One Last Breath. Stephen Booth
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to Derbyshire Constabulary. There had been very little on her mind except how quickly she could progress up the promotion ladder, the best way to make an impression on her senior officers, and who among her new colleagues might be of most use in her ambitions. But at this distance, she could see that she’d been trying hard to fill her mind with work, to keep out the things she didn’t want to think about.
There had been only one exception to her self-imposed rule then, just one subject that had occupied her thoughts when she was away from the office: her sister.
Yet that first time Angie had visited Grosvenor Avenue, when Diane had driven her back from the Dark Peak village of Withens in a daze, her sister had barely glanced at the flat, commenting: ‘This place is OK, I suppose.’ She’d shown no interest in seeing the kitchen or the bedroom, let alone any inclination to disapprove of the clutter, or the dirty clothes left on the bathroom floor. So why should her presence have made Fry feel suddenly so defensive about the mess?
‘It suits me,’ she’d heard herself say.
And it was true, of course. She had no need of a home any more, no desire for a place that she might learn to care about.
‘Who are the people in the other flats?’ Angie had asked.
‘Students.’
‘God, students. They’re a pain in the arse.’
And the conversation had stumbled into one of those awkward pauses again, as if Angie were some total stranger she had nothing in common with, instead of being her sister.
Diane had found herself standing like an idiot in the middle of the sitting-room carpet, shuffling from one foot to the other while she tried to think of something else to say.
Angie had flopped down on the old settee and stretched her legs with a sigh, staring at the toes of her trainers, which were still damp from the rain in Withens.
‘Well, aren’t you going to offer me a coffee or something, Sis? Even Ben offered me a coffee, when I was at his place.’
Fry didn’t move. Even her shuffling stopped. She waited for her sister to meet her eye, but Angie wouldn’t look up.
‘You went to Ben Cooper’s house?’
Angie smiled at her toes in a conspiratorial way, as if they’d done something quite clever.
‘I only stayed there the one night,’ she said.
Fry clenched her fingers until her nails dug into her palms. ‘I don’t think I want to know this.’
Angie shrugged. ‘It’s not important. Ask me about it when you feel a bit more interested.’
Fry opened her mouth, shifted her feet again, and noticed the pain in the palms of her hands.
‘How do you take your coffee?’ she said.
For some reason, Angie was still smiling. But now she looked up at her younger sister with a knowing look in her eyes.
‘We’ve got a lot to learn about each other,’ she said. ‘Haven’t we, Sis?’
Diane Fry left the DI’s office aware that she’d absorbed only part of what he’d been telling her. And that wasn’t like her at all. She prided herself on a good memory for details when she was on the job. At home, life might pass in a haze some of the time, but not when she was at work. She was sharp, on the ball, a cut above the rest of them in CID. Well, usually she was. Maybe she was sickening for something.
It was remembering that day in Withens that had distracted her. She still felt the shock of the moment that she’d turned to see Ben Cooper walking away and her sister standing there in the road instead, as if fifteen years had vanished in a blink of an eye. Since that day, she hadn’t been able to think of her sister without thinking of Cooper, too. The bastard had intruded himself into her private life like a splinter under her fingernail. She would have to find out the truth from him one day. Until she had an explanation of his involvement, there was a missing connection. And without it, the presence of her sister in her life again just didn’t add up.
Pausing in the corridor, Fry pulled out her phone and dialled Cooper’s number again before she could stop to reconsider. But all she got was the recorded voice telling her his number was still unobtainable.
She thrust the phone back into her pocket and kept walking. That was the problem with feelings – they could be so ambiguous. It didn’t make any sense at all to feel disappointed and relieved at the same time.
* * *
‘The Devil’s Arse,’ said the older of the two girls, with conviction. ‘We want to go up the Devil’s Arse.’
Ben Cooper smiled at an old lady who turned to stare at them. He tried to get a sort of tolerant amusement into the smile, mingled with embarrassed apology. The old lady lowered her head and leaned to whisper something to a friend supporting herself on a walking frame. Cooper flushed, imagining the worst possible thing she could be saying.
They’re not mine, he’d wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t.
Although it was a Monday, the streets of Edendale were packed. The summer holiday season had started in the Peak District. It was sunny enough for the old ladies to stroll from their excursion coach to the tea rooms, as well as for younger visitors to shed some of their clothes and sprawl on the grass near the river. Cooper found it too humid in town when the weather was warm. He preferred to be on higher ground, where he could feel a bit of cool breeze coming over the moors.
In the pedestrianized area of Clappergate, they weaved their way between the benches and stone flowerbeds, wrought-iron lampposts and bicycle racks. A little way ahead was the Vine Inn and the brass plaque outside it that he knew so well: In memory of Sergeant Joseph Cooper of the Derbyshire Constabulary, who died in the course of his duty near here.
Cooper tried walking a bit more quickly. Perhaps if he could get away from the crowds, he’d feel a bit easier.
‘That’s rude,’ said Josie. ‘I don’t say rude words.’
‘“The Devil’s Arse” is what they call it,’ said Amy. ‘So it can’t be rude.’
‘It is.’
‘It’s not. Just you ask Uncle Ben.’
Cooper stopped. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said brightly.
‘Why can’t we ask you now?’ said Amy.
‘No, I mean we’re going there tomorrow.’
‘Peak Cavern,’ said Josie. ‘That’s what it’s called properly. We’ll go to Peak Cavern.’
Cooper was sweating. And it wasn’t just the humidity either. Talking to his nieces was like walking through a minefield these days. He didn’t want Matt and Kate accusing him of teaching the girls to say ‘arse’. But he could already hear them saying it when they went home to the farm tonight. Uncle Ben says we can say ‘arse’, Dad. Just great.
‘It’s your day off today,’ said Amy, who was the older of the two and knew CID shift patterns and duty rosters better than he did himself.
‘I’ve got two days off this time,’ he said. ‘So we can go tomorrow.’
‘But …’
‘Yes?’
‘But what if you get phoned up?’
Cooper sighed. He felt a surge of sympathy for all the family men on E Division. This must be what it was like for them all the time. The constant cries of: ‘Why weren’t you there, Dad?’, ‘It’s supposed to be your day off,’ and ‘What if you get phoned up?’
‘If I get phoned up,’ said Cooper, ‘we’ll go some other time. I promise.’
He could almost hear the girls weighing up the value of his promise, and judging its reliability.