Maggie, however, saw a positive in what had just happened. She was certain now that Jack’s nightmares stemmed from his childhood. Maggie didn’t want to talk anymore about what Jack had done to Hannah, she just held him tight.
‘It’s over. Hannah will be fine. And you’re going to be fine.’
He smiled and nodded, finally feeling he could breathe properly again. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, by the way,’ Maggie said, ‘me and your mum employed a nice lady called Gladys today. Five mornings a week. She’s from Ghana and has the most amazing dreadlocks. She was the best one by a mile.’
‘Great,’ Jack said before heading upstairs to see if Hannah really was OK.
Maggie sat for a minute, wondering if Jack had told her the whole story. Had he been sexually abused too? It would not be uncommon where physical and psychological abuse were present. She was happy that Jack had shared his memory... but was now worried what other issues were going to come out into the open.
An odd side effect of what Janet was doing to Rodney Middleton was that he had become a far more pleasant man to deal with. He was not as aggressive and had even started to take an interest in the art department. But Janet knew it wouldn’t last.
She was on duty more often than not and was therefore usually the one who administered his white capsules. These were a growing cocktail of fentanyl and xylazine, plus his Ibuprofen, plus whatever his girlfriend might be smuggling in for him. Janet didn’t care about Amanda fucking Dunn. She’d got away with murder, quite literally, so if she got dragged into any investigation into Middleton’s death, Janet wasn’t going to lose any sleep over that.
Middleton was also now seeing the on-duty medics in relation to a wound that had appeared on his right leg, which had to be cleaned and dressed daily. He could not recall falling or hurting himself, but Janet made sure it was documented that when he over-dosed, he could easily have fallen and not known about it.
Josh insisted on daily updates on her progress, and every call made her nervous because time was running out before her departure. Middleton was changing daily, becoming more addicted to his cocktail of drugs while his leg wound slowly changed from a scratch into an ulcerated hole. Janet worked hard at being the medic who most frequently dealt with Middleton, so that she could monitor his reaction to the drugs.
As Josh’s return date to New York got closer, he started pushing Janet to administer more fentanyl and xylazine as he wanted the job done before he left the UK.
‘I can kill him in the blink of an eye, Josh, with one special capsule,’ she told him. ‘But you wanted him to suffer. We have just under one more week. Let’s use it.’
After their conversation, Josh put in a call to Laura at the station asking if Jack had returned to work yet.
‘He’s expected next week,’ she told him. ‘Everyone’s really looking forward to seeing him. How’s the tour going?’
‘I’ve just got two more events before I go back to London, then home,’ he told her. ‘It would be good to see you...’
As he’d hoped, she offered to let him stay at her flat.
On Portobello Road, Marius and Jack had spent the morning stacking the van with the larger items they’d bought at the stalls: bookcases, large ceramic pots, a bed and two shelving units. It was already looking full, so they reckoned they’d need another trip for what remained. Marius fancied a bacon roll and coffee, so Jack said he’d check on the mattresses Maggie wanted, then they could meet back at the van.
Heading along Portobello Road, Jack stopped to enquire at a small shop selling beds. They didn’t have the right size in stock but would have a big delivery the following day and would likely have the one he wanted then. He was about to head back to the van when he did a U-turn, heading further down Portobello to the framer’s. The door was open, letting in enough light so that he could see inside. It was stacked to the ceiling with frames, but Jack’s attention was immediately taken by a massive cross dominating the entire room, looking like a theatrical or movie prop. Jack edged further into the shop, looking over the mountain of frames. He bent down to check one.
‘What you lookin’ for?’
Jack turned. The man leaning on the doorframe from the inner room was the one he had seen selling frames to Adam.
‘I have an unframed picture and was just checking if one of these might be suitable.’
‘What size?’
‘Ah, that’s me being stupid. I don’t actually have the measurements with me.’
‘Then come back when you do. We’re not open right now, we’re just waiting for a delivery.’ He was very muscular, about the same height as Jack, wearing dirty denim overalls with a washed-out T-shirt beneath. His balding head boasted the odd strand of greasy blond hair.
‘Thanks, I’ll do that.’
‘Only open Saturday from ten till two.’
Jack gestured to the massive cross. ‘That’s really something, isn’t it?’ For the first time, he noticed the heavy black chains hooked to a ring at the back of it. ‘Have to have a big room to stand that in.’
He received a cold glare from the man’s small, flinty eyes. He obviously didn’t want to have any further conversation... which was enough to make Jack continue.
‘It’s probably from a theatrical production, I suppose. I can’t remember if they had a big cross in Jesus Christ Superstar. Or maybe from a biblical epic?’
Jack received another dismissive stare, so he backed away towards the entrance. ‘This your shop?’
‘No, I just work here. Shut the door on your way out.’
‘Do you have a card?’ Jack persisted, ‘Maybe when I get home and measure the picture, I could ring to find out if you have a frame that’d fit.’
‘No cards. Go on, out now, mate.’
Jack nodded and smiled as he left, closing the door behind him. As he made his way back to Marius and the van, he paused, wondering if he should have said he was Adam Border’s friend. He also thought there was a possibility that Adam could have ordered the cross for his new painting.
‘Hurry please, Jack,’ Marius shouted as Jack approached, ‘I need to get everything unloaded. I have a job this afternoon.’
‘Sorry, I was asking about mattresses. Might be coming in tomorrow.’
‘I can’t do it tomorrow. It’ll have to be the day after.’
‘Fine by me. I can help... I don’t start work until Monday.’
By the time they had unloaded the van and carried everything up to the loft extension, Jack was hungry. A note on the kitchen table informed Jack that Penny was out with Hannah, and Maggie had taken Charlie to the clinic for his check-up. The large ceramic planters stood empty beside the plants Maggie had ordered. So Jack decided he would surprise her.
When Maggie arrived home, she was thrilled to see all her plants in their new pots, looking wonderful. She chose not to point out that, now full of soil, they’d be much harder to move into place. Jack rolled the pots on the rims of their base as Maggie directed him into the conservatory, where he left the planters on either side of the sliding doors into the garden. ‘Kew Gardens has got nothing on us,’ he joked.
Jack felt in good spirits. Whether or not it was connected to opening up about what happened to him at the care home, he just didn’t know. What he did know was that he was looking forward to returning to work.
When Maggie went upstairs to bathe and feed Charlie, Jack ducked into his office and started Googling the stolen painting Adam had told him about. There it was: Caravaggio’s Nativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrence, painted in 1609, stolen from the altar of the church in Palermo. One article provided the exact measurements — explaining why Adam had been searching so long for a canvas measuring eight feet eleven inches in length and six feet five and a half inches in width.