The Yorkshire Dipper Read online

  Maria Frankland

  The Yorkshire Dipper

  What would you risk to bring the truth to the surface?

  First published by Autonomy Press 2021

  Copyright © 2021 by Maria Frankland

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Maria Frankland asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  First edition

  Cover art by Darran Holmes

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  I dedicate this book to my home town,

  and to anyone who has tragically

  lost a loved one.

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  Prologue

  The cold is like a million knives slicing into me. I’ve never felt anything like it. I try to shout, but I can’t even breathe. How did I end up here? One minute I was cosy in the pub, knowing I’d had one too many, the next I was coming outside for some air, stumbling at the side of the river. Then, well, I don’t know if I will ever see the light of day again.

  I see the faces of my family in my mind. Again, I try to scream. Not a whimper. I’m going to die. No, I am not. I’m going to fight. I try to kick, to tread water. Pretend I’m a girl again, doing my level one at the local baths. One minute in the deep end. But I can’t move my limbs. I’m being frozen alive.

  Something is sucking me under. A force is pulling me down. My foot lodges within something hard. I hold my breath. Try to kick again. All is silent apart from the terror inside me. I really am going to die. Here, in this river where people dispose of shoes and shopping trollies. I can’t move. All around me is inky black.

  I see faint moonlight filtering through the surface of the water. Thoughts won’t come anymore. My body is going to explode. I try, one last time, to return to the surface. To get another breath.

  Instead, I choke as freezing liquid engulfs me. It fills my stomach, my lungs. I’m sinking further. This is it.

  I

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Joanne

  Joanne looked around at her seven ‘hens.’ “I can’t believe so many have dropped out. You find out who your friends are at a time like this, don’t you?” Fifteen people were supposed to be coming. She had been looking forward to this evening for ages and couldn’t believe how many, one by one, had let her down. Particularly after her disastrous hen party the first time around. In truth, her entire first marriage had been disastrous. Thankfully, all that was behind her.

  “It’s just our age,” her sister-in-law-to-be laughed. “It all becomes a bit of an effort to go out once you’re in your forties.”

  “Yeah,” agreed her friend, Leah. “Not to mention the recovery time needed afterwards. I’m alright when I’m actually drinking, but nowadays, it takes me three days to get over it. Don’t take it personally.”

  “Anyway, we’re here,” Wendy said. “And we’re having a good time, aren’t we? It’s quality, not quantity.”

  “I guess so.” Joanne noticed her mum walking carefully towards the table, balancing a tray of cocktails and shot glasses. “Mother! What are you playing at? I’m already squiffy. I’ll be neither use nor ornament after that!”

  Everyone laughed as Joanne’s mum placed the tray on the table. “Right girls,” she said, reaching for a shot glass. “I would like you all to raise your glasses to Joanne and Robin. Finally, she’s marrying someone decent. Even I approve of him!”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Joanne necked the shot in one, pulling a face as the liquid burned the back of her throat. She had always hated Sambuca. With it, she also tried to swallow the resentment that was bubbling up towards her mother. She had to be centre stage, no matter what the occasion. Joanne hoped she wouldn’t be like that on the wedding day itself.

  She was draped in L-plates and a piece of old net curtain - her mother’s offering. When she had first got engaged, she had felt self-conscious and old, especially when looking at wedding dresses amongst the twentysomethings. Being due to turn fifty in a few months, she was aware that she looked nowhere near that age. Her life was definitely due to begin at fifty. Her dark hair flowed down her back and invited many compliments, and she had inherited her mother’s green eyes and good skin. Sometimes her friends seemed envious, but they weren’t up at seven, getting a five kilometre run in before work each day.

  Joanne enjoyed how people acknowledged their table with a smile as they walked past. Her hens had brought balloons and streamers, so there was no mistaking what sort of celebration was going on. And even though she’d felt miffed at so many dropouts, and with her mother getting on better with her friends than she did, she could not deny that she’d had a great evening so far.

  She watched as the rest of the hens pulled a similar face to hers whilst downing their Sambuca, then her mother started dishing out cocktail glasses. To say she had twenty-four years on Joanne, she was going strong this evening. She was going strong in general.

  “Wendy - sex on the beach. Joanne - unbridled passion. Me - three in a bed.” Everyone laughed.

  “Mother!” Joanne exclaimed for the millionth time that evening. She was on form. Joanne looked around at the seven ladies that she had to admit, she cared most about in the world. If any one of them had said to her ten years ago that her life would look like this now, she’d have said they were mad. But they would have been right. Joanne was marrying her Mr Wonderful in a fortnight. They had met at the park and he couldn’t have been any more different to her first waste of space of a husband.

  Soon after splitting with him, she’d had a bit of a dalliance with a married man who’d stalked her after she’d broken things off with him. She hadn’t known he was married, so it had all got messy. After him, Joanne had sworn off men forever. Until Robin had come along and swept her off her feet, or rather his labrador had - literally, so he’d bought her a coffee to apologise. From there, things had unfolded naturally.

  They had a lovely church wedding planned with all their friends and family, and she couldn’t wait. She took a sip of her Unbridled Passion. “What on earth’s in that?”

  “Just drink it,” Wendy laughed. “It’s your hen night. Do you want to go home sober?”

  “I’m a long way from sober,” Joanne replied. The more she got down the lethal cocktail provided by her mother, the more the pub lounge started to tilt to the left. She had drunk lots lately. This was the third hen party she was having, the first two having been organised by different circles of friends. She’d been teetotal after splitting with her ex-husband, wanting to keep a clear head whilst it all settled down and the divorce went through, particularly because he had repeatedly reappeared, either in anger or in begging mode.

  As the cocktail neared its end, she accepted that the room had gone from a tilt to a spin. “I’m just going for a breath of fresh air. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Joanne staggered towards the exit, the echo of laughter and “lightweight” roaring in her ear
s. She gulped in the fresh air, trying to make out shapes in the rain and the darkness, whilst deciding that when she went back inside, she was going on to pints of water.

  Chapter Two

  Lauren

  I look up from my book as Mark strides into the lounge. I was starting to wonder where he was. He’s normally back from his shift by quarter past eight to tuck Alysha in. She’s been asleep for over an hour now.

  I watch as he chucks his police ID badge, pocketbook and keys into the dish on the sideboard. I enjoy the sense of his weight beside me as he flops onto the sofa. He’s three days into a stretch of five twelve-hour shifts. I miss him. And since his promotion, he is working later than he used to.

  “Sorry I’m late love. We pulled a body out of the Alder. She went in on Saturday night.”

  A chill creeps up the back of my neck. “Bloody hell. It was only last year there was a spate of them…”

  “I know. It’s awful. And this is off the record Lauren. You’ll have to keep that inner journalist under wraps for now.” Mark reaches for the remote. “Ugh. I’ve had enough police drama for one day.” He flicks the TV over from Scott and Bailey, which I’ve been half watching whilst trying to read my book. In truth, I was barely concentrating on either. I was more worried about what was making him late. I always am. And my imagination often runs wild.

  “What do you mean, inner journalist?” I put my book on the coffee table and swivel around to face him. “I am a journalist. Just like you’re a police sergeant.”

  “Nothing official has been released yet, that’s all.” He pulls me closer. “Her family is only just identifying her this evening. Anyway, enough work talk. Is Alysha OK? I hate it when I don’t get to see her before she goes to bed.”

  I nestle into him, enjoying his warmth. The heating seems to have clicked off. “Yeah. She tried to stay awake to see you, but she’s had a busy day. I didn’t get her from after-school club until six.”

  “How come you were so late?”

  “Just with that new column and there was a bit of boring sports reporting to sort out. Two of the sports journalists are off, supposedly sick. Anyway, you’re one to talk about me being late!”

  He flicks his gaze from the TV to me then back to the TV again. “I’m sorry. I should have rung. It all got manic. Everyone going off and coming on duty, was called into a meeting.” Mark’s channel hopping as he speaks, which I always find irritating. I’ve never quite got his full attention when we’re watching TV together. Whoever said men can’t multitask was right.

  “What about?” I look at his face illuminated in the lamplight behind us. He’s a handsome man, and I feel extremely lucky to soon be marrying him. Well, in ten months, two weeks and six days. If I looked at the wedding counter on my phone, I could reel off the hours, minutes and seconds as well. We’re a great team in every respect, Mark and I. Apart from the long hours we both put in with our careers.

  “Just because they have pulled this woman from the same area as the ones last year. Obviously I can’t say too much about it. But I’ll let you know if anything becomes official.”

  “Don’t you trust me? I won’t repeat anything until I’m allowed to. You should know that.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just – if you were to slip up. I’d be in for the high jump, you know I would.”

  “There were five deaths there last winter. I might be a reporter, but I won’t be the only person wondering if there’s more to these drownings than just accidents.”

  “We’ve obviously been told we can’t rule something suspicious out but then again, it’s a notorious stretch of river.”

  “So how many women have to die before something is done to protect them? These are people’s mothers, or daughters. What if it was me, or your sister?”

  “Alright Lauren.” He laughs, although it’s his nervous laugh. He can probably tell from my expression that I’m deadly serious. “It’s not my case. It’s been given to Ingham. He’s said we’ll be stepping up the patrols at night-time this winter. Also, Yorkshire Water is supposed to be installing more lifebuoys, and fencing in the steeper places.”

  “The council should put CCTV up as well.”

  “It’s funding, isn’t it? We’re looking at the pub’s CCTV for now,” Mark cuts in. “Although, it’s only over the bar and outside the exit. And it only goes along the riverbank for a short distance on either side.”

  “What about the building next door?”

  “There isn’t any in there - it’s been empty for ages. There’s apparently no interest from anyone taking the lease on.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s nearly derelict.” I get to my feet. “Do you want a drink?”

  “When I come down.” He kisses the top of my head as he stands in front of me. “I’ll nip for a shower and check on Alysha.”

  As I hear the shower running overhead, I relax. When Mark’s on shift, I never feel at ease until he’s home. He’s only recently been promoted to sergeant, but he’s still as involved on the front line as he was when he was a constable. Even more so now that he’s in a more senior job. The buck often stops with him. He’s keen to climb the ranks and prove himself.

  I just hope he doesn’t get killed doing so. One of his colleagues was killed in a high-speed chase last year; he was only twenty-eight. I’ll never forget the desolation on the face of his eight-month pregnant wife at his funeral. Another of his colleagues was knifed to death the year before, when he approached a gang who had cornered a lad.

  I couldn’t cope if anything happened to Mark. I wish sometimes that he had a nice, safe job in an office. I guess if he climbs higher in the police, he’ll be working more at the station. I don’t know how my sister-in-law Eva puts up with Mark’s brother, Will, being on traffic patrol. Well, to be honest, I don’t know how she puts up with him full stop. Will made a play for me once, not long after I met Mark – obviously I told him where to go. I’ve never told Eva or Mark about it and usually keep my distance from Will as much as it’s possible to keep distance from one’s brother-in-law-to-be.

  My gaze falls on Mark’s pocketbook and for a moment, I’m tempted to see if there’re any nuggets of information relating to the woman who’s died in the river. I squash all thoughts back down, cross at myself for even considering having a look. We trust each other. We don’t do things like that. He’s supposed to keep it locked away. He would kill me for even thinking about it.

  I’m whisking hot chocolate in a pan when I feel the strength of Mark’s arms wrap around me from behind. I crane my neck to kiss him on the cheek.

  “I’ve missed you today,” he says. “Maybe it’s with that poor woman dying in the river. It has got me thinking, even more so since you said before, what if it was you or Claire? You make sure you’re careful next time you’re out with the girls.” He turns me around to face him. “Drink was always a factor with the women we pulled out last year.”

  I pour the chocolate into mugs and pass him one. “I know – and I’ve missed you. If only we could just stay cocooned here, me, you and Alysha. Then no one would have to worry about anyone.”

  “Ah, but we’d soon get bored,” he laughs. “We need to be out there, making the world a better place.”

  I nearly talk over him as I remember the plans I’ve made. “Now you mention it, going out, I mean, I’m out with the girls this weekend. Saturday. So don’t go taking on any extra shifts.”

  “I’ll see how things go,” he replies. “Could we put your mother on standby just in case?”

  “Why is it always my mother, and always me who has to ask?”

  “I’m sorry love. I wish my mother was more hands on, but it’s just the way she is. She was like it as a mother so she’s going to be the same as a grandmother.”

  I sniff and turn back to rinse the pan. “You’d think her losing Dean like she did would make her value her other kids more, and her grandkids.”

  As I face Mark again, a cloud crosses his expression. He doesn’t like talk
ing about Dean. And he’s unmentionable in front of Will. Will flies into a rage if Dean is ever brought up.

  “Anyway, why are you thinking you might have to work? It’s your weekend off.” I hope he’s not getting like Will, who works all the hours God sends, and it’s not as if they need the extra money.

  “We’re short staffed at the station, plus we need every penny we can get to put towards the wedding.”

  I’m always pleased when he mentions saving for the wedding. We’ve been planning it for what feels like forever, and just need to pay off the balances now. We sit side by side again on the sofa and he restarts his channel hopping.

  “Just leave something on,” I laugh, taking a sip from my mug. “Stick a bit of news on. Or even better, talk to me. We haven’t seen each other all day. We’re like an old married couple before we’re even married.”

  The local news is starting as he lands on the BBC. I want to tell him about Alysha’s upcoming school trip and more importantly, how much it is going to cost, but he raises his hand, as if to shush me.

  “Just a second. I want to hear what they’ve got to say about the woman.”

  The woman, believed to be in her thirties, was pulled from the River Alder at nine thirty this morning after being reported missing last night. Details about her identity cannot be released until formal identification has taken place.

  People are being urged to take care on its banks, particularly where stretches of the river are unfenced.

  Detective Chief Inspector Jonathan Ingham told Yorkshire News that deaths in the river are a ‘needless waste of life,’ and so easily prevented by placing more emphasis on personal safety after an evening out, and remaining with companions. Steps are being taken by Yorkshire Water to increase the lifebuoys available and install extra safety fencing.