There was only one person it could be: his mother.
She spoke softly so as not to wake his dad. Tallis asked after him.
“Not so good. Had another session of chemo yesterday. Always knocks him about.”
Tallis bit his lip. How long could his dad go on like this? he wondered. Did stubborn men take longer to die? “And you, how are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, stoic as usual. Only Tallis could detect the false note in her voice. Early on, when the cancer had been diagnosed, he’d thought her nursing experience would help. Now he believed it a curse. She was far too aware of the medical implications. However viewed, his dad’s condition was terminal, and his mother was in bits about it.
“Shall I come over?” he asked. “To visit you?” he added nervously. His father had refused to see him since the blow-up with Dan and Belle. With his dad being so ill, Tallis didn’t feel he could challenge the old man’s decision.
“It’s difficult at the moment,” his mum said, guarded. “I really don’t like leaving him.”
“What about the nurse? Couldn’t she stay with him for a while?”
“He wouldn’t like it.” No, Tallis thought. There was so much his father disliked—him, for a start. An early memory of sweating over maths homework flashed through his mind, his father standing over him, jaw grinding, demanding the correct answer and, in the absence of one, telling him he was no bloody good. For a long time Tallis had believed it to be true. They’d always had a strained relationship, probably because his dad had been a police officer and his youngest son had had a habit of running with the pack as a teenager. His dad had never been so pleased as when he’d decided to join the army. Of course, by then, Dan was already cutting it with West Midlands Police. Dan, the favoured one. Dan who never did any wrong.
“You need to take care of yourself, Mum, keep a bit back for you.” She hadn’t done in almost forty years of marriage, so why start now? he thought. Except now it was more important than ever. How else would she survive when his dad was gone?
“I’m all right, son. You mustn’t worry.” You have your own troubles was what she meant. “Any luck with finding another job? Didn’t you have an interview lined up?”
“Care of Max. It fell through,” he said honestly.
“Never mind. Something will turn up.” It just did, Tallis thought gloomily, but he’d have been mad to take it. “I spoke to Dan yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tallis said with cool. “All right, is he?”
“Fine. Settling in well, enjoying the new job. Seems to be finding his feet nicely. Says the other officers are friendly enough.” She sounded breathy and awkward.
“Good.” Not that it ever bothered Dan if colleagues liked him or not.
“He asked after you.”
“Did he?” Why? Tallis thought suspiciously.
“Don’t you think you two …?”
“No, Mum.”
“But you can’t go on like this.”
Why not? Tallis thought. His father hadn’t spoken to his own brother for over twenty years. Vendettas must run in the family. “The way it has to be.”
“Funny, that’s what Dan said.”
“Did he?” Tallis said, genuinely taken aback.
“I hate all this. You used to be so close.” Her memory was cushioned by nostalgia, Tallis thought. He mostly recalled being beaten up and humiliated. It had been Dan who’d swung a spade at his head from which he still bore the scar. “Remember when you were kids?” she said brightly. “You used to play removal men.”
“Doug and Kredge,” Tallis burst out, grinning in spite of his feelings. God knew where the names had come from. He’d have been about six at the time. Dan had played the foreman, bossy as ever. He’d been Doug, his oppo.
“You spent hours shifting stuff about.” His mother laughed.
His mother’s laugh was so rare these days it made Tallis misty-eyed. “No change there,” he told her.
“Still steeped in home alterations?”
“‘Fraid so. Not that I seem to be making a great deal of progress. The garden’s a wilderness and I still can’t decide whether I did the right thing, knocking the sitting room through to the kitchen.”
“Must be costing you a fortune.”
“It is.”
“Thought about getting a lodger?”
Only if they were dark-haired, thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six. Tallis smiled to himself. “I don’t think so, Mum.”
“Might help with the money.”
“The way the place is, I’d have to pay them.”
His mother laughed softly. “Think you’ll stay?” The question was floated like a feather on a millpond. He was aware that his father had suggested he sell up and divide the proceeds with Dan.
“For now,” Tallis said, noncommittal. “Depends on work.”
This seemed to satisfy her. They talked a little more, briefly mentioned his sister, Hannah, her kids, but he could tell that his mum was anxious to end the call. Probably time to administer more drugs to his father. She promised to phone again towards the end of the week. “Doug and Kredge,” Tallis murmured fondly, putting the phone down and returning to the sitting room.
“Jesus!”
Tallis started. He was freezing cold and mildly disorientated. Must have fallen asleep on the couch, he thought, looking blearily around him, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the unaccustomed light. Noise, he registered, noise from … Then it stopped. He staggered to his feet, went through the arch into the tiny galley kitchen and stared at the phone. Who the hell was calling on his landline at this time? Then another noise started, less intrusive. He dashed back to the sitting room to where his cellphone was vibrating on the coffee-table. He snatched it up, thinking it might be his mum, but didn’t recognise the number, then, shit, he thought his dad had taken a turn for the worse, that … “Max?” Tallis said, bewildered.
“Sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s all right,” he said, dizzy with relief. “I wasn’t in bed.” He should have been, he thought, checking his watch. It was three-thirty in the morning. “Something wrong?” Tallis said. ‘Course it bloody was.
There was an uneasy silence as though Max hadn’t quite rehearsed what he was going to say. “Just had the police on the phone.” His voice was grave. “They got my name from Felka’s belongings.”
“Something happened to her?” Of course it had. He knew only too well how people dished up bad news. It started in increments.
“She’s dead,” Max blurted
