Water's Edge

Chapter XXVIII

Spitfire Lawns

Katie got into the passenger seat. The boys that had tried to skin the cat stood on either side of Godwine, his big arms holding them still as they stared hungrily at Zee, wanting to pick it for scraps. I forgot I had left the tape on as I pulled away.

And I flew into a frenzy searching high and low

Because in my dream the girl was very young

I said hey little girl, where do you hide?

You draw lightning from the sky

Katie didn't seem to disapprove, and like all the other kids kept her head down, grief etched onto her. I drove steadily back into town.

"Where dya live?" I asked eventually, feeling the day beginning to drag. The sun had begun to set. Maybe I'd be able to catch Becky, fuck the day out of me.

"Just up here... the new houses." Katie Naughton directed me to one of the vast estates that had been built especially for those working on The Humber Dam. Thorngumbald had been transformed from a humble village into an entire self-sufficient town, all for those from Soames Construction. The sign to the estate, Spitfire Lawns, was emblazoned with the Soames Construction company logo; they had provided everything. The school. The church. The homes their employees lived in. It nearly felt comfortable. But everything had been erected quickly, in those tight blocks reminiscent of America, with only a few suburban affectations; I couldn't live somewhere this clean, this tidy. Anywhere this clean brushes everything under the rug.

We pulled up outside one of the identical houses, and the door opened immediately when they clocked such a strange vehicle outside. Jim Naughton, who had been so quiet when I had met him first, stood in the doorway as the mother rushed out to hold Katie. Katie seemed embarrassed and even gave me a pleading look over the shoulder before succumbing to love. Teenagers.

"Where was she?" Mrs. Naughton eventually asked, "Who are you?"

Jim explained who I was before I got the chance, "She was fine." I eventually responded as I shook Jim's hand, "I should be off though."

"No no." Jim motioned for me to come in, "Have a cup of tea, at least. You look cold."

I looked down and I did notice a certain chill. Marching across those damp fields must have hit me harder than I had realised. Jim hadn't left eye contact either; he wanted to talk.

They had an exquisite home. Jim told me almost immediately this was commonplace for all the workers under Soames Construction on something as enormous as the Dam. He had worked on a number of other projects of the kind, but had finally settled here, offered a house on the cheap for working steadily on a megabuild. His wife, eventually, reminded him to do introductions, a woman called Cathy who must have been sat at the dining room table for the whole time Katie was away, the entire surface covered in stitching materials and thread; I'd never met a panic stitcher before. She got the kettle boiling, giving Katie a kiss on the forehead before she ran upstairs to her room, humiliated, embarrassed, but mostly grieving for her friend.

Jim took me to one side, into their living room, a slobbering dog napping on the leather sofa. Jim looked at them disapprovingly but left them to rest.

"If I talk to you, is it off the record."

"That doesn't actually work." I said sipping a drink, "But that's only for journalists. If you want confidentiality, I can give it."

Jim seemed nervous, looking to the door and back, "They don't know anything. Really."

"What don't they know, Jim?" I was stern, but kind.

"I just want to provide, so this can't go further. I want to do the right thing, but I can't lose this house. Work is impossible, mate. If I wasn't working for Soames, I wouldn't have..." He looked to the family photo on the mantlepiece, beside an urn to a loved one, a fireplace with electric fire softly glowing—

"I assure you, if you tell me something, and it helps me find out what is going on, I'll keep your name out of it. Promise." I went to shake his hand again; he had to know for sure, "But you have to tell me."

Jim paused and didn't shake my hand but did sit down with his tea, taking a deep breath, "I'm certain it isn't those Saxons, that's where you found Katie, right?"

"Yeah. I went to speak to their leader and she was there."

"Aye. We have to keep sending them back, because they cross our boundary lines, our safety markers, but they do it sincerely to check for people getting lost. We've all been kids. Quarries. Dams. It's all the same."

"It is."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?" He was asking me, this time. And I just nodded. This time it wasn't just kids slipping, this was murder, "It isn't the Saxons. She OK?" I nodded, Katie was fine. I needed to speed him along. I felt that need for a pint kicking in already, "Soames may have saved this family of mine, but... it isn't right."

"What isn't?" I snapped.

"The regs. The building spec. It's all dodgy. I work on a bit of the site, and I notice something awry. I tell my on-site manager and they shrug and say they'll take it up with someone else, thank me for pointing out the flaw. And then a little later I'm somewhere else. I stopped after a while. If they can't put me somewhere else next time I could lose my home." He was terrified.

"What kind of flaws?"

"I thought it was nothing. Just the odd mishap. Part of the job, that's why I used to tell people. But now... I think they're cutting corners."

This made sense. I hated it. But it did. And no wonder Jim was scared; if he kept doing his job too well, he'd lose it. No wonder he had been quiet with the lads. Maybe Shanks knew? I knew that Thursdays at the office had to be investigated clearly.

"Thank you, Jim." I said, sincerely.

"I can't lose this though, Detective. I can't."

"You have my word. You will never be mentioned again. I didn't even get told this, you hear?"

Jim nodded, relaxed a little bit, and Cathy appeared at the door with a tray of biscuits. Panic stitcher and panic baker.