Cath Staincliffe - Dead To Me

Rachel was getting nowhere fast. On the surface, Angela knew nothing, couldn’t help, so why was she so tense, why the glimpses of fear, of being found out? Rachel tried another tack: ‘Did Rosie have any enemies? Was there anyone who wanted to hurt her?’ The assault had been vicious, uncontrolled.

‘No, she was all right really.’ Angela grimaced. ‘Just a bit mental, bit of a nutter. Couldn’t help it.’ Another quick shrug.

On the way out, Rachel paused by the sofa, to see the photographs on the display-board. Centre place was one of Angela with a birthday cake, candles, 16 written in icing. The photograph had been torn in half so only two people were in it: Angela and a man, blond hair, the look of a tennis player. James Raleigh. Looking younger, but the same guy. Rachel’s scalp tightened. What the hell was he doing at Ryelands? At Angela’s sixteenth birthday party?

That’s when she called Janet.

THEY WERE STANDING in the hallway at Angela’s. Janet looked at the photograph. Rachel pointed to the man: ‘James Raleigh,’ she said. ‘Lisa’s support worker in the community. When I spoke to him, he never let on he had ever been near Ryelands.’

Janet frowned. ‘Hang on.’ She checked her book and called Marlene, introduced herself and asked Marlene if James Raleigh had ever been a member of staff.

‘No.’

‘In 2007?’

Marlene hesitated. ‘I was on maternity leave some of the time, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t have any change in the staffing.’

‘Do you know him?’ Janet said.

‘A little. Lisa was on his caseload. He’s fairly new in the job, North Manchester Area.’

‘Marlene, is there any other reason he might have been at Ryelands if he wasn’t on staff?’

‘Well… on a placement, possibly? Hang on.’

Janet watched Rachel pace the hall. A few seconds later Marlene came back to the phone. ‘Yes, he was in the final year of his social work degree then. On placement for six weeks, I was still off.’

‘Thanks,’ Janet said, ‘that explains it.’ She looked at Rachel. ‘A placement.’

‘Doesn’t explain why he pretended he were never there?’

‘Did you ask that specifically?’

Rachel twitched with irritation. ‘No, but he kept saying things like “Ryelands will be able to tell you more than me”, and “I’ve only known Lisa since she left”. He deliberately gave the impression that he was completely separate.’

‘Well, he is – job’s different.’

The door opened and Angela came out into the hall. ‘I’m not staying there all bloody day,’ she complained. ‘What’s going on? I want my photo back. You can’t just take it.’

‘Come in,’ Janet said to Rachel. They went to the kitchen area, Angela sat at the table, Janet too. Rachel stood. ‘Angela,’ Janet said, ‘we want to ask you about this picture.’

Angela’s face tightened. ‘What about it?’

‘This man here, who is it?’

Angela blinked once. Janet saw the muscles by her ear move as she swallowed. ‘James,’ she said. ‘He were a student.’

‘You still know him?’

‘No.’ She tapped her fingers over her phone. ‘What you asking about him for?’

Janet didn’t answer. ‘Who was in this part of the photograph?’

‘Can’t remember.’ A red spot flared on each of her cheeks, beneath the orange tan.

‘Why did you cut it off?’

‘Spilt summat, some tea or something, innit. It’s my photo, up to us what I do with it. Can do what I like.’

‘Of course you can,’ Janet said. ‘You know where he is nowadays – James?’

‘Not a fucking clue,’ she said. Her hand closed over her phone.

Liar.

Janet got out her own phone, set the photograph on the table. ‘I’m just going to take a picture of it.’

‘Why?’ The girl’s voice was high with anxiety. ‘Can you do that? Isn’t that against my privacy, like an invasion of my privacy?’

‘We could get a warrant,’ Rachel threatened her, ‘take all your gear?’

‘What for? You can’t do that, you mad bitch. I ’aven’t done anything, innit. I never seen Lisa Finn since I left Ryelands.’

‘Was it Lisa you cut off the photograph?’ Rachel said.

The girl sat, suddenly mute, looking as if she’d burst, lips tight, cheeks puffed out. Giving furious little shakes of her head, ponytail bouncing.

‘It was Rosie, wasn’t it?’ Janet said. ‘She’s not in the picture. You were mates then.’

‘No, you’re wrong,’ she said quickly. But Janet was sure she’d guessed correctly.

‘Who then?’

‘Marlene.’

The girl was lying; Marlene had been on maternity leave.

‘Why cut Marlene off?’

‘I told you, I spilt something on it.’

‘Or maybe you just wanted the two of you, together,’ Rachel said, ‘all lovey-dovey.’

‘Don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,’ she snarled.

Janet captured the photograph, making sure the date and time stamp showed correctly. ‘What happened between you and Rosie?’ Janet asked. ‘Best mates, weren’t you?’

‘Nothing. She was mental. I told her, innit.’ She jerked her head at Rachel. ‘Rosie was freaky, I couldn’t be doing with it. I’ve got to go to work,’ she said, scraping back her chair.

‘Where d’you work?’ Janet said.

‘What’s it to you?’ Janet didn’t speak and finally Angela added, ‘Tesco’s, if you must know.’

Janet wanted to congratulate her; jobs were scarce for young people, bound to be harder for someone like Angela whose education had likely been disrupted. ‘Can I take your number please?’ Janet said. ‘We might want to talk to you again.’

Angela froze, then gave a little snort. She wasn’t happy about it, but she gave Janet her number.

‘She says she’s not seen Raleigh,’ Janet said, out on the pavement. ‘Do you believe her?’

Rachel pulled a face.

‘Me neither. We hang on, let’s see if the neighbours know any different.’

They waited down the street until Angela emerged, wearing a bright red coat, crossed the road and disappeared from view.

They returned to the entrance and rang the bell for the other flats in Angela’s house. Got one reply. A man who had a room upstairs at the back. His English was fractured, but he understood their questions. And when Janet showed him the photograph of Angela and James Raleigh and asked if he had seen the man at the house, he nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, many times, boyfriend.’

It was just what they wanted to hear.

‘Don’t get on your hobby horse again,’ Janet warned Rachel once they were on their way back. ‘It’s a co-incidence, he did a placement there.’

‘She was bricking it, especially about the photo. Three years later, she’s still got it on the wall, he’s showing up at her flat all the time – she’s probably shagging him.’

‘We don’t know that.’

‘Ten quid, twenty.’

‘I’m not betting on it,’ Janet said.

‘Honestly, Janet – why did Raleigh not mention that he’d met Lisa before she became his client?’

‘There might be a simple reason: she absconded during his time there, or was ill, or whatever.’

‘For the whole six weeks-’

‘Don’t just leap at the first fence, Rachel. Think about it. You’re looking to prove something that might not be there. You’re starting with a narrative and straight away you’re off looking for evidence. We do it the other way around: we look for evidence and then we build the narrative.’

‘We need to check him out,’ Rachel insisted.

She wasn’t listening. ‘First Dalbeattie, now Raleigh-’

‘Dalbeattie’s got an alibi. Golf on the Algarve.’