“I’ll open a window.” In two movements, I’m out of my seat and letting some air in. “It’s always too warm in here.”
“What else can you tell me about Robert?”
“He adored his son, Jack, and got on well with my Dad, Roger. He had lots of good friends at his cycle club and his golf club. He loved both – he died whilst out on his bike.”
“I heard. I can’t imagine what you must be going through. No one expects to lose their spouse at your age.”
I expect most wives would be in floods of tears in front of a funeral celebrant by now. Not me. I’m more curious about the word celebrant. It’s a strange word to describe a person who officiates a funeral.
“Anything else? What about closer friends, or things he was passionate about? What made Rob, Rob?”
If Bryony were sat in my place, she’d probably be able to give a very detailed answer. She would claim to have known him far better than I did. Rob and I never really had the sort of heart-to-hearts and intimacy that a lot of couples say they have. Either I was too drunk, or he was too tired. Our relationship became perfunctory.
I don’t think he was far from leaving me. I’m unsure what to tell this man. But I must tell him something. “He loved the Hornby set, which he set up with our son. His own dad had apparently wanted one for him, but could not afford it back then. Rob loved Only Fools and Horses, and his favourite band was Coldplay.”
“Ah, that reminds me, what songs would you like, going in, and at the end.”
The end. I’m dreading that. When the final curtain draws around his coffin. I always thought they derived the term the final curtain from theatre performances, but I have a new perspective now. I’ve already thought about music. I didn’t mean to, but it was going around and around my head in the middle of the night, like everything does. “It’s got to be Yellow by Coldplay on the way in, and Someone Like You, by Adele, at the end. It was ‘our’ song.
I’m devastated by what’s come to light since Rob died, and that it has confirmed my suspicions about his friendship with Bryony. However, I am gutted he’s dead. I miss him more than I could have ever thought possible. I’ve just got to get through Friday. Another thing I decided in the middle of the night is that I’m going to make an appointment to see him before his funeral. If I don’t, I think I will regret it.
* * *
Hopefully, no one will notice
that my eyes are bone dry
I’m just interested in getting beyond the day now.
Chapter 40
The shrieking, shouting and overhead thuds sound alien in a home in which a funeral service was being discussed just over an hour ago. It’s true what they say about kids being robust. Jack is racing around with Sam like he hasn’t got a care in the world. No one would guess that this is a boy whose dad died last week.
Once we return to some sort of normality, Jack will be the one who will ensure I get through it all. Somehow. Looking after him will keep me going. Being his mum will provide the fire that will help me fight for this house, and to clear my name.
I get pizza delivered for the boys and call them to the dining room table. I’ve set up Jack’s streamers and balloons. He gasps as he walks in. I listen to their conversation as I pour them a glass of pop. Suspension bridges. I pinch a slice of pizza and leave them to it. Settling down in the lounge, I smile at the rising noise. It sounds as though there are five of them in there.
“Mum!” Jack shakes my shoulder. I can’t believe I’ve fallen asleep whilst looking after someone else’s child. I don’t think Sam’s spotted me sleeping, thankfully. That would sound good being talked about in the school playground.
“Are you ready for your film?” I try to disguise my weariness.
The house falls silent as they become consumed by the latest Spiderman movie. I clear the pizza debris and begin tackling the ironing pile, needing to get moving. If I stop, I think too much.
I jump as the doorbell echoes through the house. It must be Lynne, though she’s half an hour early. Smiling, I pull the door open and the cat shoots past me. There’s nobody there. Puzzled, I look up and down the street. I wasn’t hearing things. The doorbell really rang. “Jack, did you hear the doorbell?”
“Um, I dunno.” He doesn’t avert his gaze from the TV as I poke my head into the lounge.
I return to my ironing, burning myself when the doorbell cuts into my thoughts again.
“Hi Lynne, come in.”
She steps into the hallway and looks around. “Have you tied them up somewhere? It’s so quiet.”
I laugh, the sound foreign to me. “I’ve hardly seen them since I brought them back. They’re totally glued to Spiderman. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, if it’s no trouble.”
“None at all.”
She follows me to the kitchen. “What a lovely home you’ve got.” She sounds surprised. I should ask her what she was expecting.
“Thanks. Although Jack and I are going to be rattling around it now. Originally, we had planned to have more children.”
She rests her hand on my arm as I flick the kettle switch. “I honestly can’t imagine what it must be like for you.”
I’m getting sick of people saying this. It’s one of the most trotted out after-death sayings. “Don’t even try.” I turn cups over from the draining board.
“Has Sam behaved himself?”
“I barely knew I had him. It’s been wonderful for Jack. He can come anytime. How do you have your tea?”
“Have you got any fruit teas?”
Amazingly, I have a box of five berries blend. I don’t tell Lynne that it has been in the cupboard for about four years. I bought it when I was trying to kick the drink back then. I thought if I had nice things in the house to drink, I would stay away from alcohol. “There you go. Have a seat.” I point towards the breakfast bar.
“Thanks. How are you feeling about Friday?”
“I’m absolutely dreading it.” I place the mug in front of her.
“Do you need any help with anything?”
Paying for it. I bite my tongue. “Thanks, but everything is under control.”
“I’m planning to come along. Pay my respects. And look after you.”
I should thank her, but I’m taken aback. “Oh.” Be nosy, she means. We’ve looked after each other’s sons a few times, and she’s acting like we’ve known each other for years. I don’t trust her. One wrong word about anything and it will be all around the school. I’m sure of it.
If she notices my reticence, she says nothing. “I can collect Jack from school on Friday. If you want me to, that is. I’m sure you’ll be needing to drown your sorrows at the wake.”
“Didn’t I mention I don’t drink?” I’m becoming exasperated with her suggesting that I do.
“Well, yes. But, it’s just, Jake’s Mum, Meloney, saw you leaving the pub in the centre last week – what day was it?” She looks thoughtful, but I can tell she knows exactly what day it was. “Erm, Friday, I think.”
She’s fishing. Great. That one will be all around the school. “I fell off the wagon. Anyone would, in my circumstances.”
“Gosh, I’m not judging you Fiona. Not one bit. I’d fall to bits in your shoes, never mind get drunk.” She takes a sip from her cup and seems to pull a face. I can vouch for the fact that fruit berry blend tastes like floor cleaner. “Have they any idea who did it to him yet? You must be dying to get your hands on them.”
“No. None whatsoever. It’s not the greatest area for CCTV, is it? Around here?”
She gives me a strange look, and I wonder if she knows that I’m under investigation. I’m sure she does. Nothing stays secret in this little town. Instead she says, “Is Bryony planning to go to the funeral?”
At first, I think I’m hearing things. “What are you getting at Lynne? How much do you know?” My voice is shaky. I don’t want to talk about it with her.
“You know what it’s like around here? I knew she and your
husband were friends. And that you went around to see her.”
“Yes, on both counts. But, look Lynne. I’m sure you mean well, but this is an ongoing inquiry. I can’t talk about it, to you, or anyone.”
“But you can trust me, can’t you?” She sips at her tea again. I’m glad I didn’t quite boil the kettle. She might drink it faster. “You trust me with your son, don’t you?”
“I trust very few people right now. In fact, I’ve never felt more alone.”
“Oh, Fiona.” She slides from her stool and lands at my side. “You’re not alone.” She throws her arm across my shoulder. It’s a small comfort, having the warmth of another person’s limb against me.
“Why did you mention Bryony?”
“My daughter Chloe, goes to Guides with her niece, Ella, and also your stepdaughter.”
“Simone?”
“Yes. She has told them she was off school last Monday when it happened.”
“When Rob died? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Rob and his ex apparently had a right go at each other. Simone was too upset to go to school after her dad had let her down.”
“When did she tell them this?”
“On Thursday, at Guides. And Ella says that Bryony has been really upset. I thought you should know.”
“Right.” I say slowly, trying to think. So that might have been the reason for the delay in Rob getting to Denton Road. Though I can’t imagine he would have been rowing with Denise for one hour, twenty minutes. He’s not usually in her presence for over five seconds. I bet he went to Bryony’s as well. “I must pass this information onto the police.” I want Lynne to go. It’s all too much. I need to be on my own.
Luckily, Jack bursts into the kitchen. “Spiderman has finished.”
Sam follows him, rubbing his eyes and heading straight to Lynne’s side. “I’m tired Mum.”
“We’d better be off,” she says. “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll be there for you.”
Jack, for the first time since Rob died, is out like a light. Now I know he will not have any brothers or sisters, I must invite his friends around more. Both Rob and I grew up as only children, which was one of the reasons we had vowed to have more children ourselves. But my drinking and our widening gulf put a stop to that. I can’t imagine meeting someone else in the future – I mean, who would want me, especially with all my baggage?
I glance out of the window. Although it’s the middle of summer, the sky is dark. It looks like it will throw it down. There might even be a storm. That is probably what we need to clear the air. I flick the lamp on and pull the curtains across. It is strange to spend the evening alone – almost for the first time since Rob died. There was only the very first night, when he died, that I was on my own. Either Mum or Dad has been here since.
I flick the TV on. The local news is starting. There’s nothing about Rob anymore. He’s old news now. Until they charge someone, then it will be back up there again. No news is good news. I still haven’t heard a thing about what’s going on. Not even a court date for the aggravated assault. Although they might stall that, whilst they try to gather evidence for further crimes against me. I’ll have to see. I’m trying not to worry, although these days I feel like the weather outside. The calm before the storm.
My thought’s wonder. It’s half-past nine and this time eight years ago, Jack was on the verge of being born. Rob didn’t leave my side the whole time and wept when Jack made his entrance at ten to ten. I couldn’t have loved a man more than I loved Rob back then. He had been wonderful whilst I was pregnant. He more than made up for the indifference of my mother.
A fat tear plops from my chin onto the magazine I’ve been clutching since I sat down. I can’t focus on reading, TV, or anything. There must be something severely wrong with me. Mum can’t stand me, Dad follows her around like a puppy, Grandma’s gone, and now Rob.
I haven’t really got any friends to speak of. I’d hardly class Lynne as a friend, no matter how nosy she is, and Christina hasn’t been near since I got arrested. I’ll knock on her door tomorrow as I’ve got no phone. Normally I’d have replaced it by now, but it’s slipped my mind with all that is going on. I don’t like being ignored by Christina – I thought she cared about me. As for Jack, I feel sure he’ll turn on me one day. Everybody does. The TV drones on. More self-pitying tears slide down my face. I feel so alone.
I freeze as I hear a bang from outside. Like something has been knocked over. Then the shattering of glass. Unless it’s an animal of some description, someone’s in the back garden. The front door is locked, but I don’t think I locked either of the back doors.
Throwing my magazine to the floor, I bolt from the lounge, through the dining room and into the conservatory. The door isn’t just unlocked, it’s swinging in the breeze. Sweat runs down the side of my head. It’s so warm. Fear grips me. Where’s the key? I grapple around the conservatory, desperate to get the door locked, so I can check the utility room.
Movement in the corner of my vision diverts my attention from my search. Someone is at the bottom of the garden. And I can’t find the bloody key.
“Who’s there?” I call into the dusk. I should call the police. But the landline is in the lounge and I daren’t risk walking away from this door, leaving it unlocked. I think of Jack sleeping upstairs. What happens to him if someone hurts me?
Mum’s smug face swims into my mind. If she hadn’t taken Dad away, then I wouldn’t even be here on my own. Self-centred cow. If someone is out there, they’re not making themselves known to me. I need to either get this house locked up or ring the police. Sharpish. In the absence of a key, I decide on option two and dash back through the house.
Who would prowl around my house at this time of night? Then I remember. I’m not exactly short of enemies at the moment, that’s for sure. Perhaps Turner has come to finish what he started. I can’t imagine it being Phillip Bracken – skulking around someone’s garden in the shadows wouldn’t be his style. It could be Bryony, having sent someone round after what I did to her, or Denise – I’m not exactly her favourite person either, especially now I’ve given the details of her car to the police. And I’ve yet to let them know she was with Rob before he died.
The call connects straight away. I hear a bang. It sounds like the conservatory door. I grab a heavy vase from the windowsill. “I think someone’s in the house,” I hiss at the operator as my breath catches. “And I’m here on my own with my eight-year-old son.”
“There’s a police unit on its way,” she assures me after getting my address. “I’m going to ask you to stay on the line until they get there. Just to make sure you’re both alright.”
“Thank you.” I’m clutching the phone like it will save me.
“Can you hear anything now?”
I sit, as still as Jack would when he’s trying to extend his bedtime and not be noticed. “Nothing,” I reply. “There was someone in the garden though, and they could have got into the house. I heard a door bang when I first got on the phone to you. But, I daren’t look.”
“Can you get to the room where your son is sleeping? Make sure he’s OK? It’s probably best if you stay together until the police get there.”
I swing the lounge door open, look both ways along the hallway, and shoot towards the foot of the stairs. There doesn’t seem to be anyone here. Thank God I’ve got a landline after my phone was smashed. “I’m on my way upstairs,” I say to the operator. “How long will they be?” If there is anyone in the house, hopefully they can hear me on the phone to the police and will make a run for it.
“Just a couple more minutes,” she says. “They’re coming through the town centre. Stay on the phone. Are you with your son yet?”
“I’m outside his room.” I peer around the door, noticing his shape in the semi darkness, his arms around the bear he has started to need at bedtime again. “He’s fine. I’m going to stay out here, right outside his room. I don’t want to w
ake him whilst talking to you.”
I jump as there’s a noise from the dining room. “There’s someone in the house,” I whisper to the operator. The phone against my ear shakes in my grip. Who is it? What do they want? Mercifully, I can hear sirens in the distance. “I think they’re coming,” I say, heading to the top of the stairs, whilst willing Jack to stay asleep. This is the last thing I should put him through on top of everything else.
The utility room door bangs, and I hear the sound of footsteps dying away from the house. I rush to the side window where I can see the blue flash of an approaching police van. Then the back landing window, where only the dark shapes of conifer trees are visible. Whoever it is, or was, could have got over the back fence and away down the snicket. I don’t think they would have risked escaping via the front of the house, especially with the sirens.
I swing the front door open as four police officers jump from the van. The cat runs back in with them. Thank goodness she’s OK. Two comb the garden, whilst the other two, both women, do a check of the house to ensure whoever was there has gone. They introduce themselves as PC Richmond and PC Ellison. I follow them around.
“Who lives here with you?”
Something inside me plummets as I explain my husband has just died.
“They seem to have been scared off by our arrival,” PC Ellison says, looking around.
“There’s several people with an axe to grind with me.” I reel off my enemies and their possible ‘axes.’ But if someone wanted to attack me, they had plenty of chance before the police arrived, especially with both back doors being open.
“You must keep everything locked now.” PC Richmond shines a torch into the utility room. I can see the two male officers through the window, shining torches under bushes in the back garden.
“Whoever was here seems to be long gone,” she says. “But we will have a drive around and double check no one is hanging about.” She glances at Milly, sat, obliviously licking her paws. “Never mind this cat – perhaps you should get yourself a dog!”
Hit and Run Page 22
