Martin Edwards - The Hanging Wood

‘I have to tell you that his CV did not suit him ideally for the role I had in mind. Orla was struggling with her work, and she was keen to have support. In truth, she was ill-matched with her job, but she was the stepchild of a director of Madsen’s — what could I do?’

‘Did they pressure you into appointing her?’

‘Goodness me, no, that isn’t the way the world works, is it? You spent years in academe, Daniel, you are familiar with nods and winks, the currency of power in every senior common room in Oxford and Cambridge. St Herbert’s is an institution with a modest endowment, and running costs that we can barely meet. We rely on the goodwill of our principal donors; in other words, the Madsen family. Their gifts over the years have been munificent.’

‘I glanced over the accounts,’ Daniel said. ‘The donations column looks healthy.’

‘Several generous individuals support us, but contributions from the Madsen family dwarf the rest. At one level, they are eminently fair and reasonable. They do not insist on disfiguring the library with sponsorship banners, or that their name is writ large on our occasional learned publications. It suits Bryan Madsen — I do not wish to sound churlish — to point to this little oasis of “cultural calm”, as he describes it, on the fringe of his holiday park.’

‘You felt you had to offer Orla the job?’

A grim-faced nod. ‘Just as I recruited the daughter of Gareth and Sally Madsen when she wearied of working at a suntan salon in Keswick. Fleur mentioned her brother- and sister-in-law were keeping their fingers crossed that Sham’s interview would go well, and I took the hint. I had little confidence that Orla could transform our promotional efforts, but I knew enough of her personal history to feel sorry for her. She was genuinely enthusiastic about our archive of fairy tales and historical materials. Not as a scholar — I’m afraid she had a distinctly second-class mind — but as someone who loved reading. I found that rather touching.’

‘Don’t reproach yourself,’ Daniel said. ‘She cared for St Herbert’s, and you did a good deed.’

‘She can’t have enjoyed it so much, or she wouldn’t have ended it all. Perhaps if I’d turned her down, if I’d given her more support when she worked for me … she might be alive to this day.’

So guilt was gnawing at the old man. Daniel drank the rest of his coffee, leaving just the sediment in the bottom of the cup. God knows what a tasseographer would make of the grounds.

Sometimes it was better not to know.

Kit Payne’s eyes widened. ‘For heaven’s sake, Chief Inspector, the boy was only fourteen. Who would want to murder a child?’

‘You were aware of the incident involving Callum and a girl from one of the caravans on the park? Her name was Briony, according to the old file.’

‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick; that business was something and nothing. The girl made a fuss, the father became agitated. These things happen. At Madsen’s, we pride ourselves on customer care.’ Kit paused, perhaps reading Hannah’s mind: spare me the commercial, please . ‘Both Gareth and I spoke to the family, and the matter was put to bed. The father didn’t pursue his complaint, and it had no bearing on Callum’s disappearance.’

‘You were satisfied the father didn’t decide to take matters into his own hands?’

‘Of course not.’ Kit sounded as though he couldn’t believe his ears. ‘The man was a police officer.’

And police officers can do no wrong? Hannah thought. Hmmm, thanks for your confidence. ‘Did Callum upset anyone else, to your knowledge? Or become involved with anyone unsuitable, anyone who might have had an unhealthy interest in teenage boys?’

‘No, no, no.’ His voice trembled. ‘For God’s sake, he was only a kid, he didn’t have a line of enemies queuing up to harm him.’

‘Orla spoke to me, the day before she died,’ she said. ‘She wanted justice for her brother.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘That’s why I’m asking you these questions, Mr Payne. Because of Orla.’ Hannah looked him in the eye. ‘When did she lose her hair?’

The change of tack seemed to knock him off balance. ‘I can’t recall. After she left home, when she was studying for her degree.’

‘It’s a stress-related disorder, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but there’s a genetic component. Niamh suffered from the same condition.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘There’s a lot you don’t know, Chief Inspector.’

The retort stung like a whiplash, but as soon as he saw Hannah’s expression, his face fell, as if he realised he’d said too much.

‘I’m sure that’s right,’ she said. ‘So how did Niamh cope with her alopecia?’

‘By pretending it didn’t exist. Her hair fell out when she was in her early twenties, and it never grew back, so she wore a hairpiece. She carried it off so well that I never even realised until the night we slept together. Nobody else did, either. She called it her little secret. Orla dreaded the same thing happening to her, and sure enough, it did. But her case was more severe than her mother’s. She lost all her body hair too. She drew on a pair of eyebrows, and often wore tinted glasses so people wouldn’t see that she had no eyelashes. For a young woman, looks matter a lot.’

‘She chose to wear headscarves rather than a wig.’

‘Yes, and she looked fine, though she could never bring herself to believe it. She was attractive, but lacked Niamh’s confidence and vivacity. I think she found it hard to build relationships. Although she had a few boyfriends, none of them lasted long. She once told me that men she met tended to assume from the scarves that she was a cancer survivor. To her, the truth was more depressing. After she moved back to Keswick and started work at St Herbert’s, she started seeing someone, but it soon fizzled out.’

‘Did she tell you who she was seeing?’

‘No, and I didn’t like to poke my nose into her private life. Although we kept in touch, inevitably we saw less of each other once I found happiness with Glenys.’

‘Was she upset when you remarried?’

‘She understood I needed to move on after the difficult years when Niamh was so ill. I hoped Orla would find someone she could share her life with. I’m afraid she was lonely, Chief Inspector, and that is why she loved to retreat into the world of fairy tales.’

‘This love of fairy tales, where did it come from?’

‘Oh, it dated back to her childhood. A form of escape. Her parents’ marriage was unhappy, and the real world held little appeal for her. She liked to imagine herself as Gretel, with Callum as Hansel, when they roamed the Hanging Wood and visited Philip in his tumbledown cottage.’

‘St Herbert’s has a good stock of obscure books of old fairy tales, I hear.’ Hannah’s lips felt dry in the heat. Who needed the South of France, when you had weather like this in the Northern Lakes? ‘I suppose she was thrilled to be offered a job. Were you able to pull a few strings?’

‘As it happens,’ Kit Payne said, ‘I didn’t even know she’d applied for the post. The first I heard of it was when she rang to say that she was leaving Newcastle and coming back to Keswick.’

‘So you were reunited again?’

Kit Payne shrugged. ‘Is the heat bothering you, Chief Inspector? We can move inside if you wish.’

Hannah got to her feet. ‘Good idea, it is very warm out here.’

‘A suntrap, isn’t it? Pity I can’t take advantage when I’m slaving over a hot computer. Now, I need to meet some important visitors from Bulgaria before long, but would you like to stretch your legs for a few minutes before you go, take a look around our wonderful park?’