Page 190 of The Hallmarked Man
‘What can you tell me about when Niall left?’
There was a short silence. Strike decided it was polite (and certainly easier) to pretend he hadn’t noticed she’d started to cry. He had an excuse; the tears now trickling down her face might be rain, but whycouldn’t Robin have been here? Why did he have to deal with so many crying women on his own?
‘Ev’ryone finks I’m a bitch for goin’ away when ’e wasn’ right,’ said Jade huskily, ‘but it was our firtief – me an’ my twin’s. I’d been sittin’ in the ’ospital wiv ’im for free monfs straight. Then we come up ’ere to stay in ’is mum’s old ’ouse, an’ ’e was barely talkin’ to me, jus’ readin’ abou’ the fuckin’ masons an’ goin’ on runs. I said to ’im, “I wanna ’ave a birfday party”, an’ ’e didn’ wanna go, so – in the end – I said, “fine, I’ll go alone then”. I ’adn’t seen my family for ages. An’ tha’s when ’e left, while I was down in Colchester for the weekend.’
‘Didn’t he leave a note or anything?’
‘Yeah – well, no’ a proper note,’ said Jade in a choked voice. ‘Jus’ a bit of paper wiv some mad shit on it. Didn’ even ’ave my name on it, but ’e left it on my pillow.’
‘Where’s that piece of paper now?’
‘I give it to the bloke ’oo come to see me, after Niall left.’
‘What bloke?’
‘Lawrence or somefing – army or Ministry of Defence – I dunno, I was in such a state at the time – but ’e seemed to know all abou’ Niall, said they was tryna find ’im. I never saw or ’eard of ’im again.’
‘Lawrence showed you ID, though, did he?’
‘I can’ remember,’ said Jade. ‘Probably. ’E wan’ed to know where I fort Niall would’ve gone, an’ this is all before I found out abou’ that blonde woman, so I said I fort ’e must be livin’ rough or somefing, ’cause I knew ’e adn’t touched our joint account. I was worried sick,’ she said, with a sob that even Strike couldn’t credibly claim not to have heard.
‘I’m sorry, this must be very difficult for you,’ he said. ‘I know it’s—’
His false leg skidded out from under him; for a moment he was entirely airborne, then he fell with a crash on his back into a patch of mud. The Pomeranian set up a volley of yapping, as though Strike’s yell of pain had been an invitation to fight.
‘Oh my God,’ said Jade in panic, looking at the metal rod revealed by his trouser leg, ‘Pom Pom,shut up –you ’aven’t got a leg! Why din’ you say?’
‘I’ve got a leg,’ said Strike stupidly, while the dog continued to skitter around him, barking. ‘No,’ he added, as Jade stretched out a hand to try and help him; he could no sooner use a woman that small to bear hisweight than he could haul himself up on a dangling leaf. After several attempts, covering both hands in mud in the process, he managed to get himself upright again, his right knee now excruciatingly painful and the end of his stump burning. Wanting neither pity nor discussions about his missing right foot, he said with forced cheerfulness,
‘All good. Let’s keep going.’
‘You should’ve told me… we’ll go back on the path,’ said Jade. Her manner had changed. While still tearful, she watched with some concern as the now extremely muddy Strike struggled onwards, no longer able to conceal his limp.
‘Was Niall’s brain injury the only one he suffered?’ the detective asked.
‘No,’ said Jade, ‘’e ’ad burns on ’is back as well as a sort of dent on the back of ’is ’ead. I never knew ’ow it ’appened because he never told me what ’e was doin’ on operations. But ’is best friend in the Regiment, Ben, got killed same time Niall got injured. They ’ad to keep tellin’ Niall before ’e took it in. “Where’s Ben?” “’Ow’s Ben?” Ben was Niall’s bes’ man,’ said Jade, with another sob. ‘Everyfing went wrong… I go’ pregnant, an’ then we go’ married, an’ then I lost it, and then, like a monf later, ’e was injured. When ’e come out the coma – after Ben dyin’ – I felt so fuckin’ lucky… and then ’e fuckin’ disappeared…’
‘I’m sorry,’ Strike repeated.
Accidental pregnancies, miscarriages: he was again unwillingly reminded of Bijou Watkins, and of Charlotte, who, in the dying days of their relationship, had claimed to have lost a baby he’d never been certain existed.
They walked slowly back to Jade’s house, making desultory talk, the mud-covered Strike in mounting pain. As they approached her front door she paused and said awkwardly,
‘I’d ask you in, but I’ve gotta go ou’ in a minute.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Strike, who was certain this was a lie, and that she didn’t want him meeting Ginger Moustache. ‘I’ve got a car, I’ll clean up at my hotel. Thanks for meeting me.’
He couldn’t offer her his hand, because it was covered in mud, so made a vague salute and turned away. He’d been limping for thirty seconds or so when he heard a shout behind him.
‘Hey, Cameron!’
She’d caught up with him, her mobile in her hand.
‘I took a picture of tha’ note Niall left me, on my pillow. If youwan’ it, you can ’ave it. I’ll text it you.’
‘That’d be great,’ said Strike, ‘thanks very much.’
‘OK, well… good luck findin’ out ’oo that body was,’ she said, then turned, walked back to her husband’s house, and the new man who was waiting for her there.
