Secrets and Shadows

Chapter 1

The town of West Garside lies some 16 miles to the northwest of Sheffield in South Yorkshire, huddled up against and climbing up the lower reaches of the Pennines. nestled into the slopes and valleys and spread along the flatlands of the river Gar. Always growing, the town reached out in timid fingers of development towards big city sister of Sheffield, whose own ribbons of expansion crept ever closer, soon these fingers would touch and forever entwine.

With a population of 137,000 at the last census, the town of West Garside boasts a Collage of Arts, a civic theatre and the newly opened Riverside Mall which had a Marks and Spencer store anchoring one end and an Aldi at the other; the usual high street shops as well as a multi-plex cinema and bowling alley.

The town had a non-league football team, there are seven 24 storey council tower blocks, some clad in the same flammable material as the Grenfell tower in London , scene of the worst fire disaster seen in Britain for many, many, years.

New light industrial factories and wholesale warehouses spread out along the riverside whilst the older parts of the town’s largely defunct industrial area centred around Redemption Island have now been gentrified. Factories and warehouses have been converted into trendy apartments. Restaurants proliferate along with restaurants, specialist coffee shops, gourmet pizza parlours, hand-made burger bars, small craft breweries and bakeries specialising in artisan breads.

The old Duckworth and Dawes Brewery has been demolished and the site re-developed into apartments, the only feature remaining from the brewery is the stone and cast-iron entrance arch with the words ‘Duckworth and Dawes Brewery’ curving in green letters around the top of the arch.

Two local coal mines, Garside Main and Reculver Two closed within a year of the miners’ strike of 1993, when Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and miners’ union leader Arthur Scargill butted heads and egos,

The steelworks of Alexander and Matthew Ltd are much diminished in size and now concentrate on the production of specialist high grade steel, mainly for the aerospace industry. It had once been the largest employer in town, butit is the West Garside Council that now has the most employees.

In the opinion of Donald Jarrett, the council is full of Trotskyite jobsworths, with leftie-leaning Guardian-reading social workers, cottaging and dogging outreach workers, health and safety zealots, Stalinist traffic wardens and busybodies spying to see if you put the wrong rubbish in one of the different coloured bins.

But at this moment, Donald Jarrett had far more tragic affairs on his mind. All the colour has drained from his face and tears roll down his cheeks, pain-filled tears that he somehow thought would seem disrespectful to wipe away, they were a visual confirmation of his anguish.

He was seated on the settee in the front room of his house, his arms about his sobbing wife Janet. She held her head in her hands, weeping uncontrollably. Inspector David Boothroyd looked on sympathetically. ‘Of all the jobs a copper has to do, he thought, this is the worst; informing relatives that a loved one has died unexpectedly’.

Of all the jobs a copper has to dothis is the worst; informing relatives that a loved one has died unexpectedly’There is no easy way to tell a relative that their loved one has been killed in car crash, suffered a sudden heart attack, had been stabbed to death in a fight at the pub, that their child has been killed playing chicken on the railway lines or that a loving husband has died in an accident at work, the inevitability of sudden death ever present; the Grim Reaper never very far away.

Sergeant Mary Tanner stood at the side of Donald Jarrett, a comforting hand on his shoulder whilst Family Liaison Officer, Kimberly Johnson, sat on the other side of Janet, her arm wrapped around the sobbing, distraught mother of Julia Jarrett, found dead from an overdose in a squalid bed-sit in north London.

‘I really am most sorry,’ Boothroyd said again. What can you say, he thought, however heartfelt your words might be, they’re only platitudes and nothing you say can sooth the distress or heal the raw wounds of grief and pain.

What can you sayhowever heartfelt your words might be, they’re only platitudes and nothing you say can sooth the distress or heal the raw wounds of grief and pain.Janet looked up at him, her face swollen and red-eyed, clutching at a sodden tissue as though it were a life saver. ‘Is…is there any doubt? I mean, is there any doubt that it’s Julia? Could it be a mistake, mistaken identity?’

‘I’m sorry Mrs Jarrett, no, there is no doubt but that it is Julia. Bank cards, driving licence and benefits correspondence were all found with her. A formal identification of the…her body will be necessary but please do not hold out any hope that it may not be Julia. I am so sorry.’

Janet sobbed out loud again, her last hope that it was all some ghastly mistake, a hideous nightmare from which she would soon wake up dashed away. Taking a fresh tissue from the box of held by Kimberly, she dabbed at her eyes again and turned towards her son David, who stood by the front window, looking outwards, seemingly oblivious to the tragic scene playing out around him.

‘David, did you hear that, it is our Julia. She’s dead David Dead. Oh God. No. No.’

‘Yes, yes, I heard. Julia’s dead, sorry.’ he responded dully, still staring out of the window, not even turning to look at her.

‘Is that all you can say? Sorry? Your sister is dead and all you can say is sorry. Sorry?

‘What do you want me to say? Look, I’m sorry she’s dead, but am I heartbroken? No.’

My God, thought Mary Tanner, he’s a callous little bastard, can’t he see that his mother is devastated, totally devastated?

My Godhe’s a callous little bastard, can’t he see that his mother is devastated, totally devastated?‘Always so cruel, David,’ sobbed Janet. ‘Julia’s dead and you’ve nothing to say about it?

‘OK. I’m sorry. And sorry for the way it happened. But look, she filled her arm with s**t h****n, nobody else, and she OD’d on it. Yeah, it’s tragic and all that, but what more is there to say?’ She did it to herself. End of.’ At that, David Jarrett took his mobile phone from his pocket, switched it on, checked for messages, turned on his heel and walked out.

‘David, David, wait, please, Wait.’ Janet called after him in anguish.

‘I’m outta here. Can’t take all this hysteria shit.’

‘Let him go, love,’ said Donald, ‘He’ll be back, he’s just upset, that’s all, he can’t really face up to it yet, He’ll be back soon enough, and you’ll see that he’s upset, really upset about our Julia, honest.’

The front door slammed to and a minute or so later a car drove away with a squeal of tyres as it sped out into the road.

Janet burst out with fresh sobs, ‘Donald, why is he always like towards me? No matter what, he’s always like that. It’s as if he hates us, hates me anyway, and after all we do for him.’-

Donald could only shrug in mute impotence, he had run out of excuses for David’s behaviour, truth be known he was just a nasty little s**t with a barrow load of resentments and bitterness towards us and the world in general.

The sooner he gets himself off his backside and moves out of here the better.

The sooner he gets himself off his backside and moves out of here the better.