The Sleeping and the Dead

Lizzie Milburn was in her fifties, but rather glamorous in an efficient, power-dressed sort of way. Certainly more glamorous than he’d expected someone who spent her days with three- and four-year-olds to be. But it seemed she ran the Early Years Centre on a big council estate on the edge of the city and spent little time these days with paint and sand. Porteous arrived at her home before her. She had a flat in what had once been a large country house. When there was no reply he was about to walk back to his car to wait, but she drove up, very quickly, and pulled to a stop beside him, scattering gravel. She was in a convertible Golf and the roof was down. She slid one slim leg out and stood up to greet him. She smelled expensive. Her skirt was short. Her shoes were dusty.

‘You wouldn’t believe the mess on the estate,’ she said. ‘It’s like a dust bowl. They’re knocking down most of the flats and putting up houses. A good thing. No one wanted to live in those high rises. But they seem to be taking for ever. And it’s worse in the winter. You need wellingtons to get from your car.’ She didn’t expect any response and went on, ‘Sorry I’m late. Parents evening. In a place like ours it’s hard to get the parents there and we don’t feel we can chase them away.’

At the door she slipped off her shoes. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but I really must have a very large G and T. I don’t suppose you…?’

‘Just a tonic,’ he said.

She’d been married, it seemed, but it hadn’t worked out. He had the impression that she’d got rid of a husband who hadn’t lived up to her expectations, re-assumed her maiden name, and carried on as if he’d never existed. There had never been any children but she’d done well financially out of the divorce. All this he gathered in the first few minutes. They sat, without ceremony at the kitchen table and he was reminded of his conversation with Stella Randle. Another kitchen. Two women of a certain age, but remarkably different.

‘What’s all this about, Inspector?’ Her hair was rinsed auburn and cut short. Her make-up was still intact. Despite the difference in their ages, despite the fact that she wasn’t at all the sort of woman he usually went for, he found himself attracted to her.

‘Theo Randle.’

‘Oh? Usually when the police come to see me it’s because one of the fathers has been suspected of abuse. Or the mums have been shifting stolen property on our premises. Or some little vandal has set fire to the place again.’

‘It is about a fire I want to talk to you.’

‘Is it true that the body you found in Cranford Water was Theo?’

‘Yes. He’d changed his name before he died but it was Theo.’

‘Poor boy.’ She went to the freezer to fetch ice for their drinks. ‘You’d have thought he started out with every advantage. Compared with the children I work with now. But he didn’t. He didn’t stand a chance of a normal life.’

‘Why?’

‘Before I arrived at Snowberry he’d been left almost to his own devices. Crispin went to pieces after Maria died. Kept up a show for the constituents but he was hitting the bottle even then. Theo was minded by a series of women whose main job was to keep the house clean. He got whatever he wanted so long as he left them in peace. And it was much the same when Crispin was there. I suppose things were better when he started school but it was a snotty little prep place and I think it must have been pretty bleak. Theo must have been well screwed up even before Crispin married Stella.’

‘Did he resent his stepmother?’

‘No. Quite the opposite. He worshipped her. She took time to listen to him, read him stories, played with him. She wasn’t much more than a girl herself – a bit giggly and silly – but she made a real effort to get on with him. I met her first when she was pregnant. We were about the same age but she made me feel about a hundred and one. She treated the whole thing as a game. As if having a baby was all about parties and presents. She’d been totally sheltered. Mummy and Daddy were friends of Crispin’s. She’d done boarding school, a year’s finishing in Switzerland. The job as Crispin’s secretary was to give her something to do with her time before marriage and of course she didn’t have to look very far for a husband. It was hardly surprising that she went to pieces when Emily was born. Her depression was a nightmare for everyone at Snowberry but especially Theo. He thought he’d found someone who cared about him. Then suddenly she didn’t care about anyone. She couldn’t. The doctors Crispin got in didn’t help. They just pumped her full of drugs. I tried to spend as much time as I could with Theo, but I couldn’t replace her and I was pretty busy with Emily.’

‘Did you keep in touch with him when he went away to school?’

‘I didn’t keep in touch with any of them. Crispin made it quite clear my role in the family was over when Emily died. The day after the fire he gave me a month’s wages in lieu of notice and he sent me away.’

‘Tell me about the fire.’