‘Here,’ Diane ushered her to one end of the buffet tables where there was more space and Chris unwrapped it.
‘Oh, Diane it’s beautiful, absolutely. It’s perfect.’
‘From us both,’ Diane said.
‘It’s wonderful.’
I agreed. The print Diane had done was based on a photograph of their house and the hills in the background. I didn’t know all the ins and outs of how she’d done it but the end result was like a cross between a primitive painting and an etching. It reminded me a bit of the wax crayon picture kids do at school where they build up layers of colour on black paper and then scratch away lines to reveal a drawing with a variety of colours. Chris hugged her again and dragged us off to meet her parents and some of her brothers and sisters, most of whom had travelled up from Wales for the party.
I went and queued for a drink while Diane circulated. The bar was busy but I got chatting to Rachel who hadn’t found out anything in social services about the status of the Smiths yet. When I got served I took the drinks over to the edge of the dance floor where Diane had found seats.
After a couple of drinks Diane and I were ready to strut our stuff. I’d forgotten how good it was to dance and stayed up until I was breathless and I’d shed my tunic. Diane must have been boiling in the wig. She went off for more drinks and I sat getting my breath back when a new group of people arrived. Four women. My stomach tumbled as I recognised one of them. Blonde hair, small frame, the woman who’d sat in my car, crying, with her nose bleeding, shaking with fear.
They were across the room from me by the bar, talking to Chris. Dancers kept blocking my view. Was it really her?
When Diane came back I asked her if she knew any of them. She ducked a bit to see and shook her head. ‘Why?’
Usually I confide in Diane about work as well as everything else. I trust her but it didn’t feel right to explain at that point.
‘One of them looks familiar,’ I said.
I was unsettled. Without making it obvious I was alert to every move the woman made, anxious to confirm it was her and uneasy that she had turned up here. A nasty part of my work had suddenly spilled into my social life. If it was the woman I also wanted to know whether she’d changed her mind about reporting the attack.
The music was loud and it was hard to talk at any length, though I gave Diane a brief run down of the problems with Maddie. The group of women organised seats close to the bar. Eventually my curiosity drove me over there. I stopped nearby to have a word with Chris and kept one eye on the woman I was interested in. She was talking with her friends; when she glanced sideways and saw me she turned swiftly back. That reaction was all the confirmation I needed. I asked Chris about the group. She was very drunk by now.
‘Friends from the Town Hall. Betty and Cleo, Caroline in the orange …’
‘The woman next to Caroline?’
‘Minty, her partner. Their place isn’t far from you. I’ll introduce you …’
I was saved a reply when Jo grabbed her arm and insisted they take the floor for Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’.
I looked back to Minty. What should I say? She chose that moment to get up and set off to the far end of the room where the toilets were. I followed.
She was waiting by the sinks. There was no one else around.
‘How are you?’ In the stark fluorescent light I could see she was wearing a lot of make-up and had chosen violet eye shadow. Any bruises were well hidden.
‘Don’t say anything, please.’ Her eyes flicked to the door and back. ‘I just want to forget about it.’
‘You haven’t told your friends?’
A spike of panic flared in her eyes. She shook her head once.
‘Your partner?’ I said in disbelief. Surely she’d have had to tell her, to explain the state she was in.
‘Of course I told her,’ she amended. ‘She wanted me to report him, like you. But I can’t, I can’t face it. Please don’t make it any worse.’
The door swung open as someone came in and she took the opportunity to walk out.
I felt horribly sober.
I hid it well, went back out and circulated, nattered to people I hadn’t seen for years. Didn’t dance anymore though. I watched Caroline and Minty dancing towards the end of the evening. They looked very happy. What about the man, would he attack again? Had he already? Would his crimes escalate? More savage beatings, rape, murder? How long until someone finally took the terrifying step of reporting him? Because I knew, just like everyone else, how vicious the justice system could be, even for witnesses – let alone victims. Let it be, I told myself, but there was a sour taste to the evening now and I never regained my party spirit.
Chapter Thirteen
There was a new Wallace and Gromit movie on at the cinema. I rang Katy’s mum to check that Katy could come and arranged to pick her up on the way.
After a lazy breakfast I sat down with Maddie and Tom to look at colour charts. It was easier than I had expected. They had both ticked a vibrant turquoise. With white gloss, plain wood skirting boards and door and something light for the curtains it would look fine. The room was big enough to take the intense colour and there was even a dash of turquoise in the large rug.
‘Can we paint it now?’ Tom said.
‘No, we’ve got to empty everything out first, cover the floor with dustsheets and get ladders for the ceiling. And buy the paint. First of all we need to move some of this.’
They helped for all of ten minutes but were regularly waylaid by finding toys that they’d forgotten about. The air was thick with nostalgia.
I moved boxes into the hallway and some to the cellar. I’d done about half of it by lunchtime. Ray and Laura were just making brunch and Ray did fried egg sandwiches for me and the kids.
‘Pictures this afternoon,’ I announced. ‘We’re taking Katy.’
‘What to see?’ Tom asked.
‘Wallace and Gromit.’
‘Yes!’
Maddie’s face hardened. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s stupid.’
‘It’s the new one, it’s supposed to be really good.’
‘I don’t want to go,’ she yelled and stormed out.
Damn!
Laura and Ray exchanged glances.
‘She’s driving me nuts,’ I said.
‘Remember the penguin,’ Tom supplied, harking back to one of the earlier films. ‘That was wicked. His eyes went …’ he narrowed his eyes, shifted them from side to side.
I finished my sandwich and went to find her. ‘Why don’t you want to go? And I want a proper reason.’
‘Got a headache.’
‘We’re meant to be picking Katy up in half-an-hour. She’ll be disappointed.’
‘You could go,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I could stay with Ray.’
‘But I wanted to go with you, I thought we’d have a really nice time.’ I could hardly drag her kicking and screaming into the multiplex. I tried bribery. ‘We can get popcorn and Coke, go for pizza after.’
She looked desolate.
When I explained the situation to Ray he offered to take Tom and I’d see if Katy wanted to go with them.
‘She’s got a headache,’ I told Katy’s mum, ‘but it only came on after the pictures was mentioned.’
Katy didn’t want to go without Maddie. I apologised again.
The rest of the day was low key. Maddie was subdued. I gave her Calpol for the headache and I carried on clearing the play room and made a nut-roast with all the trimmings for tea. It was still bitterly cold and a big meal seemed appropriate. We’d just finished eating when the phone rang.
‘Sal, it’s Lucy Barker.’
About time and all. I felt a rush of annoyance. ‘Where are you?’ I could hear the cool edge of my words.
‘At home,’ her voice was strained. ‘Please, can you come?’
‘Well, it’s not …’ I was about to put her off till the following day but
then she blurted out. ‘They’ve been here. Oh, please come,’ and began to cry.
My stomach fluttered. ‘All right, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ Part of me was cursing her, still annoyed by the lies she’d spun me about Ian Hoyle but I was anxious too. Last time there had been dog muck, a death threat, malicious wounding and now …?
‘How long will you be?’ Ray asked.
‘An hour, maybe a bit more.’
‘We’re going out.’
‘Hell, when?’
‘Starts at eight. Play at the Green Room, told you last week.’
‘I remember, sorry. Sheila in?’
I went up to the top floor and knocked on Sheila’s door. She was at her desk surrounded by papers, her glasses pushed up on top of her grey hair.
‘Are you out tonight?’
‘No,’ she nodded at her work. ‘Here for the duration.’
‘Ray’s off to the theatre and I’ve got to see a client – could you listen for Tom and Maddie if I’m not back in time?’
‘Of course I will.’
After a quick goodnight to Maddie I gathered hat, scarf, gloves and coat and set out. The car didn’t like the cold and wouldn’t start at first. I began to get panicky about it and yelped with relief when it finally caught.
The roads were quiet, I was in Levenshulme in ten minutes. I rang the front door bell and Lucy buzzed me in. She was at her flat door, she looked frightened: her eyes appeared larger and her complexion more pallid even though she still wore make-up.
She opened her mouth but words failed her, she shook her head, raised her hand and moved it, a gesture that said she was lost, didn’t know where to begin. She took a step inside and I went after her. The place had been trashed, furniture was overturned, drawers emptied out, the chemical smell of acetone was heavy in the air.
DIE BITCH was scrawled across the wallpaper in red aerosol car-spray paint, the letters were uneven and rivulets of paint ran down like dripping blood.
I turned to her.
‘Anywhere else?’
She turned without speaking and led me into the kitchen. The floor was awash with spilt food, broken glass. Pools of sauce, sugar and rice, yoghurt.
‘And here,’ she spoke.
I hadn’t been in her bedroom before. Again it had that peculiar mismatched look, the interior design so at odds with Lucy’s own elegant style, with fleurs-de-lys stencils on rag-rolled ochre walls and ugly melamine furniture. I only thought about that later. At the time my attention was fixed on the bed. The covers had been stripped back, a knife was sticking out of a pool of red, the handle like a dagger, made of ivory or bone. Not subtle.
‘Jesus,’ I said softly. ‘How’d they get in?’
‘Kitchen window, smashed it.’ Her face creased up.
‘What about the alarm?’
She shook her head, bewildered.
I pulled out my phone and began to dial.
‘Who are you ringing?’
‘The police.’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, you can’t!’
‘I can.’
‘No!’
I cut the call.
‘Look,’ I was practically shouting at her. ‘I’m not going to stand by and watch while things get even worse.’ I pointed to the bed. ‘That’s no joke. What do you think they’ll do next? What if you’d been here?’
She flinched and looked away.
‘I’m getting nowhere but the police …’
‘No.’
‘For God’s sake,’ I wanted to throttle her. How could she be so dense? ‘Whoever did this is dangerous. We have to report it. There’s no alternative.’ I made to dial again.
‘No.’
‘If you won’t, I will.’
‘Please no!’
I held up my hand to silence her, pressed the keypad.
‘Don’t!’ She yelled. ‘I know who did it. It was Benjamin!’
‘What?’
‘Benjamin,’ she repeated.
Oh, great. Now she’d really flipped. The ghost of her dead fiancé was to blame. Of course.
‘Lucy, he’s dead.’
‘That’s his knife.’ Her voice caught. She turned and walked back into the lounge forcing me to follow. She stood in the window pressing her palms together nervously.
‘He’s dead,’ I repeated.
‘He isn’t,’ she said and her eyes glimmered.
‘The car crash.’
She shook her head.
‘But—’
She batted her hands together fast and light.
‘Lucy?’
She ducked her head, glanced at me then away, looked at a spot near the skirting board in the corner of the room. ‘He walked away from it,’ she spoke with effort, as though the words were the wrong shape in her mouth. ‘He left me there.’ She paused. In the quiet I heard the rumble of a plane coming into the airport. ‘He was sick.’
‘Sick? How?’
‘They don’t know exactly. Out of control, impulsive. He wasn’t safe.’ Pain burned bright in her eyes making her frown.
‘How do you mean?’
She took a quick breath. ‘Benjamin was very jealous. I had to be very careful. After the accident he got much worse. Some sort of brainstorm. He needed treatment.’
‘Wait, I don’t understand. Tell me again.’
‘Benjamin is very … possessive. He was driving like a maniac when we had the accident.’
She paused.
‘You said he left you there?’
‘They think he was concussed. He said he couldn’t remember any of it. Then his behaviour got very erratic, sort of a breakdown. He needed psychiatric treatment.’
‘When was this?’
‘Fifteen months ago. I moved here once I’d finished physio.’
‘Your engagement?’
Her fingers sought out the ring. ‘I said I’d wait – till he was better.’
‘And you think this … you think he – ?’
She nodded, tears splashed from her eyes.
‘Oh, God.’ I righted a chair and sat down. ‘But why?’
‘When he’s ill, he thinks I’ve betrayed him, somehow. Gets in a rage.’
I ran my hands over my face. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t know it was him. I didn’t want to believe … I hoped I was wrong.’
I felt the glow of anger spread as the ramifications of her secrecy struck home. ‘You put us both at risk.’ The lies about Ian Hoyle flashed into my mind. Small fry. I’d get to those later. ‘Have you any idea …’ I broke off, outrage snatching my words. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you suspected?’ I demanded.
‘I didn’t want it to be him. I didn’t want to think it. I love him.’ She protested through her tears.
‘So why bother getting me in at all?’
‘I was scared. And I wasn’t sure. I wanted you to prove it one way or another.’
‘And if it was Benjamin?’
‘I still love him.’
I stared at her, appalled. ‘So what are you saying? If it’s Benjamin do nothing?’
‘No,’ a small voice.
‘Well, then?’
‘I won’t press charges, I won’t have him arrested and …’
‘You can’t let him carry on.’
‘Get him help,’ she gulped.
I ran my hand through my hair, struggled to collect my thoughts. ‘I can’t believe you let me …’ I exhaled. Tried again. ‘But now you’re sure. Because of the knife. Has he done this sort of thing before? Hate mail, threats?’
‘Not exactly. Phone calls, before I moved.’
‘This was after the accident?’
‘Yes.’
‘You say he had treatment.’
‘He had to go into hospital.’
‘And you were still seeing him?’
She scowled, fought back tears. ‘I went to visit, he …’ she sniffed, ‘ …he thought I was being unfaithful, he tried to—’ One hand went
to her neck. I got the idea.
‘He attacked you?’
She nodded. ‘They said it was best to give him time. He used to phone.’
‘And threaten you?’
‘I moved. But I promised to wait. To marry him when he was well again.’
‘And since then?’
‘I got a Christmas card. He was fine. Out of hospital, working again. He still needed time but he said how much it meant, knowing I’d stand by him, that when he was ready I’d be here.’
And she’d gone round telling people he was dead. Why not just ditch the ring and not mention him? Was she simply a habitual liar. One of those people for whom the truth is never quite enough.
‘So all this?’
‘He must have got worse again. He needs help.’
‘Where’s he living?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What about work?’
‘He’s a doctor.’
‘A doctor!’ I don’t know why I was so surprised. As if doctors don’t go off the rails like the rest of us. ‘GP?’
‘Hospital. He was.’
‘But you don’t know where?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Where was he before?’
‘Leicester. We both were.’
I took a couple of breaths tried to steady my pulse rate. Now what?
‘I could write to him,’ she said, ‘if I had an address.’
‘What?’
‘Reassure him, tell him to go see someone. He’ll listen to me.’
She was barking.
‘Lucy, the guy has just broken in, smashed up your home, stuck a knife in your bed.’
‘You don’t understand,’ she dismissed me. ‘Last time it was me who persuaded him to get help. He trusts me.’
More than I bloody do.
‘Look, don’t come back here on your own. Get anything you need and stay at the B&B for now.’
‘Benjamin—’
I cut her off. ‘I need to think.’
‘I won’t go to the police.’ Her tone was cold, emphatic. She no longer patted her hands together.
‘Are you working tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll warn Malcolm.’
‘But—’
‘He needs to know, Lucy. He can keep an eye on you. Keep a look out for Benjamin.’
‘I don’t think Benjamin would—’
Bitter Blue Page 10
