Resentments and Revenge

  Resentments and Revenge

  By Diane Ezzard

  Book 4 in the Sophie Brown Series

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  Chapter 1

  Sophie

  A thin flurry of snow settled on the roof of my dark-blue Ford Fiesta giving the appearance of icing sugar. Thicker blankets of white covered the pavement. I groaned. Picturesque it may be but practical it was not. A most unwelcome visitor on a Monday morning when I was running late for work.

  Out came the scraper and the elbow friction and I set about clearing enough windscreen to make my journey possible. The sky was cloudless. More snow looked on the way. I crunched around my vehicle, boots thumping down as I cleared off as much as I could. The harsh and biting wind hit my cheeks. Jumping in the vehicle, I blew out and rubbed my hands together. A cloud of white air filled the windscreen. My hands tingled as I reached in my pocket for the gloves that I should have put on earlier. I slotted my fingers in and clapped my hands. Boy, this felt like Siberia.

  Icy tracks imprinted the road as I inched up the avenue. The cold cut through my navy woollen gloves as I breathed out again and another spray of mist fell onto the front window. I turned the radiator dial up a notch and shuddered. This was the end of March, supposed to be spring. There shouldn’t be arctic conditions and a fluttering of snow on the ground.

  I crawled along the road, gripping hard on the steering wheel. As I waited at the T-junction and checked the rear-view mirror, I tapped the dashboard in time with the right indicator. There were three cars queuing behind, impatient to get out. We would probably be here for some time. The traffic was bumper-to-bumper in both directions across my path. A tiny bit of frost and snow caused England to grind to a halt.

  I glanced repeatedly both ways. A car ambled towards me from the left. I wasn’t going to risk bustling forward in this weather. A horn sounded. It was not a good move to chivvy me along.

  “If you’re trying to push me out, I’ll dig my heels in, even more, mate. I’m not moving until I’m good and ready,” I said out loud to the car behind. Who do they think they are beeping their horns at me? I wasn’t going anywhere fast. The horns blasted again, longer and louder than before. I wanted to get out of the car to give them a good talking to, but the freezing temperature stopped any notions I had of an altercation.

  “Get a life,” I shouted and swore under my breath. Of course, I was the only one who could hear my outburst, but it didn’t stop my chunnering. I increased the volume on the radio. Those imbeciles wouldn’t intimidate me that easily, plus I wanted to get to work in one piece.

  “Come on, come on, come on.” A few minutes passed. The impatience of the traffic behind impacted on me. I strummed my fingers on the steering wheel, finally easing my way into the middle of the road. The car approaching from the left flashed his headlights, letting me out and I manoeuvred the turn.

  Hopefully, I should still make it to work on time even with the extra ten minutes it took de-icing the car. Ten valuable minutes that would make all the difference between smiles or tuts when I walked in the office. The journey took fifteen minutes on a good day. I wouldn’t achieve anything like that today.

  The rush-hour traffic crept tentatively along. Our lack of experience of dealing with winter weather caught the Brits out every year. The roads were like an ice rink. I tried to ignore the fact I might now be late as I didn’t want anxiety pangs in my chest again. I took a deep breath. There’s nothing you can do about this, girl. I blew the air out through my mouth and turned the radio back down. I had this annoying bad habit of messing around with the dial when I was stressed or so Jack told me. At least he wasn’t here to complain.

  Tower FM’s breakfast show kept me company every morning travelling into work. Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” came on. I loved that track, so turned the dial back up again and joined in singing. I’d taken my life back in the last few years. It felt like a fight to get to where I was today.

  Looking at the clock, I sighed. Now, I would definitely be late. Typical, today of all days. I was running a training course that started this morning. It was one I’d delivered many times before but there was still prep work to do. This was the first session of six, so it was important to be there on time. It was a stress management course – I needed to practice what I preached.

  My mind churned over. Could anyone at work help? I could speak to Karen the new training officer, although I didn’t think she would be too keen. She only joined us last week, through the agency and already had her feet firmly planted under the table. I wasn’t sure why, but I sensed she didn’t like me. I phoned work on speed dial. No one answered. A few more rings and it went to answerphone. Drat. I left a message to say I might be late due to the weather. I would have to organise everything now. It was unusual for me to be late at my job at the women’s centre, so I hoped nothing would be said. My breathing was rapid and shallow. I huffed and bit my nails. I didn’t like having to rush things.

  Fourteen ladies had booked on the course. They wouldn’t all turn up, with today’s weather. Facilitating training courses made a pleasant change from counselling all the time and I didn’t get as many stress headaches when teaching. Maybe Janet, the admin lady, might organise the teas and coffees and book the clients in. I looked across at my bag and thought about the custard creams and chocolate chip cookies inside and smiled. They should earn me a few brownie points with the attendees. At least I’d not had to organise a luncheon buffet. The charity’s budget didn’t run to expenses like that anymore. I had pre-warned the group to bring in their own or nip out for a sandwich at lunchtime.

  The lyrics quiz came on the radio and I answered the questions correctly. David from Greenmount got the answer to Beyoncé’s track right and won a pair of cinema tickets. I should try it sometime. The next song was Amy Winehouse’s “Valerie.” It brought back memories of when I used to go to bars and out clubbing. That was back in the day when I worked at Salford Quays and behaved like one of the lads. I laughed as I remembered singing that song on karaoke. I didn’t have the best singing voice. What an embarrassment I’d been. I shook my head. Another memory flashed past when I once took the mike off my old boss and ex, Simon on a works night’s out. I shuddered at the reminder. The only person who heard me singing these days was my bloke, Jack. I liked to join in with the songs. My voice grated on him, but I did it all the more if he mentioned anything.

  “This is Tower FM. It’s nine o’clock.” A jingle sounded. Oh dear, I was now officially late.

  “Let’s go over to the newsroom for the latest news update,” said a man’s voice. A female voice followed. She came on and spoke.

  “Detectives have launched an investigation after being called to the scene where a woman’s body was found on waste ground near Fairfield Hospital. A GMP spokesman said further details would be revealed once they have established the exact circumstances surrounding her death.”

  Poor woman. A couple more news items came on, but I was more interested in listening to the weather forecast.

  “An icy start in places. Sunny spells and scattered showers will develop later
. There may be further sleet and hail at low levels, with snow falling on the hills. The northerly wind will make it feel colder than usual for this time of year.” Yeah, tell me about it.

  I parked up and shivered as I opened the car door to climb out. I was grateful I had the good sense to wear my winter boots as I tried hard to grip the pavement. Two people passing by slid along the icy surface. Arriving at the centre in one piece, I dusted down my grey puffer coat to clear the snowflakes resting on my shoulders. The weather was the major talking point when I walked into the warm office. No one mentioned me being late although Karen checking her watch didn’t go unnoticed. I wasn’t the last to arrive.

  “Jean’s got stuck over the tops. She said it’s a few inches deep where she is.” She lived in Holcombe village. It was lovely and scenic up there in summer but devilish if we got a frosty winter.

  “Who’d have thought snow in March,” I said.

  “I know, it’s terrible,” came a reply whilst I was busy collecting the folders. I took them through to the training room. The tables and chairs were in place. My heart beat fast as I scurried around trying to get everything organised. I checked through the paperwork. The paper was there but no pens. I rushed out of the room into our small office.

  “Pens, pens,” I said hurrying through in a similar vein to the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

  “I’d have thought you’d have sorted this beforehand,” Karen smirked, with her eastern European accent coming through. “Haven’t you organised many training courses?” Inwardly, I wanted to punch her lights out, but I reacted by ignoring her. “That’s how you make mistakes, rushing around like that,” she jutted out her chin. My eyes narrowed, and I felt my toes curl. I would have loved to have said something equally cutting back to her, but my mind went blank.

  With my best rabbit impression, I said, “No time, no time, hello, goodbye, I’m late, I’m late.” I heard a chuckle but knew it wouldn’t be coming from Karen. She lacked any sense of humour. The only nice thing about Karen was her shiny chestnut-brown hair, cut in a shoulder-length bob. I glanced over and saw her serious expression and pursed lips. I shook my head then went out to the kitchen where some of my candidates were waiting and I showed them through to our room. Normally, Jean did that, but she still hadn’t arrived and there was no way I would ask for Karen’s help.

  Nine women trooped into the conference room. Five missing, so it wasn’t a complete disaster. I could still run the course. I introduced myself, then started off with the icebreaker session. We were soon in full flow. By lunchtime, the group seemed settled and interacted well. A few brought in pack lunches while others went out for food. I opened my bag and took out a container full of homemade soup which I warmed up in the microwave.

  I sat in the kitchen reading after sending a text to Jack, asking him how his day was going. He didn’t reply so he was probably with a client. He only worked half a mile away from me and some days I went in to see him at lunchtimes. I wouldn’t call in his office today though. It was far too cold and slippery, and I didn’t want to chance walking out in such treacherous conditions. I could wait until tonight. He was coming over to mine for something to eat.

  Most of the time, Jack worked on his own. A young female student came in once a week to do his admin work. He couldn’t afford to pay for more than that, so I helped him out when I could. He was a private investigator which wasn’t the most lucrative of jobs.

  I flicked through an old Prima magazine on the table. It was the November edition so some of the winter clothing being modelled seemed appropriate for now. My soup pinged, and I brought it back to the table.

  “That smells good,” Barbara said.

  “It’s cheese and broccoli, homemade,” I grinned and hunched my shoulders.

  “Oh, get you, Gordon Ramsay, I wish I could make my own soups,” she said.

  “I’ll give you the recipe.”

  “Thanks, Sophie.” I tore a piece of my bread roll off and dunked it in my soup. The radio was on in the background. The news jingle came on.

  “Can you turn it up, please, Barbara?” I asked. She flicked her long straight blonde hair out of the way and leaned her chair over towards the cupboard. She reached up to the radio and moved the dial.

  “Thanks.”

  “Detectives have launched an investigation after a woman’s body was found on wasteland near Fairfield Hospital. Police were called to the area after the discovery was made by a dog walker. The thirty-three-year-old woman has been identified and her family are being informed. It is not clear yet how she died.”

  “Ooh, that doesn’t sound good,” Barbara said.

  “No.” I went through my head thinking of the young women I knew living in the area. I thought of the poor woman’s age and her life cut short. She was a few years older than me. The subject of conversation changed to last night’s episode of Eastenders, so I forgot about the news story. The afternoon session went well. Everyone left, and I finished tidying the room and packed everything away. I glanced out of the window. The snow had all but melted. My mind turned to Jack and smiled. It wouldn’t be long before I saw him. I was ready to walk out of the office door when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I looked at the screen. It was Jack. I answered.

  “Have you heard the news?” His voice sounded edgy.

  “What news?”

  “It’s been on the radio about a woman’s body being found in Bury.”

  “Oh yes, I heard that. Isn’t it dreadful, I…”

  “It’s Carmen Weston.”

  “What!” I cried.

  “Yeah, It’s Jade’s mum.”

  “No!” I put my hand over my mouth as I listened to his words. I felt the colour drain from my face.

  “Do they know how she died?”

  “All I know so far is, it’s being treated as suspicious.” I thought my knees would buckle so I sat down.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “I’m going to Jade’s house now to see how she is and to find out what’s happened. I may be late getting to yours.”

  “Shall I come with you?”

  “I think it’s best I speak to Jade on her own at this stage. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.” We ended the call, and I shook my head. Jean came up behind me. Her head bent towards me and she looked over her dark-framed glasses.

  “Are you alright, Sophie? You look a bit distressed.” She put her arm on my shoulder as she spoke. I told her about my phone call with Jack.

  “Oh dear, are you going to be okay driving home?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

  I rose and strolled towards the door. My body felt tense, and I desperately wanted to know more. I bit down on my bottom lip and felt sick. My stomach stirred as I thought about our connection to Carmen. I hoped her death had nothing to do with our involvement with her and her daughter Jade.

  TWO MONTHS AGO

  Chapter 2

  Sophie

  I flicked through my notes before my next client arrived. Christine had been attending therapy for a few weeks now. She first started coming because she was having difficulty coping with her son’s wayward behaviour. Now her worst fears had been realised. He recently walked out after an argument between the pair of them. Dealing with any loss was difficult but Louie was only a child, just a teenager.

  We exchanged welcome formalities and she came in and sat down. I didn’t need to ask if Louie had been found. I could tell from the slumped shoulders and the drooping eyes.

  “How are you feeling, Christine?”

  She put her head in her hands.

  “I’m taking things a day at a time. Once the realisation dawned on me, he wasn’t coming home, my world collapsed. I went from lightness into dark. The pain comes over in waves but when it arrives, it’s torturous. I don’t know how I will survive. It’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced before. When a relationship ends, or someone dies, you know it’s over and you learn to deal with it.
This keeps me awake every night, wondering, hoping, planning, scheming what else I can do to find him.”

  “At least, now you’ve got Jack on the case.”

  “Yes, the police are a waste of space. They don’t care.” I nodded. “I think they feel that because he’s caught up in drugs, that it doesn’t matter. It’s as though he’s not worth saving, in their eyes.” She began to cry like she did every session when she came to see me. Luckily, my trusted box of tissues was on the table and she reached over and took one.

  “I’m sure the police are doing what they can under the circumstances, but it can’t be easy if he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Where did I go wrong?” She bit her lip.

  “He’s a young vulnerable boy who’s been easily led. That doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong. It could happen to any family. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Blaming yourself is a wasted emotion.”

  “I can’t forgive myself for not seeing what was happening.”

  “You were a busy working mum trying to provide for Louie. You can’t notice everything that goes on.”

  “I should have spotted things sooner.”

  “You could not have known what Louie was doing. The youngsters today are very private.”

  “Not so long ago, he was a keen footballer. He enjoyed playing most sports.” She dried her eyes. “The start of the changes in Louie began six months earlier when he was caught by the police trying to bury a large carving knife in the park. I challenged him about why he did it, but his only reply was that he wanted to. I knew something odd was going on. It wasn’t like him.”

  “Louie got a few medals for being the man of the match. He could have gone a long way with his sport.”

  “He still can, Christine, with your encouragement when he gets back.” She gave me a look to say she wasn’t convinced. Her clothes matched her mood. Today she wore a black polo-neck jumper and dark jeans.