Judith Wants To Be Your Friend (27 page)

‘I suppose funerals have a way of settling everyone down. Shall I tell her that; that she can come back after the funeral?’

‘Don’t be too definite. Can you say not before the funeral then we’ll see how everyone is?’

Judith opened her new account and paid in the cheque. At least she could afford to eat while she thought about how to manage the sale of her flat. She couldn’t see where she was going to get any more clients from at the moment. This would all blow over soon enough and then she could pick up the pieces. She went for a coffee and a sandwich in a cafe in Carlisle. It called itself a ‘cafe bar’, whatever that meant. She was fairly sure that such an establishment didn’t exist in Hexham. It was a bit tatty but the coffee was strong and fresh, and the brie and avocado filling absolutely delicious. It could do with a makeover, she thought, and then it would be a really nice place to eat. She stayed there as long as she could without someone demanding that she bought something else, and then drove up to Cost-Save to do a big shop while she still had credit on her visa card. They were advertising for staff; maybe she needed to get a job. She thought about who might employ her in Hexham, and couldn’t think of anyone.

Judith pushed her full trolley across the car park and as she opened the boot, she noticed that someone had bashed into the passenger door. She cursed. If she had been in Hexham, she would have thought that someone had done it deliberately. Expecting to see someone she knew laughing at her out of a car window, she looked around. There wasn’t anyone. That dent would cost money to put right, and she was nearly out of fuel; another fifty quid. Where would all this end?

By the time she got home it was dark and starting to get frosty. Judith sat in her car for a few moments before getting out in case any reporters were lurking there. They had clearly moved on to more interesting stories.
God, I am so paranoid
, she thought, and carried her shopping upstairs a few bags at a time. She had bought enough for a siege.

When everything was put away, she opened a bottle of Rioja.
I don’t have to lower my standards quite yet
, she said to herself, and after half a glassful, switched on her mobile phone.

‘Ju, it’s me. I spoke to Tina. She thinks the funeral on Friday will settle people down so you should be able to see Mum soon after. Ring me if you want, or come round.’

So, the funeral is on Friday, is it? Time enough to decide whether or not to go to it
. She pressed the flashing button on her house phone.

‘Ms Dillon? DI Gibson. Please contact me as soon as you get this message.’

Bollocks
, thought Judith,
not bloody likely
.

The next message was a woman’s voice. The accent was more Geordie than local and she thought she recognised it.

‘I hate you, Judith Dillon. I fucking hate you. If you could see my brother you’d hate you an’ all. Don’t come near me or my family –
ever
.’

Shelly from Mill View. She wondered how she had got her home number. She was ex-directory. Tina would have to be informed about that.

Saturday 21
st
February 2009

Judith didn’t feel like facing the wrath of Hexham on another Saturday morning so she looked at the headlines of the local paper on-line. Damn it, she was still in the news. To be fair it said that Chloe’s death was officially an accident, but also that there was a groundswell of public opinion against a local accountant who was following her that afternoon. She supposed that was the best she could hope for.

Her doorbell sounded and she glanced at the CCTV screen by the door. It was the two detectives. Bugger; she had forgotten to ring them back. She didn’t let them in, but put her coat on and went downstairs to see them. Sure enough they wanted her to go back to the police station for more questioning, once more about the cheque that Henry Lloyd had written a few days before he died. She stuck to her story of total ignorance and after an hour they brought her back home.

‘We are making more enquiries,’ said DI Gibson as he pulled up at the imposing building, ‘and I will be seeking permission to have access to your bank accounts.’

‘You won’t get it from me,’ muttered Judith.

‘I didn’t mean from you,’ he said.

Back in the flat, Judith made a list of everything that was bad in her life, fully intending to counter each item with what she was going to do about it. She found it to be a depressing activity. It was likely that she would lose more clients who would not be replaced very easily. It would be a miracle if anyone around here were to offer her a job at the moment or in the foreseeable future. She wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage after next month, except with Henry’s cheque, and couldn’t force the sale of her flat. Even if she could she would be left owing money on it. She had no friends left in Hexham and her family were either embarrassed by her or oblivious to her. She could give up the office but would have to give three months’ notice. She could return her car. Bloody marvellous.

It was only four o’clock but she opened another bottle of the Rioja she had bought in Carlisle the day before. By seven, she was part way through the next one, but with a new list written.

Sunday 22
nd
February 2009

Judith didn’t wake up until after noon. Her head ached and she felt more than a little sick. Twenty minutes under the power shower helped, and after two strong cups of coffee sitting in the alcove looking out over the fields, she felt strong enough to read the two lists she had written the day before. Nothing had changed. She would have to go through with it. The phone rang. She ignored it.

She packed everything she could carry on a train. She wrote a note to Fiona and Rosie asking them to take all the food and drink, and anything else they wanted from the flat as she wouldn’t be coming back. Fiona had a key; she would come round eventually. She wrote a letter to Mr. Clements asking him to arrange to have the flat repossessed.

By three she felt well enough to eat, so made herself a huge fry-up and more coffee. She also made sandwiches and packed them neatly in a plastic box along with a banana, a yoghurt and a Twix, then washed up for the last time in her spacious north-east wing of a grand country house and loaded up the car.

Judith didn’t cry often, but leaving like this was ripping her heart out and it was all she could do not to break down. She drove down the long driveway, forcing herself not to look in the rear view mirrors.

She was in her office within ten minutes and she looked round critically. She couldn’t really carry anything else, but there was nothing that she wanted anyway. She wrote a note to a rival accountancy practice offering them all her remaining clients and enclosing the key so they could collect the files. She also wrote to her landlord, the bridal shop downstairs telling them that she had gone and where the key was. She didn’t leave a note for DI Gibson or DS Doggart or Langdale’s Solicitors. If they wanted to press charges, they would have a way of finding out where she was.

So that was everything, except to look up the times of trains on Sunday evening and to choose whether to travel east or west. Fate could decide and she would get on the next one stopping at Hexham. She considered, just for a moment, jumping under the next one that didn’t stop at Hexham but discarded the thought as quickly as it had come. Something had to be better somewhere; surely it did.

At seven o’clock Judith sat in her car in the station car park. The train to Carlisle would be there in fifteen minutes. She had bought a ticket and had one more job to do before dragging her two suitcases, back pack, holdall and handbag onto the station. She called the BMW garage and left a message.

‘Judith Dillon here. I’ve left my car at the station. The keys are hidden on top of the front wheel on the driver’s side. Please take it back.’

Friday 27
th
February 2009

The day of Chloe’s funeral dawned crisp and bright but by the time of the service at the crematorium there was a light drizzle of rain falling. Chloe’s father walked down the centre aisle following the coffin containing his only daughter. He leaned on a stick with his right hand and on Louise who had linked arms with him on his left side. He looked straight ahead with no expression on his lined and tanned face, but his eyes look glassy and red.

The crematorium was almost full, mostly with people Chloe had known in Newcastle, but there were a few friends from Hexham as well. Tash sat on the front row with her dad waiting for her mother and Mr. Parks to join them. Pauline sat in the row behind with her mum and dad and some people that Chloe had met through her business. Fiona and Rosie sat near the back on the other side. They hadn’t known Chloe at all but felt a need to be there to show respect, and in a way, to represent Judith. They were acutely aware of people looking at them then looking beyond them, as if to see whether Judith was there somewhere. A local reporter and photographer sat at the back, watching everything and making notes.

A bit further down opposite Fiona sat a youngish man who looked as though he hadn’t slept for a month. He was with a young woman and a middle-aged couple. Rosie heard the reporter say to his colleague that he was the driver of the train. She looked over then nodded and whispered to her mother that the young woman was Shelly from Mill View.

As soon as the service was over, the reporter, a young man, approached Rosie. He looked at her and held her gaze, she thought, for a little too long for such a sad occasion then he said, ‘So, where’s your Auntie Judith today?’

Nice looking though he was, she suddenly felt repulsed by him, so much so that she didn’t even answer. She turned back to Fiona and took her arm.

‘Let’s go, Mum.’

Fiona nodded, and with one last look round, walked towards the car.

‘Better that she wasn’t here,’ she said.

‘Yes, but I wish we knew where she was.’

‘She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Shall we go to her flat this afternoon and decide what to do with her stuff?’

‘Yes. Can we take most of it home so it’s there when she’s ready?’

‘Poor Judith,’ they said together.

Carlisle, March 2010

Monday 1
st
March 2010

Back at work today and now back at Spanish. For once I have something to talk about. I tell the group about my trip to see my mother but without going into how shocked I was to see the state she’s in, and about going to the theatre in Newcastle and walking in Northumberland. It all sounds quite jolly when told in halting Spanish; it was relaxing and a chance not to think about anything except where to go and what to do for a few days.

I did feel refreshed until I got back to work where the atmosphere has got worse since the police interviews and fingerprinting. Anita seems glad that I’m back; she’s had to hold the fort for a few days on her own. That just goes to show that I should be second-in-command. Maybe that can be my next mission. Actually, maybe I should be the supervisor if Maureen doesn’t come back; or even if she does. She’s hardly been stable lately.

Anyway back to the here and now. I must stop this day-dreaming as I miss what’s going on. Senor Rossi is setting homework for next week. He has photocopied some articles from Spanish magazines and newspapers and is handing them out. We are to read our own then pr
é
cis it to tell everyone about it next time. No problem; my spoken Spanish was actually quite rusty but I can still read it reasonably well. Nine o’clock comes round.

‘How are you, Joanna?’ I ask on the way out. ‘We don’t seem to have had much chance to chat tonight.’

‘No, it gets more like a proper lesson all the time, doesn’t it? I’m so glad you had a good break. That business at work was really getting to you.’

‘Yes, thanks, it was good to get right away.’

‘Mam suggested I ask you for dinner one night when none of us are working. How about Thursday this week? I have to change my shift and work the morning but I’ll have the afternoon and evening off.’

Gaynor suggested I come for dinner. Well, well, well. Maybe she’s fed up with Danny-this Danny-that the whole time as well. I haven’t spoken to her since that afternoon in January so I suppose this is her making a gesture of peace. It might even be something we can bond over.

‘That’ll be lovely. Thanks. Shall I bring something?’

‘No, just turn up.’

‘Well I’ll bring some wine, shall I?’

‘OK, thanks. About seven?’

I nod and jump up and down on the spot. It’s still cold enough for snow to be lying on the hills. ‘I’m going to have to move. I’m freezing. See you on Thursday night.’

I decide to walk back home. It’s a cold night but clear and frost-free at the moment. I did a lot of walking in Northumberland and started to feel a bit fitter again. I must keep it up. The River Eden looks absolutely beautiful as I cross the bridge. I love it when the moon is reflected right in the middle, kind of solid in the centre and ruffled around the edges. I must be feeling better if I’m noticing things like that again. Oh well, the only way now is up; metaphorically and actually as the road steepens here. That’s OK; I’ve started to feel cold again by stopping to marvel at nature. Keep moving, that’s the answer.

Thursday 4
th
March 2010

My little holiday wasn’t expensive but I did spend more than I had intended so I decide to catch the bus to Joanna’s house tonight rather than get a taxi. I may get one back, I’ll see how I feel later. The trip through Carlisle and out the other side is quite familiar to me now and there isn’t much point in looking out of the windows anyway as it’s dark. Just over three weeks until the clocks change again, thank God, I hate these dark evenings. The bus pulls into Cumrew Close and I get off and turn up the lane to her street.

Ricky throws himself at me as she answers the door. He’s in one of his hyperactive moods. Joanna suggests that he and I do a jigsaw or read a story while she finishes cooking and before Ricky goes to bed. He chooses a jigsaw and a book. That suits me as I am able to avoid Gaynor’s eyes and conversation for a while longer. She has a bottle of wine in hand as usual, and I think I am safe to accept a glass knowing what she’s going to be like in an hour. She takes Ricky to bed after a while and after he has ceremoniously kissed us all goodnight. I sit in the kitchen and drink another glass while Joanna puts the finishing touches to rack of lamb, new potatoes and a selection of fresh vegetables. It smells lovely; obviously sprinkled with rosemary, and there’s mint sauce and redcurrant jelly to go with it. I’m starving and am glad when Gaynor returns and we can eat.

‘So, Judith, how have you been?’ she says. She sounds friendly but I detect the inquisitor style she started with on Christmas Day.

‘Oh, fine thanks, Gaynor. You?’

‘Yes, I’ve been busy. I hear you have too, with Maureen being off – sick.’

I turn and give her a look that Joanna can’t see that says
back off
, then turn back and smile sadly.

‘Yes, poor Maureen. I hope it’s all going to be cleared up soon and she can get back to work with a clean slate.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes, I do. I am so sure there’s an explanation for it all.’

‘Judith’s said that all along, Mam, that she doesn’t think Maureen did anything wrong.’

‘Yes, so I hear.’

‘Do you know Maureen?’ I ask Gaynor.

‘Not well, but I work with her older sister. The family aren’t happy about it all.’

‘No, I’m sure.’ I wonder where this conversation is going. Gaynor pours more wine, and to be honest I feel like I need it. Joanna gives her mother a warning look and I can’t tell whether it is for the booze or for the line of conversation. We eat in silence for a while.

‘This is delicious, Joanna,’ I say, absolutely meaning it.

‘Thanks. It’s my favourite meal to cook for guests.’

‘Where’s Danny tonight?’ Gaynor asks.

‘He’s at his parents’ place. His brother is back for a couple of days so they’re all catching up together.’

‘Nice. Did you see your family while you were away, Judith?’

Here we go again. ‘Yes, well I saw my mum.’

‘Not your sister or niece?’

‘No. Rosie’s away at university now and my sister happened to be in Leeds visiting her when I was there.’

‘When did you last see them?’

‘I can’t remember exactly.’ I can, actually, remember exactly, but I’m not going to tell nosey Gaynor; Monday 16
th
February 2009 at about nine in the evening; over a year ago. It wasn’t the happiest day.

‘Roughly’

‘Mam, stop it, you’re doing it again. Stop asking so many questions.’

‘I’m just interested. It’s nice when someone’s interested in you, isn’t it Judith?’

Personally I hate it when anyone takes any interest in me, but that is not the answer required here. Gaynor tops up my glass and I take a sip knowing I should stop drinking now. Where is she going with this? She tops up her own glass as well, and Joanna’s, but she is clearing the plates and going to the kitchen to sort out dessert. Gaynor gives me a meaningful look before I can give her one.

‘I’m really interested in people,’ she goes on, ‘maybe that’s why I enjoy working in Marks and Sparks. I’m one of the few that actually like the customers!’ and she laughs in a not-funny way. Joanna comes back over with apple crumble and I laugh along with Gaynor.

‘That’s better,’ she says, ‘you two laughing together for a change.’

I am not convinced. Gaynor is pleasant enough for the rest of the meal, but I am still on my guard. I thought I had relaxed over my holiday but now I think I am still a bit tense. Joanna goes to make us a coffee and she starts again.

‘For example,’ she says as Joanna comes and sits back down, ‘I was really interested in that woman in town.’

‘Which woman, Mam?’ she asks.

‘Oh, Joanna, I don’t think I mentioned it to you. This woman burst out of the crowd of shoppers and started shouting at Judith. I thought she was going to strangle her at one point, didn’t you think that, Judith?’

‘No, it was nothing really. A misunderstanding.’

‘Did she mistake you for someone else?’

‘No, she didn’t,’ Gaynor buts in, ‘did she, Judith?’

‘No she didn’t. But what she was referring to was a misunderstanding from ages ago.’

‘Not that long ago, surely. Just over a year wasn’t it? Just before you moved to Carlisle?’

‘What are you both talking about?’ Joanna asks, looking from me to her mother and back again. Gaynor holds my stare and I realise that she is not as tipsy as she has been making out and my head is starting to spin. I feel at a considerable disadvantage. I continue to hold her stare while I decide how to deal with this. I stick to a version that no-one can possibly dispute; the truth as I see it.

‘It’s something I’ve been trying to forget,’ I start to say.

‘I bet you have, too!’

‘Is it about your dead husband?’ Joanna asks me. ‘If so, Mam, just leave it.’

‘Dead husband!’ Gaynor snorts. ‘Which dead husband might that be, Judith?’

‘Mam, let Judith speak!’

‘A really good friend, someone I cared for very much, had an accident and was killed.’

‘Oh no, Judith, how awful for you. Mam, leave her alone. How did she die, Judith? Were you there?’

‘She was there alright. It was her fault.’

I look at Joanna and say with all the sincerity that comes with the truth, ‘It was not my fault. It was an accident.’

‘The police interviewed you,’ says Gaynor.

‘The police interviewed everybody who knew her. The police always investigate what they call an unnatural death. Of course they interviewed me.’

‘They let you go, obviously.’

I sigh deeply. ‘Obviously. I didn’t have anything to do with it.’ God, my head is swimming. I really don’t feel too good but I can’t run away from this now.

‘That woman didn’t think so.’

‘No she didn’t and still doesn’t. Her son was involved. It wasn’t his fault either, it was an accident, but he sort of blames himself.’

‘What on earth happened?’ Joanna looks at me, pleading to be let in on the story.

‘Your sister blames you too, and your niece does.’

‘They don’t blame me at all. They’re just upset about it. We all are. I left Hexham to get away from it. I wish I hadn’t in a way; maybe it would all be sorted now if I’d stayed.’

Gaynor snorts even more loudly at this. ‘Yeah, right!’

‘Mam, stop it now,’ Joanna sort of screams. The scream cuts right through my head that has started to throb in the last few minutes. I feel very hot. I feel that if I don’t go outside and get some air I will faint or shout back. I have to get outside.

‘I need the loo,’ I say and stagger to the downstairs cloakroom. I splash cold water onto my red face then sit on the toilet for a few minutes to try to get myself back onto an even keel

God, what has Gaynor put in that wine? It really isn’t that strong. Oh my God, conspiracy theories now. My coat is hanging on the peg. I wonder whether I can stay steady enough to calmly lift it down and put it on without any fuss. I wash my hands and face in cold water again and grab my coat as I make my way back to the table.

‘I need fresh air,’ I say as levelly as I can. ‘That wine has given me a headache.’ Gaynor smirks. Maybe she did put something in it or maybe she thinks she has won this round. Either way, by fair means or foul, she
has
won this round and I simply want to go outside and walk home even if it is a couple of miles on a freezing night. I have to work early tomorrow as well. I have to leave. I have to sober up. ‘Thank you for dinner, Joanna. I’ll see you soon.’

I walk out of the front door in fierce and angry defiance at Gaynor who is still staring at me. How dare she do this to me? How fucking dare she? I can’t even get her back because she’s Joanna’s mother. How fucking dare she?

I start to walk down the street back to where the main road joins it. A car has just pulled round the corner and I see straight away that it is Danny. I step out in front of him from behind a parked van and he swerves into a car parked opposite. That sets off the car alarm causing its owner to come running down the path. He starts yelling at Danny who has climbed out of his car, albeit from the passenger door. The driver’s door must be bent but he doesn’t look hurt.

‘It wasn’t my fault, mate,’ says Danny, ‘she stepped out in front of me – from nowhere.’

‘Yes, and you can go back to nowhere!’ I scream at him.

‘What?’ He spins round and takes a closer look at me. ‘It’s Judith, Jo’s friend, isn’t it? What’s going on?’

‘Don’t call her Jo! I don’t like it!’

‘What about my car?’ the man from across the road says as his wife comes out with the keys and switches off the alarm.

Joanna and Gaynor come running out, and I can hear Ricky crying inside the house.

‘Danny, what happened?’

‘Jo! Judith ran out in front of me. I crashed.’ He’s started to shake a bit but just enough to make her concerned. Joanna gives him a hug.

‘Go back!’ I scream at Danny again, ‘Just go back to wherever you came from.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t worry about her, Danny,’ Gaynor joins in. She had gone back into the house to get Ricky and she carries him like a shield from me. He is still crying.

‘You stay out of this, Gaynor,’ I hiss, ‘it was alright until you started.’

‘Started! Started what? To tell my vulnerable daughter what you are really like? I think she has a right to know, especially if she’s leaving Ricky with you.’

‘A right to know what?’ Joanna asks. ‘Nobody has told me yet what this is all about.’

‘It’s about nothing,’ I think I am screaming again, ‘except your mother’s suspicious mind. Why can’t I just get on with my life in Carlisle without
someone
dragging it all up again?’ The
someone
was accompanied by a stare at Gaynor.