Hit and Run

by Maria Frankland

  Simone has left some. The card says ‘Daddy.’ At ten years old, surely, she’s a bit old to have still called him Daddy.

  A bouquet of lilies has been left by the cycle club. The card reads. RIP to our friend Rob. Our outings will never be the same without you.

  White roses have been laid beside them. I flick the card over Bx. No prizes for guessing who has left that one. I’m going to give it another day or two to see if the police turn anything up and then I am going to pay the husband-stealing bitch a visit.

  It’s another scorcher today, but I can’t get warm. I must be the only person in Yorkshire to be wearing jeans and a jumper. Rob always used to call me a reptile. I’ll miss being able to warm my cold feet on him in the winter. Well, at any time of the year. As I look again at the flattened patch of grass where he finished up, I shiver. I remember a saying Grandma used to come out with, it’s like someone has walked over my grave. I don’t know why I came here. It will not change a thing.

  As I return to the car, I notice a sign the police have left. It’s one of those Accident. Please help signs. Monday 8th June. 10:30 am. Contact 111. I have only seen them before at the scene of fatal accidents. They’ve always stopped me in my tracks, compelling me to consider the human tragedy behind them. I could never have imagined that one day they would tell a story I’m a character in.

  This is partly why I keep myself to myself in life. If you don’t get close to anyone, you can’t get hurt. Grief is the price you pay for love. I could go further than that and say, betrayal is the price you pay for trust, and abandonment is what you pay for loyalty, but that would show how cynical I’ve become. With a life like I’ve had, it’s no wonder.

  I’m certainly worse since I had Jack. I struggled to bond with him at first. But luckily, I had an insight into myself and knew I was suffering from postnatal depression. I told them about my mother’s experience of it, so they kept a close eye on me. They told me that Mum must have suffered from a severe form – postpartum psychosis.

  Thank God I never got that bad, but I really thought either something would happen to Jack if I got too close, or that someone might take him away from me. I was obsessed with the idea that he might die from cot death and would check on him constantly, even though I had one of those alarms. I don’t think I’ll ever have any more children. Besides, I’d have to get close to a man for that, and I can say, hand on heart, that I never will.

  I can’t believe I’m even thinking these thoughts here, at the spot where Rob died. I glance at my watch. Quarter past ten. This time, forty-eight hours ago, he was still alive.

  * * *

  I didn’t notice anyone else around.

  Luckily, the side of the car took the impact,

  resulting in a mere well-placed clip.

  Not much damage at all.

  Chapter 16

  A police car crouches like a panther alongside the garden wall. My heart seems to fill my throat as I consider what new information they might be about to impart. Dad is watching my arrival from where he sits in the lounge window. I see him rise from his seat, and he’s at the front door before me.

  “The police are here. Where’ve you been Fiona?” Concern is etched across his face. “I thought you were dropping Jack at school and coming straight back.”

  “I can see they’re here.” My voice is a hiss. Does he think I’m blind or something? “I went for a drive to clear my head. Or is that a crime now?”

  He gives me a look that says wind your neck in. “Do you want some tea? I’ve already made them some.”

  I resist the temptation to make a wisecrack about tea. He means well. “Yes. Thanks Dad. Sorry for snapping.”

  He squeezes my arm as I pass him. “It’s OK love.”

  “Morning Fiona.” DI Green gives me a weak smile as I enter the room and take the seat Dad has vacated. I swivel it around so I can face them.

  “How are you doing this morning?” PC Robinson nods at me in acknowledgement, squinting as he gets an eyeful of the sunshine behind me. They seem nicer than in the interview room yesterday. But I don’t trust them one bit. They’re probably here to try to trip me up.

  I tilt the blind. “OK, I suppose. I’ve got my son to keep me going, and my dad’s looking after me.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear you’ve got some support. Anyway,” DI Green takes a sip from her cup. “We’ve made some more inquiries which we’d like to speak to you about.”

  “OK. Did you get hold of Bryony?”

  “Who’s Bryony?” Dad passes me a mug, then sits in the armchair at the other side of the room from the police, so we’re all at right angles from each other. It’s stuffy in here this morning, but the cat looks happy. It’s enough to make me smile, although I don’t, to notice her stretched out in the sun on the windowsill. I’d swap lives with the cat right now.

  “Rob’s ex-girlfriend. She kept trying to ring him on the day he died.”

  Dad frowns but says nothing. I expect he might later. It appears he and I have been unknowingly going through the same thing.

  “We haven’t spoken with Bryony yet.” PC Robinson sets his mug down on the coffee table, ignoring the strategically placed coaster.

  I frown.

  “We’ve tried ringing and calling around to her house but haven’t got an answer. We will keep trying.”

  “We have been in touch with his ex-wife,” adds DI Green. “She’s coming in today to make a formal statement. We’re also here to ask if you’ve had any clarity about your location at the time of your husband’s death?”

  “I was here, ironing, like I told you.”

  “We need to take your mobile phone. Obviously, we’ll return it as soon as we have inspected it.”

  “Why do you want my phone? You’ve already seen the messages I sent Rob. We didn’t even text each other very often.”

  “It’s procedure.” PC Johnson leans forward so I can see the whites of his eyes behind DI Green’s head. “It’s more to rule you out, than to attempt to implicate you. Whichever signals your phone was picking up, will verify your whereabouts on Monday.”

  “There doesn’t appear to have been much love lost between Robert and his Denise, does there?” DI Green raises her gaze from her notepad to mine.

  “Surely that’s normal when people get divorced.” I wonder what they’re getting at here.

  “Denise tells me your marriage was in trouble.” DI Green glances at our large wedding photo above the fireplace. We look so happy. The photographer had said something funny but still – she really captured something between us. Who’d have thought things would end up where they have?

  “Denise wouldn’t know something like that, even if it was true. The only relationship Rob had with her these days was as a co-parent.”

  “That’s not how Denise saw it. She said Robert never arrived to pick up his daughter. And apparently, she has been struggling lately to even get maintenance from him. It has forced her to start a claim with the Child Support Agency.”

  “That’s total rubbish. She’s lying. He’s always gone to Simone’s parents evenings, sports days, and paid maintenance. I’ll find his bank statements and prove it to you.”

  “That might be helpful. It will hopefully turn up other information too. Do you know anything about your husband’s money problems Fiona?”

  What are they on about? Even Dad is looking worried now. “He didn’t have any, as far as I know.”

  “What bank accounts do you have, Fiona?

  “Just our joint ISA, and my current account,” I reply. I don’t spend a great deal. It’s been months since I even bought myself new clothes. I used to love clothes shopping, but not anymore.

  “We’ll need to have a look at the transactions for the last six months from your accounts?”

  “Why?”

  “Again. It’s procedure.”

  “I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m happy for you to look at my accounts, but I want to know more of what it’s about.”

&n
bsp; “All I can tell you at this stage is that it’s in connection to an ongoing investigation with Bracken Furniture.”

  “But what has all this got to do with my son-in-law’s death?” Dad looks baffled.

  “That’s what we’re looking into. I’m sorry to be hazy but we’re at the early stages of an ongoing inquiry.” DI Green puts her cup down. “Thanks for that. We don’t normally get offered a drink when we do home visits.” She straightens herself up. “Looking at accounts is just one line of enquiry we are pursuing.”

  “Do you know someone called James Turner?” PC Robinson looks at me. “We believe he’s the JT in your husband’s phone.”

  Momentarily, I feel relieved that I don’t have another woman to worry about. That he’s been having anything to do with Bryony is bad enough. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Could he be a friend of your husband’s?”

  “His name rings a bell.” James Turner. James Turner. I turn the name over in my mind. “Why? What’s he got to do with anything?”

  “If and when we can tell you more, we will,” DI Green says. “At this stage, we’re just asking you whether you know him.”

  Dad stands. “If you will not be clearer with your line of questioning, I suggest you get on with finding out who killed my son-in-law, and in the meantime, leave my daughter to grieve and get on with helping my grandson cope with all he’s going through.”

  DI Green and PC Robinson also stand.

  “I’m sorry we can’t tell you much.” She gives me a look I don’t like, “but I promise you, we’re following some substantial leads and conducting a thorough CCTV investigation. It‘s only a matter of time before we get to the bottom of what has happened.”

  “I’ll see you out.” Dad heads towards the lounge door.

  * * *

  The story is riding high in the media.

  But soon,

  it will be yesterday’s news.

  Just a couple more days,

  and then I’ll be able to breathe again.

  Chapter 17

  My head is killing me. I open a window, watching as the police car turns in the cul-de-sac and drives away.

  “You’ve said nothing about money troubles.” Dad sits back in the chair, spreading the newspaper across his lap.

  “We haven’t got money troubles.”

  “What’s happened to the money my mother left you?”

  “Dad, that was nine years ago.”

  “It was over half a million.”

  “Money doesn’t go anywhere these days. Besides, that’s why we were investing.”

  “Investing in what?”

  “Well, that’s what I need to look into. Rob’s had some of my money which he said would be returned ten times over.”

  “Do the police know about this?”

  “Of course they do. They’ve been through all of Rob’s text messages and bank accounts. I hate all this. All this poking into my private life.”

  “If you’ve nothing to hide…”

  Dad’s getting on my nerves today. He’s always got to be the voice of bloody reason. “I haven’t.”

  “How much did you give him?” He folds the newspaper into quarters.

  I sigh. “Thirty grand.” It sounds like a lot of money said out loud.

  “With no idea of what Rob was doing with it?”

  “Not entirely. There were two things. But you know me, Dad – financial stuff goes over my head.”

  “So what did he tell you?” Dad folds his arms and peers over the top of his glasses at me. “Go on. I’m interested.”

  “One investment was with a company of property developers. All I know is that it was something to do with a new shopping centre in Harrogate on some very sought after land. They had been granted preliminary planning permission, Rob said it was a go-er.”

  “That shouldn’t be too difficult to find out more about.” Dad raises his feet onto the pouffe. He always wears socks with a diamond pattern on. I’ve often bought him novelty socks for Father’s Day or his birthday, but have never seen him wear them. “What about the other one?”

  “That one’s more complicated. It’s a Chinese company. Some sort of data miner that diverts to other operations. It’s financial technology.”

  “Like a block chain?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you find out?”

  “I’m going to poke about in Rob’s office. You can help me if…” I avert my attention to a crunching sound as Mum’s car arrives on the gravelled driveway.

  “Were you expecting her?” Dad appears to pale beneath his beard as he puts his newspaper down.

  “No,” I reply. “She made it perfectly clear to me she was staying in Devon.” I stand to let her in, but she is already standing in the lounge doorway. Dad must have left the porch door unlocked after seeing the police out.

  “We weren’t expecting to see you Mum,” I try to keep my voice light. I’m relieved that I tidied up on Sunday. She’s one of those people who run their finger along surfaces to check for dust, even in someone else’s house. Although that’s the least of my worries amongst everything else.

  “I thought I’d better come back. Help you out.”

  “There’s no need,” Dad looks at the floor. “Like I said on the phone, I’m taking care of them. You might as well go back to where you came from.”

  “Don’t be like that love,” she replies, without looking at him. “I’m here now, anyway.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” I start towards the door. I can do without being piggy in the middle of their domestics. I make a coffee and carry it through to the conservatory, keen to escape their raised voices. I remember I opened the lounge window and regret it – the whole neighbourhood will hear them. I slide the conservatory door behind me, relieved that it muffles them out. They must sort it for themselves. I haven’t got the energy to get involved. All I know is that if I was in Dad’s shoes …

  The conservatory is my favourite room in the house. I turn the fan on and settle on the wicker sofa with my coffee. Everything around me looks familiar and unchanged. But my life has been rocked to its core. It all feels out of control and I’ve no idea what’s going to come next. The cat slinks from under the sofa and lands in my lap. I’m glad of her company even if it’s always on her terms.

  My head is spinning. There’s Bryony, then there’s this Turner, or JT. There’s Rob’s ex-wife with the accusations she’s making, and also the fact that he’s not even been going to work. Somebody knows more than I do. I decide that as soon as Mum and Dad have sorted their crap out, I’m going to look deeper into Rob’s business and personal relationships. I need to look through his office.

  Jostling me from my thoughts, Dad slides the conservatory door open with Mum hot on his heels. I can’t even have five minutes’ peace.

  “We can’t both stay here.” Dad takes the step down into the conservatory and looks at me. “Fiona. It’s your call. You know what’s going on between your mum and I – send one of us back to York.”

  “Come on Dad. You’re effectively asking me to choose between you both. That’s not fair.”

  “I’m sorry, love. You’re right.” He sits on the chair next to mine and looks at Mum, framed in the door, looking calmer than she did when she first arrived. “I’ll leave you with your mother. I can’t stand to be in the same room as you.” He glares at her. “Look after her Maggie, and Jack. Because if I find out that you’re issuing any more of your threats or ultimatums, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” Mum’s eyes narrow.

  “I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  “Just go home Roger. And don’t ever tell me how to be with my daughter.”

  I know it’s all Mum’s fault – the situation between her and dad, but I can’t help but feel slightly warmed at her referring to me as her daughter. It’s an unusual term for her. It almost gives me a sense of belonging.

  * * *

  Driving normally clears my he
ad.

  But I can’t think straight at the moment.

  I’m looking over my shoulder,

  and jumping every time the phone rings,

  or there’s a knock at the door.

  Chapter 18

  We’re still sat in the conservatory. Dad’s gone, and she’s barely looked up from her phone since he left.

  “So why did you come back Mum?”

  “I’ll talk to you about it later.” She still doesn’t give me her attention. “I’ve got to be somewhere at two o’clock.”

  “Where?” What are you up to now? That’s what I really want to say. I’m still baffled why she’s back. Something must have happened with Shane. That must be who she is madly texting.

  “The police station. They just want a quick statement from me. Because I was here the other morning - before Rob had his accident. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Yes, they told me they wanted a word. I guess it’s checking the times and any information that I’ve given them. Have you heard they’re treating his death as a hit and run?”

  She slips her phone back into her handbag and gazes out over the garden. “I heard it on the news on the drive back up. You seem to be bearing up well, considering. You must be made of tougher stuff than I give you credit for.” She doesn’t look at me.

  Not as tough as your décolletage, I want to say, bitchily. Someone should tell her that’s she’s too old to wear the low cut tops she does.

  “How’s Jack doing?” She’s still staring at the garden and is definitely not herself.

  I follow her gaze, noting that the lawn needs mowing. Rob’s always done that. I don’t even know how to switch the lawnmower on. “Pretty upset. He idolised his dad. I’m just taking it one day at a time. It’s not as though I haven’t known awful times before.”

  “Have the police got any ideas yet? Have they said anything to you?”