Perhaps then, the police would have made the connection with Sylvester’s death. They might have looked in the right direction and found the person responsible.
And Nathan would still be alive.
43
Keri couldn’t discuss her fears with her family so she did what she had to and hid behind her mask of sorrow.
A constant flow of people came and went, with long faces and words of condolence that she learned to accept with a simple thank you. Louisa made pots of tea and coffee, plates of sandwiches, set out cups and saucers, glasses for those who wanted something stronger.
Like it was a bloody party.
Keri looked around the room on Saturday evening. Friends had come, staff from Metcalfe Conservation, some of their suppliers and customers. Drinking, eating, and chatting. She wanted to sweep the glasses and cups from the table, wanted to throw the plates of food so carefully prepared by Louisa, wanted to scream at them and tell them all to get out.
Perhaps Keri would have done, but then Chris Dolan was at her side, genuine sadness in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Keri.’ He fiddled with the glass he was holding. ‘Nathan gave me my first break, you know, I’ll be forever grateful for that. If there’s anything I can do for you, all you need to do is say.’
‘Oh, Chris.’ She put her arms around him as her anger faded. These people were here because they cared. She spent the rest of the evening chatting to as many as she could, swopping anecdotes about funny things Nathan had said and done. There were multiple promises of support that Keri knew were genuine. She thanked them all.
Sunday was quiet. Friends of Daniel and Abbie’s had stayed over and with little encouragement they went out to brunch in a local pub.
Keri insisted on cooking breakfast for Louisa and Philip. ‘I owe you so much, it’s the least I can do.’ She put three plates of food on the table and sat. ‘I’m going to go into the office tomorrow.’ The expression on Louisa’s face was almost comical. ‘I have obligations. There are things that only I can do.’
‘But surely–’
‘No, some things can’t wait. The business has commitments that Nathan’s death doesn’t change. Anyway–’ She pushed a hand through her hair, wondering when she’d brushed it last. ‘–it will do me good to get out of the house.’
‘If you’re sure.’
‘I am. And also, that you should go home.’ She saw surprise and a hint of doubt flicker on Louisa and Philip’s faces and hurried to reassure them. ‘I’m so grateful for you being here the last couple of days, it’s made this horrendous time a little easier but I think it would be good to grab onto a bit of normality.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure. But if you change your mind, if you need us, we’re at the end of the phone, okay?’ Philip reached for her hand. ‘You still happy to leave the funeral arrangements to me?’
‘Oh absolutely. It’s such a weight off to have you do that.’
‘If there’s anything we can do, you only need to ask,’ Louisa said, taking Keri’s other hand. ‘We’re here for you.’
They were there for her, but it wasn’t them she wanted. Keri brushed away the thought and held on tightly to their hands.
It was early afternoon before Philip and Louisa left. Eva hadn’t returned from brunch. ‘She can make her own way home,’ Louisa said, unconcerned. ‘Or she might want to stay over, if that would be okay?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Keri said. ‘She’s welcome to stay for as long as she likes. It’s good for Daniel and Abbie to have someone their own age to talk to.’
‘Ring anytime,’ Louisa said giving Keri a hug.
‘I will.’ Keri waited while they got into their car, then waved until they disappeared around a bend in the road.
And then she was alone.
She’d been alone before, of course, many times but not like this. Not this unending gaping hole of loneliness that stretched as far as she could see.
Keeping busy seemed to be the solution. She rang the employment agency. When she gave her name, the reaction was shocked silence followed by a babble of commiserations.
‘Thank you,’ Keri said interrupting her. ‘I hope Luke is still available. Metcalfe Conservation will be opening the office as usual tomorrow.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll get on to him immediately.’
‘Thank you.’ Keri hung up and dropped the phone on the table. It would get less gut churning eventually. When every new conversation didn’t elicit the same reaction.
Every member of the company’s staff had called in to offer condolences over the last few days. Nobody mentioned the business, but she had no doubt they were concerned about its future. She sent a short message in the company WhatsApp group. Metcalfe Conservation will be open as usual tomorrow. It was too stark and impersonal. She added, Nathan loved this business, it’s not going to change, and sent it.
Keri filled more time in rearranging the kitchen. Louisa had moved things around and put things in the wrong place. It was satisfying to restore the status quo here at least.
An hour later, when Keri had rearranged everything, even things that didn’t need to be moved, when the silence of the house was becoming depressing, she heard the front door open. She heard the muted sounds of her children’s voices with a relief that sent her heart sinking. She wasn’t going to be one of those sad widows who clung onto their children to relieve their despair.
‘Hi,’ she said, almost too brightly as they came through the door. ‘Did you have a good brunch?’
‘The usual,’ Abbie said, looking around with a frown. ‘Where’re Louisa and Philip?’
‘They’ve gone home.’ Keri turned to Eva. ‘They weren’t sure how long you were going to be so they said you could either make your own way home or stay here again. It’s up to you, you’re welcome to stay.’
‘Oh, do.’ Daniel went to the fridge, pulled it open and grabbed a couple of beers. He knocked the cap off both and handed one to Eva. ‘Here you go. We can go upstairs and watch that movie I was telling you about if you’d like?’
Eva held the bottle and looked at Keri. ‘If you’re sure it’s okay, I might stay another night. I’ve no lectures till late tomorrow.’
‘Of course.’ She did a shooing action with her hands. ‘Go, watch the movie.’ She wasn’t surprised when Abbie stayed behind. ‘I was going to make a cup of tea, would you like one?’
‘Please.’
It wasn’t until they were sitting with a mug of tea before them that Abbie spoke. ‘You’ll be okay, won’t you, Mum?’
‘Eventually.’
Abbie sighed as if it were the answer she expected. ‘What are you going to do about the company?’
Keri had picked up her tea. She held it to her mouth and took a sip before putting it down. ‘Open tomorrow as usual. It’s what your father would have wanted.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Abbie looked horrified. ‘Isn’t that a bit too soon?’
‘I was the same age as you are now when your father and I married, but we’d known each other for years before that. I can’t imagine him not being with me, can’t believe I’ll never hear his voice again. The thought of carrying on the business without him is so painful that I’m not sure I can bear it, but the thought of letting him down is even worse.’ She reached for her daughter’s hand. ‘I need to go in tomorrow. To get that first awful step over with. If I didn’t… if I left it for days, weeks… I’m not sure I’d ever go back. And your dad would be disappointed in me.’
Abbie brushed away tears. ‘Okay, I understand. Why don’t I go in with you? That would make it easier, wouldn’t it?’
It would but it was just passing that difficult first step to another day.
Keri leaned over, kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘What would make it easier for me, would be knowing that you and Daniel were getting on with your lives. I’ll be okay.’
44
Keri took a taxi to the office on Monday. When it pulled up outside, panic gripped her. Could she re
ally do this?
She stepped out and stood looking up at the sign across the front of the building. Metcalfe Conservation. So much hard work… so much fun… and what a success they’d made of it. She and Nathan should have had years yet to enjoy it all.
The automatic door swished open when she approached. She walked inside as nausea hit her making her swallow frantically and look around in panic. She needed to get out of there. The doors had shut behind her but if she moved back they’d open again. She could run away. Abbie was right, it was too soon.
Too soon, too late. Too bloody everything.
Luke must have seen her distress because suddenly he was there, a hand on her elbow guiding her to a chair. He left her, hurried away, and returned a moment later with a glass of water.
‘Here you go.’
The glass was pressed into her hand. She would have liked to have thrown it, smashed it. Smashed all the damn glass in that ridiculous reception, those stupid walls which meant she’d be on view all day. The grieving widow.
She sipped the water she didn’t need or want because what she did need, what she wanted so desperately, would never be available again, and because Luke was being kind and right at that moment she didn’t know what else to do.
‘Thank you.’ She handed him the glass back and got to her feet. ‘I’ll be fine now.’
Luke, it appeared, could see a lie. He waited, walked with her to her office and didn’t leave until she was sitting behind her desk.
Keri managed a smile for him before he left. Maybe he wasn’t too unlike Roy after all. Perhaps she’d ask him if he wanted to stay with them. It would require a release fee to the agency but it would be worth it to have one less thing to worry about.
As she’d expected, all the staff who were in that day came to see her over the first few hours. Chris, saviour that he was, brought her a coffee. She was even more touched to see he’d not bought it in the café where Nathan had been killed.
She sipped it, looking out over reception, trying to stop her eyes drifting to the right to Nathan’s office. It would be as he’d left it on Friday before he went out for those damn coffees. The thought sent a wave of anger through her and she threw the coffee, the almost-full container hitting the glass wall and releasing its contents in a splash of beige.
Luke turned a startled face her way as Keri gulped down a sob and dropped her face into her cupped hands. She didn’t look up when she heard the door open or when she heard the footsteps, the distinct sound of sheets of paper being torn from a roll. Only when the door opened and shut minutes later did she straighten.
The mess had been cleaned up with only a smear on the glass proof of her temporary insanity.
She switched on her computer, read through and answered emails until the words blurred on the screen and her tear-filled eyes stung. When Chris called in at lunchtime to see if she wanted anything, she pushed the keyboard away. ‘A mineral water, please.’
‘You need to eat something, Keri.’
‘I’m fine, honestly, just the water would be good.’
When he returned twenty minutes later, it was with a bottle of water and a sandwich. ‘In case you get peckish,’ he said putting it on the desk.
His simple kindness brought more tears that made him flush with embarrassment. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I might eat a little.’ She picked it up when he’d gone. Egg and cress, he knew it was one of her favourites. She opened the package but the smell of egg sent a wave of nausea over her and she closed it again. Maybe later. She shoved it into a drawer out of the way.
She picked up her phone to make the call she’d been putting off. It took a while to get through the layers of administrators, secretaries and unnamed persons who answered as her call was transferred from A to B and on again.
Finally, she heard a voice she’d recognise forever. Tina Bailey, the vascular surgeon who’d operated on Nathan that last day. ‘Thank you for taking my call,’ Keri said. ‘I’ve been worrying about something and needed to ask you.’
‘I’ll answer if I can, Mrs Metcalfe.’
‘Mr Winfield, the surgeon who operated on my husband on Friday, said there were no underlying injuries, that it was soft tissue and would heal easily.’
‘Yes.’ A sigh came down the line. ‘Your husband had lost quite a lot of blood prior to and during surgery and there was some indication he was dehydrated because his blood pressure was quite low. When we opened the wound, we identified damage to the carotid artery. Because your husband was dehydrated it was easy to miss during the initial surgery, but once he was well hydrated it looks as though it was unable to withstand the increase in pressure.
‘You have our deepest commiserations for your husband’s death, Mrs Metcalfe. I know it won’t be any consolation but we will be doing an internal investigation as to why the original injury was missed.’
No consolation, how could it be. ‘You said by the time the staff were alerted, he’d already lost too much blood but he had a blood pressure monitor on, why didn’t that alarm?’
‘It’s something we will be asking.’ The surgeon’s voice was resigned rather than angry as if dealing with this kind of problem was an everyday occurrence. ‘Your husband wasn’t considered to be in any danger, it is possible that the alarm had been switched off.’
‘But…’ Keri swallowed the lump in her throat. She needed to ask this final question. Otherwise, it would haunt her. ‘If I’d been there… if I’d not gone to talk with the detective, then I’d have noticed something was wrong, wouldn’t I? He could have been saved then. Am I right? If I’d been with him…’ She ended on a cry of despair.
The surgeon was clearly a pragmatic woman who believed in honesty especially when it was the easier option. ‘If you’d been there, you’d probably have assumed your husband was asleep. You might have noticed blood on the dressing after a minute or two. You probably wouldn’t have thought to ring the emergency bell, instead, you’d have gone in search of a nurse, and you might eventually have found one who was free to go back with you. To be frank, I think by that stage it was already too late.’
Keri heard noise on the line.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Metcalfe, I need to go. Once again, I’m so sorry for your loss but take my advice, stop beating yourself up. Nothing you did or didn’t do that day was going to make any difference.’
45
Keri put the phone down and sat back. The tears had stopped. Too numb to cry. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to make that call. Perhaps she’d been looking for someone to blame. The detective for pulling her away from Nathan’s side, the surgeon, Winfield, who’d boasted of his sewing skills. Anyone.
Even that smiling enthusiastic boy whose death had started it all.
All she could do was wait for the police to catch the person who was really to blame for Nathan’s death.
It was almost 2pm when she looked up from yet another email offering condolences to see DI Elliot at her office door. She sat back and waved him in. ‘Hello. I wasn’t expecting you. Have you news for me?’ Would it make it easier to know they’d caught the person who’d taken Nathan from her? She wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t make it worse.
The detective was wearing yet another of his garish ties. It was an odd symbol of normality in her increasingly strange world.
Elliot pulled a chair closer to the desk and sat. ‘No, I’ve no news, I’m afraid. Actually, I wasn’t expecting to find the office open. I was interviewing staff in the café and decided to retrace your husband’s steps.’
Keri bridled at what she took as criticism. She straightened in the chair, her hands gripping the armrests. ‘The company meant a lot to Nathan, I wanted to make sure it didn’t suffer.’
Elliot held a hand up. ‘I intended no offence, Mrs Metcalfe. I’ve learned that people handle grief in a myriad of ways. Some jump straight back into their lives, some withdraw completely. Neither way is right or wrong.’
Annoyance vanished in a long sigh, her shoulders slumpi
ng, hands reaching for each other, fingers intertwining, holding on. ‘It’s been a tough weekend, but I’m lucky, I have family and friends to support me.’
‘That makes a difference.’
‘Yes,’ she said with a slight smile. ‘So did your kindness on Friday. I don’t know if I thanked you, some of that day is a bit of a blur to be honest.’
‘You did thank me, several times.’ He shuffled in his chair. ‘Do you think you’re up to answering questions?’
Questions? Keri’s eyes narrowed slightly. Elliot was a police officer not a friend. It might be a good idea to remember that. ‘Sure. What do you need to know?’
‘It seems pretty clear there is a connection between the attack on your husband and the murder of Dexter Sylvester. The wreath and the animal entrails left outside his business, you already know about, but we checked Mr Sylvester’s phone and he, like your husband, had a message that said, remember JC.’
‘Jim Cody. He was only sixteen.’ Keri shook her head sadly. ‘Nathan never told me, you know, kept it a secret all these years. Twenty-three years ago, we were struggling to get by and he thought he was doing the right thing.’ She saw Elliot shake his head. ‘What?’
‘Even twenty-three years ago, it was the wrong decision to make and from the little I know of you, I don’t think you’d have let the boy’s death slide. That’s why he didn’t tell you then, isn’t it?’
He was right, of course, but Keri cringed at the image the detective appeared to have of her as this straight-thinking, truthful, virtuous woman. She had pushed to the back of her mind the idea that everything might have turned out differently if she’d told the police about the wreath in the very beginning. But it squirmed guiltily, jabbing her brain with a vicious sharpness.
The Couple in the Photograph Page 16
