Читать книгу The Forest of Souls - Carla Banks - Страница 15

The following morning dawned bright and clear with the promise of an early spring. The sun was rising as Faith left for work, the winter light warming the grey stone and gleaming off the rocky outcrops on the high moors in the distance.

She was worried about Helen. She’d tried contacting her, but no one answered the phone. She’d left messages, but there had been no response. She thought back to the last time they’d talked. Helen had seemed distracted. Daniel was putting a lot of pressure on her. ‘He wants his share of the house,’ she’d said. ‘I didn’t want all of this to go through lawyers and the courts. I thought we could sort it ourselves.’

‘Why don’t you just buy him out?’ Faith said. It seemed the simplest way–a clean break.

‘I can’t take on a mortgage that size. It’ll mean moving, and the kids…Now he’s saying he’s going to take me to court for custody.’ She sighed, apparently more exasperated than concerned.

‘Do you think he means it?’

Helen shook her head. ‘He’s just making smoke. He thinks we’re going to get back together. He’ll come round.’

‘Are you?’ Helen had blossomed since she had left her marriage. Despite all the worries and all the hassle, she’d seemed brighter and happier than Faith had seen her in years.

‘Sometimes I think it would be the easiest way, but…’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not going to happen.’

Faith thought about this conversation as she negotiated the traffic. Helen had been evasive about the break-up, about what had been the final trigger. Though Helen hadn’t said anything definite, Faith suspected that there was someone else in the picture. She had been astonished when she saw Helen for the first time after the break-up. Despite all the problems, she’d looked years younger. She had been the buoyant, vivacious woman Faith remembered from their university days, but a sophisticated one now, beautifully turned out, her hair styled, her clothes immaculate.

Another time–just after her birthday–Helen had been wearing a new watch with a delicate silver band. ‘Present from Daniel?’ Faith had asked, though it looked a bit subtle for Daniel.

‘No,’ Helen had said, caressing the band round her wrist. ‘Just a treat.’

A couple of days ago, Faith had met her in the lobby coming back from lunch. She was carrying a bag with the logo of one of the expensive department stores, filled with tiny boxes that looked as though they contained filmy, lacy garments, not workaday cotton.

‘I’m sick of the hausfrau image, that’s all,’ she’d said rather defensively when Faith had raised an ironic eyebrow at her.

Faith put the matter of Helen to the back of her mind, and tried to focus on putting together the budget to finance the research programme that had been approved in yesterday’s meeting. But her thoughts drifted to her own family. She’d phoned Katya the evening before, choosing a time when she was pretty sure her mother would be out, and left a message to say that the interview had gone ahead and there hadn’t been any problems. But it wasn’t the interview that worried Faith. It was the sense of a gathering futility in Grandpapa’s life, epitomized by the slow decay of the house. It was as if he had stopped caring–as if his life no longer had any use or purpose.

His life had always been his work. He hadn’t let the reins of business go until he was well into his seventies. And after that, she had been his project for a while–he had supported her through university, helped her out when she was first trying to get established and living hand to mouth on post-graduate grants. But she was independent now, had been for years. Maybe that was it. Maybe for him, life had lost its point.

She was due to see him tomorrow evening. He was making supper for her–he enjoyed making small occasions of her visits. She could talk to him about it, try and find out what was wrong. While she was at it, she meant to put pressure on him about the house–he could at least get it weatherproof. She’d seen the rainwater stains on the ceilings upstairs, and she had felt the chilly draughts from ill-fitting doors and windows. He was going to make himself ill.

Her worries about him occupied her all the way to work. She walked across the campus, the detritus of other people’s lives clamouring for attention in her head. Enough! she wanted to shout. She needed to focus on the day ahead.

As she approached the Centre, she saw that there were vehicles parked outside, cars and a van. The campus was generally vehicle free and she wondered what was going on. As she got nearer, she saw a man coming out of the main entrance, his arms loaded with files, which he put into the back of the van.

He was in uniform.

She stopped. The writing on the van came into focus. Police. And there was a police logo on one of the cars. Someone else was coming down the steps now, carrying a computer. There was a flash of colour from the side of the machine, a bright rectangle of card that flipped over as the breeze caught it. And suddenly she remembered standing in Helen’s cubicle the day before, seeing the photo stuck to the computer, the photo of Helen with Finn and Hannah, Helen squinting into the sun with her hair blowing across her face, Hannah’s cheek pressed close to hers.

That was Helen’s computer. The police were taking Helen’s computer away. And Helen hadn’t been around yesterday, had missed her meetings, not answered her phone, not replied to messages…

Faith could feel a chill inside her, a tension that twisted her stomach and left a feeling of rising sickness in her throat. She was moving again now, walking faster towards the Centre, breaking into a half-run and stopping as a woman in uniform emerged from the doorway.

‘What’s happened?’

The woman didn’t answer Faith’s question. ‘Do you work here?’

‘Yes. What’s going on?’ She looked past the woman into the lobby. It was empty and silent.

‘And you are…?’ The woman’s voice was calm. She wasn’t going to answer Faith’s questions until she knew who she was.

Faith swallowed her impatience. ‘I’m Faith Lange. I’m…’ A man came down the steps past her, carrying a box of files, Helen’s files, Faith could recognize the handwriting. ‘What’s he doing?’

The woman had a clipboard with a list of names. Faith indicated her own, trying to see past the woman as the uniformed man stowed the box in the back of the van. ‘I’m a friend of Helen Kovacs. That’s her stuff. What’s happened?’

‘Mrs Kovacs was…’

‘Doctor,’ Faith said automatically. The woman looked at her. ‘Dr Kovacs. Helen is Dr Kovacs.’ Helen always insisted on her title, probably because Daniel had been so disparaging of it.

‘I’m sorry,’ the woman said. ‘There’s been an incident involving Dr Kovacs…’ Her eyes checked Faith’s face for her response.

‘An incident? But she’s all right?’ She waited for the woman to offer the standard reassurances: She’s fine.

But she didn’t.

Faith tried again. ‘She’s okay?’

Still the woman refused to pick up her cue. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. She paused, and in that pause, Faith understood. ‘Dr Kovacs was found dead yesterday.’

Dead. ‘But…’ She needed to explain. Helen couldn’t be dead. It was Hannah’s birthday on Saturday. Faith hadn’t told her about…They were supposed to…She was aware of a hand on her elbow as the policewoman steered her through the entrance into the Centre.

‘Do you need to sit down?’

The policewoman was young, serious, professional. She didn’t know that Faith and Helen had been close. In a way, it was easier to hear it like this. She was just doing her job, telling someone that a colleague was dead. She wouldn’t be nervous of grief, wouldn’t be embarrassed by her own inadequacy. Faith withdrew her arm, and took a deep breath to ensure that her voice would be steady before she spoke again. ‘No. Thank you. I’m all right. What happened?’

‘We’ll need to talk to you,’ the woman said. ‘Would you mind waiting?’ It wasn’t a request. ‘We’ve asked the staff to wait in the office.’

Faith wanted to shake the information out of the woman. What happened? Instead, she turned away and walked through the lobby. The winter light flooded the high space, the poster for Antoni Yevanov’s lecture glowing on the display board–After Guantanamo…She hesitated at the door of the office, then stepped back. She didn’t want to step into the room, listen to the voices falling silent, listen to people who’d hardly known Helen speaking with hushed excitement, listen to the speculation.

Suddenly she was overwhelmed with nausea. She could feel the cold sweat on her forehead and down her back. She went quickly into the ladies and made it into one of the cubicles before she was sick, dry retching long after her stomach was empty. Her legs felt shaky as she stood up.

There was no natural light in the cloakroom, and the mirrors over the row of basins threw back her reflection bleached of colour. The tap water was tepid and she let it run cold before she rinsed her mouth and splashed it over her face.

There was a small yard at the back of the building where the rubbish skips were lined up for collection. She let herself out of the rear entrance, glad to see that no one else was there. It was one of the smokers’ refuges, cigarette ends littering the ground and a stale smell of ash lingering in the air. She sat on the low wall by the skips and stared up at the sky. The nausea lingered like a reminder in the pit of her stomach.

Years before, the daughter of one of her colleagues had been killed. A young man had been driving along a straight bit of road, had put his foot down, then swerved to avoid something. His car had clipped the pushchair in which the three-year-old had been sitting. Faith had gone to the funeral. People wept at the graveside, but the bereaved mother hadn’t. She had stood there, cradling an infant that someone had given her to hold, and she had watched them bury her daughter. Her stillness was incandescent with a grief that was beyond tears.

Hannah and Finn. They were Helen’s world. Faith reached for her phone and tried Helen’s home number, but there was no answer. She flicked through the pages of her diary. She could remember scribbling down the number of Daniel’s phone at some time. She keyed it in, hoping it was still current. It rang several times before it was answered.

‘Kovacs.’ It was an abrupt snap.

‘Daniel, it’s Faith. I just heard about Helen.’

There was a moment of silence, then he said, ‘Faith. Yeah, it’s…I’m kind of, you know…’

She didn’t know, but she could imagine. No matter what anger there had been between him and Helen, he hadn’t wanted the marriage to end. For all the problems they’d had, Helen had felt bad about leaving him. ‘What happened? I don’t know anything. I just came into work and there were police everywhere.’

‘Work.’ His laugh was edgy and hostile. ‘Well, that’s what happened. Work. She’s out on a wild-goose chase, something for what d’you call him–Yevanov.’ He spat the name. ‘She’s on her own in some old house, and there just happens to be a pervert on the premises.’

A pervert. Did he mean that Helen had been…‘Oh, God,’ she said.

‘I talked to her,’ Daniel said. His voice sounded raw. ‘Not long before it happened. She wanted to talk to the kids. I was pissed off. I wouldn’t let her. And then this…animal…strangled her.’

Faith closed her eyes. She felt sick. ‘How are they? Hannah and Finn?’

He was suddenly angry. ‘They’ve just lost their mum. How do you think they are?’ And then the anger faded as fast as it had come. ‘It’s too much, kids that age.’

‘Daniel, I’d really like to see them. Can I come round?’

‘It’s not a good…’ He began his refusal, then stopped. ‘Look, you could help me out–if you want. I’m a bit stuck. I’ve got a job on this afternoon and I can’t leave it. The kids aren’t in school–if you want to see them, you could come round and sit with them.’

‘Of course. Give me the address and I’ll be there.’

He gave her the street name and number. ‘Get here for two,’ he said, and rang off.

The door into the yard where Faith was sitting opened suddenly. ‘Oh. There you are. They’re waiting for you.’ It was Trish, looking outwardly composed, but there was a suppressed excitement about her and her eyes were bright.

Faith stood up slowly. ‘The police?’

‘They want to talk to everyone Helen knew,’ Trish said. ‘Professor Yevanov has promised them full co-operation.’

Yevanov would have little choice but full cooperation. ‘Where is he?’ Faith asked as she walked back into the lobby. She didn’t want to talk about Helen with Trish. She could remember the satisfaction in Trish’s voice the day before when she had reported Helen’s absence. She isn’t in. Again.

‘He came in with them first thing. Then he went back into town to talk to them.’

Yevanov, with the police? She looked quickly at Trish, but she didn’t seem disturbed. ‘Why didn’t they talk to him here?’

‘They need him to look at the archive materials Helen was working on. They want to know if anything’s missing.’

That made sense, but she remembered Yevanov telling her the collection was undocumented, and wondered how anyone would be able to tell.

‘Miss Lange?’ It was the policewoman she’d spoken to earlier. ‘We’d like to talk to you now.’ She dismissed Trish with a cool smile and directed Faith into one of the small offices that were used by the admin staff.

A young police officer was waiting for her. He apologized for keeping her waiting, then asked, ‘Helen Kovacs was a friend of yours?’

Was…‘I’ve known her most of my life.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I need to ask you some questions, okay?’

Faith nodded. ‘Okay.’

At first, his questions were general–Helen’s routine, her daily contacts–but gradually they began to focus on her marriage. ‘What caused the break-up?’ he said.

Faith shook her head. ‘I don’t think it was any one thing.’ She explained that Helen had given up a secure job to become an academic. ‘Daniel never really understood that, and Helen’s work was the most important thing in her life, apart from the kids.’