Cath Staincliffe - Go Not Gently

The relief made me dizzy. I’d been frightened silly that Goulden would die, that I’d have a man’s life on my conscience. I sat on the bottom stair. I felt a flare of anger then. Searing hot, in my guts, up my spine, pricking my eyes. Rage at what Goulden had done to me, to Agnes, to Lily. A blaze of fury that I hadn’t dared to allow whilst his life hung in the balance. It felt good, burning up some of the guilt and the self-blame. Slowly it ebbed away. I was too drained to sustain it. Ray found me gazing into the middle distance.

‘Go to bed,’ he said.

‘Yeah, I will.’ I said good night to the children. Hugged them both tight.

‘You’re going to bed before me!’ Maddie was delighted.

‘I know. I’m so tired. If I don’t get some sleep I’m going to fall over.’

‘You’re not,’ she scoffed. ‘I know! I can put you to bed.’

I allowed her to burble round me while I got myself undressed and into bed. I took some more paracetamol and wriggled under the duvet. ‘Night-night.’ I leant out of the side to kiss her on the head. ‘I love you, Maddie.’

‘Mummy?’

‘What?’

‘My nose is a bit sore too, on the inside. You can’t see it on mine.’

‘Well, there’s not a lot you can do about that, Maddie.’

‘A plaster might help.’

‘Not on the inside.’

‘No, outside.’

‘Fine.’ All I wanted to do was sleep. ‘They’re in the kitchen. Tell Ray I said you could have one. Night-night.’

‘And cream.’

‘Yep.’

‘I might need two plasters, you know.’

Irritation rose like bile, but I tried to keep it from my voice. ‘Fine.’ You can use the whole bloody box as long as you let me sleep.

I awoke aching and disoriented at midnight. My throat was parched, my head thumped with pain, my nose was blocked. I didn’t dare blow it. I crept downstairs and made tea and toast with lashings of honey. Sat in my old armchair in the kitchen to eat it. Digger padded over and laid his head on my foot. Nice gesture, spoilt a bit by the drool. I gently pushed him away.

Matthew Simcock committed suicide. He was found that morning in his car, up near Snake Pass. There’s a viewing point where you can see right across the tops. ‘He’d attached a tube to the exhaust. It’s a beautiful spot, the bright grass of the peaks and the white limestone walls. His death made the late editions. There was no mention then of the background, just the bald facts.

The jury found Bill Sherwin not guilty of murdering Tina Achebe. The case had received quite a lot of local coverage but all the evidence was circumstantial, there was no witness, no forensic or other proof that Mr Sherwin had even been to Levenshulme that morning. The prosecution claimed that Tina had tried to end the relationship and that the murder had been the act of jilted lover. The jury weren’t convinced. The judge made acerbic comments about excessive zeal and inadequate preparation of the prosecution case.

Diane’s exhibition was a big success. The haircuts were out in force. Shortly after it closed she took me with her on a shopping expedition. She was going to treat herself to a real fire, she’d had the chimney opened up and now needed a proper fire surround. She was after an antique, something with painted tiles.

Parking near the antique hypermarket was difficult. I found a space in a side street close to the road where the Achebes had lived. There was a yard halfway down, a dairy, busy with lorries and floats, a public phone box opposite. I parked nearby. As we got out I heard the familiar squawk of a Tannoy above the roar of a truck.

And my heart stood still.

Cath Staincliffeis the author of the acclaimed Sal Kilkenny mysteries as well as being creator of ITV’s hit police series, Blue Murder , starring Caroline Quentin as DCI Janine Lewis. Cath was shortlisted for the CWA Dagger in the Library award in 2006. She lives in Manchester with her family.