‘It’s not the first time,’ her mother replied.
‘But Helen, why her?’
Violet, an attractive woman, a beauty in her youth, knew why, even if the daughter did not. Helen Langdon, regardless of her history, was a beautiful woman, the sort of woman that her husband liked.
Violet remembered when they had met, she and James. He had not been a handsome man, but he had an inner strength, an inherent sense of decency. He was also the most intelligent man she had ever met, able to converse about any subject that interested her. They had become a couple, and they married within six months; he, a virgin, she, not so chaste.
They had been happy years before their son had come along, time enough for James to be elected to parliament. Even then he had been an ardent moralist, a clear and concise debater, a man going places, and in politics that meant the prime ministership. But then, another general election and James Holden was in opposition, a repeating event in the intervening years until his death. It was that first time he realised he had joined the wrong party, but there was no changing. He was not like Winston Churchill who had managed to move across the political divide; he was James Holden, a loyal party member, an ardent believer in doing the right thing, regardless of personal cost.
‘She was devoted to your father, you knew that,’ Violet Holden said.
‘But why the two of them in bed?’
‘There was empathy between the two of them, almost a melding of the minds. It’s as if they were father and daughter.’
‘How could he? It’s almost obscene.’
‘It was inevitable. Your father, like all great men, needed to rebel occasionally.’
‘Are you saying that Helen offered herself as the object of his rebellion?’
‘Helen would have done anything for him.’
‘Aren’t you upset, Mother?’
‘Your father’s legacy must be preserved; his good work must continue. Linda, you must be the one.’
‘But I don’t have my father’s skills.’
‘Yes, you do. It is for all of us to be willing to portray my husband, your father, as the man he was, a man who was flawed. His indiscretion with Helen must be used to portray him as a sinner who repents, a man who would admit all to his family.’
‘And Helen?’
‘She was a good person, regardless of her past and what has occurred. We will not conduct vendettas against anyone. We, the Holdens, will be the face of equanimity, of kindness, of charity to all.’
‘It’ll be hard for John,’ Linda said.
‘Then we must work hard to bring him around. He has a mean streak, and he will want to portray Helen as a wicked woman.’
‘Not as someone he loved, but who ultimately rejected him for his father.’
‘Precisely, and John doesn’t have your and your father’s kind nature,’ Violet said.
Chapter 3
Isaac recognised trouble, not with a capital T, but with a capital C: Caddick. The man was sitting in Isaac’s office; he appeared to be friendly, which meant only one thing, he was going to be difficult.
‘Now, look here, Cook, I want this case run by the book. Commissioner Davies is taking a keen interest in this police station, especially this department, and James Holden was well respected. There’s bound to be a lot of focus on us to provide results.’
‘On me,’ Isaac corrected the man.
‘You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Well, let me tell you, I’m the superintendent, you’re not, and unless your attitudes changes, I’ll have you out of here in a flash.’
So much for the friendly, Isaac thought. He could see the hand of the commissioner in Caddick; he was not going to rise to the bait.
‘We’ve just taken on the case. You’re not expecting us to solve it that quickly, are you?’ Isaac replied.
‘I am. The demands on my budget are too much as it is. I’ll not be paying for you and your mollycoddling of your people. And if your sergeant is too old, replace her. I can find you someone else, younger, keener, more willing to get out there and mix it on the street.’
‘Sergeant Gladstone pulls her weight. She’ll not let this department down.’
‘On your head. I’m just giving you fair warning.’
Straight out of the Alwyn Davies book of policing, Isaac thought but decided to say no more. His superintendent had irritated him, not for the first time either. Isaac had wanted to tell the man that he was a snivelling little weasel, not even competent to shine the boots of his predecessor, Detective Chief Superintendent Goddard. Goddard had confided to Isaac that the forces were continuing to rally, and ongoing discussions were being conducted to allow Commissioner Davies to resign with grace, which would probably amount to a hefty payout, and possibly a knighthood.
Isaac had baulked at the mention of the knighthood. ‘I thought they were awarded after you had done something, not destroyed it.’
‘That’s not how the real world works, and you know it,’ Goddard had replied.
There was plenty to do, but Caddick’s visit had left Isaac devoid of enthusiasm. He got up from his desk and walked out of his office.
Isaac sat down next to Wendy Gladstone. He could see she was struggling, and Caddick was right in that her performance was down from a year previously. He also knew that he would protect her at all costs. The times when she was needed out on the street, she had never let him down, and she was totally loyal to him, as were the others in the office. Isaac knew that Caddick’s approach did not work. People under pressure perform as long as that pressure is reasoned and progressive, not by threatening their jobs.
‘We need to find
