Dark Rooms

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Early the following morning, Eddie let himself into the house carrying a large bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. He went into the kitchen to get two glasses, then stopped abruptly at the sight of broken glass and a smashed plate on the floor. Then he saw the open back door, which had been splintered where it had been forced.

He hastily put the flowers and the champagne on the kitchen table and hurried into the hall, pausing at the sight of the dust sheet on the ground, with an empty whisky bottle beside it. From the hall he could see the paint-stripper lying on the floor next to the sofa. Starting up the stairs Eddie stopped to pick up the discarded bath towel, now becoming very concerned. He called out Jane’s name, but there was no response. He sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, and when he reached the landing, he saw the broken bathroom door. Panic-stricken, he crossed to Jane’s bedroom door and tried to open it. The door appeared to be wedged shut so he pushed hard against it with his shoulder until it opened a fraction, and he was able to put his hand inside. He discovered that a chair had been hooked up under the handle.

‘Jane? JANE?’ Eddie shouted, managing to dislodge the chair and make his way into the bedroom.

Jane woke up and screamed, then fell back on the bed when she saw who it was.

Eddie raced to her side. ‘Dear God! What on earth happened here? Are you all right?’

He had his arms around her as she clung to him, repeating over and over that she was all right. She was so thankful that it was him, and she didn’t want to let him go. By the time they had both calmed down Jane said she wanted to get up and get dressed.

Eddie took her dressing gown from the hook on the back of her door, insisting that she was not going to do anything until she told him exactly what had happened. As he gently helped her into it, he told her what he had discovered after letting himself in.

‘I was in a right state when I saw that the back door had been broken, almost off its hinges and your bedroom door was wedged shut...’

‘I’m all right, honestly, Eddie... although I could do with a cup of tea.’ As she tied the dressing gown cord around her waist, she winced from the pain in her neck.

‘Are you hurt? What happened?’

‘Please, Eddie, just give me a bit of time.’

He stood with his hands on his hips.

‘You go back to bed I’ll bring you up a cup of tea.’

As he boiled the kettle, Eddie checked over the sitting room, noticing the charred paper in the grate. Jane came down the stairs, and he could see that she was holding tightly on to the banister.

‘I need some Paracetamol,’ she said. ‘I think they’re in the kitchen drawer.’

Eddie put her mug of tea on the kitchen table and found the packet of pills in the drawer. Jane touched the flowers and gave him a smile.

‘Champagne too. You’ve had good news about the job?’

He took the pills out of the box and broke open the foil, handing a couple of tablets to her. Pulling out a chair, he sat down beside her.

‘Never mind about the job. Tell me what the hell went on here, Jane. You’re freaking me out.’

He watched her swallow the tablets with some tea, then cup the mug in her hands.

‘Jason Thorpe and his mother broke in last night. I’m sorry, there is no way I can tell you everything that happened... but it was horrendous.’

‘Christ! Did he assault you, Jane?’

Jane shook her head. After sipping some more tea, she gradually told him as much as she felt she could, leaving out most of the long conversation with Beatrice.

‘You’re going to press charges, right? I’d beat the shit out of him if I saw him.’

Eddie couldn’t believe it when Jane shook her head again. Then she winced, and he was instantly on his feet.

‘Do you have concussion?’

‘I don’t think so... I’ve just got a headache now.’

He gently touched her neck and then felt the back of her head.

‘I’m taking you to A&E right now and I am not going to take no for an answer. Come on, you don’t need to get dressed.’

Jane didn’t have the energy to argue and then felt herself becoming quite tearful as Eddie went upstairs and reappeared with her slippers and a blanket to keep her warm.

Jane and Eddie were in the A&E department at Queen Mary’s Hospital for three hours. Thankfully, it was a Saturday morning and was not that busy. The young doctor assured them that they had done the right thing in getting Jane checked out. After taking such a bad fall and being unconscious for some time, he recommended an MRI scan.

She was eventually given the all-clear but was told that she should rest in bed until the following day, taking painkillers as necessary.

Back at the house, Eddie made sure she followed the doctor’s orders and called his mother to see if she could bring round some soup. Tucking Jane’s duvet round her and putting another cup of tea on her bedside table, he told her he would fix the back door to make it safe and would sort out the bathroom door later in the week so as not to disturb her.

Jane took some more pain killers and started to drift off to sleep. She felt safe and realised how lucky she was to have Eddie there.

Whilst Jane slept, Eddie stood looking down on her for a while, curled up beneath the duvet, trying to understand why she had not reported the break-in. It didn’t make sense, particularly with her being a police officer. He quietly left the room, closing the door silently behind him. As he went down the stairs, he frowned at the recollection of some of the things she had told him about the family tree and the mistakes she had made.

He then went out to his van and rummaged in his tool kit to find some hinges that would fit the back door.

Eddie worked methodically door, bringing his radio in from the van and switching it on low to help him concentrate. It took longer than he thought it would to refit the hinges, as some of the wood was warped, and the door wouldn’t close to his satisfaction.

Jane wasn’t sure if she was awake or still dreaming, as she heard Janice Joplin singing faintly. She recognised the song, which took her back in time and an emotional wave swept over her. ‘Piece of My Heart’ was the song she had played over and over again when she had been a probationary officer in Hackney. She had been heartbroken when an explosion at the bank had killed DCI Bradford but she had been forced to suppress so much of the pain. Now, all these years later, the memory rose to the surface, and she was unable to stop the floodgates opening. She sobbed uncontrollably.

With all the noise of his hammering and drilling, Eddie didn’t hear her crying. He only downed tools when he was completely satisfied that the door was secure. He had taken all his tools back to the van, along with his radio, and was just checking out the Tupperware container of soup and fresh bread his mother had brought round when he heard movement from upstairs.

Jane was standing in the shower, holding her face up to the spray. She tried to understand what had made her return to that fateful day, then bowed her head and let the water soothe her still-painful neck. Not for the first time, she wondered if her feelings about DCI Bradford’s death had held her back from committing herself fully in her subsequent relationships. She turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a bath towel, sitting on the edge of the bath to dry her wet hair.

Eddie tapped on the half-open bathroom door, then peered in.

‘Did my hammering wake you up?’

Jane smiled. ‘No, I had a bad dream and I’m just trying to work out what it meant.’

‘No wonder, after what you just went through.’

‘It wasn’t about that,’ Jane said. ‘But maybe it surfaced because of it. Anyway, I’m all right now — and I’m starving hungry.’

‘I’ve got Mum’s soup here... so get back into your pyjamas and I’ll bring it up.’

‘Why don’t we go out, to celebrate your job?’ Jane said.

Eddie frowned. ‘Have you any idea what time it is? And you’ve been told you need to rest, so back you go.’

Jane crossed over to him and put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.

‘I do love you... I’ve never had anyone care for me like you do.’

‘Feeling’s mutual, detective.’ He smiled.

‘Is it?’

‘Yes, Jane. I love you.’

Jane had an overwhelming sense of release, suddenly feeling happier than she could ever remember. They finished off Eddie’s mother’s delicious soup, accompanied with crusty fresh bread. Initially, she hadn’t really wanted to talk about what had happened the previous night, but now she felt able to calmly explain her decision about not taking the matter any further.

‘It’s your choice, Jane.’ Eddie shrugged. ‘Although I don’t quite understand it. Does this mean you’re having second thoughts about your career?’

‘You know, I haven’t even thought about that,’ Jane said. ‘You were right, I did become obsessed, and in some ways what happened was my fault. I have often been reprimanded for not being what they describe in the Met as a “team player”. You’re always supposed to share your information, never go solo... So I guess I need to learn a lesson from what happened.’

Eddie placed their empty soup bowls on a tray and stood up to take them to the kitchen.

‘I’ll tell you one thing. I’m going to make sure you get an extension phone here in your bedroom. I’ve fixed your back door securely, with a new lock and hinges, and tomorrow I’ll come back and sort out the bathroom door.’

‘Are you not going to stay the night?’ Jane asked.

‘No, you need to get more sleep. Unless you’re afraid to be on your own?’

Jane pulled the duvet up around her shoulders.

‘I’m not scared, Eddie, I just want you beside me.’

He stood holding the tray and hesitated a moment before putting it down on the side table.

‘If you want, we could make it permanent.’

Jane hurled the duvet aside and embraced him, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

‘Yes, yes, YES!’

Sunday was a cold but gloriously sunny. They had brunch together and Jane didn’t want to let Eddie go, not even wanting him to go back to his own flat to get some clothes. He kissed her and promised not to be too long.

Jane cleared up the kitchen. When she went into the sitting room, she saw the dust sheet and the wallpaper stripper she had held as a weapon and suddenly doubted her promise to Beatrice. She stood by the fireplace and looked at the charred remains of the family tree, aware of her error in not paying attention to it. But before she could question herself anymore, Eddie walked in holding up one newspaper with more under his arm.

‘You’re not going to like this, I’m afraid. I bought some of the Sunday papers. A couple of them don’t have it on the front page, but...’

‘What is it?’

‘Here you go.’

He passed Jane a copy of the News of World and the headline blared out at her.

She started to read the story.

Eddie was flicking through another paper.

‘Didn’t you say Helena’s letter talked about Beatrice blackmailing her and doubts about Jason’s parentage when it came to any inheritance?’

Jane nodded.

‘Well, there’s no mention of Beatrice wanting money or Jason’s parentage in any of these papers. I can’t see your name mentioned anywhere either.’

Jane wondered if Carter had discussed the letter with DCS Bridges and a decision had been made not to release its full content. She was somewhat relieved, as Helena’s allegations of blackmail and the question of Jason’s inheritance might enrage Beatrice and make her decide to lodge a formal complaint of theft.

Eddie continued. ‘Carter also gets in that he was recently successful in making a number of arrests after a series of house burglaries and had been congratulated on returning stolen possessions to their rightful owners... blimey, talk about blowing his own trumpet.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised he left my name out of it,’ Jane said. ‘Let’s just call it another lesson learned. I’m definitely not going to let him or this crap in the papers get to me.’

Eddie continued reading a rather less scurrilous article in The Sunday Times, focusing on the fact that the Lanark fortune had been made during the First and Second World Wars, through paper factories and weapons manufacturing. Helena Lanark had been the sole beneficiary, inheriting a vast fortune. ‘Christ, she was worth millions!’ he exclaimed.

‘This is the best place for these.’ Jane gathered up the newspapers, then started ripping them up, making them into balls and dropping them in the fireplace. A smile of satisfaction lit up her face as she put a match to them and they burst into flames.

Eddie smiled. He was constantly seeing Jane in so many different lights. Only time would tell if he liked them all, but he certainly admired her now. He had been concerned at how she would react to the stories in the papers, but she seemed to have been energised by them if anything, clapping her hands and laughing.

‘It’s all over, Eddie, bar the funeral.’

‘You aren’t going to go, are you?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it. Now, I want you to give me a proper invoice for the repairs to the kitchen and bathroom doors... and make them for as much as you like.’

The following morning Eddie left before seven, reminding Jane to contact BT to arrange about the telephone extension. With the house to herself Jane took her time carefully choosing her best suit, white high-collared blouse and high heels. She washed and blow-dried her hair and applied subtle makeup with pale lipstick. Instead of the big handbag she used for carrying documents, she chose a small black leather clutch. She stood looking at herself in the wardrobe mirror.

‘I am Detective Inspector Jane Tennison,’ she said, feeling a surge of pride.

Jane drove herself to St Martin’s and went and stood in the entrance vestibule, looking at the list of christenings and funerals taking place that day. She was slightly taken aback to see Helena Lanark’s name was given as Mrs Helena Hadley.

Possibly for that reason, there were fewer press photographers than she had expected.

Jane returned to her car and sat inside to wait. She had a clear view of the entrance and at ten to ten a hearse drew up, containing a dark wood coffin and a wreath of white lilies. Behind the hearse was a black Mercedes, with an identical one following.

As the coffin was taken into the church, Arnold Hadley stepped out of the first Mercedes, accompanied, much to Jane’s surprise, by Beatrice Thorpe. Hadley appeared poised and almost debonair as he proffered an arm to Beatrice, who was wearing a black figure-hugging suit over a high-necked black silk blouse, tied with a bow at the neck. She had on a small and rather fashionable black feathered hat and wore elegant black leather gloves.

Seeing them together like this, Jane started to wonder about their relationship. She quickly got out of the car and crossed the road, until she was only a few steps behind them. As they entered the church, she stepped closer.

‘Good morning, Mr Hadley. You have my sincerest condolences, and those of the Metropolitan Police,’ Jane said.

Hadley nodded briefly but seemed uneasy and his expression was cold. Beatrice looked surprised to see Jane. Up close, Jane thought she was wearing too much makeup, with rouged cheeks, bright red lips, heavy blue eye shadow and thick mascara on her lashes.

‘My condolences to you as well, Mrs Thorpe. Is your son coming to the funeral?’

‘No, he had to return to Australia on business,’ she replied with a smug smile.

Hadley took Beatrice’s arm and they walked down the aisle together to take a pew at the front. Jane followed, sitting down in a pew a few rows behind.

The service began, and Jane quickly looked around, noticing that there were no other mourners present. It felt like a bleak, cheerless end to a life as the minister gave a lengthy reading then asked the tiny gathering to join him in prayers before ending the service. There weren’t even any hymns to raise the spirits.

‘Holy Lord, almighty and eternal God, hear our prayers as we entrust to you Helena Hadley, as you summon her from this world. Forgive her sins and grant her a haven of light and peace...’

After the bleak service, Hadley stepped to one side to allow Beatrice to move out of the pew. As they walked towards Jane, she noticed Beatrice had unbuttoned her suit jacket, revealing three strands of pearls hanging around her neck. As she passed Jane, she gave her a small, tight smile and drew closer to Hadley. Beatrice’s black-gloved hand held him possessively, almost like a claw. Jane suspected she would not be letting him go any time soon.

There was one solitary journalist waiting outside, and as Jane walked out from the church the flash of his camera was directed at Beatrice. She put her hands up in a theatrical gesture and turned away as Hadley tried to shield her. Jane took the opportunity to approach them.

‘Excuse me, Mr Hadley. I wonder if I could have a quick word.’

He looked at Beatrice, as if for her approval. She nodded, saying she would wait in the car.

‘I wanted to ask you about Helena’s letter...’

‘Well,’ he said quickly, ‘I have to say I received a rather belligerent phone call from your DCI Carter regarding that.’

Jane was surprised. ‘What did he have to say about it?’

‘Apparently he wanted the original for evidential purposes,’ Hadley explained. But I had already taken the decision to burn it, which, needless to say, did not please him. However, I did assure him that I believed Helena’s confession about the death of the baby to be true, thus allowing him to close your investigation.’

‘Did he ask about the blackmail allegation?’ Jane asked.

Hadley sighed dismissively. ‘I assured him Helena had never said anything about it to me and that to my knowledge she had supported Beatrice and Jason financially simply because they were family. I also warned him that any public statement accusing Beatrice of blackmail, or questioning Jason’s parentage, would be regarded as libellous and Beatrice would sue.’

Jane now understood why the press reports only referred to Helena’s confession. It was clear Hadley had mysteriously changed his previous opinion of Beatrice, making Jane wonder if she was now blackmailing him in some way.

‘Is Mrs Thorpe challenging Helena’s will?’

‘No. We came to an amicable agreement and she agreed not to do so.’

‘Would that agreement involve helping her and Jason financially?’

Hadley didn’t answer the question. ‘I have a great deal of sympathy for Beatrice and her two sons. They have suffered greatly for many years and there comes a time to forgive and forget.’

Jane didn’t think he sounded very convincing. ‘Do you think Helena would have felt the same way?’

‘Helena is no longer with us. I loved her dearly, but I’d like to think she’d agree with my decision... as well as yours.’ He gave her a pointed look and walked away.

Jane realised Beatrice must have told Hadley what had happened at her house. She recalled Beatrice saying she was prepared to contest the will ‘but not necessarily in court’. Helena gave her money to ensure her silence. Had Beatrice used a similar threat with Hadley to reach an ‘amicable agreement’? If so, then ironically it had also saved Jane from being investigated for theft.

As Jane walked across the churchyard she noticed the flash of a camera aimed in her direction. The photographer approached her and took out his notebook.

‘Are you family?’

‘No, I am Detective Inspector Jane Tennison.’

‘Then you were involved in the investigation?’

‘Yes, I was. But I have nothing more to say.’

‘What about that old lady’s letter, and her admission about burying the baby?’ the journalist asked before she could turn away.

Jane stopped. ‘It was a terrible secret she kept for thirty years. However long it took, we were determined to get to the truth and have closure on the case. Thank you, I have no further comment.’

Jane walked back to her car and sat in it for a minute before starting the engine. She had just been given the perfect opportunity to explain how much she had been personally driving the investigation and how without her determination to uncover the truth about the dead child, it would have been quickly shelved. But she had finally realised that it no longer mattered. Helena Lanark had lived in torment and paid a terrible price to protect her father, one sister committing suicide and the other determined for revenge, but now it was over.

She started the engine. Every day was a learning curve, and she was more than ready to handle the other DCI Carters she knew she would come across in her career.

She was happy in her personal life, she had a newly refurbished house, and she had a feeling that the career she had feared was going nowhere was not going to stay that way for long.