‘Mags skips to work — I don’t. It’s my fault. I need to focus and get into the swing of things in London. Don’t tell Mum right now, she’ll only worry and, in all honesty, there’s nothing to worry about. Me and Mags are strong. It doesn’t matter who does what, as long as we’re together.’
Charlie took an age to get his key in the front door, partly because he was pissed and partly because it was 11.30 and he was tired from all the meds he was currently taking. They sniggered like naughty schoolkids, thinking they were being completely silent when, in fact, they were making a terrible racket.
Two cling-filmed plates of food sat on the kitchen top, already pierced and ready for the microwave. The kitchen table was set, complete with two glasses for water and two glasses for whisky. Charlie heated the food and Jack filled all four glasses. While the microwave was on, Charlie said, ‘I’ve got something for you, lad,’ before disappearing. By the time he came back, the piping hot food was on the table.
Charlie put a dog-eared file down in front of Jack. At first he thought it was probably filled with the legal stuff that would have to be dealt with after Charlie had gone; but this file was as old as Jack, by the looks of it. He opened it up and, inside were several yellowing pieces of paper and tons of old photos. Charlie ate in silence as his son slowly took in the enormity of what he was looking at — a birth certificate, adoption papers, photos of a young woman holding a baby. Jack slammed the file shut. Charlie spoke before Jack could.
‘You’re my son. You took my name, you have my mannerisms and I’d swear that you’ve got my nose, even though that’s impossible.’
‘I’m not interested,’ Jack snapped, before stuffing his mouth full of chicken.
Charlie laughed for a second. ‘And when you sulk, I’d swear on my life that you’ve got your mum’s frown.’ He suddenly seemed to sober up. ‘You’ve never asked where you’re from, Jack, and you don’t have to ask now. Just know that you’re not disrespecting me or your mum if you choose to find out.’
‘Why would I want to, Dad? I don’t need... You think I’d want to call someone else “Dad”? You think I want anyone else calling me his lad?’
‘People come and go, that’s life — and we make the most of them while they’re here. If you want to look into your past, all I’m saying is... you have my blessing.’
Jack lay on his fluffed-up pillows, on his childhood bed, and listened to Maggie’s phone send him to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message. She’d know no message was the same as saying, ‘call me back when you have a second’. Jack waited for the screen of his mobile to light up silently, because tonight of all nights, he knew that Maggie would call him back within seconds.
It was actually three minutes later when his screen eventually lit up.
‘Hey, Mags,’ he whispered.
Maggie got straight to the point. ‘How are things there?’
‘He’s been given a few months. It’s in his lungs and his liver, but they’re both secondaries, they don’t actually know where the primary is.’
‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.’
‘That can’t be right, can it, Mags? Not knowing where it started? I mean, it can’t have disappeared, can it? Why can’t they find the primary? If they find the primary, maybe they can fix it. Do you think...?’
‘Do you need me there?’
By changing the subject, Jack knew that Maggie had no answers to his barrage of questions.
‘No, I’ll be home first thing.’ He sounded almost bitter in his reply. ‘I was only given one day off and, anyway, they’ve got it all sorted here. They knew before Christmas, so they’ve already got their heads round everything and they’re off on a world cruise, if you can believe that.’
‘So, no more treatment?’
‘It won’t do any good.’
‘Jack... you have to let them do this in the right way for them.’
Maggie could hear Jack holding his breath, then that slow exhale as he stifled the noise of crying.
‘What about me?’
‘This isn’t about you, love.’
Jack took deep, heavy breaths and regained his composure. Once his breathing was back to normal, Maggie continued.
‘Don’t be angry for long. The most important thing in times like this is to have no regrets. Give them your blessing. We’ll skype every day, and we can even meet them on one of their stops if you like.’
Jack’s voice suddenly perked up, just a little. ‘They go to St Lucia.’
‘There you go, then. We’ll meet them there and stay on for a few days. I can even book the same hotel we stayed in when we did that extravagant holiday we couldn’t afford. It’s nearly two o’clock, Jack. Go to sleep. I love you.’
By five o’clock, Jack was up, showered, dressed and heading out of the front door to catch the 5.45 train back to London. As he leant into the hallway to close the front door, he saw Penny standing in her dressing gown in her bedroom doorway.
They shared the tightest, saddest of hugs. Penny kissed his cheek. And Jack left.
If Jack hadn’t walked into the squad room carrying his overnight bag and looking as if he was running on fumes, he’d have been in big trouble. As it was, Ridley took one look at him and immediately assumed that Jack had had very bad news from his parents. Ridley wasn’t going to enquire further, and he allowed Jack a free pass for rolling in at ten o’clock rather than 8.30. Laura, on the other hand, was desperate to enquire further and see if Jack might need a friendly shoulder to cry on. Jack joined the briefing and Ridley continued.
‘William Fox is doing the post-mortem as we speak. What we know is that the body found in Rose Cottage is definitely male, but dental records are a no-go due to extensive, seemingly accidental, facial damage. We’ll get DNA from bone marrow so, when that’s through, Laura, I want you to lead a couple of uniforms in checking it against all databases. Anik, the money?’
‘Our forensics have picked up from where DI Prescott’s left off and are trying to find a serial number or part serial number for comparison. It’s very unlikely, they say.’
‘Keep on them, Anik. And in the meantime, I want you checking all known sex offenders. Start close to Aylesbury and work outwards.’ Anik clearly wasn’t happy with such a menial task on a murder case, but Ridley didn’t care about that. ‘The word “pervert” was painted on the wall for a reason. Actually, Anik, check local vagrants as well.’
‘Sir,’ Anik mumbled obediently as he opened a brand-new file to record his part in this investigation. Jack glanced at his overnight bag and recalled that the file Charlie had given him was lying on top of his clothes right beneath the zip.
Jack got an empty file from his desk, just as Anik had done, and wrote on the front cover: Aylesbury arson / murder. 23 June 2019. He then reached into his overnight bag, pulled out the dog-eared file containing information on his birth parents, and put it inside the Aylesbury file. As Ridley waffled on, none the wiser, Jack read his birth certificate.
He had always known his birth mother’s name was Trudie Nunn and his birth father was James Anthony Nunn. There were no photographs in the file of James Nunn. Just Trudie. Looking at the photos, she had a petite frame, bleached blonde hair and a naturally sexy look about her. Jack wished that the word ‘sexy’ hadn’t popped into his head, but he couldn’t change that now — it was a fact: his birth mum had been a sexy woman in her day. Jack then found Trudie’s death certificate. It was dated 1998 and the cause was a brain tumour.