A scattering of old ladies were walking dogs on the links, but the beach was almost empty. The mist had disappeared and there was a soft breeze from the southwest. It was like an early spring day. He opened the car door for her with a flourish and they walked along the promenade towards Cullercoats. On the other side of the road there were chip shops, amusement arcades. In the sunshine they seemed less sleazy and dismal than usual. They were jolly, with a fifties innocence. The light was clear and reflected on the wet, ridged sand and the retreating tide. Everything was clean and bright. She saw it all very sharply.
He ran across the road to buy her an ice cream and returned with a huge multi-coloured cornet. It seemed to her a frivolous gesture. She felt the morning had a great significance and wished he would take it more seriously.
‘Aren’t you busy?’ she said. She thought he was being irresponsible. Surely he should be working. There was a murderer in Heppleburn and he was enjoying a jaunt to the seaside. She did not recognize his desperation.
‘I thought you would like ice cream,’ he said. ‘But perhaps you would have preferred the candy floss.’
She held the ice cream awkwardly. It dribbled down the cone and onto her fingers. ‘I don’t want to take up your time,’ she said. She wanted him to say that although his time was valuable he would give it to her.
‘It helps me to get away from it for a while,’ he said. ‘I’ve not had much sleep.’
They walked on until they came to a seat looking out over the beach, and sat there. A woman in jeans and sweater was pushing an old lady in a wheelchair along the promenade. They were laughing together over some joke.
‘How can I help you?’ Patty asked. It was what he had been waiting for and he answered immediately.
‘Give me your time,’ he said, ‘and your local knowledge. Listen to what’s going on in the village and tell me what you find out. I was sure Kitty Medburn killed her husband. Of course I was wrong and I have to start from the beginning again. You and your father discovered more by poking around the village than I ever will. I had a long talk to Jack on Saturday night and I was impressed. Jack’s no good to me now. He’s distraught. He’ll blame himself for Kitty’s death. Besides, he’s lost his incentive. He doesn’t care who the murderer is.’
‘I’ve no incentive,’ she said.
‘But you’ll help,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘ You will help.’
‘I’m not easily bribed,’ she said, to give herself time to think. ‘I’ll want more than an ice cream cornet.’ She knew she would do anything he asked her.
‘You’ll have your village back,’ he said. ‘When the murderer’s found, it’ll belong to you again.’
She looked up suddenly, amazed and flattered because he understood so well. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Later she thought he must have enchanted her because she agreed so readily to his plans. Perhaps the shock of finding Paul Wilcox’s body had left her weak and impressionable. Perhaps it was because she had been attracted to him from the first time they met, in her front room, after Medburn’s murder. She knew she was being manipulated but could do nothing about it. He smiled at her, as if she had lived up to all his expectations.
‘What you’ve been doing all along,’ he said. ‘ Listen. You’re a good listener. You persuaded Angela Brayshaw to talk to you about Harold Medburn. Talk to her again. Medbum left her all his money in his will. Did she tell you that?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘She didn’t mention it. Perhaps Harold hadn’t told her that he was making a will in her favour.’
‘Perhaps. Or perhaps she’s cleverer than we realize.’ He turned away from her and she quickly dropped the remainder of the ice cream into a litter bin and wiped her face with a handkerchief.
‘Did your father tell you that Medburn was drugged before he died?’ he asked.
‘It was in the papers,’ she said.
‘He was drugged with Heminevrin, a medicine used in the care of old people. It’s a controlled drug. I need to know who would have access to it.’
‘Angela Brayshaw’s mother runs an old people’s home.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’ve been there. She’s giving nothing away.’
‘Paul Wilcox used to be a nurse,’ she said, trying to be helpful.
‘Did he? That’s hardly relevant now.’
‘Should you be telling me all this?’ Patty said helplessly. It seemed a terrible responsibility. ‘Isn’t it confidential? It doesn’t seem right to discuss the case with me.’
‘I trust you,’ he said. It sounded better than confessing that he was making up his own rules for the investigation. ‘I need a result soon. The press is already having a field day about Kitty’s suicide. They’re blaming the police for her death of course. They have a point. I made a mistake. I should never have arrested her.’
She wanted to console him, to tell him that she did not blame him, but he wanted more than that. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I can be much use.’
She hesitated. ‘Have you been to see Hannah Wilcox?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘I suppose she’ll be going home to her parents.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘ I don’t think so. She told me she wanted to stay at the old mill. She thought it would be better for the children.’
‘But she must be so lonely!’ Patty cried.
‘Perhaps you should visit her,’ the policeman suggested smoothly.
‘She needs friends now. And she’ll probably find it easier to talk to you than me.’
‘You want me to interview her for you?’
‘Of course not,’ he said. The disapproval was assumed. ‘Not that. But if you did discover anything relevant to the inquiry you’d have a duty to tell me.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I see.’ She did not have the strength to argue with him, but realized that she had been used again. She had been trapped, not this time by flattering words, but by a ride in a fast car, the sunshine and his attention. It made no difference to how she felt about him. They went back to Heppleburn in silence.
Early the next afternoon Patty called at the old mill. Hannah was alone. Joe was at school and Lizzie, the baby, was upstairs in bed. Hannah was sitting in the window, in the same chair as when Patty had seen her on the day of Paul’s death. She must have seen Patty walking through the trees but she did not move. Perhaps she hoped Patty would see her lack of response as rejection and turn away. But Patty continued up the gravel path and knocked at the back door. There was a long pause and she could hear the burn beyond the garden. There was no sound within the house and she was about to go away when the door opened. Hannah was flushed and her eyes were very bright as if she were feverish.
‘Come in,’ she said quickly. All her movements were violent and jerky. ‘Do come in.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Patty said. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t interfere. But I thought there might be something I could do.’
Patty knew she would never endure even a lesser crisis alone, in a strange part of the country without the support of her family and friends. Hannah seemed not to be listening. Throughout the conversation she was restless, nervous, and Patty had the impression that this was only an intensification of her usual state.
‘If you’d prefer to be alone,’ Patty said, ‘just tell me and I’ll go away.’
‘No,’ Hannah said. ‘It was kind of you to come. I must seem very rude.’ She opened the door wide. ‘ Would you like some tea? I expect you would.’
She switched taps full on and filled a kettle. There was a pile of dishes in the sink and she began to wash two mugs, then gave up and took clean ones from hooks on the wall. She banged open cupboards and drawers with a random frenzy.
‘I don’t know where Paul put the tea,’ she said helplessly. ‘I’m not here much and he saw to all that.’