HEY JUDE

Frances Brody

Frances Brody writes the 1920s Yorkshire-based mystery series featuring war widow turned sleuth, Kate Shackleton. Before turning to crime, Frances wrote radio and theatre plays, TV scripts and sagas, winning the HarperCollins Elizabeth Elgin debut award for the most regionally evocative family saga of the millennium.

Why does a police car look so much like a police car, like it couldn't be anything else? It couldn't be any more noticeable if it came onto the estate sirens blazing.

'It's there,' I said, 'past the lamppost.' She stopped the car. She got out, I got out. Our house is the corner one in this squared off bit of street so you have to walk across the stretch of grass where you're not supposed to play football or cricket, and everyone does. I'd heard them as we came round the corner. The Patel kids and our Anthony. They play cricket like World War Three. When the car stopped and I got out it went quiet. Desperately, impressively quiet, like someone had said, 'Freeze!'

We went through the gate and she was going to knock on the front door.

'Back way,' I said and we walked round.

Just for a second it crossed my mind that I could run for it. But where could I go? Besides, she was dead close. Breathing down my neck. I went in. As usual, Mum and Dad were at the table, drinking tea. Smoking. They looked across – and then they saw her. Miss Bluebottle.

'Hi,' I said. And my voice was real normal, as if I wasn't being brought home by the busies.

She said, 'Hello, Mrs Markham, Mr Markham.'

They just sat there. Looking. Like they were seeing a scene on telly and waiting for it to change. They're not exactly action packers at the best of times.

'Are you going to tell them, Rachel, or shall I?'

Mum and Dad just sat there. Like, What's this? What's going on?

'I got picked up for shoplifting,' I said.

'What?' said Mum.

Dad didn't say anything. He forgot to smoke. His mouth kind of opened, like it was waiting for his cig. Then he closed it, and his head kind of nodded, as if it didn't have anything to do with him.

'Can I sit down?' the copper asked.

'You better come in the front room,' said Mum.

'Hang on a minute.' Dad looked at me. 'Did you do it? Were you shoplifting?'

And I knew if I said no, he would shove her out the door, copper or no copper.

'Yeah.'

We went in the front room.

We all sat down. Somehow the copper ended up sitting next to me on the settee. Mum and Dad in the chairs, looking ... separate.

'A colleague and I responded to a call from Meredith's Bookshop at four thirty,' said the copper, like she'd learned the lines. 'There were several girls together, seen behaving suspiciously, and suspected of shoplifting. The manager had apprehended Rachel.'

Mum said, 'What were you doing in Meredith's?'

Dad said, 'Who were you with?'

'That's what I'd like to know,' said the copper. 'The other girls got away.'

I said nothing.

'Meredith's?' said Mum. 'What did you take?'

'Jude the Obscure.'

'Who?'

I really appreciated Dad making one of his stupid jokes. It was almost like he couldn't help it, even when I was on the point of being hung, drawn and quartered. Then I realised, he wasn't joking. He'd gone senile. I always knew he would. He always said I'd send him round the twist one of these days.

The copper said, 'Rachel had four copies of Jude the Obscure in her bag. We have reason to believe one of her friends took multiple copies of Twelfth Night and another girl took ... some poetry.'

I nearly said the set anthology, but that would have given the game away.

'Is this true?' said Mum.

I wished I could think of some way of denying it. Like claiming Jude had just kind of made a rush at me and leapt into my bag, like someone was after him, Tess of the d'Ubervilles or The Mayor of Casterbridge.

'Yeah.'

'Why?' said Mum.

'Because they're on my book list.'

'Why four?' said Mum.

That was when I decided to shut up altogether.

'Were you taking them to re-sell at school?' the copper asked. As if she hadn't asked me before.

Dad was looking at his feet. I expect he was remembering how when I was little and looking through his books he'd told me which ones he'd liberated and when I asked him what liberated meant Mum had nearly started to beat him up.

I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. It wasn't even my idea. I said nothing.

'So what happens now?' said Mum.

'I have to write a report. The inspector needs to see it. Then it's up to the inspector. And Meredith's.'

'Is she going to be prosecuted?' said Mum.

'You're an idiot,' said Dad. 'What are you?'

I didn't think I needed to answer.

'Possibly,' said the copper to Mum. 'It would help if she'd give a full account.'

Shop my mates, she meant.

'Can you leave us to talk to her?' said Mum, thinking she could get it out of me.

'I'd prefer it if we could have a statement now,' said the copper.

I said nothing. Why was I so slow? By the time I'd got to the door at Meredith's, everyone else had gone and they'd done this clever blocking me thing so I couldn't get out. I mean, four copies of Jude the Obscure. I wouldn't have minded getting nicked if I'd gone for a big one. Post Office job. I wished I didn't feel sick.

'Well?' said Mum. 'Who was with you? Whose idea was it? Have you done this kind of thing before?'

Say nothing.

'What was wrong with the library?'

'I told you. I told you I needed the books.'

Dad leapt off his chair and came yelling and screeching towards me like he was king of the apes.

'I was gettin' 'em. I was gettin' 'em for you. I gave you one. I gave you Jude the bloody Obscure.'

Mum glared at him and I could hear her thoughts saying, Sit down, you. Stop making a show!

He sat down, but like he couldn't keep still. He was bashing his hands up and down on the chair arm.

'They were captured on camera,' said the copper. 'We will identify them. It would be simpler for us and easier for...