The Sacrificial Man Read online

  Ruth Dugdall studied English Literature at Warwick University before taking an MA in Social Work at the University of East Anglia. After graduating she worked for almost a decade within the criminial justice system, first as a youth justice social worker and then as a probation officer, before dedicating herself to writing novels.

  Her first novel, The James Version, is a historical fiction based on the notorious murder of Maria Marten in the Red Barn, Suffolk.

  The Woman Before Me, the first novel to feature probation officer Cate Austin, was published by Legend Press in August 2010. It won the CWA Debut Dagger, the 2009 Luke Bitmead Bursary Award, was shortlisted for the 2011 People’s Book Prize, and longlisted for the New Angle Book Prize.

  The Sacrifical Man is Ruth’s third novel.

  The Sacrificial

  Man

  Ruth Dugdall

  Legend Press Ltd, 2 London Wall Buildings,

  London EC2M 5UU

  [email protected]

  www.legendpress.co.uk

  Contents © Ruth Dugdall 2011

  The right of the above author to be identified as the author of

  this work has been asserted in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available.

  ISBN 978-1-9082480-0-8

  eISBN 978-1-9082481-5-2

  1

  All characters, other than those clearly in the public domain, and

  place names, other than those well-established such as towns and

  cities, are fictitious and any resemblance is purely coincidental.

  Edited by: Lauren Parsons-Wolff

  Set in Times Printed by CPI Books, United Kingdom

  Cover designed by Tim Bremner

  Bremner Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

  reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or trans-

  mitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission

  of the publisher. Any person who commits any unauthorised act in

  relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution

  and civil claims for damages.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Ruth Dugdall

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Quotation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Other Books

  Before 1

  Before 2

  Praise for Ruth Dugdall

  ‘An enthralling psychological thriller – perfect for fans of

  Sophie Hannah’ Bestselling author Sam Mills

  ‘Dark, disturbing and authentic’ CWA judging panel

  ‘Impressive in its unflinching realism, this is a dark and

  haunting psychological thriller that possesses both depth and

  sensitivity.’ Crime Time

  ‘This novel is an extremely addictive debut… a real page-

  turner… As a debut novel, this is a remarkably assured and

  well-written book’ Petrona

  ‘Authentic… diverting debut’ The Daily Mail

  ‘always a page-turner… Just when I thought I'd got it sussed,

  I'm proved wrong. This is a clever and suspenseful story told

  in an engaging style.’ thebookbag.co.uk

  ‘a young British crime-writer who uses her career in the

  Probation Service to stunning effect… a bleak, dark psycho-

  logical thriller, at times quite hypnotic… gripping and

  powerful.’ Mike Ripley, Shotsmag

  ‘outstanding novel…sheer time-stopping suspense’

  Katie McGrainor, Staffordshire and West Midlands

  Probation Trust

  ‘I read it in about two days, constantly thinking about the

  characters and the story, so much that I had to pick it up

  again and again!’ Nikki Dudley, author and blogger

  ‘an enthralling psychological thriller and is in turns moving,

  tragic, tense and altogether very well written…always a

  page-turner’ Allovertown.co.uk

  ‘Very fine debut’ DJs krimiblog

  Reader reviews

  ‘instantly engaging and kept me gripped throughout. I'd go

  so far as to say it's unputdownable… an impressive debut

  and I would recommend it without reservation.’

  TARguy, Colchester

  ‘The characters are very rounded and believable, arousing

  sympathy and mistrust throughout the book. It's very pacy

  and keeps you guessing right to the end.’ LadyMacbeth

  ‘Dugdall spins a very clever web of deceit and entwines her

  characters into her story. I totally enjoyed the book, as did

  the book club.’ May Bee

  ‘the pages turn faster and faster as you go. This story is a

  refreshing change from the usual crime mystery, populated

  with real characters you can believe in. An excellent novel.’

  Frances Day, Gloucestershire

  ‘I really liked the style of writing and the way it differed

  from so many other crime thrillers out there… I would not

  hesitate to recommend this book’ Julia Shaw

  ‘There were no winners among the characters in this novel

  but this is a winning book in more senses than one and I am

  glad I read it.’ H Gore, Essex

  ‘Dugdall draws her characters with consummate skill, using

  her personal experience as a Probation Officer in a women's

  prison to bring them to life. She holds the reader's attention

  through to the end’ Wendy, Dorset

  ‘This story is about so many different things, loss, relation-

  ships, jealousy and obsession all displayed in a measured

  manner… Fantastic I hope Ruth Dugdall writes more for us’

  C. Bannister, Jersey

  ‘psychologically acute; it is also, more importantly, very,

  very moving.’ David Rose

  ‘a finely crafted piece of observation. A precise study of

  human need… excellent stuff!’ Gary Murning

  ‘Dark and disturbing, this psychological thriller will stay

  with you long after you've put the book down.’

  S Lovett, Essex

&n
bsp; ‘I loved this book even with its dark subject matter, and read

  it in two sittings. It is a real page turner and written with real

  insight into all the characters.’ M. Squirrell

  ‘Absolutely brilliant. I could not put it down and read it in a

  day. Still thinking about the characters now.’ Schoolescort

  ‘This one is definitely addictive and definitely leaves you

  wanting more.’ Kayscarpetta, Cleveland

  ‘What makes this thriller so successful is the way sadness

  and creepiness combine – in the sense that the reader feels

  that such a story could happen in anybody's life.’ Petch

  ‘This was a page turner from beginning to end… I cannot

  wait for the next installment from this author.’ AY Smith

  ‘It was marvellous, a real diametric juxtaposition of raw

  emotion and sophisticated narrative, pacy plotlines and luxu-

  riously laconic descriptions reminiscent of authors such as

  John Connolly’ Mark, Scotland

  ‘With a fantastic eye for detail and sense of place this story

  will stay with you long after you've finished reading it.’

  Green One

  ‘A dark and captivating read. Dugdall reveals her skills as a

  ‘wordsmith,’ creating a spare and compelling narrative that is

  both satisfying and disquieting.’ Bhgirl

  ‘If you like dark and disturbing plots, this is for you! You'll

  be gripped by the relentless pace of the story and be

  prepared for a couple of shocks at the end.’

  Roz Colyer, Essex

  ‘Pacy, believable, with characters you can really root for;

  Ruth Dugdall is a talent to watch out for.’ Devon Violets

  Acknowledgements

  This novel has been several years in the making and in that time I have benefitted from the generosity & support of many people. My heartfelt thanks to Helen Miles, who was first to offer The Sacrificial Man a publishing contract and generous enough to agree a move to Legend Press when it became clear that the ‘Cate Austin novels’ belonged together; to the team at Legend, Tom Chalmers, Lauren Parsons & Lucy Boguslawski who are nothing short of amazing in their dedication and energy. Belated thanks to Elaine Hanson whose generous setting up of the Luke Bitmead Bursary resulted in the publication of The Woman Before Me, the first Cate Austin novel.

  For their professional expertise I am indebted to Nigel Stone, Senior Lecturer in Law at the University of East Anglia and Dr Bodhan Solomka, Forensic Psychiatrist at the Norvic Centre.

  This novel was partly funded by an Arts Council grant and SCAN grant. These enabled me to benefit from a year of mentorship with Michelle Spring. My writing friends Liz Ferretti, Morag Lewis, Sophie Green and Jane Bailey have given direction when I wondered where I was heading, our monthly meeting have saved me from a dead end many times! I am also grateful to Maureen Blundell for her candid advice and keen eye.

  A personal note of thanks to my family, Margaret & John Dugdall and Peter & Beryl Marshall, for keeping the faith even on days when I had lost my own.

  And finally a big cheer for my husband, Andrew, who has believed in this novel from the outset and has made many sacrifices in the name of writing. None involving any potbellied pigs, thankfully!

  Thanks to you all.

  To Andrew, for all your sacrifices and support.

  With love.

  Now more than ever seem rich to die,

  To cease upon the midnight with no pain…

  John Keats

  One

  Trains terminated here. It was the end of the line.

  Only just past nine, and I waited for the last train to arrive. A sharp breeze made me nip my jacket close, turn my collar up. I was alone on the platform. A mere shelter. No café, not even a chocolate machine, just a bench and a timetable screwed by cracked Plexiglas to the crumbling brickwork. I was on the edge looking down, fighting that familiar urge to jump that some commuters experience. On the track were discarded cans and wrappers, the litter of those who had also waited for trains. I was an actor in the wings of an unlit stage, apprehensive before the audience arrived. The wind picked up in bitter gusts. I turned my face against it, looking down the track into the dark tunnel. Lights would come, then noise. Then him.

  I checked my watch. Seven minutes past nine. Eight minutes to go. Not long. Too long. I stamped my feet, fidgety with nervous energy, hands curling and uncurling in my pocket, chilled to the core by the thought of what was to come. I didn’t know what he looked like. I’d seen a picture, but how often do people use a photo that reveals the truth? Being beautiful, I didn’t need a flattering image, but the picture I sent him was also a lie. My hair looked over bright in the sunshine, light lifting my features as I smiled to someone off-camera. In it I looked carefree. After, I regretted sending it, thinking I’d lured him to me under false pretences. Worried he’d be disappointed when I wasn’t as easy-hearted as I’d appeared in the snap. This was one of the advantages with meeting in cyber space; we could hide our neuroses.

  I tried to relax; after all, he’d picked me. He said he’d had quite a choice, more replied to his advert than he would have anticipated. I looked into the dark sky and thought of all the others out in the world seeking the same thing. I wasn’t alone in my desire.

  Stop. I’m going too fast. There’s another story to tell, before he arrives.

  Others are coming to judge me. Professionals will come and demand that I tell them my story. Whatever they conclude, bound by conventional thought, by their own mediocre experience of love, my deed will outlive me. Time alone will prove what is right. They can’t force this tale from me and I won’t trust them. But I’ve chosen you. You will listen. You are my judge, the true arbiter. And we have time, yet, before the train pulls into the station.

  My internet name was Robin, like the bird, but also because it made me think of American cheerleaders with tanned tennis legs and blonde hair. Wholesome. When I was Robin my world sparkled new and I could do things differently. I could be someone else.

  We didn’t use our given names on the site. It was part of the unspoken deal. And anyway our parents named us. Our avatars, picked by us, revealed something truer. I liked his. He was Mr Smith.

  To me, Smith was beautifully anonymous – an Everyman. I didn’t want the unique or standalone; I sought the mediocre, the average, the one lost in a crowd. I wanted the man who worked behind a desk, who microwaved cardboard meals, who rubbed the sore grooves down his nose, scored by his glasses. Mr Mousy Hair, Mr Nylon Shirts. Strange, that I sought the ordinary when I’m anything but. I’ve never met a man who didn’t desire me, at least at first, but my own taste is modest.

  Robin wanted safety. Predictability was more important than fun, and I quickly deleted adverts from men who smugly announced they had a GSOH. I like to laugh, but not on demand. I wasn’t seeking a cabaret act.

  His was a simple enough advert. He’d been a fan of Morrissey in his teens and I imagined a melancholic youth with floppy hair smoking dope. He said he was a Catholic and, however lapsed, the faith was in his blood. I suppose that attracted me too, that tenuous link to my mother’s religion.

  Yes, others replied to his ad as well as me. Some men and several women. But I was his choice.

  I had to hunt. I’d meet other men before Smith. After all, finding love is never easy. I was making a commitment for life, and these things can’t be hurried. Also, I wasn’t quite ready. If Smith had come to me before that time, I’d have let him slide through my fingers like sand.

  I didn’t respond to his advert straight away. I looked around first, visiting chat rooms and surfing the web. Staying silent, a wallflower. It’s easy on a computer screen. Your entrance is only noticed when someone types:

  : Hello Robin! I see you’ve just joined us. Welcome.

  If you stay silent long enough no-one bothe
rs you. After a page of conversation your arrival is history and people forget. I learned how relationships could be built by words. Biding my time. Browsing Facebook and Twitter, searching special sites, cruising in and out of chat rooms. I didn’t know what I was waiting for until I found his advert:

  Man seeks beautiful woman for the journey of a lifetime: I will lift mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help. Will you help me to die?

  I read it over and over, keeping it on my screen until I finally logged off. I needed time to think before I replied.

  But I’m rushing again. Always my failing, that I head for the summit before charting the course. I must resist. It’s important to start at the beginning. And doesn’t every story begin with the mother?

  My mother’s name was Matilde Mariani. This is her story, too.

  Two

  1977

  Matilde walked slowly, scuffing her patent shoes on the pavement and hauling her school bag, letting it bang against her legs, marking the white kneesocks with dust. It was a sticky day and her blazer was tight across her chest. She undid the single button, took off the straw boater with her free hand. No-one would be home when she arrived and she could be happy, but first she had to pass the row of shops. The boy who delivered the meat was loitering outside the butchers, his bike thrown on the pavement. Behind him, through the window, animals hung in halves. She was careful to keep looking ahead, waiting for the jeer. “What, ain’t yaw gonna talk to me now? Posh cow! Stuck up spic! Ain’t I good enough for yaw, then gal?”