‘It’s Joe Petulengo, Declan’s friend. He’s dead.’
‘What?’ Bardolph leaned back against the low balcony rail.
‘An accident, probably. Out at his farm. He fell, into water, and froze to death.’
‘Jesus,’ said Bardolph. ‘That’s dreadful. You know the link…’
Dryden nodded. ‘Petulengo was one of the victims of abuse at St Vincent’s – like Declan. They grew up together, in care. Did you meet him?’
‘No – never. I didn’t talk to Declan about the case either – except right at the start. It’s difficult. I work for the social services department and they were likely to end up in the dock too over St Vincent’s… but Declan was my client. I advised him to see a third party before agreeing to give evidence against the diocese – a colleague from outside the county. We played it by the book.’
‘I didn’t say you didn’t,’ said Dryden. ‘So what’s Chips Connor got to do with it?’
‘Connor! How…?’ Bardolph looked out over the frozen Fen, knocking his gloved fists together in frustration. ‘Look. Wait there.’
He went inside and Dryden could see him rifling through the box folders, before returning with a single Manila file. ‘You need to understand,’ he said, ‘the two cases are linked.’ He retrieved some reading glasses and scanned the first page of the file.
‘The friendship between Joe and Declan was very important, but they were vastly different characters. Declan had been inside, he’d become very timid, a kind of recluse in many ways. Joe was a very confident man – at least that’s what Declan always said. He’d made a success of his business, he had power – something Declan never had. Anyway, several months ago one of the evening newspapers ran an appeal for new witnesses in the Connor case – Connor’s wife had decided to mark the thirtieth anniversary of his sentence with another attempt to get him freed. She’d always said he was innocent, and she wasn’t the only one. So Joe saw the story and got in contact. The Connor family solicitors…’ here Bardolph flicked through the pages. ‘Holme & Sons – of Lynn. They interviewed Joe and asked him to try and get Declan to come forward as well. If it had been the other way round, if Declan had seen the appeal, he would have kept quiet – I’m sure of that.’
‘But he was a witness too, and he agreed to step up?’
‘Joe was very important to Declan – a mentor, I guess. If Joe was happy to do it – so was Declan. George Holme interviewed them both, separately, and took statements. They were in care at the time they were staying at the holiday camp. It became clear during Holme’s questioning about what happened at the camp that they had been badly treated at St Vincent’s – I can’t tell you exactly why because it involves the sister – but it all came out.’
‘There was abuse in the holiday camp?’
‘I didn’t say that. Anyway, the important thing is that Holme knew about the action being co-ordinated by Hugh Appleyard against St Vincent’s – solicitors are a pretty close bunch. So Joe and Declan found themselves under pressure to come forward. I don’t think Joe thought twice about it. After a lot of soul searching, Declan also agreed to give evidence against the diocese, to tell a court what he’d suffered at St Vincent’s.’
‘So it’s not a coincidence that they are involved in both cases?’
‘No. Not at all. It’s all down to Joe coming forward. Then one thing led to another.’
‘So what happens now?’
Bardolph looked out over the ice. ‘St Vincent’s? They would have been compelling in court, I think – especially together. I never actually met Joe, but it was clear they were close. Brothers, almost. They’d shared that childhood, that sense of being victims, a very intense emotion. I don’t think any court could have ignored their evidence, or put it aside as hysterical, or contrived. But they were not the only victims. There’ll be delays, but it’ll come out in the end. The abuse – you know – was pretty widespread, institutionalized, really. That was the problem.’
Dryden nodded. ‘And the Connor case… how exactly were they involved in that?’
‘The basic facts aren’t disputed: Joe saw the appeal in the newspaper for evidence in the Connor case, as I said. The article included the last known picture of Paul Gedney – that’s Connor’s alleged victim. In essence their statements would have been simple, as I understood it: that they had seen Gedney.’
‘So?’
Bardolph laughed, buttoning the jacket at his throat. ‘They saw him a month after the prosecution said Chips had beaten him to death at the holiday camp at Sea’s End. He was holed up in some old boat in the marsh along the coast. The police never found the body, you see. If they’d been able to make that ID in court – between the face on the poster and the face they’d seen, well then Chips would have been freed immediately. There would have been a review at the very least.’
‘Sea’s End,’ said Dryden. ‘The Dolphin?’
‘Yes. It’s still in business, actually – gone upmarket.’
Dryden saw the camp gates, that first sight of the crowded beach of 1974, and a single lit porthole shining in the marsh. ‘But this was in ’75?’ he asked.
Bardolph went on nodding, flipping the page and finding a colour photograph. He looked at it briefly, seemed to make a decision, and then held it out: ‘No. No – it was 1974. The summer. The trial was the following year. That’s them at the time… August.’
Dryden took the snapshot and felt the world around him recede, as if seen through the wrong end of a telescope, as he brought the snapshot close to his face. Three boys and a girl, a sandy path between dunes and a distant view of the sea. The familiarity of his own childhood face staring out of the past was surreal, and the jolt of recognition made his heart contract. He walked to the balcony rail and looked out across the white Fen, hiding his eyes.
‘Declan is the one on the far left,’ said Bardolph.
Dryden nodded. Dex, the frightened loner armed only with the unpredictability of violence.
‘The others?’ asked Dryden, trying to keep the emotion from serrating his voice.
‘The other boy, the one with his arm round Declan’s shoulder, is Joe Petulengo. The girl on the end is Declan’s
