The Yorkshire Dipper Page 6

  She twists away from the sink, which she’s filling with water. “Yes, it was live. I agree with you to be honest. I think there’s more to it than women falling in. There’s been too many for them all to be accidents. And if they were just alcohol induced accidents, you’d think at least a couple of men would have fallen in too, with what some of them drink!” She wipes the sides down. She’s wonderful, my mother. She’s given up her day at the drop of a hat for me.

  “I know, I’ve thought the same.” I fill a glass with water. “I can’t believe the police haven’t done more. It’s like it’s easier to blame accidental death, even though that explanation doesn’t stack up now.”

  “That spot has been the same for years Lauren. Even when I was young. Anyone can fall in the river, but if you end up in there, you’ve not a great deal of chance of climbing back out. It sounds like the police are taking more notice than they ever have though.”

  “Well, someone knows something. And I’m going to have to prove that.”

  “Just be careful love. Your name and face are linked to this story, especially after being on the news earlier. If there is a stalker behind it all, which I doubt, I don’t want you going anywhere near there on your own until he’s caught. I honestly think they’ll just be accidents though.”

  “Don’t worry Mum, I’m OK. And I’m glad my name and face are out there. It’s what I’m aiming for. Hopefully the piece I wrote earlier will be in the nationals tomorrow. You know that’s what I want.”

  “And what I want is my daughter safe and well; career isn’t everything.” Mum wipes her hands. “Right, go and start getting ready. I’ll bring you a cup of tea up.”

  I kiss her on the cheek as I walk past her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Mum.”

  “Let’s agree not to talk shop this evening,” Mark says after the waiter has shown us to our table. “Let’s talk about other stuff. The wedding. The house. Alysha.” He winks at me. “Baby number two?”

  It’s our favourite restaurant. A French bistro where I always have a steak and a glass of red. We came here on our first date when I was so nervous, I could hardly eat anything. Mark had been worried at the time in case I had some kind of eating disorder.

  “There will be no baby number two until well after we’re married.” I laugh as Mark cups his hand over mine. “I’m looking forward to wearing my slinky wedding dress in the Maldives and drinking lots of champagne.”

  “Your mum has been an absolute star today,” Mark says. “Alysha loves having her about. We must take Alysha to see my mum too. I know, deep down, she’d like to see more of her. She just doesn’t do getting close to anyone easily. Not anymore.”

  “You’d think she’d value time spent with family more after going through something like that. I’ve often wondered, do you think she’d have been better if they’d actually caught the driver?”

  “Who knows, probably. At least she’d have had some closure. According to Wil, the driver had been arseholed. I’ve probably mentioned that before to you. Which is probably why they hadn’t stuck around.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must have all gone through.” Mark hardly ever mentions what happened, so I stop there, giving him space in case he wants to say more. I can’t believe this subject has come up when we’re supposed to be having a nice, romantic meal for two. I guess that focusing on these river deaths forces other stuff to the surface as well.

  “It’s more Will who went through it. He was really close to Dean. And with him when it happened.”

  “Yeah. I know. And I do feel sorry for him. Your mum’s getting more closed up though, Mark. If it wasn’t for Christmas, Easter and Mother’s Day, I wonder if she’d ever make an effort to see us.” This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had about his brother’s death.

  “She’s definitely got worse since Dad died. But it’s not just us, Lauren. She’s the same with Claire and Will, Eva and Heidi. In fact, she’s probably worse towards Will. He once said to me that he felt like she blamed him for getting off with concussion.” He goes quiet for a few moments, so I speak again.

  “It’s such a shame that Alysha never knew either of her grandads.” I think of my own dad now. I’ll never forget the moment that I had to lead the police through the hallway to break the news of his accident to my mum. It had been the winter of 2010 when the whole of the UK had been in the grip of an icy blast of weather for several weeks. Our golden retriever, Monty, had fallen through the ice of the lake at the park in the suburbs. Dad had tried to rescue him but had become trapped under the ice. Monty, however, had managed to get free and had survived.

  I had nightmares for ages afterwards, thinking of my poor dad, trapped in freezing water, thumping fruitlessly against thick ice that he couldn’t break. It’s perhaps why I feel so strongly about drowning. Why I cannot allow another woman to die in that river. If those safety measures aren’t implemented by the weekend, I’m going to take action. I miss Dad so much. Monty died two years ago – at least Dad has got him back now.

  “Penny for em.” Mark pushes the menu towards me. “What are you having to drink?”

  “I was just thinking about my dad. And Monty.” I smile as Mark reaches for my hand again. “Wine. Large. And I’m having a steak.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “Life’s so fragile. We have to enjoy it whilst we have it.”

  “Come on now. I think we’ve got maudlin enough for one night. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

  “I couldn’t cope if anything ever happened to you.”

  He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corners like they always do. “Well, it will one day. But remember what we said. I’m going to be one hundred and four when I go, and you’ll be one hundred and three.”

  “And you’re going to die two hours after me, so I don’t have to be heartbroken.”

  “It’s a deal. At least I’ll get two hours to have a cuppa in peace.”

  We laugh together and then go quiet for a few moments. I hope we do live that long together. “Did DCI Ingham have much to say after the press conference?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  He frowns. “I thought we were leaving work alone this evening.”

  “Just answer that one question, then I promise I won’t mention it again. We’ll get on with enjoying ourselves.”

  “He was OK. He said he totally gets why the public are worried that someone might be behind the deaths.”

  “It didn’t sound like that.”

  “Well he does. And that’s why we’re stepping everything up. And he’s not blaming me for anything you said luckily. The panel knew I was marrying a reporter when they offered me the sergeant role. Did you get around to writing a piece after the conference?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. I’ve gone easy on the police. I’ve just said it how it is. Anyway, I thought we weren’t talking shop?”

  “OK. Let’s leave it alone now.” He reaches for my hand again across the table and kisses it.

  “We should do this more often,” I chew on a piece of steak and take a big sip of the delicious red wine. “I love getting dressed up and having a night out together. Mum has texted and said she’s going to stay over. She’s cracked open the wine too. So we don’t have to rush back.”

  “Our daughter has driven her to drink,” Mark laughs again. “Well we shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. We might as well go on somewhere else after here. Make a night of it.”

  Despite Mark’s protestations, we end up in the Yorkshire Arms. I want to get a feel for the place. I haven’t been in for a long time. It wouldn’t be a usual pub of choice for me – I prefer wine bars. But I want to be within the walls where the women spent their final hours. I feel a huge affinity with them and can’t shake the feeling that they haven’t just slipped into the river. I have such a strong hunch that they’ve been pushed or thrown to their deaths. I’m going to come back in daylight and have a closer look at the banking. Take some photos. I tell Mark. />
  “Oh God, are we back onto this? Don’t you think we police have already done that? It’s so muddy down there, it’s been difficult to get much though.”

  “Haven’t the women shown any evidence of trying to get back out. You know, mud under finger nails or anything?”

  “I can’t say Lauren, you know I can’t.”

  “Won’t say, you mean.”

  “Look, we’re doing it again. Talking about bloody work. We’re supposed to be spending time together.” He goes quiet then takes my hand and strokes his thumb over the top of it. “Shame we’re at work tomorrow, otherwise I could have booked us into a hotel.” He winks again at me.

  “Shame indeed.”

  Two drinks later, Mark’s gone to the loo. I swing my bag onto my shoulder and clip-clop in my heels from the pub to the path outside. I’m not going to move an inch from the doorway, I just want to photograph the area in the dark. It will add something to the next story I submit.

  I look along the river and shudder, thinking of the poor women that have been devoured by it. What must have been going through their minds as they battled to stay alive? Were they really on their own or was someone stood there, watching them, able to help but choosing not to, as they thrashed around in the freezing cold water? Someone responsible for them being in there? There’s been no sign of pre-entry injury on any of the victims – that much has been divulged by the police. The only physical injuries they have sustained have been associated with the struggle of drowning.

  According to Mark, it’s this lack of injury showing signs of assault that has resulted in the police not putting as much emphasis on looking for third party involvement as they might have done. I can’t and won’t accept this though.

  I take a photograph of the water on my phone, the slight glint of city lights in the distance floating on the surface. The area is desperate for some proper lighting to be installed, along with the cameras, fencing and life buoys. There’s still no sign of any of this work having begun, despite the promises made at the earlier press conference. I know it’s the council and water board, who can be slow on the uptake at the best of times, but this is urgent.

  Nor is there any sign of police patrolling the area. It’s not Saturday, the night when all the victims have drowned so far, but still, the pub is half full of Sunday evening drinkers – it’s also a popular night to go out. If there’s been no movement by close of play on Tuesday, I’ll be writing a scathing piece about the police, council and water board, complete with photographs for publication on Wednesday. I’m going to tell Mark as much too. That way he might put a rocket up them first.

  Pointing my phone along the riverbank, I take a few steps forward. Hopefully the phone’s flash will illuminate the area a little. I don’t want to use the torch facility, in case I draw attention to myself. In my peripheral vision, I see movement in the dark shadows of the empty building next door to the pub. I direct my phone to it and keep pressing to take photos. I lower my phone and look. It is too dark to see anything, I can more feel the presence there.

  I am shaking but take a few steps towards the movement I saw, whilst having second thoughts and deciding to activate the torch on my phone. I should really give Mark a shout. But I kind of want to do this single-handedly. He would drag me back inside and give me a right bollocking. If he has returned to the table, he will just think I have gone to the loo, so I am alright for a minute or two. I’ve got my phone in my hand and my attack alarm in my pocket. I flash the light in front of me. If anyone comes at me, I just press a button and the most horrid high-pitch noise will make them run for it. I want a photo, a photo of the man the police should be looking for. I didn’t mean to walk away from the doorway of the Yorkshire Arms. But I’m not drunk and I have got all my wits about me. Still, Mark will kill me for this. So would Mum if she knew.

  My heart is in my mouth as hands grasp my shoulders from behind.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing Lauren?” Mark swings me around to face him. “I can’t believe you would be so stupid. Do you want to be next to end up in there?” He points at the river.

  “I saw someone.” I gesture in the direction of the movement, my voice a ghost on the quiet riverbank. “Over there.” I am shivering with cold and fear.

  “I’ll get some units here.” Mark pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’m not equipped with my personal safety gear to investigate on my own. Get back inside. Now.”

  “I’m not leaving you here either,” I reply, only just processing what Mark has said. “You must believe me though, to be taking these precautions?”

  “It’s probably a trick of the light or something moving in the wind.” Mark brings the phone to his ear. “But still, I’ve got to get it checked out. I’ll wait in the pub’s doorway until I’ve got some backup.”

  “There is no wind for anything to move in. Nor is there any light.” I walk back into the pub, glad of the warm air against my cool cheeks. Those poor women couldn’t experience that feeling. Out of the cold, back into the warmth. I sink back into the seat and sip at my third glass of wine. There was someone there. I scroll through the photos I’ve taken, but they are too dark to make anything out. Damn.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lauren

  This morning I remember why I rarely drink wine on a school night. Especially red. I lie, listening to Mark, Alysha and Mum downstairs, knowing I need to get up. The sun is seeping around the edge of the bedroom blind, offering a promise of one of those sparkly winter days which we do not often see. Especially lately. This winter, it just seems to rain all the time. And today, all I want to do is burrow under the duvet and stay here.

  I ended up having four large glasses last night. The last one was to steady my nerves after what had happened. I am absolutely convinced I saw movement just yards away on the riverbank. I study my photographs again, trying to make them lighter with my phone’s settings.

  I am fuming though. If the bloody police had done as they promised, when they promised it, there would have been enough light for me to prove what I saw and sensed. There was, of course, no one there by the time Mark’s backup arrived. But I’m even more certain now that somebody is responsible for the deaths. Just about everyone I’ve spoken to agrees with me to some extent.

  “Knock, knock.” Mum walks into the room without waiting for an answer. She’s wearing my towelling robe, and her hair in two plaits. She always plaits her hair overnight as it gives it a curl the next day. We’re often mistaken for sisters, me and Mum. I hope I’ve got her genes and age as wonderfully as she has. Apart from when Dad died; she looked haggard for a while then. It was no wonder really – she wasn’t eating or sleeping or anything much. I’d go to pieces if anything ever happened to Mark. Mum places a cup of tea on the table beside me and perches at the end of my bed, like she used to do when I was a teenager.

  “You’re a star Mum. Thanks for yesterday as well. Did you and Alysha enjoy putting the Christmas tree up?” I feel a pang of guilt for not doing it myself with her. But the press conference had to come first.

  “Yes. Anyway, I wanted a chat before I start getting ready.” I shuffle over to make more room for her on the bed. “I need to make a move soon – I’ve got workmen starting on the bathroom today.”

  “Sounds ominous. Wanting a chat, I mean.”

  She laughs. “Not really. But I do want to give you a telling off for going outside that pub on your own last night. I can’t believe you even wanted to go in there for a drink. Of all places Lauren.”

  “Was it Mark who told you about me going outside?”

  “Yes. And I’m glad he did.”

  “I’m a journalist Mum, I wanted to get a feel for it all. I can put more into what I’m reporting then.”

  “Not if you’re the next person to fall in. Especially in the middle of December.”

  “You know I think people are getting pushed in, Mum.”

  “Even more reason for you to be careful then.” She loosens her plaits. �
��Lauren, you’re my daughter – my only child. You need to look after yourself.”

  I laugh, then take a sip of my tea. “I’m hardly a child anymore Mum. And I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll always be my child.” She wraps her hair elastics around her wrist and her hair falls onto her shoulders. “You’ll understand when Alysha gets older. I’m going to get ready.” She kisses my forehead as she gets up to go. “It’s still my job to worry about you. Imagine what your dad would have said.”

  The cup of tea and a shower have made me feel a little more human. But I’m still lying on my bed, watching TV. I can’t be bothered moving.

  “See you later love.” Mark calls up the stairs.

  “Bye Mummy.” echoes Alysha.

  “I’ll ring you later,” says Mum. “I’ve got to get going too.”

  “Bye.” I call back. I’ve got a million and one things to do, and I’m meeting Sara for lunch. Just as I’ve finally figured out what I’ll wear and thought about moving myself, the news bulletin grabs my attention.

  This latest drowning is the fourth this year in a spate of deaths over a quarter-mile stretch of Yorkshire river. The victim has now been formally identified as forty-seven year old Jennifer Fairburn of Hestleton. Her body was recovered yesterday morning after she had been reported missing by the babysitter of her two children, aged eight and ten, following her failure to return home after an evening out.

  The four drownings have a number of factors in common. All victims are female and all have occurred in the early hours of Sunday mornings. All four women have had a substantial amount of alcohol in their systems. Each one has been recorded leaving the Yorkshire Arms pub, but then have gone out of CCTV range after turning right from the pub’s entrance, rather than left towards the road.

  In a recent press conference, Detective Chief Inspector Jonathan Ingham of Yorkshire Police offered assurances that the provision of extra CCTV, lighting, safety fencing and lifebuoys is imminent. This, he said, will be supplemented with extra police patrols, which will be prominent on Saturday evenings, into the early hours of Sunday morning.