by M. A. Hunter
The rest of my time here was spent in another small, windowless room. I declined the offer of a duty solicitor, only to reinforce the fact that I am innocent of what they are accusing me of. Yes, I left the shop with the ornament in my lap, but it was never my intention to steal. It is just a misunderstanding.
I sobbed as they informed me about what the security guard had told them. Apparently, I looked ‘shifty’ when I entered the store, and his ‘instinct’ told him to watch me. He saw on his monitor that I’d taken an interest in the glass ornaments, and how I’d moved away from the cabinet before returning and selecting the item to steal. He then told them how I hovered at the end of the first aisle, and he was studying the security camera footage trying to work out what I was doing. Again, his ‘instinct’ told him I was trying to secrete the Cinderella carriage somewhere on my person. Finally, he claimed that another unidentified woman ran from the store as a distraction to enable me to race away too, only he was already on to our ploy and managed to apprehend me.
As I continue to stare straight ahead at the cold walls, I can’t stop thinking about Grace and my poor Mum. She doesn’t know Harrow very well, and Grace won’t be able to give her directions home. If she doesn’t have her phone, she won’t know what’s happened and they’ll both be so worried about where I am.
The window shutter in the door cranks as it’s lowered and two beady eyes peer in and stare at me. The door clanks as it’s then unlocked and swung open. I’ve never been so relieved to see my sister-in-law Rosie. I don’t know how she found out I was here, but I’m glad she’s come to talk some sense into them. If anyone can give me a worthy character reference Rosie can.
Her hair hangs loose over her shoulders, rather than in its trademark ponytail, and she’s wearing the same trouser suit that I saw her in last night. She thanks the officer who has opened the door, and he leaves us.
Rosie perches on the edge of the bed next to me. ‘How are you holding up?’
It’s such a simple question, and although no malice was intended, the lump in my throat grows and I can’t stop the tidal wave of tears.
Rosie rubs a gentle hand across my shoulders, and tells me everything will be okay, and I desperately hope she’s right. She asks what happened, and I recount the story again, only this time I tell her about Morag’s involvement as she already knows the trouble Morag’s arrival in our lives has caused. Rosie listens without interruption, and when I’m done, her face is a mixture of empathy and concern.
‘I’ve spoken to Charlie, and he’s at home taking care of Grace,’ she says. ‘I told him I’d make sure you were okay and being treated properly. The good news is the shop owner has decided against pressing charges.’
I dive towards her, throwing my arms around her shoulders. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ I whisper, feeling fresh warm tears fill the gap between our cheeks.
‘You don’t need to thank me. When I spoke to the shop owner, and explained the stress you’ve been under, he was surprisingly understanding. Apparently, he has a niece who suffers with MS and is becoming more dependent on her wheelchair.’
‘Are you going to open a formal investigation into Morag now?’ I ask.
Rosie’s brow furrows. ‘Why would I?’
‘Didn’t you hear me when I said how shifty she was being? She threatened whoever was on the other end of that phone. You need to find out who she was speaking to. It could be to do with her taking Daisy.’
Rosie leans away from me, the lines in her forehead deepening. ‘You need to stop with this, Jess. As your sister and friend, I’m telling you to stop. All these accusations about a woman you barely know – it isn’t healthy.’ She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. ‘I spoke to Charlie about our chat last night, and he’s just as worried about you as I am.’
All I can hear is the blood boiling in my ears. ‘You went behind my back?’
She is waving her hands in a calming gesture. ‘For your own good, Jess. We all love you and understand that things have been really tough on you. All this business with Morag and Daisy is—’
‘Don’t you dare say it’s all in my head,’ I snap.
‘No, not that,’ she replies, her voice soft and even, ‘but I can understand why your mind would put two and two together and come up with ten. You’re still grieving and coming to terms with the paralysis – I get all that – but you need to speak to a professional about it.’
‘I’m not imagining it.’
‘Maybe not, but look around you, Jess. You are in a police station cell and were arrested today. What you’re doing has serious consequences. I’ve managed to fix things this time, but I won’t be able to bail you out of trouble again.’
My cheeks are burning at the reprimand and betrayal.
Rosie stands and I feel her grab the handles of my chair. ‘They need to process your release and then I will drive you home. Okay?’
I don’t respond as she pulls me backwards out of the cell, and pushes me back along the corridor towards the custody suite. I know one thing for sure; I never want to wind up in a police station again.
Neither Rosie nor I say much on the ride home. I’m grateful that she’s driving me in her own car, so at least my neighbours won’t be aware of the shameful afternoon I’ve spent locked up. She hugs me as I’m about to exit the car, reminding me that the reason everyone is so worried about me is because they care. If that’s the case, why do I feel like a child whose parents assume I can’t understand what they’re saying?
I understand everything. I understand that it’s easier for them to leap to the conclusion that my suspicions about Morag are my brain’s mechanism for coping with the loss of feeling in my legs and losing my baby boy. If they really care about me, why are none of them prepared to accept that I’m not mistaken about Morag and Angus? There is something not right there, but I’m the only one prepared to acknowledge it.
I don’t remember everything I overheard, but there is one phrase that has stuck: I swear on her life, if I see you anywhere near us, I will… I will put a knife in you myself!
Maybe I should have mentioned that to the officers who interviewed me. That’s a threat to someone’s life and should be investigated. What troubles me most is Morag’s propensity to threaten such violence so easily. I don’t think I’ve ever threatened to kill someone, let alone describe how I would do it. If she can be so relaxed about violence, does that make her dangerous? Is that why Daisy was so terrified I would tell Morag about those four little words? Has she witnessed Morag using threatening behaviour before?
I just want to get in, go to bed, and put this sorry day behind me. It’s gone six, but my appetite has yet to return. I’m dreading what Charlie is going to say, and I don’t think he’ll be willing to let me go to bed without dissecting exactly what happened.
Rosie’s car pulls away and I don’t wait to wave her off. The bags of shopping from earlier are back on the handles of the chair, and they crackle and scrunch as I roll up the ramp to the front door and insert my key. An aroma of garlic fills my nostrils as I push the door open, and I can hear the extractor fan humming in the kitchen, and shadows dancing about on the walls as Mum, or possibly Charlie, tinkers away inside.
The air is warm despite the back door being partially open. Large plumes of grey smoke fill the tiny back garden, and I’m surprised Charlie has decided to cook a barbecue tonight. Grace’s giggle echoes from the lounge, and I now just desperately want to give her a big squeeze and apologise for any worry my disappearance has caused.
‘Oh, Jess, thank God,’ Mum says from the couch next to Grace, and she leaps to her feet, wraps her arms around me, and places a wet kiss on my cheek. ‘Are you okay? I heard your message, and…’ She pauses and I sense she is looking back at Grace. ‘Perhaps we should chat in the kitchen.’ She pulls me out of the room and we head into the kitchen, where she closes the door. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart? They didn’t hurt you, did they?’
The fear of the last
few hours is suddenly so overpowering, and I feel a splash on my cheek. ‘Oh, Mum, it was awful. They thought I tried to steal from that shop, but I swear I didn’t. It was just a misunderstanding.’
She is immediately at my side, offering me one of her great Mum-hugs, just the right amount of pressure and support to silently tell me how much she loves me. I can only hope Grace feels as loved when I hug her.
‘You poor thing,’ Mum says quietly in my ear. ‘It was fortunate I had my phone with me. We returned to Debenhams after the toy shop, and when you weren’t there, I assumed you’d come to meet us, and our paths had crossed. I saw the police van pulling away, but had no idea you were inside. I tried to call you back as soon as I heard your message, and that’s when the police officer answered and explained what was happening. I managed to get hold of Charlie and he let us in when he got back.’
‘Does Grace know…?’ I can’t complete the sentence.
‘I haven’t told her you were arrested. She thinks you had to go for an emergency doctor’s appointment. She has no clue about what happened.’
I squeeze Mum’s arm against my collarbone, as relief permeates me. Charlie’s face appears through the glass of the patio door. There is so much smoke that his head looks disembodied.
Mum releases her grip, removes a bottle of wine from the fridge, and heads back out of the kitchen. ‘I’ll leave you two to speak alone.’
Smoke fills the kitchen as Charlie pushes open the door and enters the room. The disappointment is scorched across his face, and neither of us speaks for a minute or so.
He finally sighs, and looks up at the ceiling to keep his own tears at bay. ‘Tell me I don’t need to be worried about this; about you.’
‘It wasn’t my fault. I was chasing after Morag, and didn’t realise the thing was still in my lap. It was an accident. I’m not a thief.’
The incredulity in his face at the mention of Morag’s name reminds me he doesn’t know the full backstory. ‘What does Morag have to do with any of this?’
‘She was in the shop on the phone to someone, threatening them. She was upset, so I asked if she was okay and that’s when she hurried away. I thought she might be in some kind of trouble, so I hurried after her, and that’s when the security guard intercepted me. I tried to explain to him that I’d made a mistake, but he was adamant he had to call the police. So humiliating!’
There is silence as he processes what I have just said, and then he shakes his head wistfully. ‘What is it with you and that woman? No, in fact, what is it with you at the moment, Jess? Your behaviour has been so erratic… I’m worried about you. Last night, I found you sitting in your chair in the bathroom. Your eyes were open, but I swear you were asleep. I carried you back to bed, and you didn’t stir, but as soon as your head was on the pillow your eyes closed again. It wasn’t the first time that’s happened either.’ He pauses, avoiding eye contact. ‘Maybe we need to make you an appointment for your dosage to be checked.’
I don’t recall any reason I would have been in the bathroom, and I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned this before. I know I’m not cracking up. ‘You didn’t hear what Morag said. Whoever she was speaking to, she was angry. She told him or her to keep away and then she threatened to kill whoever it was.’
The worry lines around his eyes are deeper than I’ve ever seen them. ‘Have you heard yourself? You’re becoming obsessed with that family and I’m seriously worried about your mental health. Can’t you see that this isn’t normal, Jess? Please, you’ve got to let me in, help me understand what is going on with you. Let’s make an appointment with Dr Savage, and she can help you.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my mental health,’ I fire back. ‘Why won’t you believe me? There is something off with that whole family. She’s keeping secrets, and I don’t believe she adopted Daisy. It’s plausible, but there’s more to it than that; I just feel it.’
‘Goddamn it, Jess! No, there isn’t! You’re seeing conspiracy where there is none. I’ve met Morag, and she’s given me no reason to doubt anything she’s said. Only you can see trouble, because you want there to be trouble.’ He pauses again. ‘Is this about Luke?’
I gasp at the mention of our son’s name. ‘Why does everything have to come back to that question? I am not imagining this, Charlie. Why can’t you just support me? I’m not crazy.’
‘Really, Jess? Are you so sure about that?’
And there it is; the conclusive proof that he thinks I’m cracking up.
He disappears back into the smoke to turn the meat, and I move closer to the back door, so we can continue speaking. It kills me that he doesn’t believe what I know to be true.
‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow,’ he says, though I can no longer see him. ‘I don’t want Grace finding out about what happened. Is that clear? Your arrest is off-topic for this evening.’
As if I want to talk about it anymore anyway. I’d rather put the whole sorry episode behind me, and never mention it again.
Chapter Forty
Before – Morag
Mitch arrived an hour ago, and after Angus explained what had happened today, he hasn’t been off his phone, talking to his so-called contacts. At least he’s wearing more suitable attire, though if I didn’t know better I’d have said we were speaking to a totally different person. This Mitch is in faded blue jeans, boots, and a checked shirt. He’d fit in perfectly at a line-dancing function. It really is amazing how he has transformed himself from the exercise enthusiast we met the other morning. Part of me wonders whether the change in appearance is for our benefit, so that we can feel more confident about his ability to blend into any situation without being recognised. Of course, he very well may have been on his way somewhere else when Angus called and demanded he come round.
Angus is so pale. He’s trying to put a brave face on it, but there is an ever-present sheen on his forehead, and his breathing is erratic. I have to keep looking over to make sure he isn’t having a heart attack. Daisy is now tucked up in bed. She can sense something bad has happened, and kept asking what was going on. I think I managed to cover, telling her that we’d had some sad news about her Auntie Gwen being taken ill. I don’t want to tell her the truth; that her father has come looking for her again. You can pick your friends, but not your family, and it isn’t fair on her to be left to face him.
I should probably cook some food for Angus and me, as I haven’t eaten all day, and if he’s been fending for himself he’s probably only had toast, but neither of us feels hungry. Today’s events have robbed me of my appetite.
Angus explained his plan to me, and whilst I think it is a noble idea, I know deep down it won’t work. His hope to arrange a meeting between him and Tommy on neutral territory, and to then offer money to buy us out of this situation, seems naïve, though Angus insists it is our only option. I wish one of us had the strength and bravery just to kill the bastard, but the truth is neither of us has a violent bone in our body. Even if confronted with a life-or-death situation, I don’t think I’d have it in me to end another person’s life.
Can we really make a deal with the devil?
Mitch hangs up the phone and returns to the dining table where we’re seated. ‘I wish you’d told me all this background when you hired me. If I’d realised why you wanted me to look up Tommy Chamberlain – and you’d even hinted at exactly who he is – I probably would have thought twice about agreeing to help you.’
I feel like a naughty schoolchild being chastised by an angry teacher, and I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
‘That said, I can see how concerned you both are, and I’m not about to leave you high and dry. We have a contract, and I will honour it.’
I can feel the tension ease in Angus’ shoulders beside me.
‘I have reached out to some contacts I have up north, and mooted the idea of the meet-up. They couldn’t say whether Tommy would agree to it, but they did agree that nothing appeals more to him than money, so you never know.’
/>
‘Does he know where we are?’ I ask, desperate to know the truth one way or another. The thought of him suddenly appearing at our door fills me with dread.
‘I can’t say for certain,’ Mitch replies. ‘As I told you the other day, the guys I spoke to suggested that he was no longer looking for you, but what you’ve told me today contradicts that. If you’re worried, I’d suggest checking in to a hotel for the night, or even speaking to the police.’
If only it was that easy. In some way, I’d like to come clean and admit what we did, but to do so would be to give up Daisy, and I won’t do that.
‘What about my sister?’ I ask, conscious that Gwen is at his mercy.
‘I can’t tell you anything about her situation. My contact said Tommy is out of town on family business, but he couldn’t confirm where or why. Do you have any other family up that way you could speak to, to go and check on your sister?’
‘She’s all I have left,’ I say, dabbing my eyes.
It’s my fault she’s in danger. I’d naively assumed Tommy would never go and trouble her, because she didn’t know where we were, but I should have considered that he’d be willing to do anything to get his daughter back.
‘When will we know if he’ll accept our offer?’ Angus asks, his voice strained.
‘Could be tonight, but more likely tomorrow. The best thing you can do is carry on as if everything is normal, for your daughter’s sake. I will let you know as soon as I do.’
‘What about Jess and Charlie?’ I ask, having told him about Jess’s chance appearance at the shop in Harrow. ‘Are they working for him?’
Mitch shrugs. ‘He has a network of contacts around the country, but their names haven’t come up in any of the searches I’ve done. If you’re not sure about them, just keep away.’
