Cath Staincliffe: Stone Cold Red Hot

“I can leave it in the back if you’d rather…”

“No problem. Can you manage?”

I wheeled the bike up the two steps to the front door and into the hall. There was plenty of space. I leant it against the wall, taking care not to scuff the wallpaper. We went along the hall to the back room and sat at a table by the window looking out onto the back garden. The rooms had high ceilings with moulded plaster edges and picture rails around the walls. It was decorated in creamy yellow with a mossy green for the woodwork. The colours lightened the room which could easily have been gloomy.

“Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee?”

“Coffee please, no sugar.”

She was a large-boned woman, in her fifties at a guess with grey shoulder length hair, a sallow complexion and chunky black-framed glasses. She wore dark slacks and a baggy woollen sweater, bottle green with flecks of colour in it, sprinkled with dog hairs.

From the chair I could see the garden, long and wide with a couple of apple trees at one side and a wall at the end. Flower borders ran the length of the lawn which had a wavy path down its centre. Two honey coloured Labradors were sniffing around the lawn and occasionally diving onto each other. An old larch-lap fence divided the garden from its neighbours on either side. I stood up to see what was visible of the Pickering’s garden to the left. I could make out the roof of a garden shed and a circular clothes dryer, the tips of a row of conifers at the far side, nothing more.

Mrs Clerkenwell returned with mugs of coffee.

“Roger has explained to you why I’m here? That he’s asked me to trace his sister, Jennifer?”

“Yes. Though I’m not sure what help I’ll be. I’ve often wondered what became of her.”

“What was she like?” I asked.

“Very lively, high spirits. Obviously got on well at school. Very bright, on the ball. She and Roger used to walk the dogs, he was not much more than a toddler when they first started. They’d take them down to the recreation ground or up to the park. Along the river sometimes. Once or twice she came along with me to a craft fair, I run a stall on a regular basis. She was a nice girl, I liked her.”

“And then she left home?”

“Yes, Keele wasn’t it? English degree. Couldn’t wait to get there. It was that terrifically hot summer, the drought. ‘76. You remember?”

I nodded. “And after that?”

“I never heard from her. Not that I expected to. I was only the next-door neighbour,” she laughed.

“Did you know that she’d not kept in touch with her family?”

“Not for some time, no. I think it was that Christmas, I saw Barbara and I asked her about Jennifer; how was she getting on, when would she be back – that sort of thing. She was quite abrupt. Told me that Jennifer had dropped out of university and that they’d no idea when they would hear from her again. I was surprised, I must admit. I never thought Jennifer would have given up her studies like that. Perhaps the course wasn’t what she’d expected. Anyway, Barbara obviously didn’t want to talk about it and we were never very chummy so that was it.” She wrinkled her nose and the heavy glasses bobbed up and down.

I took a swig of my coffee, it was cool enough to swallow.

“When Frank died I thought Jennifer might be back for the funeral but she wasn’t. It’s not the sort of thing you can ask about really, though people noticed. So, I knew she’d not been back to visit but I hadn’t realised that there had been no word at all until Roger called the other day.”

Mrs Clerkenwell had made no mention of a possible pregnancy, presumably Barbara Pickering had not referred to the disgrace her daughter had brought on the family as she had when talking to her son.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit extreme,” I asked her, “to sever all contact, just because she dropped out of university?”

“Well, yes,” she said hesitantly, “but then Barbara gave me the impression that it was Jennifer’s doing.” She frowned and thought for a minute. “Mind you, I don’t know what sort of reception she’d have got if she had come back and wasn’t making anything of her life.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, they were awfully strict. Some of it was to do with all their rules, from their church, the do’s and don’ts. They wouldn’t touch a drink and everything was either approved or denied. I could see Jennifer was rejecting all that even before she left home. They were very…intolerant I thought. We had a bit of a run-in years back. I was trying to organise some ecumenical services, different churches coming together and I knew Barbara and Frank were ‘Children of Christ’ but they were impossible; they’d no interest in building bridges, you’d have thought I’d made an improper suggestion the way they reacted. He started going on about undesirables and riff-raff and how could they vet the people involved.” She laughed. “I don’t know. I never knew them well but it didn’t strike me as a very happy household.”

“Were there arguments?”

“Not between Frank and Barbara I don’t think, but sometimes I’d hear Jennifer shouting at her mother – teenage tantrums I suppose. And Frank would lay the law down every so often. I’d hear him shouting sometimes. He was very old-fashioned, all king and country. To be honest I think having Jennifer was probably completely bewildering for him.”

“So you think it was Jennifer who made the break?”

“From what I was told. And it didn’t sound as though they had done anything about finding her, I suppose they thought she was old enough to look after herself. And Frank was very ill, you know, that wasn’t long after.”

“What was it?”

I drained my cup and continued to make notes.

“Angina. He stopped doing the garden. That used to be his pride and joy. We’d have a word over the fence. He struggled so hard during that summer with it, we couldn’t use hosepipes, you know, everything was so dry but Frank was determined to make it work. Then suddenly he had to leave it all. I could see everything going to seed. Heartbreaking really. He got very low, depression. I never heard that from them, you understand, but word gets out. I don’t think he ever really got better. It can take people like that can’t it, sudden illness, they have to give up work and they never really find their way again.” She glanced out of the window and snorted. “Look at that daft dog,” there was nothing but affection in her voice, “excuse me a minute.”

She went out and into the garden where I watched her remove the hosepipe from the dogs’ mouths thus curtailing their tug of war. I took the chance to glance back at the list of questions I’d come with. When she returned I began again.

“There’s just a few more points.”

“Fine, it’s a break from work,” she tilted her head towards the front of the house, “there’s a pile of stuff waiting in there for me to finish. I’ve got a big fair in Mobberley at the weekend. I’ll show you before you go.”

“Yes. You were able to remember some of Jennifer’s friends – Lisa and Frances and Caroline.”

“Fluke, really, though I am good with names. I know Frances Delaney and her family from church – St Winifred’s. And it so happens that I used to give all four of the girls a lift up to the Bounty, it’s closed now but back then it had banqueting suites and they were waitresses. I was doing table decorations there for a while but I had to let it go. It didn’t really pay enough and it meant me missing some of the craft fairs. Anyway, the girls would come here and I’d give them a lift up on the Saturday morning, they’d share a taxi back or get a bus into town and another one out again.”