know.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘No. I’m asking who upset Natasha so much that she took her own life, Miss Greenslade. Was it someone we don’t know about, was it Mrs Cooper, was it your father, or was it you?’
Karen stared at him in what Jenny took to be a stunned fury. Bolter waited for her answer, but before she spoke, Jack Greenslade’s voice sounded: ‘Tell the effing truth, Karen.’
‘What would you know about that? This is your fault. It’s your fault she’s gone. She was fine till you showed your face.’
Her father rose sharply from his chair and headed for the door.
‘That’s right – walk away, why don’t you? Walk away and don’t come back. You could have been her dad for all I know, you rotten bastard. Go to hell!’
Jack Greenslade slammed the door after him. Its echo rebounded off the bare walls. And then there was empty silence.
‘Is that what you told Natasha?’ Bolter said gently.
Karen looked at him wide-eyed, like a child caught redhanded. And he hadn’t the heart to ask her again.
TWELVE
Jenny waited for the hall to empty before leaving. She didn’t want to have to face Elaine or Judy and she hadn’t the strength to talk to the Bartletts or deflect another snide glance from Detective Constable Clarke. Already she knew that it would take days, perhaps weeks or months to absorb the impact of the last hour and make sense of what it might mean. In the minutes since Bolter had delivered his verdict she had begun the process of picking through the facts that confronted her. Even at the moment she had handed Natasha her number, she had been aware that she was acting on some prescient instinct; but fate had intervened so heavily, with such force of purpose, to snuff out the girl’s young life, that it was impossible not to feel that events had unfolded in accordance with a plan of which she was an integral and predestined part. She couldn’t help feeling that she had somehow been tugged across an invisible threshold; set on a path to something.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the boards behind her as she approached the hall door and pulled it open.
‘Satisfied with the suicide verdict, Mrs Cooper?’
She turned to see Bolter, his tie slackened at his collar, a battle-scarred briefcase in his thick hands.
‘Yes.’
‘Thought it best to keep it simple. I could have fleshed it out with a narrative, but I can’t see that it would have helped. The mother’s suffered more than enough without being publicly shamed as well.’
‘I’m sure life won’t be easy for her,’ Jenny said, ‘whether or not there’s any truth in what she said about her father.’
‘No.’
They stepped outside into the churchyard.
‘How about you? Will you be all right?’ Bolter asked. ‘Gave you a bit of a rough ride in there. Had to, I’m afraid. You’re a lawyer, you know the form. I could write to your employers if you’d like – emphasize that your actions played no part, that you only acted for the best.’
Jenny was touched. ‘Thank you. But why would you? I lied to the police.’
He looked at her as if wondering that himself. ‘I suppose I approve,’ he said. ‘Like to think I’d have done the same in your shoes. One of nature’s innocents, wasn’t she? They provoke things in people, innocents: bring out the devil or the angel. No middle ground with them. They don’t allow it.’
‘I suppose not.’
He met her eyes and gave a brief, encouraging smile. They were kind eyes seen up close; determined, not cruel.
‘Goodbye, Mrs Cooper. Don’t weaken. Whatever you do, don’t weaken. And never stray from the side of the angels – they need you.’
He raised his hand in a brisk farewell and strode off along the gravelled path.
After a moment, Jenny followed, and as she rounded the corner of the church, she turned her face to the late September sun that lingered like a long goodbye.
If you enjoyed The Innocent you’ll love
The Chosen Dead
Out January
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘No. I’m asking who upset Natasha so much that she took her own life, Miss Greenslade. Was it someone we don’t know about, was it Mrs Cooper, was it your father, or was it you?’
Karen stared at him in what Jenny took to be a stunned fury. Bolter waited for her answer, but before she spoke, Jack Greenslade’s voice sounded: ‘Tell the effing truth, Karen.’
‘What would you know about that? This is your fault. It’s your fault she’s gone. She was fine till you showed your face.’
Her father rose sharply from his chair and headed for the door.
‘That’s right – walk away, why don’t you? Walk away and don’t come back. You could have been her dad for all I know, you rotten bastard. Go to hell!’
Jack Greenslade slammed the door after him. Its echo rebounded off the bare walls. And then there was empty silence.
‘Is that what you told Natasha?’ Bolter said gently.
Karen looked at him wide-eyed, like a child caught redhanded. And he hadn’t the heart to ask her again.
TWELVE
Jenny waited for the hall to empty before leaving. She didn’t want to have to face Elaine or Judy and she hadn’t the strength to talk to the Bartletts or deflect another snide glance from Detective Constable Clarke. Already she knew that it would take days, perhaps weeks or months to absorb the impact of the last hour and make sense of what it might mean. In the minutes since Bolter had delivered his verdict she had begun the process of picking through the facts that confronted her. Even at the moment she had handed Natasha her number, she had been aware that she was acting on some prescient instinct; but fate had intervened so heavily, with such force of purpose, to snuff out the girl’s young life, that it was impossible not to feel that events had unfolded in accordance with a plan of which she was an integral and predestined part. She couldn’t help feeling that she had somehow been tugged across an invisible threshold; set on a path to something.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the boards behind her as she approached the hall door and pulled it open.
‘Satisfied with the suicide verdict, Mrs Cooper?’
She turned to see Bolter, his tie slackened at his collar, a battle-scarred briefcase in his thick hands.
‘Yes.’
‘Thought it best to keep it simple. I could have fleshed it out with a narrative, but I can’t see that it would have helped. The mother’s suffered more than enough without being publicly shamed as well.’
‘I’m sure life won’t be easy for her,’ Jenny said, ‘whether or not there’s any truth in what she said about her father.’
‘No.’
They stepped outside into the churchyard.
‘How about you? Will you be all right?’ Bolter asked. ‘Gave you a bit of a rough ride in there. Had to, I’m afraid. You’re a lawyer, you know the form. I could write to your employers if you’d like – emphasize that your actions played no part, that you only acted for the best.’
Jenny was touched. ‘Thank you. But why would you? I lied to the police.’
He looked at her as if wondering that himself. ‘I suppose I approve,’ he said. ‘Like to think I’d have done the same in your shoes. One of nature’s innocents, wasn’t she? They provoke things in people, innocents: bring out the devil or the angel. No middle ground with them. They don’t allow it.’
‘I suppose not.’
He met her eyes and gave a brief, encouraging smile. They were kind eyes seen up close; determined, not cruel.
‘Goodbye, Mrs Cooper. Don’t weaken. Whatever you do, don’t weaken. And never stray from the side of the angels – they need you.’
He raised his hand in a brisk farewell and strode off along the gravelled path.
After a moment, Jenny followed, and as she rounded the corner of the church, she turned her face to the late September sun that lingered like a long goodbye.
If you enjoyed The Innocent you’ll love
The Chosen Dead
Out January
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