Chapter 25

Thursday, 2 January 2020

Dawn Shepherd really wasn't in the mood for being out of the house today. She'd had far too much to drink on New Year's Eve with Robyn and her boyfriend, Chris, who, on the stroke of midnight, had got down on one knee and proposed. Robyn had said yes, of course, and the rest of the night had been a blur of bottles of champagne and dancing. Dawn had no idea how she'd made her way from Robyn's flat to her own bed, but needless to say, New Year's Day had been a write-off, and she hadn't spent much time anywhere else but under her duvet.

The next morning, she had showered, put on a touch of make-up and styled her dark brown hair – having swapped the severe black beehive for a stylish bob – and left the flat, wrapping her long coat around her.

There had been a heavy frost the previous night, and it took a while for her to scrape it off the windscreen of the second-hand Peugeot she'd bought last summer. She missed her Golf but felt much more confident behind the wheel of something made this century.

With Dusty Springfield playing on the stereo, she drove along the streets of Newcastle to Atlantic Road, where her father lived alone in a two-bedroom semi-detached house.

The second of January usually marked the day most people returned to work after the Christmas and New Year break, but Dawn had learned from previous years' experience and had booked a couple of extra days off work to allow time to get over the hangover.

She pulled up outside her father's house. The curtains were still closed in the living room, but then, it was a dull start to the day. She climbed out of the car and made her way up the front path. She rang the doorbell and stepped back.

The door of the house two doors along opened, and a woman came out. She was wearing a dressing gown and slippers. She lifted the lid of her dustbin and dropped a heavy black sack into it. Dawn looked towards her. She was going to say good morning, wish her a happy New Year, but the woman looked daggers at her. They all knew who lived in this house, and they would have no doubt Dawn must be of the criminal class, by association. Dawn shook her head; the narrow-mindedness of some people never failed to shock her.

She rang the bell again.

There was no reply and no sound of movement from inside. She dug around in her handbag for the spare key Dominic had given her for emergencies. This wasn't technically an emergency, but it was freezing cold, and she was in urgent need of a pee.

‘Dad, it's me. Are you decent?' she called out, as she stepped inside. It was as cold indoors as it was outside. She knew her dad struggled with things like paying bills and getting the heating to work after being in prison for twenty years. He couldn't get used to having to do everything himself, but she had helped as much as she could. She thought she'd explained his heating system enough for him to be warm and comfortable in his own home by now.

The small hallway led to a living room. She pushed open the door and stopped dead in the doorway. The room was a mess. The widescreen TV had been pulled off the wall. The sofa had been overturned and the coffee table smashed.

‘Oh my God,' Dawn said to herself. ‘Dad!' she called out.

She went all the way into the room and surveyed the damage. There wasn't a single item of furniture that wasn't broken or damaged in some way. She rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out her phone. With shaking hands, she dialled her mother, who answered on the second ring.

‘Mum, it's me. I'm at Dad's. I think there's been a break-in.'

‘What? Are you sure?'

‘Yes. I'm in the living room. It's a mess, Mum. It's been completely destroyed.'

‘Oh my God, that's awful. Where's your dad?'

‘I don't know. He's not here,' she said, as she walked through the living room to the kitchen. The back door leading to the garden was wide open. She looked out but didn't see anything. ‘What shall I do, Mum? Should I call the police?'

‘Have you tried calling your dad?'

Dawn went back into the living room and stopped. Straight ahead, behind the table, on the floor, she found her father. He was lying in the corner, slumped against the wall. His face was a patchwork of cuts and bruises, and a large carving knife was sticking out of his chest.

‘Dawn? Are you there? Dawn?'

Dawn stood frozen, staring at the father she had known for less than a year. There was nothing she could say.