The Redeemed by M.R. Hall Page A

hellfire sermons of the past, she told herself, a
cynical manipulation of all those members of the congregation with uneasy
consciences, but it had touched her nonetheless. As Lennox described his
descent into darkness she had heard her father's voice, 'You remember, Smiler.
You killed her.'
    It was ridiculous. Her father was senile and Lennox Strong's
story, even if it were true, was merely the waking nightmare of a young man terrified
of death. She had no reason to be frightened; she had progressed beyond
irrational emotions. Her divorce was fading into history and she had the
attention of a handsome, thoughtful man whenever she desired it. By all
objective measures life was good; her only challenge was to start believing it.
Once she had achieved that simple step, everything else would follow. She would
be well again and her son could learn to trust her.
    But simply forcing herself to look on the bright side failed
to lift her mood. A persistent knot of troubling and unwanted thoughts lodged
stubbornly while she washed the breakfast dishes and ran through her tasks for
the day. When the phone rang it was a welcome distraction. She hurried to
answer it, hoping to hear Steve.
    'I haven't woken you, have I, Mrs Cooper?' It was Alison.
    'I was just leaving.'
    Her officer continued in a put-upon tone: 'Only I've had Mrs
Jacobs calling trying to get hold of you. Apparently the police say they're not
treating her husband's death as suspicious.'
    'That was quick. I suppose she wants to know if we can move
as swiftly.'
    'Not quite.' 'Oh?'
    'CID returned his computer wiped blank. They claim it's a
mistake; she thinks they're hiding something from her. I tried suggesting that,
if they were, it might be for the best, but she's got it into her head there
was something going on at the Conway Unit they're hushing up.'
    'I presume they told her about the swabs?'
    'She doesn't believe it. She insists she'd have known.'
    Jenny saw a long day stretching ahead. 'All right. I'll stop
by and talk to her on my way in.'
    'Eva Donaldson's father has been melting the answer- phone.
He's furious about the post-mortem and is demanding to bury his daughter.'
    'Tell him to come to the office. I'll try to explain.'
    'Good luck.'
    Alison rang off.
    Replacing the receiver, Jenny felt a cold and unexpected
draught on the back of her neck coupled with the sensation of being watched.
She turned slightly and from the corner of her eye saw a flicker of movement
beyond the window: the outline of an adult, a man. She spun round. There was no
one there. She told herself it had been a trick of the light, but as she took a
step she felt her legs shaking. Heart thumping, she forced herself forwards to
the window and looked left and right, half-expecting to see the postman or the
old man from the village who, when the spirit moved him, cut the grass. The
garden was empty.
    She took a breath and closed her eyes. 'Calm down, Jenny.
Calm down.'
    She turned the radio on as loud as it would go as she ran
around the house getting ready to leave, but the spectre refused to leave her.
She saw him in every corner and shadow; he lurked on the other side of each
door. Hurrying to her car, she caught a musty trace of tobacco smoke and
sawdust mingled with the jasmine and rosemary. It propelled her back through
decades to a garden with a swing. Sitting apart from the family circle in the
long grass at the far end, Jenny watched the man pushing it. He wore braces,
his shirt clinging with perspiration to his muscular back. He was her father's
brother, Jim.

Her reckless days were behind her. Jenny had checked whether
it was safe to increase her dosage at times of stress and had satisfied herself
it was. She pulled over into a layby to swallow the extra Xanax tablet to
allow time for it to get to work before she arrived at the Jacobs' house. It
was a blip. She'd had jumpy periods before and they had passed.
    The key to not letting it take hold was not to panic, to
remind her