Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Geoff and Judith Patterson had hardly slept.
Their daughter was being buried in the morning.
It was the day they were dreading and the delay in releasing her body had been agony for the couple.
They both knew, once the funeral was over, they could begin to find a way out of this darkness, a way to come to terms with their grief and focus on the future, on remembering Alice as the sweet, happy, smiling girl she was, and not the nightmare in which she was stolen from them.
‘Are you awake?’ Judith asked. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. It was still dark outside, but the sound of the milk float driving down the road and the noise of the newspaper landing on the mat told her it was morning.
Geoff grunted a reply. ‘I think I’ve seen every hour.’
‘I’m dreading this,’ Judith said quietly, sniffling back the tears.
Geoff rolled over, wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close, her head resting on his warm chest.
‘I’m here for you, Jude. I’m not going to let you out of my sight at all today. I’ll be right beside you, holding your hand.’
‘Today shouldn’t be happening at all, though, should it?’
‘No. It shouldn’t. But it is. We have to face that reality. We just need to get through today. I promise, it won’t seem as dark tomorrow, and each day after that will get a little bit lighter.’
‘I wish I could believe that.’
Geoff held onto her tighter. ‘I believe it enough for the both of us.’
Judith snuggled further into Geoff and pulled his arms tighter around her. ‘I wish we could stay here all day and not have to get up.’
Pauline Winstanley had tried to dissuade her son from attending Alice’s funeral.
He’d told her all about the whip-round they’d had in the library for a bouquet of flowers, and the card they’d all signed that Mrs Wilkinson had delivered, but for the past three weeks, Pauline had stated, categorically, that he should not go to the funeral.
She tried to protect him by telling him it would be a very upsetting day and that he might struggle to cope with all the raw emotion on display, but he was adamant.
He liked Alice. A lot. He wanted to say goodbye.
Standing in the living room in front of the mirror, Anthony wore an ill-fitting black suit and white shirt that Pauline had pressed the night before.
She wasn’t planning on going herself, but Leo had called yesterday asking if they wanted a lift to the church.
It seemed like the whole of Whitby would be attending.
As Anthony struggled to tie his tie, Pauline ran an iron quickly over her only black dress.
‘Mum, is this right?’ he asked, looking at her.
‘No, sweetheart, it’s not. Give me a few minutes and I’ll see to it for you.’
‘Do these trousers look daft?’
‘No. They’re fine.’
‘You haven’t even looked.’
Pauline looked up for a second then went back to her ironing. ‘They look fine, Anthony.’
‘It doesn’t match the jacket.’
‘Of course it does. They’re both black.’
‘But the jacket seems lighter.’
‘That’s because you’ve had it longer than the trousers. Anthony, trust me, you look fine.’
The doorbell rang.
‘Bloody hell, that’ll be Leo.’
‘You swore.’
‘I know I did,’ she said, grabbing the dress and heading for the stairs.
As much as she liked Leo, she really didn’t want him seeing her in her dressing gown and without a touch of make-up.
‘Give me chance to get upstairs then let him in,’ she said over her shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time.
By the time Pauline came back downstairs, she was wearing a knee-length black dress with shoes, tights, coat, and hat all in the same colour.
She’d added a touch of mascara to her eyes, rouge to her cheeks and a deep-red lipstick to add a touch of colour.
She’d also sprayed the expensive perfume she’d treated herself to last summer.
Today was a sombre affair, but it was rare for her to dress up.
In the living room, Leo had sorted out Anthony’s tie and helped him spit-polish his shoes.
Both of them looked handsome in their funereal dress, though Leo looked almost edible in his fitted suit and white shirt.
It was the wrong time to tell him, obviously, but she’d remember to bring it up at a later date.
‘You look … so elegant,’ Leo said, smiling.
‘Thank you,’ she said, giving a little curtsey. ‘You’re looking very dashing yourself, Mr Mulligan.’
‘Mu-um,’ Anthony groaned.
‘I’ll just go and get my bag,’ she said, heading into the kitchen.
‘Have you got plenty of tissues?’ Leo called after her.
‘Yes. Three packets.’
‘I saw Geoff yesterday as I was driving home from the office,’ Leo said. His voice had taken on a lower tone. ‘He looks shocking.’
‘Jane was telling me that the weight has just dropped off Judith. She’s not looking after herself.’
‘It can’t be easy. Losing a child like that. I’ve wanted to go round, but I can’t think of anything to say that they probably haven’t already heard a dozen times.’
‘Come on, we don’t want to be late,’ Pauline said, making a play of looking at her watch. ‘Now, Anthony, are you sure you still want to go?’
‘Yes. I want to say goodbye to Alice.’
Pauline took a deep breath and gave him a placating smile. She loved her son so much. She just wished she knew what was going on in his mind, and, more importantly, what he had really been doing on that night three weeks ago.
All traffic was headed for one destination – St Hilda’s Church at West Cliff in Whitby.
Parking was restricted. Leo had to park four streets away and he, along with Pauline and Anthony, had to walk the rest of the way.
The streets were lined with mourners in black, heads bowed, as they made their way to the church.
Most would get a seat inside, but many would not.
When they entered the church, Pauline grabbed Anthony’s hand and held it tight.
Normally, he would pull his away, but this time, he held onto his mother firmly.
They found a space in a pew towards the back of the church and sat down.
Pauline hoped they could leave unnoticed the moment the service was over.
She wanted this day to be over with as soon as possible.
‘So many people,’ Leo whispered to her.
Pauline raised her head and risked a look around. Fortunately, she was wearing a low-brimmed hat so most of her face was covered. It was standing room only and all the pews were full.
She didn’t say anything to Leo and turned to her son. He was sitting up straight, staring forward.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked him quietly.
He nodded.
The hearse carrying the white coffin pulled up outside the church. It was a cold day, and a stiff wind was blowing in off the coast. The sky was heavy with cloud, but no rain had been forecast. Hopefully it would stay dry for the mourners lining the pavements.
Behind the hearse, a car came to a halt, and Geoff and Judith Patterson stepped out.
Geoff was in a black suit while Judith wore a long black dress and black hat with a veil covering her face.
In her left hand, she was holding a teddy bear while her right hand held her husband tightly.
They were greeted by the vicar, a tall, slim man, looking resplendent in his get-up.
He leaned into them and gave a few encouraging words. They smiled their thanks.
The pall-bearers stepped forward to bring the coffin out of the hearse. Geoff was about to step forward to help carry his daughter on her final journey into the church, but Judith pulled him back. She needed his strength.
The coffin was carried into the church and the Pattersons followed behind, heads bowed. Geoff wrapped his arm around his wife, holding her close to him, while she held her daughter’s teddy to her chest and audibly sobbed.
‘Good morning, everybody,’ the Reverend James Adamson began.
‘We are gathered here today for a sombre occasion. One of God’s children has been taken from us far too soon and in such a dark and violent way.
Everyone is grieving. The number of people crammed into this church shows how much we’re all hurting, but it is also a show of faith, of how much we are banding together as a community to collectively say goodbye to a kind, funny, beautiful young woman. ’
Judith sat next to her husband and leaned against him, tears falling, emphasising the agony etched on her face. Geoff was trying to remain strong. In his final act as a father, he wanted to do Alice proud by being the supportive dad and husband.
Behind them, well-wishers, neighbours, distant relatives and friends cried, sniffled and blew their noses.
The atmosphere was dark and heavy and, even though the Reverend Adamson tried his best to get the congregation to remember Alice Patterson as she was, with a funny story Geoff had given him to use about the time Alice tried to pose for a photograph with a donkey on the beach at Bridlington only for the donkey to steal her ice cream, the levity was lost. This was a crowd in serious mourning.
‘None of us should be here today,’ the Reverend continued.
‘An eighteen-year-old woman should not die such a cruel death, and no parent should ever have to bury their child. This community is shattered. Nobody here can comprehend what has happened. But now is not the time for hatred to enter our hearts. We must not allow the evil of others to harm those of us, the majority of us, who are good. We are here today to remember Alice Patterson and the joy she brought to her family, her friends, and everyone who knew her. I’ve known Alice since she was a baby, and I don’t think I ever saw her without a smile on her face.
That is how I will always remember her. Her life was cut short, but she will live on in all of our memories. ’
Further back in the church, Pauline held onto her son’s hand tighter than ever before.
She kept stealing glances towards him and was on a knife-edge waiting for any sign of an outburst of emotion.
His cheeks were dry. He seemed completely untouched by the occasion.
On one hand, Pauline thought this was probably for the best. On the other, she wondered why he seemed so unmoved by the ceremony.
Standing at the back of the church, DI Henry Bishop stood with two members of his team, DS Stephen Osborne and DC Edward Ritter.
DC Ritter was emotional as he listened to the reverend.
His head was bowed so as not to show his tears.
Osborne and Bishop were scouring the congregation.
They were aware that killers sometimes embedded themselves within the community and often returned to the scene of the crime, but would this killer come to the funeral of his victim?
Bishop didn’t want it to look too obvious, but he was studying as many faces of the congregation as he could.
Who was crying too much? Who wasn’t crying enough?
Who looked like a genuine mourner and who looked out of place?
Who was fidgeting and looking around? Who couldn’t wait to leave the church? Who seemed to be enjoying themselves?
The church was packed, and it was impossible to see them all.
When the service was over, and everyone began to file out, Bishop, Osborne and Ritter stood to one side and watched, but there were just too many for any of them to stand out.
‘They all look like they’re mourning, to me,’ Ritter said.
‘The killer might not actually be here,’ Osborne said. ‘Maybe the reason why we’ve nothing to go on is because the killer was just passing through. He could be long gone by now and eyeing up his next victim in a city in bloody Scotland for all we know.’
‘No,’ Bishop said after a long silence. ‘He’s here. I know he is.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Osborne asked.
‘Because I know. I’ve been doing this bloody job long enough to know that whoever raped and killed Alice has done something like this before.
I’m not saying he’s killed before, but he’s definitely some kind of pervert.
Now, he’s gone too far, but he’s being protected.
We need to go that one step forward and get whoever is shielding him to open up. ’
‘How do we do that?’ Ritter asked.
‘By starting again. Only this time, we go in hard. Come on,’ he said, turning on his heel and heading for the cars. Once he was away from the church, he raised his voice. ‘I want that bastard in custody by the end of the week and I don’t give a fuck how we do it.’