John finds the body of a neighbour who has been murdered. The police detective assigned to the case deduces that John hides a secret - but the detective has secrets of her own.

Part 20 of 25 — Church

“On 4th December.”

“I had no idea; I thought you were about twenty five. You certainly don’t look anywhere near twenty-nine.”

“Thank you; does it make a difference to you?”

“Don’t be silly! Come on now, sit down. How about an omelette? Something light and easy to digest.”

“Nag, nag.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on you; as your fiancée, I reckon that’s my job.”

“Okay,” she said, resignedly and, opting for the quiet life, did as she was told.

~ O ~

I decided that Jane was going to make the most of her few days rest so left her in bed when I went to the office. I also left strict instructions that she should try to eat some breakfast, even if it was just a slice or two of toast. I also told her that she should drink lots of water “and I mean lots — pints of the stuff”. I insisted that she ring me if anything changed at all, for better or worse. Finally, with a “see you at lunchtime”, I left the apartment.

Again, I struggled to keep my mind on my work. I wondered, if we were married, whether or not I would be able to have time off to nurse a sick partner. Celia, Jill and Maddy were very sympathetic, though, and kept bringing me tea and hot chocolate. At twelve o’clock I knocked on Greg’s door and walked in when he looked up and smiled.

“Hello, Greg. Jane’s laid up with an infection and the poor girl is feeling very rough. It’s not like her to give in to illness and I’m quite worried about her. I’ll take a long lunch break now, and make up the time later, if that’s okay with you? I did leave strict instructions for her to ring if there was any change but, knowing Jane, she could be at death’s door before she called for help.”

“That’s understandable, Jenny,” he soothed. “Take as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Greg,” I said, gratefully, as I left his office and stopped by Celia’s desk on my way to the lift. “I’m just nipping home for a while to see how the patient is.”

I called out to Jane as I walked in the door. “I’m home.”

“I’m in bed.”

I walked into the bedroom. “Hello, love, how are you feeling?”

“Better for not moving around; I got up to go to the bathroom and felt distinctly unsteady. I was glad to get back to bed. But I think my period is less painful than it has been over the past few days.”

I put my hand on her forehead. “Hmm, you still feel a bit hot and clammy, have you been drinking lots of water? And have you taken your medicine?”

“Yes, Mother; to both.”

“Water will flush the system; it might even help to reduce the temperature caused by the infection. Did you have any breakfast?”

“Just a slice of toast.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing. Do you fancy any lunch?”

“Not really,” Jane admitted, “I’m not really hungry.”

“I’ll make you some more toast with no crusts and I’ll cook some fish, that’ll be easily digested and will give you some vitamins and minerals.” I kissed Jane lightly on the lips and went out into the kitchen.

“My boss rang,” Jane called out.

“I suppose it’s not Detective Inspector Salisbury any longer?”

“No, it’s Detective Inspector Woodford now. I changed bosses when I was promoted and moved offices. He wanted to know when I’d be back at work.”

“I hope that you asked him how long is a piece of string? The answer to that one is “when you’re well enough”. A quick glance at your record ought to tell him that you don’t take time off for no reason, and he also ought to be glad that he can’t get an infection in his fanny.”

Jane giggled. “You can tell him that.”

“I presume that, like Ian Salisbury, he’s built like a brick shithouse, and could knock me over with one breath. I’d read him his fortune if he asked me stupid questions like that. Oh, and the girls at work send their love.”

“That’s very kind of them. You’re really getting into this nursing thing, aren’t you?”

“It’s good to have a purpose in life,” I said as I walked into the bedroom carrying a tray with a plate of toast - minus the crusts, some cooked fish, a jug of fresh water and a glass.

“Are you going to sit and watch to make sure I eat all this?”

“No, I’m going to sit here because I love you and I just love being with you. I’ll go back to work when I’m good and ready.”

~ O ~

Jane had a restless night. Several times, I changed the sheet and her nightie because she was bathed in perspiration. She kept apologising and suggested that I sleep in the spare bedroom where I could get a good night’s sleep.

“Not on your life: I’ll stay where I am and will do my Nurse Jennifer routine with or without your permission.”

Morning brought no significant change to her health and I was really worried. I went to work but again wasn’t able to concentrate. I kept watching the clock, which was so unlike me. Lunchtime was more or less a repeat of the previous day and I felt so helpless. At least the flow had eased considerably but the pain hadn’t gone completely; Jane still felt exhausted and hadn’t moved from the bed other than to visit the bathroom. All I could do was to be there for her, make sure that she drank lots of water and took her medication. Fortunately, the painkillers didn’t conflict with the drugs that the doctor prescribed, but they did reduce the pain a little.

I’d not noted any significant change in Jane’s demeanour at lunchtime and looked for some improvement later in the day. I again found her in bed, not having eaten much at all and still feeling quite listless.

“I’m getting quite bored with this,” she complained.

“I can understand that but, at the moment, you’re fit for nothing useful other than to provide me with a patient to nurse. So I’m sorry, love, but you’re stuck there for a few more days.”

~ O ~

By Thursday, Jane was still suffering considerable pain and discomfort, so much so that I arranged to have the day off, and called the doctor to her. The doctor was very concerned and said that she would visit Jane the next week. If the problem persisted, then she would send her to the hospital for tests.

I took full advantage of flexitime, leaving Jane in bed, getting to my desk before 8:00 am, having no more than an hour for lunch and leaving work earlier than usual. By Friday, I was still worried; the doctor had visited and was still inclined to see if the oestrogen made any difference, but she did prescribe some stronger painkillers that I collected when I went into town after work to do some food shopping.

Next to the shopping centre car park was a church. Neither of us had been churchgoers but I felt drawn to the notice on the main door. It mentioned that they had an open morning on Saturdays and served refreshments for a couple of hours. I hadn’t been brought up with a faith but felt that the happenings since March that year could not all have been coincidence. I thought I’d try to visit the next day.

October 2004

Saturday saw a slight improvement in Jane’s condition; she was still suffering a little, although she’d finished her period, and the associated pain was nowhere near as bad as it had been earlier in the week. I felt able to leave her for a couple of hours, saying that I was going to visit the town again. She was still very tired and didn’t really want to move, so just stayed in the living room and listened to some music.

I purchased some essentials in the supermarket, and then wandered into a shop called ‘Tchibo’; they were a German company and had a range of goods that changed every week. They also had a coffee shop. I liked to look in this shop as the items were very good value and ranged from the “I couldn’t ever see myself needing one of those” to “I must have that”.

This week was children’s toys and fashions. A lump came to my throat when I thought about my niece and nephew in Leamington Spa; how I wished that I could have two children as lovely as they were.

On impulse, I purchased a wooden bench seat with a built-in toy box. Although it was packed flat, it was still heavy, but I thought it might be ideal for their playroom. Then, of course, I had to struggle to carry it back to the car. Fortunately a couple of shoppers were already in the lift and the man needed little persuasion by his wife to carry the carton to my car. While he was, apparently effortlessly, carrying the box, his wife managed to elicit from me that, no, I didn’t have children yet but that the seat was a gift for my niece and nephew. The woman said what lucky children they were having such a generous auntie. After the seat was safely loaded into the boot of my car, I returned to the shopping mall and walked out of the main entrance.

I again looked at the notice on the front door of the church. I was aware that many churches accept you if you believe what they believe and tick all the right boxes on their membership form. If you don’t, you’re wrong and will fry in hell. Many churches would refuse you if you were gay, lesbian, transgender or even intersex, even though you have no choice in the matter. Some would, no doubt, try very hard to cure you by prayer and counselling. I shivered as I thought back to Sarah in the office, and her reaction to my situation. And she called herself a Christian?

Heck, I mused, there were probably churches that would condemn you for breathing if you looked for them hard enough. I wasn’t interested in that kind of church and I wondered what kind this one was. If it didn’t accept people as they were, then I would leave. After all, I didn’t have to go back if I was uncomfortable and if they made it clear that I wasn’t the type of person they wanted. I had always felt that a religion was an option, something you used as a crutch. But then, what had I done for most of my life but rail against a God who would allow me to be made incomplete, mixed up, useless for anything? The more I thought about it, though, the more I sensed that I was being drawn to believe in a greater being.

I walked in and was greeted by a short, plump woman with blonde hair done in a Princess Diana style. She had bright blue eyes, a ready smile and wore a wedding ring. She appeared to be in her early forties and greeted by name many of the people who walked through the door. We both smiled. She had to look up to most people but didn’t seem to feel self-conscious about it.

“I don’t recognise you,” she said to me, appraisingly, “Is this your first visit to this church?”

“It’s my first visit to any church,” I laughed.

“Oh, then we are honoured. And what brought you to us this morning?”

“I saw the notice on the door yesterday and thought I’d come and see if you have anything to say that might interest me.”

“Oh, that’s an unusual response. I’d like to introduce you to our pastor if I may. Oh, by the way, I’m Sue, what’s your name?”

I introduced myself as I was led across the room to a man wearing a white shirt and grey trousers.

“Jim,” Sue said, as we approached, “This is Jenny, and it’s her first visit to us.” She repeated what I’d told her, and then said, “I’ve provided a cup of tea and a biscuit so now she’s all yours.” From the way that Sue took Jim’s hand and gave it a squeeze, I deduced that she was his wife.

In response to his gentle questioning, I told him that I lived alone and that I worked nearby. I mentioned that I was presently looking after my fiancée who was ill. I was somewhat guarded about my private life but, as time went by, I found myself opening up a little. Jim later told me that he sensed that I was deeply troubled on a number of issues and he felt that he would need to move very slowly as here was a person in considerable pain. After about half an hour, I thanked him for the tea and the chat and said that I might call in again. He gave me a card with his contact details on it and invited me to call him at any time if I wanted to continue our discussion.

I made my way home, feeling more at peace than I had in a long time. Why I felt so, I didn’t know, but thought that I might be able to trust the pastor to listen without judgement.

Jane looked up from the settee as I came in the door and asked where I’d been.

“Well, you remember I mentioned a God a little while ago?” I asked, rather timidly, fearing a backlash.

“Yes, I remember.”

“I found a church near the shopping centre. They are open on Saturday mornings so I went in, had a cup of tea and met the pastor.”

“And what did he have to say?”

“He seemed a decent sort of man. I also met his wife and some of the congregation; they seem a friendly enough lot. I didn’t say much, just exploring really. I kept it all rather vague.” I sat by Jane and, cuddling in close, quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, how are you feeling today?”

“Much better: I’m not exactly awash with energy or anything like that, but at least I seem to have lost most of the pain. I just feel very tired now.”

“I’ll cook you something light,” I said, “and then it’s off to bed again for you.”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Oh, no you won’t,” I asserted, “You do as you’re told, missy, and get to bed.”

Jane tried to grumble but didn’t really have the energy, so crawled next door and fell into bed.

I sat silently contemplating all that had happened over the past week, culminating in my meeting that morning at the church. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to pursue the conversation with the pastor but felt compelled to talk to someone outside my own little world. I’d prepared some food for Jane but she was asleep by the time I walked into the bedroom with the lunch tray. I smiled lovingly down at my fiancée and, turning on my heel, walked back to the kitchen and had my own lunch. I still wasn’t sure that I believed in a God but offered up a silent prayer of thanks for a purpose in life at last and for my lovely companion.

Jane woke late in the afternoon and felt considerably refreshed but I told her to take it easy and not to tire herself. We again had a cuddle on the settee and she drifted off to sleep, soothed by some gentle music to which we had been listening.

~ O ~

On Sunday, Jane seemed much brighter and was talking about going back to work the following day. Doctor Munro had given her a certificate that covered the week but, if there was any deterioration, then she was to return.

~ O ~

Jane went back to work on the Monday, although part time, and only in the office. She was nearly back to her usual state of health; it seemed to be one of those conditions that went as quickly as it came.

I returned that afternoon to find a letter on the mat. It contained an invitation from the hospital to telephone for an appointment to see the endocrinologist. It looked like Doctor Ruskin had indeed pulled some strings.

As Jane’s energy level increased, she spent more and more time at the station. She had a little more energy in the evenings and I just kept an eye on her; her appetite was returning and she was making good progress. Her boss had reluctantly accepted that the doctor must be right; particularly as Jane pointed out that she hadn’t had a day of sick leave in the previous six years.

She was still determined to discuss the housing issue and brought out the papers that Philip had provided. As I thought, she wasn’t keen on the apartment but was interested in the house if it hadn’t yet been sold. I saw the asking price and almost had a fit that she was even considering it. Where would we get that kind of money?

~ O ~

Jane suggested that we call Philip. He was still at work when Jane rang that afternoon, and soon called back to say that he had managed to arrange a viewing.

~ O ~

The next Saturday I drove us round to the house in my little yellow car and we sat for a few minutes to look at the other nearby properties, the surroundings and the house itself.

Wroxall Gardens appeared to be a large detached bungalow, situated at the end of a cul-de-sac. It had a double garage adjoining the house on the north side of the property and an east-facing front garden complete with a huge car-parking area. The whole of the front of the property was bounded by a low brick wall in which was a pair of gates. That meant, Jane deduced, that the rear garden would face west and would catch most of the afternoon sun. I was fairly sure that I could see where her thoughts were leading.

The house itself looked almost new and had a tile roof over a double front. We rang the bell and, immediately, there was a squealing of small children as they raced ahead of the woman who answered the door.

She appeared to be of a similar age to Jane, but much shorter; the children reminded me very much of the twins, although slightly older. The woman raised a questioning eyebrow. In response to Jane’s introduction, she said, “Hello, I’m Sandi Bennett and these two are Josie and Robert. Come in, please.”

We followed Sandi into the house and I seemed magnetically attracted to the two children. They scampered around me and asked if I’d come to play with them. I smiled and said “Sorry, no,” and looked over towards Sandi, who smiled, knowingly.

“The children are always like this with visitors,” she laughed, “They assume that everyone has come here just to play with them. I shouldn’t really complain as they are so transparent, and I usually know in advance what they’re thinking.” With that, she hugged them both and sent them to play in the garden. When they’d gone, she said, “My husband has just been promoted and we are moving to Kent; he’s there at the moment, getting settled in. I’m a teacher so hope to find work without too much trouble but, with my husband away, I’m landed with trying to sell this place.”

The house was, in fact, split-level and the site sloped down to the rear. Sandi showed us around. Upstairs were five good-sized bedrooms; two singles shared a useful shower room, and two double rooms had their own en-suite shower room. The master bedroom had its own full size bathroom. There was also a large family bathroom.

There seemed to be a large amount of built-in storage space and Sandi agreed. “That’s one of the features that appealed to us about the house when we first moved here; that and the en-suites, of course. There isn’t the usual battle for the bathroom in the mornings because the children use the shower room and we have our own bathroom.”

She took us downstairs again and showed us the kitchen and dining room. They were large rooms and the dining room had plenty of space for a table and chairs. The kitchen had modern units and built-in appliances, and a separate utility room accommodated the laundry appliances. There was a downstairs cloakroom, and the downstairs reception room was several times the size of the living room in my apartment. A feature log fire dominated the room and windows at the front and rear made it a very light room indeed. Finally, there was a reasonable-sized study off the hall.

She then showed us the garden. This was mainly laid to lawn but with paths and floral borders. It had a patio that ran the full length of the back of the house; a brick-built barbecue appeared to be a recent addition. The patio was accessed both from a door in the kitchen and French doors in the living room. Jane particularly commented that the patio wasn’t overlooked at the rear because the garden backed onto what appeared to be an area of scrubland.

Sandi told us that it was, in fact, a small nature reserve with a brook running through the middle. It attracted many different varieties of wildlife and was unlikely to be built on as the ground was unsuitable. The nearest house in the distance looked to be at least a quarter of a mile away so there was no chance of our being overlooked. This meant, of course, that we could sit in the garden in almost total privacy. Sandi confirmed that we were welcome to return for another look around if we wanted.

We thanked her for her time and, bidding farewell to the children, returned to the car. I left Jane to open the conversation; I didn’t have long to wait.

“What do you think?”

“I loved it,” I enthused, “It’s everything I’d want in a house, and much more besides — far too big for just us two but lots of room for guests. But isn’t it way beyond our means? I saw the asking price on the paper that Philip gave us, and nearly choked.”

“But you’re not buying it, are you?”

“Don’t you need the proceeds of the sale of Coleridge House?” I asked, and must have looked near to tears.

She shook her head. “Look, I have no family and hardly any friends. I have at last found a girl with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. You, my dearest Jenny, make me feel good about myself at last. Prior to meeting you, I just existed. Now, I’d like to think that you feel the same way about me but I don’t want to rush you. I love you very much and would never deliberately hurt you. But I don’t want to rush you into something for which you aren’t ready.”

“It’s all happening so fast for me,” I was pensive. “Just over six months ago I had no life either. I feel safe with you and I love you very much. I still can’t get used to the fact that you see me as a life partner. I guess I’m still rather insecure.”

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Jane asked, now a little worried. “I know: I’m pushing things a bit, given how long we’ve known each other. I’m like that; I get an idea and then I’m off, and everyone else either catches up or they get left behind. You would say if you’re uncomfortable with this, wouldn’t you?”

I grabbed Jane’s hand and held it tightly. “I just can’t get used to how my life has changed. And I can’t get used to the fact that everything you do seems to put me first.” With that, I burst into tears.

“Am I going too fast for you?” she asked gently.

“I just never thought that our relationship could happen, I am so happy!” I said, in between sobs.

“Well, there’s no doubt that you are definitely a woman,” she responded, playfully.

“Pardon?”

“Mood swings. Mind you, I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Jane reached out and, despite the distance, the handbrake and the gear stick in between us, gathered me into her arms and squeezed affectionately.

I proved her point by giving her a weak smile and then, flinging my arms around her neck, gave her a great big kiss.

Jane just gave me a hug and said, “It’ll work out.”

“Well, I thought that the house was lovely.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she agreed. “It seemed to be just right; not too big and rambling, just the right size, with all the features we would need. I imagine that they would want to move fairly quickly so shall we go home and do some sums?”

I smiled and nodded vigorously, not missing the fact that she now regularly referred to my flat as home. I just couldn’t believe that this was happening. I realised that I had no idea of Jane’s financial position. I also had no definite idea either of the value of our two apartments, although I could hazard a guess as to a reasonable asking price for mine.

As soon as we returned home, she telephoned Philip to say that we were definitely interested in Wroxall Gardens, to put a hold on it for us and to arrange for valuations of our present homes. She said, “There’s no problem over the price of Wroxall Gardens; I’d like a rough idea, though, of the rental value of our present properties. There’s no mortgage on Masefield House, I own it outright. I don’t really need both homes and will probably let Masefield House. But we like Wroxall Gardens, so don’t lose the chance of it. We can take our time either selling Jenny’s place or we could let it, depending upon what she wants to do.”

Philip agreed with her plan and went away to do some sums of his own. He called back about half an hour later, and they had a brief discussion.

Jane said, “I’m sure that the Bennetts will want to move quickly, so please put in an offer for the asking price less ten thousand pounds to cover essential works. Subject, of course, to the usual survey. We would like to include carpets and curtains; and make sure to tell them it’s cash and no downward chain” (this, like ‘first time buyer’, is a term often used for a buyer who has nothing to sell and is therefore not dependent upon a property chain). After a little more conversation, she thanked him and ended the call. She turned to me. “I suggest that we move sooner rather than later. Do you want another look at it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, “I think it’s a delightful house. It’s still within walking distance of the office and it has somewhere to park the cars, even though I plan to sell my Fiat. I’d just love cooking in that kitchen and we could easily fulfil your dream.”

“Oh, which one is that?”

“The one where you sit on the terrace and I bring you a Pina Colada whilst wearing a bunny-girl outfit.”

She laughed, and gave me a hug. “There’d be more housework.”

I mused, “I can just see you now, in a pair of overalls, decorating the place while I bring you cups of tea and hand you paint brushes.”

She scoffed. “I think we’ll subcontract that job, thank you!”

“Hey, I’ve an idea,” I said, enthusiastically. “Have you a notice board at the station? You could advertise your place on that. I could put a notice on our system and, maybe, we could send details to large employers in the area. If we sold it or let it that way, you wouldn’t have to pay Philip’s commission.”

“A great idea,” she agreed, “We can print some cards on the computer and I’ll distribute them.”

I had a thought. “Cash? No downward chain? Aren’t you going to try and sell Masefield House?”

“I’ve some money left over from my inheritance.”

I didn’t ask any more and headed for the kitchen. I cooked some steaks and we spent a pleasant evening discussing the new house. She warned me that these things never were easy and that there was plenty of room for disappointment until contracts were exchanged. It’s likely that there might be a number of people in the chain and there was no telling where it went after it got to Kent. I was quite content to let Jane do all the paperwork and just snuggled in for the evening.

~ O ~

Activities in our corner of the housing market had picked up considerably in the past week. Jane’s offer for Wroxall Gardens had been accepted and valuation of her apartment indicated that a decent rental income could be obtained. We’d visited Masefield House a few times in order to clear out most of Jane’s limited possessions, and to clean and tidy and collect a few items that she wanted to keep.

I had provided her with details of my own apartment: the purchase price and date, the outstanding loan amount and a good idea of the present value. Little did I know that financial matters were to turn out far different from what I had naively expected.

End of part 20