A Beginner’s Guide to Murder Read online

  ‘I’m sorry to ask for your help again, but could we possibly go out of your back door? The one that leads out from the garden?’

  I couldn’t help thinking that this was all a bit cloak and dagger. The man was unpleasant-looking, and of course I was worried about the girl, but I couldn’t believe that three old women like us needed to behave as though we were in a gangster film on Channel Four. Surely there was a good chance we would make things worse by getting involved? I knew that’s what Henry would have said.

  ‘Just go. You can go through the ceiling as far as I’m concerned, just get out,’ the woman said.

  I thought that was a bit harsh. I could see that she was terribly stressed, but she must have been able to see that it wasn’t our fault. I was tempted to remind her that we had only been expecting a quiet cup of coffee ourselves but Grace was talking again.

  ‘We’re going to leave together,’ she said. ‘OK, both? I think there’s some safety in numbers. We’ll get to Meg’s house as quickly as we can, and then we can work out what to do next.’

  She sounded so serious I felt slightly unnerved.

  ‘She can go home then, surely,’ I said.

  Grace gave me a look that made me feel approximately three inches high. I remembered that she had been a school teacher in another life, and I felt sorry for the children who had crossed her. Mostly, though, I was thinking about my house. Was it fit for visitors? Clean enough? It had been a long time since anyone had been to see me and I wasn’t sure. Was there dust? Would they think I was strange when they saw how I lived? Or worse, would they feel sorry for me?

  ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ Grace said. It was the kind of thing an adult might say to a silly child and I felt truly put in my place but everything was happening too fast for me to dwell on it.

  We went down the little corridor leading to the toilets. I started to take the dirty cups over to the counter but the woman waved me away.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘I can clear up.’

  I think she meant it kindly.

  Grace knocked on the toilet door.

  ‘It’s OK, he’s gone,’ she said, ‘you can come out. Let’s get you somewhere safe.’

  ‘Really?’ said a little voice. I could hear that she had been crying.

  ‘Yes, honestly,’ I said. ‘We’re not going to hurt you. We’re too old, apart from anything else. You could knock us over with one blow, I promise.’

  There was a distinct snuffle from behind the door that sounded almost like a laugh. We heard the bolt being drawn across and she peered round the door. Honestly, she looked so forlorn that it pulled at something in my heart, something I thought had gone for ever. She connected me, that was what I felt; she connected me again to the whole damn world and all the suffering. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be connected, but I was so busy being surprised that I didn’t think of that until later. It was as if the sight of her little tear-stained face had opened a door inside me, so that I could see people behind her, crying and laughing and living – a whole host of them. A clamour of people, that’s what it was. I could see them, and they could see me, and I was connected to the world again. It hurt.

  ‘OK,’ said Grace, ‘don’t be scared, little one, we’re going to help you.’

  Are we? I thought. Are we really? I had a day planned, I always do. I’ve found that if I don’t plan things, if I don’t account for every minute of the day before it happens, I can easily go under. Sit in an empty room and stare at the walls, lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. That kind of thing.

  So this was my agenda for that day – I was planning on taking down the curtains in my living room and washing them, then I was going to get under the beds and clean the skirting boards, the ones that are hidden. They’re awkward to get to and dust can accumulate there very easily so I thought it would take quite a while. None of it important, I knew that, but a person has to fill their day. I felt a slight panic at the idea of my day being hijacked. Calm down, I thought, none of it matters.

  ‘No one can help me,’ said the girl. I was taken aback at how old she sounded, as though a very ancient and sad person had taken over and spoken through her mouth.

  ‘Nina,’ I said, ‘we’ll give it a damn good try. Come on, not far to go.’

  ‘You don’t need to catch a cold on top of everything else,’ Grace said. She took off the big colourful shawl she’d been wearing and wrapped it over the towel, round the girl’s shoulders. It was February and bitter so Nina pulled it in tighter, snuggled into it in a way that made me want to hug her.

  I wonder, I thought, and then I had a picture, as clear as anything, of wrapping a shawl round a person. I shook my head and the picture disintegrated into a thousand pieces. No time for that sort of nonsense now.

  ‘Right,’ I said, ‘I’ll lead the way. Onwards and upwards.’ It sounded stupid when I said it out loud but no one seemed to mind. We slipped out of the garden at the back.

  ‘Damn,’ Daphne said, ‘I meant to leave her a tip.’

  I don’t know why that seemed funny but it did, and all of us giggled. I think it was the fact that Daphne never, ever forgot her manners or the correct way to do things, even in extreme circumstances. Of course, the sight of little Nina laughing was so glorious that it made us laugh all the more. We must have looked like a merry bunch. Not a care in the world.

  Once we got onto the street we stopped laughing as quickly as if a conductor had raised a baton. We needed our wits about us. Grace and Daphne flanked Nina and I walked in front.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Meg,’ Grace said, ‘stop looking all around you. You couldn’t look more suspicious if you tried.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  I knew that she was right but really, it was difficult. I had an urge to keep peering over my shoulder, scanning the faces of everyone I could see. After all, it was my house we were going to, my safety that could be compromised if the toad man was following us, if he found out where I lived.

  ‘Two more minutes,’ I said as we turned into my close, ‘it’s just at the end, over there.’

  ‘Got your keys handy?’ Grace said.

  I had, I’d got them in my hand, I always keep them in my pocket where I can grab them. I opened the door.

  ‘Quick,’ Grace said. ‘Where’s the best window for me to have a look out, onto the street, check he’s not behind us?’

  She seemed agitated.

  Oh really, I thought, is this necessary? All this cloak and dagger stuff, not to mention going upstairs. I mean, my bedroom upstairs was the obvious choice but I have always been a private person. No one has been in my bedroom for a very long time. Henry didn’t even come in there, he always said he didn’t see why people had to live in each other’s pockets just because they were married. I knew that was odd and not what other people did but I’d been with him for a long time and it had come to feel normal. Things do, if you live with them for long enough.

  ‘My bedroom,’ I made myself say. ‘Top of the stairs and turn left.’

  I hoped I’d made the bed and put away my clothes but I knew I had. I’m not one for mess, it only has to be sorted out later. Grace bounded up the stairs like someone much younger, and I took the other two through to the kitchen at the back. I offered tea, which was ridiculous as we had just had coffee but Daphne and Nina both nodded.

  They sat down at my kitchen table and just like that, Nina began to cry. Big old sobs and her head in her hands on the table. She looked about eight years old. It was unbearable. All you want to do when you hear crying like that is offer a bit of comfort so we sat there, Daphne and I, on either side of her and rubbing her shoulders. We both knew better than to ask her what was the matter and it didn’t seem important anyway. An upset person is an upset person so we stayed there, quiet and calm. I wondered what it would be like to be held like that, and if anyone would ever do that for me. I think Daphne was having the same thought, there was something I could see in her eyes. How odd, I thought. I might not be the
only one who’s lonely.

  It felt strange when Grace came downstairs, knowing that she had been in my bedroom. A person in my most private place, just standing there in a room that usually only saw me. I wondered if the walls had been surprised to see her. I was so lost in my thoughts and my patting of Nina’s back that I almost lost what Grace said next.

  ‘I’m pretty sure he didn’t follow us,’ she said. ‘There’s a good view from upstairs and I could see no sign of him.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Nina and her voice was gruff and swollen with tears. ‘I can’t believe that you three were there when I needed someone and you just, you’re like angels.’

  We all smiled. I felt about three feet taller. I don’t think I’ve ever been called an angel before and I liked it even though I hadn’t really started to understand what was happening. I was still imagining that they would all go home soon and I’d be able to get on with those curtains. Fancy being called an angel, I thought.

  ‘He’s nothing but a toad,’ I said, and Nina squealed.

  ‘He is, isn’t he, that’s what we call him too.’

  She looked worried that she had given too much away so I patted her hand to show her that it was all OK. I must have stopped listening for a moment and I was surprised when I tuned back in to what Grace was saying.

  ‘So is it all right if Nina stays here, until we can be sure it’s safe for her to move?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘What about your mum, Nina, will she not be waiting for you?’

  Nina looked as though she was going to start crying all over again and Grace gave me a look that made me realise that I’d said something stupid. I’d forgotten that not every child has a mum, which is weird because I knew for sure that not every mum has a child.

  ‘Oh no,’ Nina said, ‘I’m older than I look. And I’ve got no mum anyway, so that part’s OK. But if you don’t want me to stay I won’t, honestly, I’ll be all right. There’s someone I have to help, she’s ill.’

  She stood up and took the shawl off.

  ‘Thanks very much,’ she said. I could hear a trembling in her voice and I felt ashamed of myself for making her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Stay,’ I said, ‘please stay.’

  Nina looked towards Grace, as if she was the leader. I felt stung. It’s my house, I wanted to say, but I knew that would be childish.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Grace said.

  I thought of that clamour of people, the feeling of being connected that I had experienced. I remembered all the hours I’d spent cleaning and crying on my own.

  ‘I’ll make up the spare bed,’ I said. ‘You’re welcome, Nina.’

  Chapter Three

  Nina

  November – fifteen months earlier

  Nina hated birthdays. They never worked out well in her experience. The worst part was that she couldn’t help feeling hopeful, as if there was a chance that the world she knew might change. Disappointment always followed. Nina had a memory of candles and a cake shaped like a little log cabin, with chocolate fingers for the roof, but she wasn’t sure if it was real, or a picture she had seen in a magazine. She usually tried hard not to dwell on that kind of nonsense. The rest of the year she was good at styling it out, convincing herself and everyone around her that she couldn’t care less, but on her birthday Nina changed into a little girl, a little disappointed girl, and there was nothing she could do about it. This one, her sixteenth, had been the worst so far.

  Sixteen was supposed to be special. She knew it was, and not just because she had seen a programme on TV about rich girls and how they celebrated. Spoilt American girls and pink cars. Nothing like that would happen for her, Nina knew that, but still she wished that something might mark her birthday out, make it different. Maybe, and this was a ridiculous thought, Nina knew it was, but maybe her mother would remember the day and decide that she wanted to meet her daughter again, now that she was an adult. Maybe she would even ask her to go and live with her, leave the residential home. Fat chance, Nina thought.

  She walked downstairs to the common room. It was a Saturday, no school, nowhere she was supposed to be.

  ‘Surprise,’ they all shouted when she walked in.

  There was a cake, a home-made one, and they were all standing around, acting like they thought she would be pleased. It was an ordinary cake, a Victoria sponge, shaped like any other cake and without icing. One plain cake, two carers and three kids, all grinning and staring at her as if she was supposed to do something for them, entertain them in some way. Make it worthwhile for them by being happy, something like that. Bilbo especially, clapping his hands and staring at her with his mouth hanging open and his teeth all crooked. The sight of him, all expectant like that, made Nina want to cry. She wanted him to be happy but it was too much responsibility, sometimes there was nothing she could do.

  Nina had grown to love Bilbo. His name was Billy, but Nina’s name for him had stuck and now no one ever called him by his real name. She had been trying to teach him to keep his mouth shut, to stop the other kids from picking on him at school.

  ‘Shut your mouth, Bilbo,’ Nina said, ‘don’t dribble on my cake.’

  Quick as a flash, Carol said, ‘That’s not nice, Nina, don’t speak to Bilbo like that. And it’s really everyone’s cake, isn’t it?’

  Nina had known she would say something exactly like that. She could have written the script, Carol was that predictable.

  ‘Well, if it’s not my cake I don’t know why you’re all fucking standing there,’ she said. Nina knew it would upset Bilbo, he hated to hear the f word, but she couldn’t help it. She would make it up to him later. She might read him a story or let him listen to some music on her headphones. It was worth upsetting him for a minute or two if it meant that she riled Carol. She shouldn’t be working with kids, a person like that.

  Nina had been in the home for six months. She had run away from two foster placements, and the social workers didn’t know where else to put her. To be honest, she didn’t even know where she would put herself if she had a choice. So she was here, with Bilbo who dribbled when he talked and often said the same thing over and over again all day, Chloe who had some kind of syndrome that made her look like a tiny but sharp little bird, and Jason who never stopped trying to chat her up, ask her if she would be his girlfriend. She didn’t fit in at all. Nina was planning to run again as soon as she got things sorted. She had only stayed this long because she wanted to do her GCSEs, get the kind of grades that would make everyone realise that there was more to her than just another looked-after kid. She wanted to surprise her mother, to be exact. To wake her up, remind her that she even had a kid, a clever one at that.

  Bilbo looked as if he was going to cry.

  ‘Come on, Neens, cheer up. I know birthdays can be a bit weird, but Bilbo has been practising singing ‘Happy Birthday’ all morning. Give him a break,’ Sue said.

  Nina waited for the religious part.

  ‘We owe it to God to be happy. Look how lovely the world is,’ Sue continued on cue, gesturing around her at the pale cream walls and the scuffed chairs.

  Nina bit back a smart reply. At least Sue was kind. The kids didn’t mind her too much – they called her Sumo for obvious reasons but they saved their venom for Carol. Carol clearly disliked children. They could all see it, even Bilbo, and he was her favourite. Everyone knew that Bilbo was Carol’s favourite because she was always trying to hug him or make him hug her. It wasn’t Bilbo’s thing, hugging. It made him panic and lash out. Nina couldn’t believe how stupid Carol was.

  ‘I didn’t ask to have a birthday, did I?’ Nina said.

  Chloe smiled and poked Nina on the arm. ‘Birthday, birthday,’ she said.

  Bilbo smiled and jumped up and down.

  ‘Happy, happy, what?’ he said. ‘Happy what, Nina Neens? Happy what?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, happy birthday, that’s what, Bilbo,’ Nina said.

  It was hard to resist Bilbo and anyway, if she didn’t repl
y, Nina knew that he would go on asking until she did.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bilbo, ‘yes, happy birthday, happy happy, oh yes happy birthday.’

  Jason kissed his teeth and looked away. Nina knew that he only tolerated Bilbo because she did.

  ‘Light the fucking candles, let’s get it over with,’ Nina said.

  They all stared at her and Bilbo began to wail.

  ‘We don’t say, we don’t say, Nina, what don’t we say? What don’t we say? Neens, what don’t we say?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Nina said. ‘We don’t say the f word.’

  ‘F word, f word, we do not say the f word, we do not. No, Nina, f word is finished. F word is?’

  ‘Finished,’ said Nina, ‘finished, Bilbo.’

  Sue looked at her as if she was very sad and Jason began to laugh.

  Just another day in the madhouse, Nina thought. She ate the cake as quickly as she could and picked up her school bag.

  ‘Thanks and all, but I’ve got to do my homework,’ she said. They had never had a high flyer before in the children’s home. It was rare, and Nina was aware that it gave her some privileges.

  ‘Where’s Nina? Not going out, Neens, Nina is not going where?’ Nina heard Bilbo as she left, sounding almost sad enough to stop her in her tracks.

  ‘Library,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘maths.’

  ‘Happy, happy, happy what, happy birthday, happy homework, happy maths,’ he called.

  Nina almost turned back but it really was difficult to study in the house. Often one of the young people was kicking off, or they wouldn’t leave her alone. Even in her room with the door shut she could hear them all, and sometimes Bilbo cried until she let him listen to his favourite songs on her headphones. The staff had tried every way to convince him to use his own, but nothing worked. He wanted Nina’s, and sometimes the staff were so desperate they asked her to let him have them. The problem was, he only wanted them in Nina’s room and that meant a member of staff had to be nearby, either in the room with them or just outside the door. They had had to give Nina extra freedom to go out to the library, it was the only way she could study.