Dalziel and Pascoe Hunt the Christmas Killer & Other Stories by Reginald Hill

Author:Reginald Hill [Hill, Reginald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2022-09-15T17:00:00+00:00

Castles

After the funeral I leave as soon as decently possible.

Maybe a little sooner.

‘What are you doing in Mum’s bedroom?’ demands Harry.

I point to the bedside phone.

‘Wanted a taxi,’ I say. ‘Didn’t want attention.’

‘You going already?’ he asks incredulously.

When I arrived, he’d said, ‘So you came, then?’ in exactly the same tone.

I say, ‘Harry, most of the people here are your mother’s friends and family. I think they’ll be glad to see the back of me.’

‘Can you blame them?’ he demands. ‘When they know you’re responsible for killing her.’

That’s a real chiller till I realize it isn’t specific.

‘A heart attack killed her,’ I say.

‘Because she was living alone, and we all know whose fault that was,’ he spits out.

From the door, Emily says, ‘This where you’ve got to. What’s going on?’

‘He’s ringing for a taxi. He’s leaving,’ says Harry.

‘You off then, Dad?’

‘Yes. Sorry. Need to be back in town this evening.’

‘Keeping busy, eh? That’s good. Not too busy to come again soon, I hope.’

Doesn’t quite get it right, but at least she tries. Harry just glowers.

It’s funny, I always favoured Harry over Emily, but when the split came, it was Emily who kept her cool, Harry who threw shit.

I don’t bother with any other farewells. York was where Donna came from and York was where she returned. Far as I can make out, she was greeted like a returning prodigal. Me, I feel as welcome as Ian Paisley at a Sinn Fein wake.

Out in the street I use my mobile to raise a taxi. In fact, I’ve no real reason to hurry back, but even less to hang about in this chilly city. I’ve got a seat booked on a train in half an hour, but when I reach the station and find a delayed train to London just leaving, I jump aboard.

Everyone else seems to have the same idea and the train is crowded. I get an aisle seat on a table for four with my back to the engine. Never used to bother me, but as I get older I like to see the landscape sliding away rather than rushing towards me as I travel.

Very soon the train rocks me into a waking sleep in which it’s not landscape but the past I see sliding by.

I met Donna at my first job. Hers too. She was in the typing pool, prototype provincial lass, starry-eyed and a bit intimidated at her first sight of the Big City. I was the office boy, just as unsure of myself, but coming from Walthamstow, I could put on the airs of a native.

So she made me feel sophisticated, and I made her feel safe.

Not a bad basis for a teenage relationship. Not, maybe, such a great one for marriage.

We got engaged at seventeen. Her parents objected, mine didn’t give a damn. Her mother wanted to know if I’d convert to RC. Her father wanted to know if she was pregnant. I told her why not? and him yes. End of objections. My parents still didn’t give a damn.

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