Danuta Reah - Silent Playgrounds

DANUTA REAH

SILENT PLAYGROUNDS

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2000

Copyright © Danuta Reah 2000

Danuta Reah asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780006513162

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2016 ISBN: 9780007397945

Version: 2016-10-04

In memory of my father,

Jan Kot,

architect and artist

1913–1995

Przechodniu I powiedz Polsce, ze padlismy tu, stuzac jej wiernie. (Memorial to the Polish Parachute Brigade at Arnhem)

With many thanks to the people who gave me help when I was writing this book. I would particularly like to thank the e-mail writers’ group, Sue and Penny, for their invaluable critical advice; Superintendent Steve Hicks for helping me again with details about police procedure; Professor Green for his clarification of details of forensic pathology, and for not laughing too loudly at some of my more off-the-wall ideas; to Richard Wood for his time and his advice about tracing missing people; to the staff at Kelham Island museum for answering my questions about Shepherd Wheel; to Teresa for all her support; to Julia whose editing makes all the difference; to Alex, and, of course, to Ken for seeing this book through with me from start to finish.

People who know Sheffield will recognize many of the locations in this book – Endcliffe Park, Bingham Park, Hunters Bar, Sheffield University. Green Park flats, however, exist only in my imagination, and though I have used the university campus as a setting, the university that is described in the book exists, again, only in my imagination. The coffee in the Students’ Union is excellent, though.

I often walk through Endcliffe Park and Bingham Park, through the woods, following the route taken by Suzanne. These are just two of the many parks in Sheffield that are gradually succumbing to vandalism and neglect. Sheffield is enriched by the wild places that run almost into the centre of the city. It is sad that the people who hold the purse strings of the city do not value these places the way the people of Sheffield do. They are irreplaceable.

Only the blue delphiniums show That these were gardens, long ago …

(from Silent Playgrounds, Penny Grubb)

Cover

Title Page DANUTA REAH SILENT PLAYGROUNDS

Copyright Copyright Copyright Dedication Epigraph 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Keep Reading About the Author By the Same Author About the Publisher This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2000 Copyright © Danuta Reah 2000 Danuta Reah asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication Source ISBN: 9780006513162 Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2016 ISBN: 9780007397945 Version: 2016-10-04

Dedication Dedication Dedication Epigraph 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Keep Reading About the Author By the Same Author About the Publisher In memory of my father, Jan Kot, architect and artist 1913–1995 Przechodniu I powiedz Polsce, ze padlismy tu, stuzac jej wiernie. (Memorial to the Polish Parachute Brigade at Arnhem)

Epigraph Epigraph Epigraph 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 Keep Reading About the Author By the Same Author About the Publisher Only the blue delphiniums show That these were gardens, long ago … (from Silent Playgrounds, Penny Grubb)

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About the Author

By the Same Author

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It was dark now, the blackness pressing close, concealing the high roof spaces, the far corners, the heavy, shrouded shapes. Water ran behind the shuttered window, drip … drip … dripdripdrip … drip. The only light came from the glowing coals. Under the grate, the ashes whispered down onto the hearth. The warmth of the fire was fading, but even at its height, it hadn’t pushed the shadows back far. The flagstones of the floor were damp; the timbers were rotting and crumbling. The metal of the grate was rusty. But the metal in front of him was bright, its edge catching the firelight, imprisoning it in the brightness of the steel, turning it a deep glowing red. The voices in his head:

When?

Soon, Ashley, soon.