The Couple in the Photograph

by Valerie Keogh

  The crematorium couldn’t cope with the crowd who wanted to pay their respects and she was told that many had stood outside listening to the service. And afterwards, each of those who came had pressed her hand and offered sympathy. As if they could share her grief. As if they’d ever know how she felt. As if they ever could.

  Now it was over.

  An almost empty box of tissues sat on the corner of the desk. She pulled one out and blew her nose. The clear glass of her office walls had been frosted. She’d delayed returning till they were done, unable to face being on view while she was there.

  There was a mirror in her desk drawer, she pulled it out to check her face. Thanking Chanel for its waterproof mascara, she put the mirror away again and got to her feet. No point in putting it off.

  She left her office and crossed to Nathan’s… the other office she corrected herself… her steps slowing as she neared the door, her heart beating faster, head thumping. If she could only turn the clock back.

  Her knuckles hovered before hitting the glass door, in a firm rat-a-tat-tat.

  ‘Come in.’

  ‘I thought I should come and say hello,’ she said, peering around the edge of the door with a feeling of dread that quickly faded.

  Tom Radstock got to his feet and came round his desk with a hand outstretched. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d be in.’

  ‘I said I would, didn’t I? You’ll learn I mean what I say.’

  He waved to a chair. ‘Have a seat.’

  She sat and looked round with a raised eyebrow. ‘You’ve changed everything.’ He had. Different furniture. The back wall that had been pale grey was now aubergine. Huge pot plants were dotted here and there to soften the hard edges. Keri guessed they would grow too big and start to encroach on the workspace and would eventually need to go. But that was in the future.

  ‘I thought it was best.’

  It was. And she was grateful for his thoughtfulness. There was no hint of Nathan in the room. Keri’s sadness was painted over with the consolation she wouldn’t see him every time she walked through the door.

  She sat on the comfortable spare chair. ‘Everything on schedule for the merger?’

  ‘Yes. Should all be signed off by the end of the week.’

  It had been Radstock’s idea. He’d rung and asked to meet her two days after Nathan’s funeral and offered what Keri instantly recognised as an interesting proposition. A merger of Metcalfe Conservation and DS Construction. When Radstock had reassured her that his company would adopt Metcalfe’s work philosophy, it was a done deal.

  ‘Good.’ This was going to work. She wasn’t sure if she could have kept going alone.

  ‘How’s the arm?’

  ‘I was lucky it was my left one. It’s healing well and the plaster will be coming off in another couple of weeks.’ She wriggled her fingers. ‘I’ve learned to adapt.’

  ‘With my lack of social skills, I’m almost tempted to say you were lucky.’ He smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

  Keri laughed. ‘Lots of people have done, then looked aghast when they remembered about Nathan.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’m in for a few hours then I have an appointment so I’ll be leaving early.’

  ‘Fine. Maybe later in the week we could have a lunch meeting.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Back in her office, she sat and worked through the hundreds of emails that had come over the last few weeks. She answered each one, kept going even when tears ran down her cheeks.

  Mid-morning, she raised her eyes when there was a knock on the door. Gina came through, a takeaway coffee in her hand. ‘I found Roy’s daily schedule. There was a note in it, saying you liked a cappuccino mid-morning.’ She put it down with a smile that wavered when she saw Keri’s face. ‘I got it in a new café that’s recently opened.’

  Keri took a breath. ‘Thank you, that was kind.’

  When the door shut, she gripped the disposable cup too tightly, the contents lapping over the top to run down the side. She mopped the mess with a handful of tissues, tossed the plastic lid in the bin and sipped the hot coffee.

  It was almost one when the desk phone rang. ‘A Detective Inspector Elliot would like a word if it’s convenient,’ Gina said.

  ‘Yes, put him through, thanks.’ Keri owed the detective so much. She’d seen him at Nathan’s funeral but hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to him. ‘Detective, good to hear from you.’

  ‘I was told you’d be back today. I had hoped to call in but something’s come up.’ Voices in the background interrupted him. ‘Sorry,’ he said coming back to her. ‘I thought I’d put your mind to rest about a couple of things. Firstly, Barry Morgan. He is a solicitor, works for a private practice. One of their clients is a graphic designer who has an office in that building next door to you. Morgan’s name should have been on their emergency list. I had a brief word with him.’ Elliot sighed. ‘It appears he was quite smitten with you and aggrieved you cast him aside so easily but he’s moved on now and doesn’t hold any ill will.’

  ‘It was guilt over my affair that made me suspicious of him,’ Keri said.

  ‘Perhaps now, you can put it behind you.’

  ‘Eventually. Thank you for letting me know. What was the second thing?’

  ‘I thought you might like to know that Roy Sheppard’s computers were clean. He had an unhealthy obsession with the best way of growing vegetables, but nothing more sinister than that.’

  It brought a smile to Keri’s face. ‘He did love his allotment. I’m so relieved to hear that, thank you, detective.’

  ‘Stay safe, Keri.’

  She put the phone down and sat back. It didn’t change anything, wouldn’t have done had she known weeks ago. But somehow, knowing that Barry hadn’t been a con man made it easier to let go. As Elliot had suggested when she’d first told him about it, she’d stop beating herself over one mistake.

  It was good news about Roy, too, although she’d never doubted him. Abbie and Daniel might find it easier to forgive him for one mistake. As they would if they knew about hers.

  63

  At 2.50pm, Keri left to keep her appointment with her general practitioner. Nathan would be smiling. Even when he’d gone, Keri was still listening to him. HRT. It was time she faced reality that she needed help to get her through the menopause.

  Dr Grace Andrews had rooms in a multi-disciplinary private medical complex a mere five-minute walk from the office. She had looked after the Metcalfe family for as long as Keri could remember and had become a valued family friend. At Nathan’s funeral, her grief obvious but restrained, the doctor had slipped a business card discreetly into Keri’s hand, given her a hug and walked away. It was only later that Keri had looked at it and saw the details of a grief counsellor.

  The doctor had a suite of rooms on the ground floor of the complex. They were, like the doctor herself, elegant and welcoming. It had been a while since Keri had needed to attend and she didn’t recognise the receptionist.

  ‘Keri Metcalfe. I have an appointment.’

  The receptionist checked her computer screen. ‘Yes, Mrs Metcalfe, if you’d like to take a seat in the waiting room, she’s a minute or two behind.’

  It was almost ten minutes before Keri was called. She’d spent her time restlessly flicking through magazines and wondering if she should pop into the room labelled Facilities for a quick wee before acknowledging that she was nervous. That she had no reason to be didn’t make her any less anxious.

  ‘The doctor will see you now.’

  The receptionist said the words as though Keri had a treat in store. It amused her and took away a little of the anxiety.

  Dr Andrews met her at the office door and enveloped her in a brief hug before retreating to the far side of the desk. ‘I won’t ask how you’re doing but I hope you’ve started the grief counselling I recommended.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Keri admitted with a smile. ‘But Daniel has, and is finding it helpful.’

  ‘He’ll do well. He’s a
good lad. It would do you good too, you know, but I’m not going to nag.’ Dr Andrews steepled her fingers on the desk and smiled gently. ‘What can I help you with today?’

  Keri relaxed under the sympathetic scrutiny. ‘The menopause. My period had always been regular, then earlier this year it became erratic before stopping altogether almost four months back. I was hoping to manage without any help but…’ She shrugged. ‘Now, I think it would be best to start HRT.’

  ‘With all you’ve gone through recently, that makes perfect sense. Right, let me take some details and do some observations.’ She took Keri’s blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, and tapped them into her record. ‘That’s all fine.’ She searched in a drawer for a sample bottle. ‘Can you manage a drop?’

  Keri took the bottle. ‘I’ll try.’ She went out to the toilet, grateful she hadn’t visited earlier. The plaster on her arm made everything more awkward, but with patience and the assistance of a running tap, she managed.

  Back in the doctor’s office, she handed it over. ‘Here you go.’

  ‘Thank you. Give me a second to test this, then we’ll discuss the best form of hormone replacement therapy for you.’

  The doctor was, in fact, gone for so long that Keri was tapping her foot impatiently, a worm of worry slithering into her brain. When the door opened, and she saw the doctor’s expression, the worm developed tentacles. ‘Is everything okay?’

  Dr Andrews sat and pressed her lips together. ‘Have you had any unusual symptoms recently? Nausea maybe?’

  Keri had, but she’d put it down to stress, the guilt over her affair, then the snowballing trauma that had followed. ‘Yes, but it was only now and then, I didn’t think much of it.’ She looked at the concerned expression on the doctor’s face and wondered if, yet again, the world was going to vanish beneath her feet. ‘I’m sick, am I?’

  ‘No.’ The GP shook her head. ‘Not sick, as such.’ She reached for Keri’s hand and held it tightly. ‘You’re pregnant.’

  64

  Keri laughed. Then she shook her head and started to cry. Great big heaving sobs. Emotions swirled. Guilt, joy, sorrow, sadness. She couldn’t hold onto one before the next came pushing in.

  ‘Keri.’ Dr Andrews squeezed her hand. ‘It’ll be okay.’

  Would it? Keri swallowed a sob, then hiccupped. ‘How far?’

  ‘Only an ultrasound could confirm that.’ The doctor released her hand and reached for her phone. ‘I might be able to expedite that.’ She pursed her lips as she waited. ‘Hi Jo, I have a favour to ask. An urgent ultrasound.’ A smile appeared. ‘You can? Yes, she’s sitting right here. I’ll bring her up straight away.’ She hung up and got to her feet. ‘My colleague is going to fit you in between bookings.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Keri was lying on an examination couch having gel squeezed onto her belly. Her flat belly. It had to be a mistake, she couldn’t be pregnant.

  ‘Right, now let’s see what we have here.’ The sonographer slid the transducer through the gel and over her abdomen, then looked at the monitor. ‘There we are.’

  Keri’s hands were pressed together, the tips of her fingers resting against her lips, much as she’d held them when, as a child, she’d pray for something she wanted. ‘How far gone am I?’

  ‘Based on what I’m seeing here, about four months.’

  Nathan’s child. Nathan’s. Not the man whose name was already fading from her memory and would now vanish completely. She was having Nathan’s child. On the monitor, she saw the baby move, the perfect hands, the feet. And then, clear as could be. Proof it was a boy.

  Keri’s eyes rounded in wonder. ‘He’s perfect.’

  ‘Yes.’ The sonographer smiled. ‘If you give me your mobile number, I’ll send the recording to you so you can show it to your family.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be fantastic.’

  Dr Andrews bent and kissed her cheek. ‘You going to be okay? I have to go.’

  ‘Yes,’ Keri said, looking up at her face. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘In return, get that counselling appointment.’ Dr Andrews laughed. ‘See, now you’re making me nag.’

  A short while later, Keri was walking slowly back to Walthamstow train station feeling a little numb after the earlier emotional cascade. Despite having seen the evidence, she still couldn’t quite believe she was pregnant. After the twins were born, she and Nathan had planned to wait a couple of years before having any more but then, when it didn’t happen, they decided to be grateful for what they had.

  And now. When she thought it was all over, here she was, pregnant. Nathan’s baby. He would have been so happy. Her lips curved in a smile as she imagined his face.

  The smile faded and her footsteps slowed, then stopped. In the middle of the pavement, the crowd parting and weaving around her.

  It had been the first time she’d walked to the station for a long time.

  Their photograph was still a poster on the side of the bus shelter. She remembered Nathan’s laugh when he’d seen it, could almost feel his warm hand tightening around hers as they’d stood and stared.

  Had the company known about his murder and left it there as a tribute? She moved closer, forming a strange triumvirate with the couple in the photograph. She let herself drift back to that day in the train station. It had been so hot, dust swirling along the platform, the smell of coffee drifting from a nearby café. For a precious moment, she remembered the feel of Nathan’s skin, the heat of his hands on the small of her back. As they’d stood, so much in love they didn’t notice the world whirling around them, they thought they had forever.

  She laid her palm against his face on the poster. So cold. Twenty-five years. Not enough, never enough.

  Blowing up the photograph to life-size had blurred their faces. Keri felt a tremble in her lower lip as her eyes filled. Was that the way he’d go in her mind too… blurring a little more as the months passed? She caressed the cold, smooth cheek with one hand and rested the other on her belly. Twenty-five years married, years before that as lovers and friends.

  It was more than most people had.

  It was hard to take her hand away and break that surreal triad… the couple they had been, the woman she was. Difficult to leave, but with a final glance at the couple in the photograph, people she’d known a lifetime ago, she pressed her lips together and moved away.

  But as she walked to the station, she kept a hand on her belly.

  Nathan’s child.

  * * *

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  As ever, grateful thanks to all in Bloodhound Books especially Betsy Reavley, Fred Freeman, Tara Lyons, Heather Fitt, Morgen Bailey, Ian Skewis and Maria Slocombe.

  When you work so hard on a story you want people to read it – so a huge thanks to all the bloggers who get the word out. Thanks to all who review – always such a relief to see when people enjoy what you wrote. And a big thanks to all who contact me to tell me they love my writing – that never gets tired.

  The support from the writing community is always fantastic and an author’s world would be a lonelier place without it – so a big thanks to all my fellow Bloodhound authors and a special thanks to the writers Jenny O’Brien and Leslie Bratspis whose almost daily communication keeps me relatively sane.

  A reader, Tracy Wirick, wanted her name in a book – I hope I’ve done her justice.

  Thanks to my husband, Robert, my sisters, brothers, extended family, and my friends for always being there for me.

  I love to hear from readers – you can find me here:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/valeriekeoghnovels

  * * *

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/ValerieKeogh1

  * * *

  Instagram: www.instagram.com/valeriekeogh2

  A note from the publisher

  Thank you for reading this book. If you enjoyed it please do consider leaving a review on Amazon to help others find it too.

  * * *

  We hat
e typos. All of our books have been rigorously edited and proofread, but sometimes mistakes do slip through. If you have spotted a typo, please do let us know and we can get it amended within hours.

  info@bloodhoundbooks.com

  You will also enjoy:

  You Are Mine by Diana Wilkinson

  BUY NOW

  Love best-selling fiction?

  Sign up today to be the first to hear about new releases and exclusive offers, including free and discounted ebooks!

  * * *

  Why not like us or follow us on social media to stay up to date with the latest news from your favourite authors?