Harvest (13 page)

“
Don’t worry; it’s just
what Jen does. We treat each other’s places as home from home.
You’re very easy to warm to,” Claire said as she clicked the kettle
on. “I want to thank you for not thinking I was some kind of nut,
you know – me thinking that I have ghosts and stuff?”

“
I’m hardly one to
criticise you for seeing spooks, am I.”

“
No. Not just that, but
you made a good impression on Brian, and that isn’t easy
considering. What you said last night on the phone – when I called
you. You really comforted me. Very… motherly!”

While Rachel had talked to
Claire on the phone Claire’s mother had appeared to her again, and
somehow with her there the right words had come easily. Rachel
sugared the teas as far as she could, unsure of what Craig took in
his, if he liked tea at all. “Don’t worry. I like to listen and
help if I can, so you just call when you need an ear.”

Claire smiled weakly. “You know
it’s odd. For three weeks all I could think and worry about was
Emily. Now I worry about whether a door is going to slam or
something is going to terrify Amy again. I just wish Amy would
speak to me.”

“
Still not talking? Poor
child. It’s the one thing that would help her come to terms with
Emily not being here.”

“
She just looks so scared
and beaten down. Defeated.” Claire stared off into the rushing
steam of the boiling kettle. “She looks how me and Brian are
feeling inside.”

“
Children can’t hide their feelings very well and I
think that's a good thing really. At least you
know
there is something wrong and you can try and help
them. You or I can keep our feelings hidden, which probably does us
more harm.” Rachel hesitated as she considered the hypocrisy of her
philosophy, its barb digging deep within her. “She might not be
talking about it but she is
expressing her feelings.
The love I’m sure she gets from you and Brian will only help.”
Rachel took the kettle from its cradle and poured the hot water
into the mugs.

“
Do you have
children?”

The question caught Rachel like
a sharp slap to her senses. She hadn’t been asked that in years,
and it burned into her composure. “Er, no. No, I don’t.” She didn’t
want to talk about it, not with Claire; Rachel needed to remain the
rock Claire obviously needed.

“
Well, I am surprised;
you sound like a perfect mum.” Claire pulled the fridge door open
to get the milk. “A child would have been very lucky to come to
you.”

Before Rachel’s mind could
dwell on the painful memories Claire’s words raised, she saw
Claire’s mum standing next to her. She eyed Rachel and pointed to a
drawer in the kitchen unit.

Claire closed the fridge door
and started as she watched Rachel squeezing the life out of the tea
bags. “Oh, you found the spoons then.”

“
The mothering side with
its kitchen compass...”

Craig knocked on Kelly’s door
unsure how she would greet him after her change of mood with him in
the lobby earlier that day. After a moment she answered, and he was
grateful that she was out of uniform, not only because she looked
good in the fitted top and tight black Levi’s, but he hoped it
would mean she would be more relaxed.

She greeted him lightly enough
and with a smile that spoke of being glad to see him, but her face
was pale and set. Despite her hair being free and the masking
glasses gone, her casual state was betrayed by a look of
distraction.

“
Come in.” She winced a
smile at him.

He was surprised to get an
invite, he had only come to say “hi” and invite her down to join
Rachel and David in his flat. He didn’t have her phone number. He
had been working up to getting it just before she had turned cold
on him in the lobby and he had decided against asking. Her flat had
an identical layout to his, and although he had recently gone
through the flat giving it a paint, hers seemed fresher and cleaner
than his. It was the neutral colours she had chosen that gave the
place its light and airy feel, even the hall which tended to be
shadowy from the lack of windows seemed brighter. The muted colours
continued in the lounge but were accompanied by simple pieces of
maple furniture. The plainness of the lounge was softened by
colourful modern art prints and soft furnishings.

Her flat was quite a contrast
to his. He liked all his stuff, but he had picked it up at boot
sales and second-hand shops and his place had more of a lived in
look. With a brother three years older than him he was used to
hand-me-downs. He had resented it as a kid, but had come to accept
it now; Darren had good taste and he went through clothes like a
girl or a gay so it saved Craig some cash. There were worst aspects
of living in your big bro’s shadow, like him having a better job, a
mortgage, a car, a girlfriend... Darren’s place was more like
Kelly’s, but then Darren had a steady job and could afford nicer
things. Maybe when Darren bought a place with his fiancé he would
get some of Darren’s gear. Living in Darren’s shadow might pay off
after all.

There were two plump terracotta
sofas with plush furry brown and beige cushions and throws, it
looked cosy. Kelly didn’t take a seat or offer him one though, she
paced a little, seemingly lost at what to say or do.

“
What’s wrong,
Kelly?”

She looked away momentarily,
apparently caught off guard by his observation. She pulled herself
together. “Sorry.” She smiled, but he saw through it.

“No need to be, but what’s
wrong?” he persisted.

Kelly sighed, grimaced and
shrugged to herself. “Sorry. Craig, can we talk off the
record?”

“
Hey, I am not gonna use
every chat we have... I’m not that dedicated to being a
journalist,” Craig joked, he hoped disarmingly.

Kelly hugged herself,
looking awkward. “It could be story related, but it can’t go
any
further than this room.”

Just his luck to get a lead
only to be sworn to secrecy, but he knew he wouldn’t do anything
that might jeopardise a trust in any relationship he had. Although
Kelly was new to him, and she had been a bit off with him, he liked
her. He didn’t ever imagine feeling comfortable with a copper, but
he felt relaxed enough to tease her professionalism and could
imagine some good laughs winding her up and messing with her, like
he did with Vicki. He could imagine Vicki groaning at him putting
someone’s feelings over a story. “Don’t even worry about that,
Kelly. Just tell me whatever it is that’s eating you up.”

“
I mean it though. If
what I say gets in print I’ll throttle you.” She pointed at him
under a fixed glare. She could be quite scary when she wanted to
be. He liked that too – although now was probably not the time to
joke about that.

Craig gave a half-smile.
“Threats of physical violence... You know how to treat a boy.”
Sometimes he couldn’t help himself, but he was rewarded by Kelly’s
resolve relaxing into a brief laugh. Maybe she wasn’t as sensitive
as he had thought.

“
Just
before you got here I got a call from a friend from work. She
wondered what was going on over here. She told me that the
investigation into the Chamber’s case might be taking a new twist:
Sarah Muller, a fifteen-year-old girl, went missing last night. Her
mum sent her off to meet friends on the estate and told her to be
home by ten. Her friends were waiting outside for her. She never
made it out of the building,
Craig.”
She
let the fact sink in. He didn’t know the girl but the story was
sinister enough to have effect. “Yesterday, another resident was
five months pregnant, she miscarried and she is hysterical, saying
the baby has been ‘taken’; they had to sedate her. Obviously they
don’t believe her, but the thing is they don’t know what she did
with the baby. She lives here – in this block.” Kelly’s flat tone
was rising with what he imagined was her own incredulity. “And then
about two hours ago in the stairwell down the hall on the fifth
floor, Maggie Riley had a fall in the stairwell and the pram fell
down a flight. She’s in hospital with injuries and shock. Little
Jamie, the baby, was nowhere to be found.”

Craig swore and gave up waiting
to be offered a seat and planted himself next to her on the
comforting looking sofa as he tried to process the information. The
Chambers’ situation was no longer an isolated case. “What’s going
on?”

Kelly sat down beside him.
“That’s what I’m trying to understand. You can’t tell anyone you
heard this from me,” she urged. “The stories are going to get in
print, they will come out and you can do what you like with your
angle after that. I just don’t want it coming back to me.”

Craig waved her down.
“Don’t worry about it,” he offered distantly. Strangely the news
story, his motive for befriending Kelly and offering out his flat
to Rachel, had almost been forgotten against the new information
and disappearances; people he would probably recognise if he saw
pictures of them. He could hear Vicki tutting at him in his head.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t know what to do with these stories
anyway,” he reassured her flippantly, and instantly regretted his
tone. Sometimes he wished he could say exactly what he was thinking
and not joke about it. “Is this becoming a serial snatcher or
something? One of those psychotic ‘collectors’? Satanists? – I
dunno!” He gave up on his movie psychology and ruffled a hand
through his scruffy hair as if it would somehow make his thoughts
clearer. “Can’t all be unrelated. The miscarriage one might be
just… Well, you know, natural. But surely she would have a
body
– or something at
least.”

“
Don’t,
Craig. It’s only what has been going through my head since I got
the call. My friend told me that they’re all joking about it down
the station, calling the estate
‘The Camden Town
Triangle’ and are saying it’s ‘Zone Two of the Twilight Zone
’.
Can you believe it? Always count on sick bastards,
can’t you.” She grimaced in distaste. “I never understand the sick
camaraderie down the station when things like this
happen.”

“
It’s how people so close
to these things cope, I guess. Look, what you just told me stays
with me. It’s just nice to know that you trust me.” He smiled
reassuringly, trying not to let his gaze linger on her. It felt
good to know she trusted him but he didn’t want his statement to
seem like a pathetic pass, he had tried that earlier and it hadn’t
panned out.

He was pleased to see that she
gave him a measured look, maybe reclassifying him in her head?

“
It’s
just knowing that this is happening in this building; where you
live, the corridors and stairs you use, neighbours, the whole lot.
It all feels wrong, feels different now.” She rubbed her face,
apparently resigned to the frustration of the situation. “Last year
we were called to a flat, there had been a murder. A boy, well I
say a boy but he was about twenty, he had been murdered in his own
home. At the scene I was told to sit with the boyfriend – he had
returned from popping out for a bottle of wine for their dinner and
found him. I sat there and watched his breakdown. The boy’s blood
was everywhere, I mean literally
everywhere
– it was on the ceiling. Imagine what
it would be like seeing the blood of someone you cared about. After
all this time I have spent at Kentish Town Station and all the
crimes I have come across I still don’t understand how your life
can just be turned inside out like that. That was the hardest day
on the job, yet at the end of the shift I went home and it was
distant again. It was someone else’s story from another place; like
changing the channel on TV from one story to another. This though…
You don’t think about something bad happening at your front door.
It brings it home to you, and it doesn’t go
away.”

Craig allowed himself to stare
at her, into her distant amber eyes, watched her quiver
uncomfortably with her fear and openness. “You care a lot about
other people or you wouldn’t do what you do. That’s a good thing.
Maybe that’s the antidote to the world you despair at. Sometimes
things don’t affect you unless you can relate to them, and I would
think with your job you must need to switch off as
self-preservation.” He surprised himself with his sentimentality
and prayed she wouldn’t laugh at him.

Kelly just smiled.

“
When
this dies down things will return to normal.” Craig sighed. “At
times like this it just makes you glad you don’t have kids to worry
about.”
Craig instantly regretted his comment as he saw
the hardness return to Kelly’s face.

Rachel gratefully accepted
Claire’s aid as she struggled with a hefty metal box crate.

“
Did they let you carry
that?”

“
Craig shot off to go and
get Kelly for later. Dave is the one to have a go at.”

“
Me?” David frowned as he
walked in with his own burden of equipment.

“
Yes. He is such a gent.
Last of the true romantics,” Rachel announced to Claire, cocking a
shrewd look in his direction as they both lowered the box to the
ground.

“
You
women, you protest that;
‘I want to be my own woman, I
want to be the one to call you, I want independence.’ – Don’t open
a door for you and its World-War-bloody-Three...”

Claire gave a dispassionate
laugh that seemed to darken her mood as it died in her throat.