‘No, that’s not what I said,’ replied Jean. ‘When I came back, Becky was coming out of the tent. She said Charlie was missing.’

  ‘So, this was just before 10pm?’

  Jean hesitated.

  ‘I think so. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘Joel didn’t call the police until 4am. That’s six hours later. What were you all doing for six hours?’

  ‘What do you think we were doing? Having a laugh? We were looking!’

  Kate sat back and kept eye contact with Jean. ‘Adrian Merton was the policeman who arrived first at Devil’s Way. He said that you and Becky were fighting on the ground.’

  Jean nodded.

  ‘Becky blamed me. It had got heated, when we couldn’t find Charlie.’

  ‘Did you fight often?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call the police earlier? Six hours seems like a long time to wait when you knew Charlie was missing.’

  ‘I don’t like the police. None of us does,’ said Jean, fixing her with a cold stare. ‘You and me, we come from different worlds. In my world, the police are evil bastards. They’re the last people you call.’

  ‘Even if a child is missing?’

  ‘We thought he’d wandered off! He’d done it before, at the Magnolia shopping centre in Exmouth… And in a park one day when we had a picnic. We were looking, everywhere!’ she insisted. ‘You don’t know what it was like, searching for hours, hoping he would just be around the corner. When Joel finally decided to call the police, it was like we had to admit he was gone. And the police judged us. They judged me when they heard about mine and Declan’s history.’ There was an awkward silence. Jean shook her head and looked away across the grounds. Kate knew that what she said next wouldn’t go down well either.

  ‘Declan Connoly was caught with an underage girl in a pub a few weeks before Charlie went missing.’

  ‘Is that a question? Cos I sent Declan away that night when he showed up. I didn’t want anything to do with him. That’s what I told the police, too.’

  ‘But you were both together, in a relationship for a long time?’

  ‘Do you think Declan did it? Took Charlie?’ asked Jean.

  ‘He was there at the time Charlie went missing.’

  Jean shook her head impatiently.

  ‘The police questioned him. They found his car in a ditch the next morning. He was so drunk that he wasn’t capable. And he wouldn’t have taken Charlie. Declan is many things, but he’s not—’

  ‘A child killer?’ finished Kate. She knew she was pushing it by saying it in such a blunt way.

  Jean looked at the ground for a long moment.

  ‘Declan is many things, but he’s not a child killer. He’s a useless druggie. My life with Declan meant I wasn’t the best mother to Becky,’ said Jean, her voice trembling along with her bottom lip. ‘I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. I had drug problems in the past, and alcohol, too. Declan was a part of my life for a long time, but by the time Charlie was born, he was out of it, and I’d been clean for four years. I swear on Charlie’s life, that’s true. I left Charlie in the tent because I wanted Declan to go and leave us alone. I was protecting him.’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘Do you know where Declan lives now?’

  ‘Yeah. I can give you his address. We’re not in contact, really.’ Jean looked up at Kate. ‘People like you have no idea what it’s like to try and turn a corner and get sober after making so many mistakes.’

  ‘I do. I’m in recovery from alcohol addiction. I lost custody of my son, Jake, when he was six,’ she said. Jean hesitated. Kate could see that this revelation had thrown her off for a moment.

  ‘How did you get him back?’ asked Jean.

  ‘I didn’t. My mother had custody until he was sixteen, and then Jake was free to choose.’

  ‘Did he choose you?’

  ‘Yes. And I used to see Jake during school holidays, and my mother always let him visit after I got myself sorted out.’

  ‘Ah. So you had a nice middle-class arrangement? No social workers.’

  ‘There were social workers involved. I know that a social worker expressed concern about Charlie in the weeks before he went missing. What was that about?’

  Jean sat back in shock.

  ‘You are a good private detective.’

  ‘I need to know all the information, Jean. I’m not here to accuse you or to make you feel guilty, but if this is going to work, then I need to know everything.’

  Jean searched her pockets and found a clean tissue.

  ‘I had a neighbour upstairs who had it in for me. One night, a few months before Charlie went missing, Declan came to my flat in the early hours one morning, and we had a blazing row. This neighbour heard the commotion and called social services. Charlie wasn’t even in the flat at the time. Becky and Joel had gone to Center Parcs with him. But still, social services sent this woman around.’

  ‘Anna Treadwell?’

  ‘Yeah. That was her. The bitch. You have been doing your research.’

  ‘Why was she a bitch?’

  ‘Cos she kept showing up, hounding us to try and catch us out. At times it felt like she wanted to take him away and keep him for her own. She wouldn’t accept that Charlie was a happy little boy, which he was. I might have messed up in my life, but as far as Charlie was concerned, he was always immaculate. He always had food. And warmth. And love.’

  Jean now had tears in her eyes, and she wiped at them with the tissue.

  ‘Did you know Anna Treadwell was murdered?’ asked Kate.

  ‘No. I didn’t know that. When?’

  ‘Shortly after Charlie went missing.’

  Jean put her hand to her mouth, and something moved across her face. Was it a realisation? Or shock? Kate wondered. It was a mere flicker, and then it was gone.

  ‘Well. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’

  ‘Did Anna ever show up at your flat when Declan was there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you tell Declan about Anna taking an interest in Charlie?’

  ‘I don’t know. I might have.’

  ‘Do you think he had something to do with Anna Treadwell’s death?’ asked Kate. Jean shook her head as if she had thought about it and then dismissed it.

  ‘No. I doubt it. Declan had other interests than killing a social worker.’

  ‘What interests?’

  ‘Drugs. Booze. Women. I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about finding Charlie.’

  ‘We need to talk about him, Jean. Whether you like it or not, he could still be a suspect in this.’

  ‘Declan is not the kind of man you’d want to cross.’

  16

  ‘Why isn’t Declan the kind of man you’d like to cross?’ repeated Kate. The sun was now lower in the sky, and the shade covering their chairs in the hospital garden had lengthened.

  Jean’s hands were shaking.

  ‘I just want you to find Charlie. I don’t want to have to dig things up!’ Jean was now clutching the tissue, and her hands were shaking. Kate got up and crouched beside her chair.

  ‘Jean. Jean, listen to me,’ she said as Jean clamped her eyes shut and shook her head indignantly like a child. ‘Anything you say to me will remain in the strictest confidence. Do you think Declan had anything to do with Charlie’s disappearance?’

  ‘No!’

  A strong breeze blew through the garden, cutting through the afternoon’s heat. It rustled the leaves on the walnut tree, and Kate felt a sudden strange melancholy dread. She often felt this when she took on significant cases; it was a feeling that time was moving fast, and she would be left behind. The case would go unsolved. She shook the thought away.

  ‘Jean. What don’t you want to dig up about Declan?’ She sat back in her chair and gave Jean a moment to compose herself.

  ‘Just talking about him makes me feel bad. He’s ten years older than me, Declan. You probably couldn’t tell now. We’re both seen as old, but I was fifteen when I first met him, and he was twenty-five. That was a huge age gap.’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘I was in a children’s home from when I was four. My mum died, and I didn’t have anyone else. I never experienced anything bad, if you know what I mean. I was two months away from my sixteenth birthday and I knew I’d be turfed out the day after I turned sixteen. They help you find a bedsit and whatnot, but it was a terrifying prospect to have to leave and go out into the world on your own. I met Declan around this time. He was part of a building crew who came to fix the roof on the building at the home,’ she said.

  ‘What was the home called?’

  ‘Finbury House. Sounds posh, doesn’t it? It wasn’t. It’s a few miles outside Exeter. It was one of those old manor houses that got commandeered during the war. All plasterboard partitions and Formica, and so draughty. The home closed a few years after I left. It’s now a posh spa.’

  ‘So you met Declan when he was working on the roof?’

  ‘Yeah. It was summer 1980. A couple of us girls were asked to take out drinks for the workers, orange squash.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘That’s when I met him, and then I started to spend time with him during his lunch breaks. One thing led to another. Like I said, I was only a couple of months off leaving, and I was a beauty back then,’ she added to Kate as if she somehow doubted her.

  ‘You were fifteen?’

  ‘Yeah. I would skive off at night to meet him in the pub. This happened for a couple of months, and then, when I was sixteen, Declan asked me to move in with him. He had a bedsit in Taunton, and for a time, it was nice…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘And then he started to pester me about his friends who liked me. One of them came over for the night, and we all ended up, you know, in bed together.’

  ‘Was it consensual?’

  ‘I went along with it,’ said Jean after a pause. ‘He wore me down like he did with lots of things. First, it was one friend who became a regular thing with us, and then we went to a party that turned into wife-swapping. That was when I discovered he was whoring me out. For money.’

  Kate didn’t know what to say. She was shocked, but at the same time, she wasn’t, so she just listened.

  ‘I didn’t think much of myself back then, and I still don’t, but Declan had a way of convincing me that it was normal. He made me feel like I wasn’t pulling my weight. I didn’t have a job, I was on the dole, so there were times when he would charge men for a night with me. Some of them were respectable, smart and well-dressed. He said I was going to sleep with them anyway.’

  ‘I know this might sound an odd question, but you said Declan was a builder?’

  ‘Yeah, a jack-of-all-trades builder.’

  ‘Were these men builders too?’

  ‘No, they were respectable.’

  ‘How did Declan know these men?’

  ‘He had a way of ingratiating himself. He wasn’t afraid or intimidated by posh people. Declan could go into a room and be the same with everyone.’

  ‘What did these men do for work?’ asked Kate.

  ‘I never got that far. I remember some of the men having nice suits and keeping their cash in one of those silver money clips. Lots of cash… I’m making it sound like I was a prostitute, but it never felt that way. The men he chose for me were always kind. Always decent to me.’ She gave a huge sigh. ‘I’m kidding myself, aren’t I?’

  ‘How long did this go on for?’

  ‘A while… I didn’t fall pregnant with Becky until I was twenty-two.’

  ‘Who was the father?’

  Jean bit her bottom lip, and Kate noticed for the first time that she had false teeth. They were very white and straight.

  ‘It wasn’t Declan. I’d left him. I got a job in a pub and started seeing the landlord. He was a good man, but he was in the middle of a messy divorce, and then just when I fell pregnant, him and his wife wanted to make a go of it. They got back together.’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Kate.

  ‘I went back to Declan. He took me in, and I had nowhere else to go. I’d lost my job at the pub. That’s when stuff turned a lot darker for me. I had another man’s baby growing in my belly, and Declan hated that. He started drinking a lot and drugging, too. He hit me.’

  ‘While you were pregnant?’

  ‘Yeah. Until I ran away one night when I was eight months pregnant. I was lucky to find a women’s shelter. They took me in, and I stayed there until I had Becky and for the first few months after she was born. I eventually went back to Declan.’ She smiled ruefully and shook her head. ‘I thought he’d changed. And he did for a while, but the next few years were a pattern of him getting drunk and abusive. I finally broke free of him when Becky was three and got a council flat. But then Declan wormed his way back in again.’ Jean put her hands over her face.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Kate.

  ‘No. It’s not. I got into drugs. Becky was eight or nine, getting older. I don’t know how it happened. I just, I tried it.’

  ‘What did you try?’

  ‘Weed at first, and then cocaine and finally heroin. I managed to keep things steady for a few years, but when Becky was fifteen, I lost it and ended up overdosing for the third time…’ Silent tears ran down her face. ‘I’d grown up with no one, and then I have a kid, and I put her in the same position. I got given a rehab place. It was rough, not like those American ones where you all bask in sunny gardens and sleep in private rooms.’

  Kate nodded, remembering her own experience of an NHS rehab facility.

  ‘What did Becky do?’

  ‘She had some nice friends at school. One, in particular, Kelly-Jane, came from a nice family, and they were close. Kelly-Jane’s mother offered Becky to come and live with them whilst I was in rehab, and she stayed there for nearly a year until she’d got her GCSEs; she got five A grades.’

  ‘Did Becky come back to live with you?’ asked Kate.

  ‘She stayed living with Kelly-Jane’s family whilst she did her A-Levels. She got a place at university. Then she fell pregnant with Charlie.’

  At this point, Jean looked sadly out at the empty garden. Most of the other patients had gone inside, and Kate saw that visiting time would soon be over.

  ‘And this was Joel who got Becky pregnant?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Yes. Joel was Kelly-Jane’s older brother,’ said Jean.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Yeah. The family weren’t too happy, being quite middle class and all that. Joel didn’t want to get married. His family turned their back on them, so suddenly the tables were turned, and they both came to live with me. Becky had been a nice little pet project for them when she toed the line. Their little Eliza Doolittle did ever so well at school. But then Eliza started carrying on with their darling son and got knocked up. Becky was suddenly just another working-class slag.’

  ‘Where were you living?’

  ‘I had my council flat, but Declan was still coming in and out of my life, so it was hard to keep clean. I vowed that I would be clean from when Becky had her baby, and I was. A few months before, I sorted myself out so I could help her with Charlie. And I swear on his life that I never did drugs again. I never drank. When Declan turned up that day when we were camping, he was drunk and out of it, and I was scared for Charlie.’

  ‘And you tried to appease him,’ said Kate. Jean nodded.

  ‘I had to get rid of him without things getting nasty. He’d screwed me up, and it affected Becky. I didn’t want him near my grandson.’

  ‘How did you get rid of him?’

  ‘He hit me, and then I dragged him by the ear and scolded him. He had quite an overbearing mother, and it sometimes worked when he was really drunk. He’d revert back to being a kid.’

  Kate found Jean another tissue. She gave her a moment. And then knew she had to ask the question.

  ‘The police said they found Charlie’s blood in Declan’s car—’

  ‘That was from weeks before,’ said Jean, slightly defensively. ‘We’d gone to the cinema in Declan’s car.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want him near your grandson? And I thought you and him were no longer together?’

  ‘That was just one time when I needed him to take us to the cinema. I’d promised Charlie the cinema. We stopped at a park on the way home, and Charlie cut himself on a small piece of glass by the swings. The blood came from there.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t have any doubts?’

  ‘I can’t… I can’t contemplate that Declan did that. He may be many things, but he’s not a child killer.’

  Kate looked at the insistence in Jean’s face, and her heart sank. She was still in love with Declan. And love was blind.

  17

  Kate left The Lawns nursing home just before four. It was an awkward parting; she felt she knew much more about Jean and her past, but the case was far more complicated than she’d first thought.

  Kate came out onto the main road. She felt hungry, but the thought of eating a meal made her stomach turn. It was still hot, and a nice breeze was in the air. A newsagent’s was on the other side of the road, and Kate thought she could stomach some chocolate. She waited for a gap in the traffic and then dashed across.

  Inside the newsagent’s, a small boy and girl stood at a glass-topped counter with a white-haired lady. An older man with a white fuzz of hair waited patiently on the other side of the counter as they chose a selection of penny sweets from different compartments under the glass.

  ‘How much have we got left, Gran?’ asked the boy, looking up at the older lady.

  ‘You’ve got ten pence left each,’ said the man, standing patiently with his hand in a clear plastic glove.

  The two children turned their attention back to the glass. They were deep in concentration as they decided to choose the white sugar mice or cola bottle chews. The woman turned back and saw Kate waiting behind.

  ‘Sorry, love. We won’t be a moment. You’d think they were voting at the UN,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘No problem,’ said Kate.

  ‘I’d give anything to have their decisions,’ said the man with a chuckle.