relation to what the organisation calls ‘Assisted Childbearing’.
Carole Aimes, spokesperson for CHOICE, an organisation fiercely opposed to Short’s bill, reiterated that Lesley Crawford should be arrested. Aimes condemned as irresponsible any possibility that City Police were treating Breath of Life claims lightly.
The condition of Baby Grace remains critical but stable and her plight has served as a rallying call for religious groups throughout the country who represent the interests of ‘The Unborn Population’.
Staffe rereads the piece and folds the paper back down. Lesley Crawford will have to make the next move if she wants the world to believe that Breath of Life were behind the Kerry Degg murder.
He finishes his tomato juice to within two thick fingers of the bottom of the glass and catches the attention of April, mimes the pulling of a pint. She laughs out loud and wags a finger at him, then pulls his Adnams.
He texts Pulford to get back down to Southfields, to monitor the comings and goings of everybody who visits Lesley Crawford. Under no circumstances is he to be seen, though. It is imperative that she believes the police are looking elsewhere for Kerry Degg’s killer.
The narrow doors to the snug swing open and Josie comes in, takes his pint from April and sits alongside Staffe.
‘You talked to Sean?’ he says.
Josie picks up the glass of tomato juice, finishes it and says, ‘Hmm. He let something slip. Said Kerry was adopted. Her new dad died when she was young. And he told me how they met. I don’t see that Sean could have taken Kerry down into that tunnel.’
Staffe puts down his pint, untouched, says, ‘Adopted? Bridget didn’t say anything about that.’
Eight
In his office, Staffe reads Kerry’s school reports again, and her small volumes of poetry, handwritten in an immaculate, leaning hand within slim, hardbacked volumes, tied with mauve ribbons.
She had been a B student who did not apply herself in the least and was both easily led and a distraction to others. None of her teachers thought anything would come of her, save a Mr Troheagh who took Kerry for English and in the last two years of her education, urged her to stay on for the sixth form and to push herself to get into university. He said Kerry had a unique voice in her writing and a natural grasp of the power of words.
Staffe read one poem again, entitled ‘Blood on the Thorn’, about loving an older boy, possibly a man. The closer she got, the more it hurt, until finally the love became unbearable. It scarred. The symbolism of a girl changing into a woman, too fast, and still trapped in the body of a girl, is obvious.
Staffe wonders who the Thorn might be. Sean? Troheagh himself? Possibly. He makes a note to look up the teacher, but then drifts back to that night, maybe seven years after she wrote that poem, when she stood on stage and captivated a decadent audience with her bawdy songs and sultry voice, her tight bodice and bared secrets. And she would be discovered, too, by Phillip Ramone who would offer Kerry her chance in life.
He makes a tick under ‘Document removed’ and signs for it, slips the volume into his pocket and returns the rest of the documents to the box, takes it down to Jombaugh.
In the City, it is another mild day, after the long, hard winter. He calls Pulford, to see whether there have been any comings and goings at Lesley Crawford’s house.
His sergeant – displeased and tired and failing to see the point of his vigil – says nobody had come or gone, and asks if somebody else could take a turn. Staffe tells him ‘No’, hangs up, and turns to Josie. ‘Fancy a ride down to see Kerry’s sister, in Thames Ditton? I’ll treat you to lunch, by the river.’
‘You used to live down there.’
He can’t remember when he might have told her that.
*
Bridget Lamb gives her husband a chastising sideswipe of a look as he stands in the drawing-room doorway, looking at Josie a second too
Carole Aimes, spokesperson for CHOICE, an organisation fiercely opposed to Short’s bill, reiterated that Lesley Crawford should be arrested. Aimes condemned as irresponsible any possibility that City Police were treating Breath of Life claims lightly.
The condition of Baby Grace remains critical but stable and her plight has served as a rallying call for religious groups throughout the country who represent the interests of ‘The Unborn Population’.
Staffe rereads the piece and folds the paper back down. Lesley Crawford will have to make the next move if she wants the world to believe that Breath of Life were behind the Kerry Degg murder.
He finishes his tomato juice to within two thick fingers of the bottom of the glass and catches the attention of April, mimes the pulling of a pint. She laughs out loud and wags a finger at him, then pulls his Adnams.
He texts Pulford to get back down to Southfields, to monitor the comings and goings of everybody who visits Lesley Crawford. Under no circumstances is he to be seen, though. It is imperative that she believes the police are looking elsewhere for Kerry Degg’s killer.
The narrow doors to the snug swing open and Josie comes in, takes his pint from April and sits alongside Staffe.
‘You talked to Sean?’ he says.
Josie picks up the glass of tomato juice, finishes it and says, ‘Hmm. He let something slip. Said Kerry was adopted. Her new dad died when she was young. And he told me how they met. I don’t see that Sean could have taken Kerry down into that tunnel.’
Staffe puts down his pint, untouched, says, ‘Adopted? Bridget didn’t say anything about that.’
Eight
In his office, Staffe reads Kerry’s school reports again, and her small volumes of poetry, handwritten in an immaculate, leaning hand within slim, hardbacked volumes, tied with mauve ribbons.
She had been a B student who did not apply herself in the least and was both easily led and a distraction to others. None of her teachers thought anything would come of her, save a Mr Troheagh who took Kerry for English and in the last two years of her education, urged her to stay on for the sixth form and to push herself to get into university. He said Kerry had a unique voice in her writing and a natural grasp of the power of words.
Staffe read one poem again, entitled ‘Blood on the Thorn’, about loving an older boy, possibly a man. The closer she got, the more it hurt, until finally the love became unbearable. It scarred. The symbolism of a girl changing into a woman, too fast, and still trapped in the body of a girl, is obvious.
Staffe wonders who the Thorn might be. Sean? Troheagh himself? Possibly. He makes a note to look up the teacher, but then drifts back to that night, maybe seven years after she wrote that poem, when she stood on stage and captivated a decadent audience with her bawdy songs and sultry voice, her tight bodice and bared secrets. And she would be discovered, too, by Phillip Ramone who would offer Kerry her chance in life.
He makes a tick under ‘Document removed’ and signs for it, slips the volume into his pocket and returns the rest of the documents to the box, takes it down to Jombaugh.
In the City, it is another mild day, after the long, hard winter. He calls Pulford, to see whether there have been any comings and goings at Lesley Crawford’s house.
His sergeant – displeased and tired and failing to see the point of his vigil – says nobody had come or gone, and asks if somebody else could take a turn. Staffe tells him ‘No’, hangs up, and turns to Josie. ‘Fancy a ride down to see Kerry’s sister, in Thames Ditton? I’ll treat you to lunch, by the river.’
‘You used to live down there.’
He can’t remember when he might have told her that.
*
Bridget Lamb gives her husband a chastising sideswipe of a look as he stands in the drawing-room doorway, looking at Josie a second too
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