ‘It got more difficult as I got older. Our relationship became very intense and I left home when I was seventeen because I couldn’t stand it any more. There were a lot of years when my mother and I weren’t close.’ Mariner rarely spoke about any of this to anyone and it surprised him that it surfaced so easily.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Eleanor Ryland said. She paused. ‘I know you must have a poor opinion of your father, but it would be a mistake to think that Geoffrey didn’t care for you or think about you,’ she said. ‘The lack of contact was as much your mother’s decision as his. He used to visit you occasionally when you were young, but when he married Diana—’

  Mariner nodded. ‘One of Rose’s letters to him is quite explicit. Diana didn’t know about me?’

  ‘No. Geoffrey could never have told her, she wouldn’t have coped. But your mother kept him informed for years and sent him pictures. He would bring them to show to me.’ Her eyes filled up. ‘I would have so much liked to have seen you before, my only grandchild. But the decisions had been made and we had to be strong.’

  The good old British stiff upper lip, thought Mariner, realising for the first time that he and Rose weren’t the only ones to have missed out for all those years.

  ‘The photographs were what gave it away,’ Mariner said. ‘DI Flynn came across them, along with some of my mother’s letters and some cuttings. Fortunately we’re old friends, so for the time being the matter has stayed between us.’

  ‘Strangely enough Geoffrey spoke about you only recently. It was the first time since your mother’s death. He was writing his memoirs again, which always stirred up long forgotten feelings. It crossed my mind that he might be planning to contact you.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘A few weeks before Christmas.’

  ‘And when was the last time you saw Sir Geoffrey?’ Mariner was still a long way off thinking of Ryland as bearing any relation to him.

  ‘Two weeks before he died.’

  ‘And how did he seem?’

  She smiled. ‘Once a detective always a detective, eh?’

  ‘It’s a tough habit to break. Was anything troubling him?’

  ‘I keep thinking about that of course. Diana hadn’t been well. She was always emotionally vulnerable. She had one of those terrible depressive illnesses that comes and goes and had been going through a bad patch again. And you would know more than most what a politically sensitive field Geoffrey worked in. He was always under pressure at work.’

  ‘It’s a difficult job.’

  ‘Yes. Geoffrey knew that creating the Commission was politically the right thing to do, but once there it was impossible to keep everyone happy. The great British public wants to see justice served and overturning wrongful convictions is popular, but not with the Crown Prosecution Service, nor, would I imagine, you and your colleagues.’

  ‘Nobody wants to see innocent people convicted.’

  ‘It doesn’t make your work any easier though, does it? Geoffrey was always aware of that tension.’

  ‘Every time there’s a high profile miscarriage case, it undermines public confidence in the whole judicial system. Was there anyone in particular he’d upset recently?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘That I don’t know. He never went into detail. I expect he thought I wouldn’t understand.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘These are the ravings of a decrepit old woman. You shouldn’t take much notice of me.’

  ‘Did you talk to the police about it?’

  ‘There was nothing specific to tell.’ It was too vague. She was right about that.

  Mariner heard the front door slam and moments later a light knock preceded a young woman with a cloud of permed hair. ‘Would you like some tea, Mrs Ryland?’ she asked, cheerfully, taking in Mariner’s presence.

  ‘That would be lovely, Janet.’ As Janet disappeared, Eleanor turned back to Mariner. ‘Janet comes in to cook for me every evening, except for the weekends when she leaves something ready prepared.’

  Minutes later the woman returned with tea and pastries on a tray, which she placed on the table nearest to Eleanor. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’ Eleanor asked Mariner. ‘It will be no trouble and I’d like to get to know my only grandson better. After all, we have a few years to make up for, don’t we? It wouldn’t be any trouble would it, Janet?’

  ‘Not at all, Mrs Ryland. It’ll make a nice change to feed someone with a healthy appetite.’ With a parting smile, she closed the door behind her.

  ‘Janet thinks I don’t eat enough, but one’s appetite does diminish with old age. Can you stay?’

  ‘That would be very nice, thank you.’ Mariner reached over and took the bone china cup and saucer from her. ‘You’re here on your own the rest of the time, then?’

  ‘Well, besides Janet, I have Ralph who does the garden for me and once a week Millie comes to do some cleaning, so I don’t do too badly for company. And at the moment I have Nelson, too.’ The dog lifted an ear at the mention of his name. ‘Geoffrey used to say I was vulnerable out here in the wilds. But he worried too much.’

  ‘I could have a look round before I go,’ said Mariner. ‘There might be some quite simple things that we could do to make sure that you’re safe.’

  ‘Well, if you think it matters.’ She was humouring him.

  For dinner Mariner had expected something traditional - rack of lamb or roast beef - so when as they sat in the dining room in high backed chairs, the vegetarian moussaka with couscous came as quite a surprise.

  ‘I don’t eat out very often so Janet likes to ring the changes. I much prefer food cooked at home. Your father wasn’t a great fan of restaurants either, especially those awful new self-service ones.’

  Mariner hadn’t heard them called that for a while. ‘We have something in c
ommon then,’ he said. ‘What else didn’t he like?’

  ‘Liver,’ she chuckled, continuing the culinary theme. ‘Oh, and avocados. Diana was quite a conventional sort and he got to be quite particular. You don’t wear a ring. Are you married, with a family?’

  ‘No.’ Mariner hesitated. ‘But my partner Anna and I are thinking about it.’ It was the truth: they were thinking about it.

  ‘How wonderful! A great-grandchild.’

  ‘Geoffrey and Diana didn’t have children?’ Mariner hazarded, conscious that he might be on sensitive ground.

  ‘Only Nelson and his predecessors.’ At the sound of his name, the dog who had been patiently waiting beside Mariner, staring at the floor and hoping for scraps, immediately scurried round to Eleanor’s side. ‘I’m taking care of him for the moment but he’s really too much for me. I can’t give him the exercise he needs. He’ll have to be re-homed eventually but I couldn’t bring myself to do it just yet. It was one of the cruellest ironies that Geoffrey and Diana were unable to have children, and was something that affected Diana badly her whole life. I think children might have helped her to be less self-absorbed, provided more of a balance in her life. These days of course they could have had some kind of treatment I suppose, but at the time there was nothing that could be done. You must bring Anna to see me.’

  ‘She’s staying with friends near Hereford at the moment, but I will. She’d like that too.’

  After the meal, Janet brought them coffee. ‘I’ll just tidy up the kitchen and then I’ll be off, Mrs Ryland.’

  ‘Thank you, Janet. Lovely dinner again,’ Eleanor said. ‘She goes on to her job cooking at the pub,’ she told Mariner when Janet had gone. ‘I don’t know where she gets the energy.’

  ‘I should go too,’ said Mariner. ‘You look tired.’

  ‘One of the frustrations of advancing years,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll be out like a light and then awake again at four in the morning.’

  ‘I was going to check your security.’

  ‘Well, if you really think it’s necessary.’

  ‘It wouldn’t do any harm. Shall I?’

  ‘Yes, you carry on. I’ll finish my coffee.’

  It didn’t take Mariner long to check the front and back doors and the ground floor windows. The frames were old and some of the catches flimsy.

  ‘Is there anything I can help with?’ Janet came up behind him as he was testing a window. She looked a little less friendly now.

  ‘I’m just checking how secure the place is,’ said Mariner. ‘I’m a policeman.’ He wasn’t sure how much else Janet had overheard but he’d leave it Eleanor to tell her the rest.

  ‘Right.’

  But he had the impression that Janet’s suspicion wasn’t alleviated.

  ‘Have you ever considered having a burglar alarm?’ Mariner asked Eleanor as he was leaving.

  She was dismissive. ‘From time to time I get those people round here trying to sell them, but really it’s hardly necessary. There’s nothing much to take that’s worth anything.’

  Thieving wasn’t always what intruders had in mind, Mariner thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t want to frighten her.

  ‘I do hope you’ll come back to see me again, soon.’

  ‘I’ll bring Anna.’

  ‘Something to look forward to.’ She put out her bony arms and hugged him.

  Freezing fog on the motorway made driving north again slow and hazardous. From habit Mariner went back to his place where, despite the hour he found Bill Dyson unloading his car. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mariner said. ‘I didn’t know you were moving in today. I’ll try not to get in the way.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Dyson said, easily. You can give me a hand if you like.’ Though there wasn’t much to take upstairs.

  ‘How’s business?’ Mariner asked.

  Dyson’s mind was elsewhere. ‘Eh? Oh, coming on slowly. You Midlanders are uncommonly suspicious of folk from the north, and there’s plenty of competition. I may decide it’s not worth it after all.’

  ‘Not before the six month let is up, I hope.’

  Dyson smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get your pound of flesh. In fact I really like this place. Even if it doesn’t work out here, should you ever think of selling—’

  ‘It might yet happen.’ It appeared to be part of Anna’s long-term plan. ‘Actually I might have a customer for you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I just may need to work on her a bit more. She’s an elderly lady who doesn’t see the need just yet.’

  ‘I know the type.’ Dyson smiled. ‘Let me know when she’s ready. Oh, and thanks for those drawings you left out. They look interesting.’

  ‘No problem.’

  His possessions moved, Dyson retreated to the upstairs rooms and Mariner heard him moving around rearranging things. It was after ten but he phoned Anna’s mobile to check that she was okay. It was immediately cut off. He tried again but the same thing happened, then he remembered this from Anna’s previous visits. Becky and Mark lived in a low-lying area surrounded by hills and very often couldn’t get a signal. He risked ringing the land line hoping that he wouldn’t wake the whole household, but he needn’t have worried. The cocophony of banging, clattering and wailing wouldn’t have been out of place on the Somme.

  ‘It’s Megan playing,’ Anna said cheerfully.

  ‘She’s still awake?’

  ‘She’s got teeth coming through so she can’t sleep. Becky’s a bit low so I’ve sent her and Mark off to the pub while I babysit. You should see Megan now, she’s a little darling. She’s sitting up all on her own. How clever is that?’

  ‘It’s great.’ Mariner hoped she couldn’t detect the lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘And it’s so lovely out here; green and peaceful. I might start looking at property prices, just to get an idea.’ Mariner’s stomach clenched involuntarily. ‘So what have you been up to?’

  ‘Oh, boring stuff. Trying to catch up on work, all that kind of thing—’

  There was a screech in the background. ‘Look, I’d better go,’ Anna said.

  ‘Shall I call you tomorrow?’

  ‘That’d be great.’

  ‘Talk to you soon, then.’

  ‘Bye.’

  When he’d hung up the phone Mariner sat at the computer in the lounge and logged onto the Internet. The article about O’Connor’s release had mentioned the street he lived in at the time. Mariner hoped he hadn’t moved in the interim. He managed to get a good deal on a London hotel, but paid almost as much for his train ticket down there. Still easier than the prospect of paying congestion charges and finding a parking spot though. Printing off the details he closed down the computer. Then he climbed the two flights of stairs and knocked on Dyson’s door. It was shut but Mariner could still hear movement and moments later Dyson appeared.

  ‘I’m going to grab a pint down the way at the Boatman before closing time, fancy joining me?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘Ah, I’d like to but I’ve got a presentation to prepare for and an early start. Some other time?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Chapter Seven

  On the train to Euston the following morning Mariner was aware of a strange internal exhilaration and it occurred to him that for the first time in a long while he had absolute freedom, with no one keeping tabs on him. It was a sensation reminiscent of the day he’d boarded the rail to Birmingham at the age of seventeen, leaving home for the first time. He hadn’t often travelled by rail since then, but it always evoked this childish excitement and a deeper feeling of absolute contentment, as if this was really his natural state; independent and answerable to no one. What did that say for Anna and their plans for the future?

  Strictly speaking Mariner shouldn’t have been doing this at all, but this was the first time for several weeks that he’d felt any kind of buzz and he realised it was because he was doing what he liked best; following his nose. After weeks of disinterest he’d at last found something that engaged
him.

  By the time the train pulled out there were barely any spare places, but his early start had secured him a window seat with a clear view, though his legs would suffer. Rail transport had changed a bit since 1976; deference to the golden age of communication with facilities for laptops and mobile phones. The coach was, he noticed, no longer called second but ‘standard’ class and was supposedly a ‘quiet’ carriage. In theory only. He’d bought the current edition of The Great Outdoors from the station bookshop, but it was impossible to concentrate on the written word when the air was pierced by the frequent trilling of mobile phones.

  One particular passenger further down the train held a whole series of conversations at ten minute intervals throughout the journey that consisted solely of ‘Pete? Can you hear me?’ Apparently Pete never did.

  Mariner was distracted too, by the view from the window. For several miles the track ran parallel with the sluggishly moving M6 through the vast conurbation of the city, before, finally, the houses dwindled and the scenery opened up into rolling countryside. Watching the dead brown winter landscape skip by, the skeletal silhouettes of the trees bordering rusty furrowed fields, Mariner thought about Anna’s idea of moving to the country. In many ways he could understand her thinking. He loved being out in the open air for an afternoon, a day or even weeks at a time. But part of the attraction was the contrast with everyday life. He knew from talking to colleagues that the world of a country copper would be very different, enmeshed as it often was in the politics of a self-absorbed community. He liked the pace, breadth and diversity of his present job, and he’d miss that. There were some aspects of country living that he’d love, but there were plenty of others that he’d hate.

  From Euston, Mariner took the tube to West Brompton and the Earls Court hotel that he’d booked; an anonymous, multi-storey concrete tower. It would do very nicely as a base for a couple of days. He checked in and deposited his things in the clean, space-efficient room, then went straight back to the underground where he bought a one-day travel card. He caught the Bakerloo line to South Wembley, riding on the hope that the O’Connors hadn’t moved in the last six years.