The Death of the Elver Man (7 page)

‘I’m the new probation officer,’ said Sue. ‘I’m in the next office. Mind if I sit down?’ She plonked herself into the easy chair by the window and kicked off her shoes, gold coloured sandals with light soles and thin straps.

‘You’ve got a fabulous view. That bike shed thingy is in the way from my room.’

Alex knew all about the ‘bike shed thingy’ as on her arrival she’s been offered a choice and opted for this room precisely because of the uninterrupted view of the river. Things had been so much rosier then, almost welcoming in fact.

‘Ah, I’m Alex,’ she said, realizing she had been staring in silence ever since Sue’s entrance.

Sue flicked her hair back, long blonde hair that flowed down her back almost to her waist and gave Alex a glittering smile. ‘I know. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. We
both went for the same job in the summer and you got it, but last month they rang me up and said they had a post after all and would I like it, so – here I am.’

Alex nodded, rather at a loss.

‘Are you, ah …,’ she searched for a polite way to ask whether Sue had any experience, settling for, ‘transferring from another office?’

Sue shook her head. ‘No, I qualified last August but I’ve had to make do with Social Services work until now. I was running an Intermediate Treatment group in Devon for a while. That was fun.’

Alex wasn’t sure ‘fun’ quite encapsulated the experimental and occasionally risky nature of most I.T. work. Combining the social work approach of offering alternative interests to juvenile criminals with a client group drawn mainly from the super-fit ‘short sharp shockers’, it was frequently ridiculed in the press, and the more spectacular failures (‘Hooligans on free trips abroad burn down beach huts – we foot the bill!’) were career killers. She looked at Sue with new respect.

‘What is that shed thing anyway?’ Sue asked. Alex joined her at the window.

‘It was going to be a vehicle maintenance project before the government decided our emphasis should be on “control” rather than “rehabilitation”,’ she said. ‘We lost the funding for our instructor and no-one here wants to take it up. We’re all too busy writing reports.’

Sue wrinkled her nose and stared at the building.

‘Well, maybe we can do something about that. They’re planning a day centre, aren’t they? So there’s one activity straight away. Anyway, I’m really pleased to meet you. I do hope we can be friends – I don’t really know anyone here so maybe you could show me what you do in the evenings round here’.

Before Alex could reply, the phone rang in Sue’s office and she headed out of the door, waving goodbye and
leaving
her sandals by Alex’s window. Just as well really, Alex thought. She struggled to remember a decent night out since
her arrival. The social life of the town revolved around the Carnival, the Carnival concerts and fundraising for the clubs and gangs. The area was awash with pubs, each the home for one group or club and each wary of strangers and less than welcoming to women. In London the most common offence committed by Alex’s charges had been ‘Touching the Dog’s Arse’ – car theft or ‘taking and driving away’ in official
language
. Here it was ABH, actual bodily harm, which made the area sound rather more dangerous than the capital.
Examining
the figures showed a slightly different picture, however – lots of men went out at night, got drunk and hit each other. There was a tap on the door and Sue reappeared.

‘Sorry, forgot my shoes. I’m always doing that.’ She retrieved her sandals and stopped at the door, looking back at Alex.

‘I’m staying with Margaret at the moment and to be
honest
it’s driving me a bit crazy. Do you know anywhere decent going? Going cheap if possible.’

Alex waved her towards the chair again. ‘Sit down if you’ve got a moment. What sort of place do you want?’

Sue shrugged. ‘Oh, maybe a little country cottage, a few roses, not far from work but quiet …’ She grinned at Alex’s expression of disbelief. ‘Only kidding. Anywhere off a main road but not way out in the wilds. And not too cold either. I hate the cold.’

Alex sympathized, her experiences in the forge still clear in her mind.

‘You don’t really want to settle on anywhere until around September or October,’ she advised. ‘That way you can feel how draughty a place is. The ropiest old shack looks nice in the summer. There’s a lot more around to choose from in the winter too. All the summer labourers leave, all the
people
who come down here for the weather and stuff. They rush back to cities and you can get a much better price in the winter.’

Sue nodded. ‘Thanks. I’ll take your advice, though I’m not sure I can stand a whole summer at Margaret’s place. Here,’
she twisted round and much to Alex’s alarm began to
unbutton
her dress, ‘what do you think these are?’ She pulled the whole front down and displayed a series of red dots running across her chest and over one shoulder. ‘I’ve got some on my bum too …’

‘That’s okay, I can see fine,’ said Alex raising her hands to ward off any further disrobing. Unconcerned, Sue pulled her dress back up and flopped into Alex’s easy chair.

‘I thought they might be fleas but they fade away every day. They seem to come out at night. Maybe I’m allergic to the factory fumes …’

‘If you were anywhere else I’m probably say they were
bed-bugs
,’ said Alex.

Sue pulled a face and rubbed her back against the chair. ‘Surely not. I mean, Margaret’s
posh
.’

Alex nodded in agreement. ‘Still, you did think they might be fleas. So she can’t be that posh,’ she said.

Sue sighed and gestured vaguely in the direction of
Margaret’s
office down the hall. ‘Yes but she has cats. Note, cats plural and the place has a rather odd smell when you go in. Haven’t you noticed?’

Alex had to confess she’s never been invited to Margaret’s house, though she had been treated to several pictures of the garden in full bloom. Sue snorted. ‘Yes the bloody garden. Not only do I pay rent and have to feed myself, I’m expected to pull up weeds and clip things outside in the evening. Look!’ She held out her hands, resplendent with pearly pink nails. ‘Do these look as if they’re comfortable digging around in the dirt? Then, by the time I’m finished I’m starving and there’s not a single take-away in the whole village. I’m practically living on toast. Thank God for the chippy round the corner here.’

‘Don’t you get use of the kitchen?’ Alex asked.

Sue gave her a hard stare.

‘Kitchen. Yes, that implies cooking. I sort of – don’t.’

‘Don’t or can’t?’ Alex asked, intrigued by the thought of a woman who preferred to eat like a single man.

‘Both,’ said Sue. ‘Tried it a few times and hated it. And if
you’ve got a boyfriend in tow they suddenly start appearing at mealtimes looking hopeful. Honestly, it’s virtually slavery. Do you cook?’ she added hopefully.

Alex burst out laughing. There was something really quite attractive about this woman.

‘Sorry,’ said Sue, grinning up at her, ‘I guess that was a bit cheeky.’

‘It was worth it,’ said Alex. ‘I could do with a good laugh at the moment. And yes, I do cook. I enjoy it even if it’s just for me. Do you fancy dinner one evening – say Friday? You could stay over if you want to drink …’

Sue bounded to her feet, sandals in hand.

‘Friday sounds great. I’ll bring some wine. Oh – address?’

Alex pulled out one of her official cards and scribbled on the back.

‘Don’t lose it,’ she warned. ‘There are several clients I’d rather not know exactly where I live.’

Sue sauntered towards the door and then turned back.

‘Is that your car outside, the Citroën?’

Alex nodded wearily. ‘Yep. And I am so screwed unless I can get it fixed in the next week or so. I’ve got a load of visits to make and no way of getting out to them.’

Sue tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. ‘Maybe I can help. I need some experience writing the reports and
running
an interview. Why don’t I drive you out and observe?’

Alex felt a rush of hope – maybe this was a way round her problems. Then she thought of Garry and his ‘value for money’ cost-cutting framework and her shoulders slumped despondently.

‘I’d love that but I’m not sure how we’d arrange it. I don’t expect Garry will consider me – experienced enough.’ She had almost said ‘suitable’. Sue waved her hand, swatting away such feeble obstacles.

‘I’ll sort it out with my admin support,’ she said. ‘She’ll
rustle
up some paperwork for us, I’m sure. She’s just wonderful – well, you would know. You had Lauren when you started too didn’t you?’

Alex frowned at the forms in front of her trying to make sense of the latest entries. With just a cursory glance she detected several spelling errors, the margins didn’t line up properly and the last lines were smudged and faded as if they had been typed using an old carbon sheet. The whole page was a mess and looked thoroughly unprofessional. She reached for the phone to ring the office, then remembered her recent behaviour towards Lauren. With a rush of shame she put the receiver back and gathered the offending papers together, intending to go down and have a quiet word in person. At that moment there was a knock on her door and Alison, one of the clerical staff, entered clutching more folders and
juggling
a cup of coffee.

‘Here you are,’ she said cheerfully, plonking the cup on the desk and flopping into a chair. The coffee slopped into the saucer and dribbled across the desk before Alex managed to blot it with some tissues from the ever-present box. Alison glanced around her, taking in the bookshelves crammed with Alex’s textbooks and official manuals, the swathe of papers
surrounding a small, clear patch on the desk and the
gallery
of modern art postcards stuck up in the corner. She was a pale woman, almost anaemic with washed-out grey eyes and wispy straw-coloured hair. On special occasions, such as office socials or a day in court to record details, she applied enough make-up to her bland features to make her look like an anxious panda or (as Alex had once confided to Lauren) a weevil that hadn’t slept for days. Although she was only in her mid-twenties she acted like a middle-aged secretary, or maybe the way she thought a middle-aged secretary should act. She was recently married and had spent the first month of Alex’s tenure drifting dreamily around the office, placing her ring hand casually in front of anyone who came to the counter. It was difficult to imagine anyone in the office less compatible with Alex than Alison.

‘Ah, thanks,’ said Alex, trying to hide her confusion. ‘Er, why are you …’ she searched for a polite way to ask
here
. Finally she raised her eyebrows and tried an encouraging smile.

‘I thought we’d better get stuff sorted,’ said Alison, ‘so we both know how it’s going to work.’

There was a sinking feeling in Alex’s stomach.

‘How what’s going to work?’ she asked though she was already fairly sure she knew the answer.

‘I’m taking you over, from Lauren. I’ve already brought your case notes up to date so we should start off all square and ready to go,’ Alison said smugly, ‘and I can bring you coffee if you like.’

Alex glanced at the cup in front of her as the implication of this artless remark hit her. She opened her mouth to snap at this mean little person and then realized she was going to be stuck with Alison for some time. It was her own fault and she needed to avoid making matters worse if possible.

‘I don’t expect anyone to get my coffee thank you,’ she said forcing a smile. ‘And I was looking at the files – is there a problem with the carbons? It’s just they’re a bit fuzzy in
places …’ She came to a halt as Alison’s face turned sulky at the first hint of criticism.

‘We’re supposed to be economizing,’ she snapped. ‘We have to turn all the ribbons around and use them twice. That’s why they’re a
bit fuzzy
.’

Alex raised a hand, despising her own weakness, ‘I’m sure you are doing your best in a difficult situation,’ she said.
Alison
fixed her with those pale, washed-out eyes and finally nodded, mollified by the conciliatory tone.

‘Well, okay. Now, let me have your diary.’ She held out her hand as Alex sat back in horror. The diary was the single most important item a probation officer used. It was both an indispensable tool for planning and scheduling the many tasks that made up the job and a legal document
providing
evidence admissible in court for breaching non-
attendees
. Alex had studied cases where the diary had been used to save an officer’s career and been called in evidence at the Coroner’s Court. With notes, meetings and appointments the diary showed what work was done with and for each
client
. A probation officer was expected to ‘advise, assist and befriend’ but it didn’t always work like that. Most officers lost at least one client in the course of their careers and it was natural for the families to blame someone. Sometimes the diary was the only thing standing between an officer and a career-ending disciplinary meeting. Alex was not about to hand hers over to an unknown and deeply suspect guardian such as Alison.

She was saved by Sue who made her usual entrance, flinging the door wide and announcing, ‘Let’s go then. You promised to take me on a home visit and it’s going to rain later – oh, sorry Alison. Have you just finished?’

Alison rose from the chair, gathering the fuzzy files to her almost non-existent bosom before leaving with a poor grace. Alex breathed a sigh of relief when the door slammed behind her retreating back.

‘Thank you so much. Your timing is impeccable – you
know she wants to keep my diary? God knows what sort of a mess she’s make of it.’

Sue plonked herself down by the desk and pulled Alex’s diary out from under a pile of forms and scribbled notes. Flicking through it she pulled a face before shoving it back onto the desk.

‘Almost as much of a mess as you’ve made, from the look of it. Half your meetings are put in pencil. Any court would throw it out as inadmissible.’

Alex groaned in frustration. ‘There’s just so much to do and I can never find anything. Still, at least I know what’s missing. Look – I’ll fill it in this evening so it’s all up to date but I’m not handing it over to that airhead. I might just as well resign right now and save what’s left of my reputation.’

Sue made a rude noise. ‘Thoroughly tiresome. Everyone here thinks you work far too hard but you really care about your clients. Paul’s bowled over with the changes in Brian.’

‘Well, not everyone’s so impressed,’ Alex muttered as she attempted to force her diary in an already over-stuffed drawer.

‘Are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself all day?’ demanded Sue, rising to her feet. ‘You promised me a ride out onto the Levels. My car’s downstairs so let’s go and meet this infamous Ada Mallory.’

As they made their way across the car-park they passed Gordon cleaning his car again, the mats drying in the sunlight but still emitting a strong odour of dog vomit.

Spring was already casting its spell over the Levels and Alex felt her spirits rise as they whizzed merrily along the road to Lowpoint.

‘How’s your car doing?’ asked Sue, as she navigated the narrow twists and turns of the road.

‘I should have it back by the end of the week. Just as well really – I don’t think even Lauren could disguise a lift to
Dartmoor
to see a prisoner and I need to get up to Bristol to see Kevin as well.’

Sue glanced at her. ‘Look, are you okay with me having Lauren?’ she asked.

Alex shrugged, eyes fixed to the road as she searched for the correct turning.

‘It’s not up to us,’ she mumbled. ‘Garry and Pauline sort out the admin allocations.’

‘Well, Garry’s a dick,’ said Sue. Alex turned her head and then burst out laughing.

‘Oh, say what you really mean,’ she giggled. ‘Don’t hold back.’

Sue joined in and together they bounced over the rough track that ran along side the main drainage channel. The water was high, Alex noted, as they climbed out of the car by Ada Mallory’s house. The winter rains and spring melt had seeped through the peat and bog lands surrounding the ditches and rivers, gathering until the water reached
saturation
point. Then, as a trickle and later a flood, it poured into the waterways to make a thick, slow mass of water flowing into ever larger ditches. Kings Sedgemoor was the last line of defence against inundation, both a massive safety valve and a vital source of freshwater for industry and farming. To their right, on past the road bridge was Greylake Sluice, its gates barely raised as the flow of water downstream to the River Parrett was held back by the heavy shutters.

‘Ugh,’ said Sue, peering at the murky waters. ‘Surely
nothing’s
alive in that!’

Alex remembered the boxes of elvers taken from Kevin’s pram on his arrest.

‘You’d be surprised,’ she said. ‘This is good fishing country apparently. Just ask Eddie.’

‘No thanks,’ said Sue. ‘I don’t want to encourage him. He’s already suggested I might like to try one of the shorter walks with his lads. I mean – do I look like a hiking sort of girl?’

She gestured to her feet, still clad in thin gold sandals despite the brisk wind and spring damp. Her flowery skirt and pale cardigan added to her air of sweet innocence – a deceptive look, Alex was beginning to realize. Still, she definitely did
not look like someone prepared to tramp over muddy fields and high hills for pleasure.

The Mallory house looked even more dilapidated than it had in the autumn. The remains of the front gate shrieked in protest as Alex pushed it open and the surrounding fence wobbled in sympathy. Grass grew between the cracked slabs of the path and the lawn was a muddy backdrop to the
decaying
motor vehicles. Sue picked her way towards the peeling front door trying to keep her feet out of the surrounding swamp. Alex knocked on the door several times but they were greeted by silence. Reluctantly she stepped off the
relative
safety of the porch and squelched her way over to the front window, rapping on the panes and calling Ada’s name. She turned round just in time to see Sue stoop down to peer through the letterbox.

‘No!’ she yelled, hurling herself towards the door and
grabbing
Sue’s shoulder, pulling her away just as the blade of a wickedly long kitchen knife poked out. They stepped back and watched as the knife rattled back and forth several times before disappearing inside once more.

‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Sue. ‘I thought we were supposed to be on their side. What do they do when the police turn up?’

Alex reached out and knocked again, taking care to keep clear of the letterbox.

‘Ada? Ada, it’s Alex. I’ve come to see if there’s anything you want me to take Kevin next week.’

There was a pause and then a rattling, the sound of a bolt, another bolt and finally the door creaked open and Ada peered out at them.

‘Where’s she to then?’ she asked, jerking her head towards Sue.

‘This is Sue,’ said Alex, delighted to show off her hard-won knowledge of the local dialect. ‘She’s just started in the office and wanted to come out and get a look at the Levels.’

Ada grunted and turned away. ‘Well, don’t stand there
lettin
’ all my heat out. ’Tis perishing still.’

They followed her into the tiny living room and perched on the sticky couch. Alex declined Ada’s offer of tea and nudged Sue in an attempt to warn her but Sue was in Social Worker mode.

‘I’d love a cup. Thank you so much,’ she said brightly.

‘Why did you refuse?’ she asked when Ada was safely in the kitchen. ‘It builds rapport and …’

‘I know all that stuff,’ Alex hissed. ‘I did the same courses remember? But there’s a whole world of difference between the ideas and the reality and, believe me, if you drink much of Ada Mallory’s tea you’ll not live long enough to …’ She fell silent as Ada returned with two cups on mismatched saucers and the too-familiar tin under her arm.

‘Well,’ she said, handing the less chipped cup to Sue, ‘you’ll have a biscuit I hope.’

Alex gave a rather sickly grin and took her biscuit, glancing at Sue who was staring glassy eyed at the scummy liquid in her cup. There was no sign of the dogs and after a moment’s hesitation she asked where they were.

‘Oh, them’s outside, watching the back. I likes to be sure no’ un’s comin’ in that way. ‘’Sides, I’ve Frankie out and he gets ‘un all riled up.’

‘Frankie – your cat?’ asked Alex, her eyes sliding around the room in search of this new, elusive animal. Ada shook her head.

‘No, wouldn’t have no
cat
,’ she said. ‘Nasty, dirty things, always nesting in the clean clothes and bringing in dead stuff. No, Frankie’s my Kev’s rat.’ She took a slurp of her tea before continuing. ‘I named him after that no good dead beat of a husband of mine. Don’t seem fair really now. Frankie’s been a good friend to Kev – more than I can say for Frank bloody Mallory!’ She set her cup down with a bang and turned her head abruptly, looking out of the window as she recovered her composure.

‘Well now, you was saying about my Kevin?’ Her voice was steady but there were traces of tears in her eyes and for the first time Alex saw Ada Mallory as a person, not just
a client’s relative or an eccentric and embarrassing woman. She looked around the mean, shabby living room and saw the tiny signs of care, the attempts to make this lonely life a little more homely. The cushions were wrapped in brightly coloured crochet covers, a bit lumpy in places from washing but arranged in matching pairs on each chair. A collection of photographs in a wide range of frames crowded one side of an occasional table whilst an assortment of pottery animals faced off against them from another. Ada followed her gaze and a soft smile crept over her features.

‘Them’s is all from Kevin,’ she said. ‘He knows I like
animals
. ’Cept for cats, of course.’

Alex nodded, wondering how to bring the conversation back to Kevin’s plight. It was not looking good for the lad, with him being caught in the van, a few feet away from the body and no witness to confirm his activities for the earlier part of the night. Alex was sure Kevin was innocent but how to convince the authorities was beyond her.

Sue put her cup down rather abruptly, breaking the silence.

‘Why did you do that with the letterbox?’ she asked. Ada glared at her and addressed her answer to Alex.

‘I didn’t recognize her, see. There’s been some noises, creeping around and such like, specially in the last few days. I don’ like being here all by myself. ’Tis lonely and I don’t feel safe no more. I thought you was the creeper so I figured I’d scare yer off.’