The Couple at No. 9(74)

‘Victor Carmichael. I think he must have known your gran.’ He has a slight Yorkshire accent.

Victor. I’m too shocked to answer right away.

‘My grandmother talked about a Victor. We didn’t understand who she meant as she couldn’t remember his surname. She has dementia now,’ I add, when he looks at me with a bemused expression. I survey them both. ‘Do you want to come in?’ I find myself asking.

They nod gratefully and step into the hallway. I guide them to the living room.

‘What are you doing?’ Mum mouths.

‘They seem fine,’ I whisper back. ‘We need answers.’

Theo and Jen take a seat on the sofa and Theo drops his backpack to his feet.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Mum asks, as I sit in the armchair by the window.

‘We’re okay, thanks,’ says Jen. ‘We’re staying at the pub down the road and had a late lunch.’

‘We’ve come all the way from Yorkshire,’ says Theo, as Mum perches on a chair by the fireplace. ‘Look, I’ll cut to the chase, but I think my dad is hiding something. He’s been acting really weird. Well,’ he gives a short laugh, ‘weirder than usual. He wouldn’t tell me why he’d written Find Her on the article, or give me any information when I asked. He was very defensive and prickly. And then I found a folder hidden in this secret space of his in a cupboard. It was filled with photographs of women. I was wondering if one of these is your gran.’ He offers me the phone and I get up to take it from him. Still standing up I flick through them. They are all of pretty young women. One is heavily pregnant. By the fashions and haircuts it looks as though they span a twenty-year period. ‘No,’ I say, handing him back the phone. ‘None of these is Gran.’ I sit back down.

‘Oh.’ He looks disappointed. ‘You said your gran mentioned a Victor? What did she say about him?’

I throw Mum an awkward look. ‘Um …’ I say, turning to Theo. ‘She said something about how he wanted to hurt the baby.’

Theo looks shocked. ‘Hurt the baby? My dad is a doctor. He might be many things,’ his expression darkens, ‘but … hurting babies?’ Jen reaches for his hand.

We plunge into an uncomfortable silence until Mum pipes up, ‘How old is your dad? My mother – Rose – is in her seventies.’

‘My dad was old when he had me. My mum was much younger. Dad is seventy-six.’

‘So they’re the same age. Could they have been together at some point?’

Theo shrugs. ‘I really don’t know. Did Rose say anything else about my dad?’

‘She gets really confused,’ I say, as explanation. ‘She mentions lots of names. She mentioned Victor a few times but when she did she seemed, well, scared …’

Theo pales. ‘Scared?’

‘Maybe scared is the wrong word.’ I frown, trying to remember. ‘Agitated. She definitely said he wanted to hurt the baby. She made him sound – I’m sorry, this is a bit blunt – but she made him sound like he wasn’t a good man.’

Theo and his wife exchange a glance. ‘I don’t think he is a good man,’ he mutters, suddenly looking vulnerable and my heart goes out to him.

‘It’s all been so strange since the bodies were discovered,’ says Mum. ‘Have you heard of a Daphne Hartall?’

Theo shakes his head.

‘She was Mum’s lodger and lived here in 1980 as well. We think she was also known as Sheila Watts.’

‘Not heard of her,’ says Theo. I notice his hand is still intertwined with Jen’s. I can tell they’re as desperate for answers as we are.

‘We’re trying to find her – well, the police are,’ says Mum. ‘There’s something else too. A man approached me and Saffy over the last few days saying he’s a private detective, although he grabbed me off the street when I was walking home one night –’

Jen gasps. ‘That’s awful.’

‘It was horrible,’ Mum says, ‘but he did say that his client hired him to find some paperwork that my mother has. He called it evidence.’

‘Evidence?’ Jen frowns.

‘Yes, he didn’t elaborate and I was terrified.’

‘What was this man’s name?’ asks Theo. ‘Did he say who he was working for?’

‘No,’ says Mum. ‘He refused to say but he did give his name. Glen Davies.’

‘Wait. What?’ Theo sits up straighter. ‘Glen Davies?’

‘Yes, that’s what he told me,’ says Mum. ‘And we think he broke in here looking for this so-called evidence.’

‘I know a Glen Davies,’ says Theo, his face draining of colour. ‘He works for my father.’





40


Theo





‘He works for your father?’ cries the younger woman. Saffron. She looks incredulous, her big brown eyes wide. Theo feels sick to his stomach that his father’s henchman (as he’s always thought of him) has been here and terrorized these women.

‘Yes,’ Theo says, crossing then uncrossing his legs. He wishes he’d now taken them up on the offer of a drink – his mouth is so dry. ‘He’s known my father for years. I don’t even know how. Before him there was another guy – a similar type, ex-military – but he retired. I do know this much, though. Glen Davies is definitely not a private detective.’