A Confusion of Murders Read online

  The Howden family still live in the same house that they were living in when Veronica was taken. I asked Elizabeth if they hadn’t considered moving away for a fresh start after the abduction.

  ‘We thought about it,’ she admitted, ‘but moving away wouldn’t have stopped us grieving for our loss. And also, a part of me hopes that one day she’d come back, or someone would bring her back, and I wanted to be here if that ever happened.’

  A fact that wasn’t made public at the time was that when Veronica was taken a stuffed green felt giraffe that was in her pram was also taken. For this reason, Elizabeth is so sure Veronica was taken by someone who would look after her; she believes they took the toy for Veronica to keep.

  My heart’s pounding; I’m going to have a heart attack. I can’t breathe.

  Raffy.

  A green, felt giraffe that I went to bed with every night. I still have him, worn and frayed, he lives on top of my chest of drawers, away from Sprocket’s eager paws.

  ‘LOUISE!’

  Ralph swims into view. He’s at the front of my desk with a concerned look on his face.

  ‘You alright girl? You’re as white as a sheet.’

  ‘Umm, no, not really,’ my voice is shaky. ‘Not feeling very well.’

  Don’t cry. Don’t.

  ‘You look bleeding awful, get yourself off home.’

  ‘I think I will.’ I’m already logging out of my PC.

  ‘You sure you’re okay to drive? I can give you a lift home you know.’

  I shake my head not trusting myself to speak.

  I pick up my bag and tuck it under my arm, my legs feel shaky when I stand up, but I put my head up and look Ralph straight in the eye.

  ‘I’ll be fine Ralph, honest. Just a bad migraine, I’ll take some tablets and have a lie down and I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.’

  He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a word of it and as I walk out of the office I can feel him watching me. I don’t look at anyone else, just keep going. If I can just hold it together for a bit longer, just a flight of stairs and then I can get into my car and crumble.

  But I don’t.

  I get into the car and my breathing gradually returns to normal and my hands stop shaking. I look at myself in the mirror and I look a bit pale but otherwise okay. My mouth has set in a grim line.

  I start the ignition and put the car into reverse.

  I want some answers.

  I’m going to see Dad.

  ‘Oh, hello.’ Sister Kathy is surprised to see me, I don’t usually visit at this time on a weekday. ‘Your Dad’s just having his lunch, but he shouldn’t be long.’

  ‘No worries, I’ll wait in the day room.’ I plaster a fake smile on my face, but I don’t think I’m fooling her. I walk quickly away before she can say anything. As soon as Dad’s finished I’m going to take him round to his room. I don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation. That’s supposing I can get any sense out of him.

  I wait impatiently wandering from window to notice board and back again. I’m probably wasting my time, but I have to try to get some answers.

  Dad comes out of the dining room and I make a beeline for him. He jumps when I link my arm in his and propel him down the corridor to his room.

  ‘Oh, hello love.’ He looks startled. At least he seems to recognise me today.

  I walk him quickly through the doorway into his room and sit him down in his chair by the window. I go back and close the door. I need to calm down, I’m not going to get any answers by agitating him.

  ‘What did you have for lunch, Dad? Was it nice?’ I sound false even to myself.

  ‘Sausage and mash. Was okay.’ This doesn’t bode well as I saw the menu on the way in and the choice was shepherd’s pie or ravioli. If he can’t remember what he had for lunch he’s hardly going to remember something that happened forty-five years ago.

  We sit in silence for a while and I wonder how I’m going to start the conversation. Hey Dad you know you keep saying I’m not your daughter, well now I know why, or maybe, do you want to tell me why I’m dead?

  ‘Look at that tiger up that tree, it’ll never get down you know.’

  He’s looking through the window at the tree in the courtyard. It’s a spindly sapling which would struggle to hold a bird.

  ‘No, he won’t,’ I say.

  I clear my throat. ‘Dad,’ my voice is a bit wobbly. ‘Do you remember a street called Ravenscroft Avenue?’

  ‘I don’t think they should have tigers in gardens. It’s not safe. What if they got out and attacked someone? You wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Dad,’ I try again, ‘Ravenscroft Avenue? Do you remember it?’

  ‘And,’ he goes on, ‘they’re a magnificent beast and they’d have to be shot if they escaped. No, it’s definitely not right.’

  ‘DAD,’ I yell, and he looks at me. ‘Do you remember, a long, long time ago, a baby was abducted? When I was three months old?’

  ‘Although it doesn’t look bothered, that tiger, seems to quite like it up that tree.’

  ‘Dad, did you have a baby called Louise who died? Did you take someone else’s baby?’ I’m trying to keep my voice low, I don’t want anyone else to hear.

  ‘Perhaps it’s cooler up there.’ He nods at the tree. ‘Out of the heat.’

  It was a stupid idea. Pointless. I may as well go home. I think I knew it wasn’t going to work; he’s so confused, he doesn’t even know where he is most of the time.

  ‘Yes, Dad he probably likes the view up there.’ This seems to please Dad and he nods in agreement. We sit in silence and both of us gaze out of the window.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Dad waits for me to answer.

  ‘Yes, that would be lovely,’ I say, absently. I would love a cup of tea, but I don’t think I’ll be getting one.

  ‘Put the kettle on then and we’ll make a pot.’ He grins. There’s a glimpse of my old dad there.

  ‘I’ll go and get us one.’ I stand up, ‘I won’t be long.’

  I have my hand on the door handle when he suddenly starts to speak.

  ‘Your mother was a good woman you know, she only ever wanted to do the right thing.’ He leans forward in his chair.

  I stay quiet not wanting to interrupt him, though I offer a smile and nod of encouragement as I sit back down

  ‘She used to walk for miles, round and round the streets. Day after day. As if it would make her forget. We just couldn’t make sense of it. Thought we’d done something wrong. Didn’t matter what the doctors said, we blamed ourselves.’

  He has a faraway look in his eyes, reminiscing. I daren’t breathe, in case it stops him. I pray that no-one interrupts us.

  ‘You were crying, and she picked you up to comfort you because you were on your own, outside. That’s all she meant to do. Comfort you.’ He speaks in a matter of fact way, reliving a memory. ‘But before she knew what she’d done she was back home.’ He pauses and stares at me. ‘With you.’ He pats my hand. ‘She didn’t mean to do it but then it was too late. Too late.’ He shakes his head, ‘I should have insisted but I couldn’t. She was heartbroken, and I think if I’d taken you back I’d have lost her forever. And then we moved a week later and that was that.’ He folds his arms across his body and turns back to looking out of the window.

  This is what I suspected. This is what I feared. It must be true. Even in his confused state Dad cannot have just made this up.

  I feel numb.

  ‘That tiger’s gone now. Someone must have helped it down.’

  ‘Yes, it’s gone Dad.’

  ‘Good.’ He looks at me with a big smile. ‘Do you know, I feel quite relieved about that. Shall we get that cup of tea now?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  He gets up and we walk back round to the lounge; our timing is perfect. Liz, the care assistant, is serving drinks from a battered tea trolley and her face lights up when she sees us.

  ‘Thomas! Your usual is it? White
tea with one sugar? And what would you like Lynn?’

  ‘White tea, no sugar, please Liz. And it’s Louise, not Lynn.’ Or maybe it’s Veronica.

  Dad settles down on the sofa and I walk back over to the trolley to pick up the teas.

  ‘There you are Lynn, the one on the right is sugared.’

  ‘Louise.’

  She shrugs.

  ‘My name’s Louise. If I can remember your name Liz, I’m sure you can remember mine.’

  She looks at me with a shocked expression as I pick up the teas. I think she’ll remember it now.

  ‘I’m sorry, Liz. That was rude of me.’ I shouldn’t have taken it out on her.

  She smiles, but the sides of her mouth twitch and I don’t think she’s going to forgive me for snapping at her.

  As I come out of Blossom Unit, I rummage in my bag for my phone and see that I’ve missed a call from Nick.

  ‘Hi Nick. You rang?’

  ‘Hi Sis, how’s things?’

  ‘Okay. Just been to see Dad.’

  ‘Have you? He sounds surprised. ‘Thought you’d be at work.’

  ‘Day off.’ Why am I lying?

  ‘Pulled a sickie, have you?’ He laughs.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘You okay? You don’t sound like my normal bolshie sister.’

  I swallow, unable to speak. I could say but I’m not your sister; I’m not who you think I am. I want to tell him, I want to share this horrible secret so badly with someone, so that I don’t feel so alone but I can’t. I can’t destroy everything he’s ever known, it’s bad enough that every part of my life feels like a lie. How would he feel about me if he knew?

  ‘I’m fine. Difficult visit with Dad that’s all, nothing serious. What were you ringing for anyway?’

  ‘To let you know I’m away working for a week, off to Paris on a fashion shoot.’

  ‘Lucky you. Nice work if you can get it.’

  ‘It’ll be a ball ache, shit food and stroppy Frogs. Can’t go quick enough for me.’

  ‘Poor thing.’

  ‘I know it’s a hard life. But seriously, I know it’s not a great time to be away and I’m just ringing to say sorry I won’t be around, but you can always ring me.’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘I saw the news about Glenda. Terrible. Poor woman.’

  ‘Did you see the news, or did Linda tell you?’ I ask. ‘What with you being so friendly and all?

  Nick is quiet for a moment, I can almost hear him thinking.

  ‘Yeah, we’ve been chatting.’

  ‘I know. Remember what I said Nick, don’t mess her about, she’s my friend.’

  ‘I won’t. I really like her, Lou. She’s normal.’

  Despite my misery I laugh. ‘Watch it Nick. Sounds like you’re hooked.’

  He laughs but doesn’t deny it. We chat for a while longer then hang up. I start the car up and I rest my hands on the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. I wish I felt normal. I feel like I’m dragging a huge bird of doom on my shoulders and I can’t see how to shake it off. The great oozelum bird of doom as Nick calls it; the great oozelum bird of doom flies around in ever decreasing circles until it disappears up its own arsehole. Just how I feel.

  I wish fervently that I’d never found that death certificate because then I’d never have known.

  Ignorance is bliss.

  ‘You’re early,’ Linda opens the front door to me and I follow her in.

  ‘Yeah, had the dentists so sloped off a bit early.’ The lie trips easily off my tongue and it makes me wonder how Mum and Dad managed to live a lie for all those years. How did they do it? Knowing that their whole life was based on a lie? How could they cope with the thought of being found out at any time? Or does it get easier with time? Perhaps they convinced themselves it never happened. Maybe that’s what I need to do.

  Sprocket is jumping up for attention, so I kneel down and scratch his ears while he tries to lick my face. He doesn’t care who I am. I follow Linda into the kitchen and leave Sprocket to go back to lying by the front door on the cool tiles.

  A rosy cheeked, cheerful looking lady is seated at Linda’s table, mug of tea in hand.

  ‘Sarah, this is my friend Lou, Lou this is my new next-door neighbour, Sarah.’

  Short, round with wispy chestnut hair and a flushed face, Sarah gets up and puts out her hand.

  ‘Hello Lou, nice to meet you.’

  ‘You too, how’re you settling in?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ She grimaces, sitting back down. ‘Exhausting but just relieved to be in at last. Linda’s been very kindly providing us all with cups of tea. We’ve done the move ourselves so lots of thirsty friends and relatives around.’

  ‘It’s nice to have neighbours at last,’ says Linda, ‘the house has been empty for too long.’ She doesn’t mention the noises or that she thinks it’s haunted.

  ‘I think I met one of your helpers this morning, carrying a sofa.’

  ‘Oh, that was my husband, Ronnie. He’s still cursing that sofa– nearly did his back in.’

  ‘At least you’re in now, you can take your time getting sorted.’

  ‘True. The house is a bit dated, but we’ll work through it all gradually. Not in any hurry. It’s sort of retro in its own way. I’d forgotten what hard work it was finding the right house, but we got there in the end. The estate agent was brilliant – it was a bit of a funny one as the house was an inheritance. Three brothers who could never agree on anything apparently.’ Sarah takes a slurp of tea, ‘Men,’ she says, rolling her eyes.

  There’s that niggle at the back of my mind again, but before I can grab it, it floats off.

  ‘I must get back, I’ll be in the doghouse for not doing my share.’ She drains her cup.

  ‘She seems nice,’ I say to Linda as the door closes behind Sarah.

  ‘She is. Met her husband briefly and he seems nice too – not as bubbly as her though. I’m just glad it’s not empty anymore, gave me the willies. Anyway, how was the dentists?’

  I look at her blankly for a moment then remember my lie. That’s the trouble with lying - you need a good memory

  ‘Oh, fine, just a check-up.’

  ‘You stopping for a coffee?’

  ‘No, I won’t, thanks. Going to pop home and change then take Sprocket for a walk. Shall I call for you on the way?’

  ‘Good idea, leave him here and I’ll get him harnessed up ready. Half an hour?’

  ‘Yeah, that’ll be great. Won’t be long.’

  I let myself out of the front door; next door’s ‘For sale’ sign has found its way into Linda’s garden, so I pick it up and lean over the wall and prop it next to their gate.

  I swing my arms and take deep breaths and put my shoulders back; positive mental attitude. I march back to my house repeating ‘everything will be alright’ to myself.

  And it suddenly hits me. Bang, just like that, I remember where I’ve seen Suzanne Jenkins, the first murder victim, before.

  Chapter 14

  I rang work this morning and asked if I could take the rest of the week off as holiday even though it was short notice. I said that I had stuff that I needed to sort out for Dad. Ralph was so kind, said of course it wasn’t a problem but that no way was I going to take holiday, I could just have the week off.

  I nearly cried and felt rotten for lying, although I suppose it wasn’t a complete lie. I have a meeting at the hospital on Thursday about Dad.

  Or I could, a mischievous little voice says, give him the scoop of a lifetime...stolen child from 45 years ago found in Frogham. I shudder, a vision of my photograph and story splashed all over the front page. What would Nick think? Would my friends still want to be my friends or would it all be too weird for them? The nationals would be sure to pick it up and before you know it we’d have satellite vans all over the precinct and reporters beating a path to my door. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  Gareth rang at nine o’clock last night, apologetic and
sounding exhausted, to say that he couldn’t leave work but would hopefully see me tonight. I was desperately disappointed at not seeing him but also relieved in case I blurted out that I’m really Veronica Howden.

  Of course, the minute he hung up I remembered I was supposed to tell him where I’d seen Suzanne Jenkins. I must tell him tonight.

  By the time I went to bed I felt mentally and physically exhausted and I fell asleep instantly, but it didn’t last. I woke up at three o’clock absolutely wide awake and knew there was no possibility of going back to sleep. I got up and dozed fitfully on the sofa watching catch up TV. I may as well have been watching soup because I couldn’t even tell you what I watched.

  So, here I am at Dad’s house. I felt compelled to come here but I don’t know why and I’m sitting on the bed in Dad’s bedroom, Sprocket fast asleep next to me. I’ve been through all the chest of drawers and wardrobes and found nothing. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I’ve been here for nearly three hours and been through all the rooms. There’s nothing to find; I know what happened, Dad told me and it all makes a horrible kind of sense. The real Louise died at three months old and Mum stole me from Elizabeth Howden’s garden to replace the baby she lost.

  Why did they keep the death certificate? There is nothing else in the house that is incriminating in any way, so why keep that? The only thing I can think of is that maybe Mum and Dad couldn’t throw it away because they’d be denying that the real Louise Russell ever existed. Who knows?

  They got away with the perfect crime. They moved here from London and nobody suspected, but why would they? Mum and Dad hardly looked like master criminals. If Dad had taken me back, would the police have been sympathetic? I don’t know. Does it matter now?

  The real question is: what do I do about it?

  My real mother. Elizabeth Howden. Do I look like her? I have brother and sisters that I’ve never met, and I can’t help being curious. What sort of life would I have had? I’m happy but would my life have been different? What was my real father like? A father that I will never know because that he’s dead.