Stephen Booth - Black Dog

Harry looked up at Andrew from his chair, no gesture of welcome breaking the rigidity of his expression.

‘I dare say young Helen’s told you what you need to know.’

Margaret Milner was fanning herself with a straw hat. She was a large woman and felt the heat badly. Her floral dress swirled and rustled around her knees and wafted powerful gusts of body spray throughout the room.

‘A dead body. How awful. You poor things.’

‘It was a shoe your dad found,’ said Gwen, who had not yet tired of the excitement. ‘One of those trainer things. They said there was a dead girl with it, but your dad didn’t see her. Did you, Harry?’

‘It was Jess,’ said Harry. ‘Jess that found it.’

‘But there was … Was there blood?’

‘So they reckon.’

‘The young policeman took it away,’ said Gwen. ‘The first one, the young one.’

‘The Cooper lad,’ said Harry.

‘Who?’

‘Sergeant Cooper’s son. The old copper. You remember all the fuss, surely?’

‘Oh, I know.’ Margaret turned to her daughter. ‘Didn’t you used to know him very well at school, Helen? Is that the one? I remember now. You liked him, didn’t you?’

Helen fidgeted, ready to escape back to the kitchen to make more tea. She loved her parents and her grandparents, but she was uncomfortable when they were all together. She could communicate with them one at a time, but when they were gathered in a family group there was a kind of blanket of incomprehension that descended between them.

‘Yes, Mum, Ben Cooper.’

‘You always seemed to get on well. But he never asked you out, did he? I always thought it was a shame.’

‘Mum –’

‘I know, I know – it’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Forget it, Mum. This isn’t the time.’

‘We’ve had a body,’ said Gwen plaintively, appealing to the room, as if someone, somewhere could give her consolation, even tell her it hadn’t happened.

‘And it was the Vernons’ girl?’ said Andrew impatiently. Helen noticed her father’s faint Scottish accent creeping through in the ‘r’s, as it did when he was under stress. ‘Did they say it was definitely Laura Vernon?’

‘She had to be identified , they said.’ Gwen looked challengingly towards Harry, letting it be known that she had been listening at the door when the police had been interviewing him. Harry took no notice. He was feeling at his pocket, as if all he wanted to do was pull out his pipe and retire to the front room, to escape to his sanctuary.

‘They reckon it was her all right,’ said Harry.

‘Poor little thing,’ said Margaret. ‘She was only a kiddie. Who would do a thing like that, Helen?’

‘She was fifteen. Would you like some tea?’

‘Fifteen. Just a child. They gave her everything, her mother and father did. A private school, her own horse. All that money, just think of it. And look what it comes to.’

‘I wonder what Graham Vernon will think,’ said Andrew.

‘What do you mean, Dad?’

‘Well, it’s awkward. You know – just imagine what state he’s in over the girl. And then it has to be my own father-in-law who finds her.’

‘What does that matter to him, for heaven’s sake? Their daughter’s dead – it won’t make any difference to them who found her.’

‘Well, it’s just awkward, that’s all.’

‘Andrew thinks his role is to be Graham Vernon’s loyal lackey,’ said Margaret. ‘Being involved in the murder of his daughter rather ruins the image, doesn’t it?’

‘ Involved ? Well, hardly,’ protested Andrew.

‘However distantly, of course,’ said Margaret, with a smile of satisfaction. ‘I suppose it’s bound to make you feel tainted by association.’

‘Stop it, Margaret.’

‘Perhaps it would have been better if Dad had just walked on and ignored it, and said nothing. Better for you, anyway. I’m surprised he didn’t think of your reputation at the time. It was very remiss of you, Dad.’

Harry took his empty pipe out and sucked on its stem, looking from one to the other. Helen thought he was the only one of them who was enjoying the conversation.

‘Anyway, they haven’t much of a reputation up there to be worried about, have they?’ said Margaret.

‘That’s not fair. The Vernons are very well-respected.’

Margaret snorted contemptuously. ‘Respected. Not in this house. What do you say, Dad?’

‘Rich buggers. Ignorant rubbish.’

Helen smiled. ‘That needed saying too. They’ve done enough to this family. Why should we let something like this affect us? I’m sorry for their trouble, but it’s their trouble, not ours. It’s nothing to do with Granddad. Blow the Vernons. We have to see that Grandma and Granddad are all right.’

‘Of course we do. Andrew?’

‘Well, all right.’

‘We’re lucky we’re a proper family and can stand together,’ said Margaret. ‘Not like them up there. That’s been their problem, of course. That’s been the cause of all the trouble in the past. They don’t know what a family should be. And that’s the cause of this bit of trouble, too, you’ll see.’

‘We should talk about it,’ said Helen. ‘We should have talked about it before.’

‘ He won’t,’ said Gwen. ‘He won’t talk about it to anybody.’

‘There’s no need for it,’ said Harry. ‘Let it rest.’

Helen stood by his chair and put her hand on his arm. ‘Granddad?’

He patted her hand and smiled up at her. ‘Believe me, lass, there’s no need.’

She sighed. ‘No, we’ve never talked about anything important, have we? Not ever, in this family. Except when we were angry or upset. And that’s not the time to talk. It’s not the time to do anything.’

‘Well, I don’t know what you mean by that, I’m sure,’ said Margaret. ‘I’m as capable as anyone of talking things over without getting upset about it.’

Margaret’s voice was becoming high-pitched. She tossed her head and fiddled with an earring, glaring at her husband as if challenging him not to support her. But Andrew turned away with sagging shoulders and found himself staring into the mournful eyes of Jess, who had crept into the corner of the room to listen. The dog’s ears twitched from side to side as she assessed the sound of their voices, trying to judge the mood and looking dejected at what she heard.

‘There was no need for you to come here, you know,’ said Harry. ‘No need at all. We were managing perfectly well, us and Helen.’

‘We could hardly stay away at a time like this,’ said Margaret. ‘We’re your family, after all.’

Harry stood and walked slowly to the stairs. ‘I’ll be going out for a while,’ he said.

And before anybody could ask him where to, he had disappeared. They could hear water running and the sound of a wardrobe door creaking above them through the ancient floorboards.

‘Where is he going?’ asked Andrew.

‘Not to the pub, surely?’ said Margaret. ‘Not at a time like this.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Gwen. ‘He’ll be going to meet them. ’

Half an hour later, Harry had escaped from the cottage and was settled into an entirely different atmosphere, where he didn’t need to be prompted to tell his story. When he had finished, it required a moment of quiet contemplation, a few swallows of beer, a companionable silence to emphasize the seriousness of the occasion.

‘Well, Harry. Police and all.’

‘Oh aye, them, all right, Sam. A bucketload of ’em.’

‘Making a nuisance of themselves, I suppose?’

‘They try, some of them. But they don’t bother me.’

The corner of the Drover between the fire and the window smelled strongly of old men and muddy dogs. The seats of the wooden settles the men sat on were worn smooth to the shape of their buttocks, and their boots seemed to ease themselves into familiar depressions in the dark carpet tiles.