Poppet

Pompom Socks

THE TRUST IS far from perfect, but even AJ has to admit the sports facility they’ve given their employees discounted membership to is pretty damned splendid. Situated on the outskirts of Thornbury, Tarlington Manor boasts a twenty-five-metre swimming pool and a gym packed with the latest fitness gizmos – suspension trainers, Core-texes, and vibrating power-plates. There’s a sauna, a laconium, twenty tennis courts and an outdoor hot tub with a log fire next to it where middle-aged women sip champagne at lunchtime.

Three days a week Melanie leaves work early, comes here and knocks the hell out of a squash ball on her own for an hour. AJ has to check at least six viewing galleries before he finds her court. She is soaked with sweat but still thrashing the ball, her ponytail bobbing like mad. Her T-shirt is pink with a black puma above the left breast and she’s as sexy as hell in her lycra training shorts, blinding-white trainers, and little white pompom socks like the ones he remembers the girls wearing at Wimbledon when he was a teenager. In those days he used to spend a lot of time watching the ladies’ tennis – much to Mum and Patience’s amusement and ridicule.

It wouldn’t be that difficult for Isaac Handel to figure out where Melanie lives. The image of the figure in the garden flickers around AJ’s head. And DI Caffery, and the way he was so uncomfortable talking about the murders at Upton Farm.

He makes his way down to the next level and opens the door to the court. Melanie stops when she sees him – gives a surprised yelp and flaps her hand. ‘AJ! Go away, for God’s sake, don’t watch. You’ll make me self-conscious.’

‘Self-conscious? After what you let me do last night?’

‘Oh, stop it.’ She crosses to her kit in the corner and pulls out a towel, which she holds up to her face, letting it hang down in front of her body so he can’t see her full length. She’s wearing wristbands too – another retro detail that takes him straight back to the eighties. ‘Go away – I’ll have to stop if you don’t go away.’

‘We need to talk.’

‘Need to talk?’ She lowers the towel from her face. Sweat has smeared her mascara. ‘Oh-oh. That sounds ominous.’

‘Mel, let’s not pretend. You saw something in the garden the other morning. And last night I saw it too.’

‘No.’ She shakes her head seriously. ‘We didn’t. It was our imaginations – we were half asleep. No sleep, too much sex, too much booze. I can smell it on me.’ She lifts her arm and gives her armpit a dubious little sniff. ‘It’s coming out of me. Christ – lucky I’m playing on my own here.’

‘I wasn’t drunk last night. And even if we were both drunk the night before and we imagined it – the fact we imagined the same thing says we’re worrying about it. And we’re worrying about it because we know on some level Zelda, and Pauline and Moses may have seen something similar. And I’m about as sure as I can be that I know who was behind their “hallucinations”, “delusions” – if that’s what we’re going to call them.’

Melanie’s eyes open even wider. ‘Not Handel again – please. I really think we—’

‘It’s not just Zelda’s picture, it’s not just what he did to his parents. It’s … I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Please, you need to believe me.’

‘We’ve talked about it.’ She puts a hand out, making to leave the court, but he stands his ground.

‘Melanie – I read the tribunal transcript.’

Her face changes at that. Her eyes tighten a little, like cooling metal, and she drops her weight back on to her heels. ‘I’m sorry? You read the transcript – what does that mean?’

‘I read your statement to Handel’s discharge tribunal. I never realized you’d been so involved with him.’

‘Involved? What the hell are you talking about?’

‘The way you talked, it sounded as if you’d spent every day with him. You said things like: “he was always cooperative”, “absolutely no problems with compliance”, “understands the nature of his illness and the importance of daily contact with the team to maintain that stability post-transfer”, “gave me the impression that he understood the severity of his crime, and also deeply regretted it” … Shall I go on?’

Melanie’s face is burning. Her nostrils have dilated slightly and she’s sucking air in very slowly to calm herself.

‘Shall I go on, Melanie? Because I read it all and it’s bullshit – you never spent any time with Isaac. I never once saw you speak to him.’

‘I don’t get you,’ she says bitterly. ‘I don’t get you at all.’

She pushes past him to the door, jabbing him with her elbow as she does. She slings the bag over her shoulder and walks away in a very straight, precise line.

‘Melanie?’ he says to her retreating back. ‘Melanie – I’m sorry – I don’t want an argument.’

‘You could have fooled me.’

‘No, honestly, I didn’t mean to sound …’

He trails off. She has reached the ladies’ locker room. Without a backward glance she goes inside and slams the door behind her.