Ann Cleeves - The Moth Catcher

Annie stood for a moment outside the Hope North-East office and tried to remember what used to be in the building. Suddenly she remembered: a little cafe. An old-fashioned greasy spoon, serving bacon stotties and strong tea. Her grandfather had come here sometimes to meet his pals. She pushed open the door and climbed the stairs to the office.

Three people were sitting at one of the small desks, having some sort of meeting. They had mugs of coffee in front of them. There was a skinny woman who looked middle-aged, but was probably in her early thirties. Lank hair and troubled eyes. A big guy with huge hands and tattoos. And Shirley. From first glance, Annie had realized this must be Shirley. It was the way she dressed and the way she was speaking. She was clearly the person in charge. She stood up. Seeing her close up, Annie thought she was older than she’d first guessed. Late fifties, early sixties. The make-up was discreet, but skilfully applied.

‘You must be Annie.’ Shirley held out her hand. ‘Just give me a moment to finish up here and we’ll find somewhere private to talk.’

There was a brief conversation with her colleagues about diary dates and fund-raising. The big man wandered off downstairs and the little woman returned to her own desk.

‘There’s an interview room downstairs,’ Shirley said. ‘We won’t be disturbed there. I’ll make us some coffee, shall I?’ She switched on the kettle, which stood on a tray on the floor, and spooned ground coffee into a cafetière. Annie had been expecting horrible supermarket own-brand instant and was surprised.

The interview room made Annie think of a prison cell. It was small and square with one high window giving very little light. It was comfortable enough – carpet on the floor, two armchairs, a light-wood coffee table between them – but it made Annie uneasy. It was a place where confessions, or confidences at least, would be expected.

Shirley poured coffee in silence, as if she had all the time in the world, and it was Annie who spoke first. ‘How was Lizzie when you saw her yesterday?’

‘Fine!’ That reassuring voice used by social workers everywhere. ‘Looking forward to seeing you both soon.’ A pause. ‘When I went, she’d just had a visit from a police officer. A detective sergeant. He was asking about the murders in Gilswick.’

‘Lizzie couldn’t have had anything to do with those!’

‘Of course she couldn’t. But I thought you’d want to know.’ There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘One of the victims worked here as a volunteer. We’re all rather shocked. We can’t understand how he came to be in Gilswick.’ The last sentence came out almost as a question.

‘I never met him!’ Annie was confused and anxious. She’d thought this interview would all be about Lizzie: where she would live and what work she might get. Now it seemed this woman was more intent on getting information about the murders than on helping her daughter. ‘I never met either of them. Why did the police think Lizzie could help?’ This was becoming the worst sort of nightmare. How could the police possibly link Lizzie to the killings? Did they think she and Sam might be responsible for the violence?

‘I’m sure they’re just exploring possibilities.’ Shirley smiled. ‘Previous offenders are always easy targets at the start of an inquiry.’ She paused for a beat. ‘The detective asked Lizzie about Jason Crow. Any idea why they might think he’s involved?’

‘No!’

‘Because it’s important that when Lizzie comes out she stays away from people who might get her into trouble again. I’m sure you understand that.’

Annie breathed deeply. She’d learned that it was important when you were dealing with professional do-gooders to keep calm. Otherwise they judged you. Wrote things like anger-management problems in their reports. Lizzie was always said to have an anger-management problem. ‘One of the reasons we moved back to Gilswick from Kimmerston was to put some distance between Lizzie and the crowd she was hanging around with before.’

‘Of course. So it must seem very distressing that the criminal activity has followed you to the country.’

‘It’s horrible,’ Annie said. It was starting to feel as if the room was shrinking, as if the air was being sucked out of it, so that she couldn’t breathe. She was wondering what excuse she might give for leaving. The woman sat between her and the door, and Annie measured up this distance to it with her eyes.

‘I wonder if it’s a good thing for Lizzie to return to a community where the police are investigating a double-murder.’ Shirley poured more coffee into both mugs, lifted the jug to offer milk. Annie was reminded of all the times she’d drunk coffee with Jan and Lorraine. Sitting in one of the smart houses in Valley Farm, passing on village gossip. Only now they were the subject of all the gossip in Gilswick.

‘Better that Lizzie comes home with us than that she goes back to her old haunts in Kimmerston.’ Annie caught her breath. ‘Though of course that has to be her decision. She’s an adult.’

‘That’s what I think too.’ Shirley smiled with real warmth and Annie thought the woman was only doing her job; she had been overreacting. The business with the murders had made her panicky since she’d first heard about them, filling her head with all sorts of crazy notions. Shirley continued, ‘And I do think Lizzie would like to come back to you. At least to start with. I think she should be considering going back to college. Maybe the FE college locally to get her A levels, then who knows? She’s certainly bright enough for uni.’

‘She’s always hated the idea of studying.’

‘I think you might find that prison has changed her. Did you know she signed up for a couple of education classes in Sittingwell? She’s joined the writers’ group and in the short time she’s been attending she’s become a bit of a star. I don’t believe in the short, sharp shock, but being inside for a while certainly works for some people. It gives them time to sort out their priorities. To grow up a bit.’

‘Did she talk to you about what she might like to do?’ Annie was finding it hard to believe that this conversation between Shirley and her daughter had actually taken place. All her attempts to discuss Lizzie’s future had always ended in silence or sulking. Slammed doors and disappearance. On the prison visits Annie hadn’t dared bring the subject up. She’d concentrated on being supportive.

‘Not in any detail, but I was wondering about the hospitality industry. Didn’t you and your husband once run a restaurant?’

‘Yes.’ She wanted to add: And Lizzie lost it for us , but that seemed petty, now that Lizzie might actually have a future. Annie was blown away by the sudden vision of Lizzie as a normal daughter with a job and a home. A daughter she could chat with and introduce to her friends. A daughter with whom she could link arms and share a joke.

‘I was wondering if I might come and visit you all early next week.’ Shirley was pulling out a big diary from her bag. ‘See if we might start to put some plans in place.’

‘Oh yes!’ Annie thought that if Sam didn’t fancy meeting the woman he could go out in the morning, go into Kimmerston. She knew she shouldn’t build up her hopes for Lizzie’s future. She’d done that too many times before. But perhaps Shirley was right. Perhaps all Lizzie had needed was some time away. A kind of retreat from the world. Annie couldn’t understand her own initial dislike of the charity worker. How foolish she’d been!

‘So shall we say Monday morning at eleven o’clock?’ Shirley wrote a note in the diary and then looked up for Annie’s agreement. ‘That’ll give you a day to settle back together again. For you to get to know your daughter.’ Now she was writing on a little appointment card and she slid it across the table.