by Alice Hunter
Chapter 24
TOM
Now
How many more hours left? It feels an eternity. I focus to work it out – they only have thirty-four hours left to hold me without charge. They’ve brought me to their unit in order to up the ante; to increase the pressure on me so I give something away and incriminate myself. I’ve never been great at being in enclosed spaces and this new eight-by-eight holding cell, despite its starkness, is closing in on me; the space is shrinking minute by minute. Soon, it’ll be like being in a coffin. I wish there was fresh air instead of this recirculated, stale atmosphere containing the desperate breath of those in custody.
And if I think this is bad, I hate to imagine a prison cell.
I certainly don’t want to have to know what it’s like.
‘Please, Maxwell – do a good job. Get me out of here,’ I mutter as I pace. I can literally take three strides before I have to turn and go back. After a few goes at this, I am dizzy, so plonk myself down on the hard camp-like bed. What will Beth have told my work? They’ll be wondering why I’ve not been in contact by now – especially Celia. Christ, I hope the police haven’t spoken to my colleagues; that would be awkward. A lump forms in my throat. No, no – it’ll be fine, don’t panic. I won’t be here for much longer: I must sit this out, stay calm. It’ll be over soon. I’ll be back at home with Beth and Poppy and this will become a distant memory. A bad one. A near miss. But one we can overcome. Beth loves me. This won’t alter that.
Although, I do have some explaining to do. And I’ll have to be economical with the truth – or, come up with an entirely different version. One which doesn’t involve me telling her I’ve been lying for months. Everything had been going well: not even a minor bump in the road all this time. We both got what we wanted. Needed.
And now, from beyond the grave, Katie might ruin it all.
Chapter 25
BETH
Now
Poppy’s Place is relatively quiet when I finally walk through the door. I took the drive back slowly in case my light-headedness impeded my judgement.
‘Oh, blimey, Beth,’ Lucy says, looking up from the far table as I enter. She stops what she’s doing and rushes to me, putting her arm around mine. ‘Sit down quickly – you look terrible.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ I say, attempting to sound jokey. I let her pull me towards the nearest table and I thud down on the wooden chair. ‘I didn’t have breakfast.’ I inhale deeply, prop my elbows on the table and rest my head in my hands. Lucy disappears from my side and returns with a large brownie and a hot chocolate.
‘Here, this should help raise your blood sugar,’ she says, her expression set. ‘Apparently these delicious, gooey chocolate brownies are a speciality of the rather talented owner.’ She smiles and watches as I take a bite.
‘Yeah, I heard she was a pretty good baker,’ I say, the chunk of brownie slowly and uncomfortably travelling down my throat. I help it down with a gulp of hot chocolate, ignoring the burning sensation. ‘Thank you. What would I do without you?’
Lucy shrugs, the skin around her neck flushing pink. ‘You’d manage, Beth – you’re one of the most driven women I’ve met. You’d do this single-handedly if you had to.’
‘Well, thank you for the vote of confidence, Lucy – but really, I need you. Now more than ever before, actually.’
‘Oh, God,’ she lowers her voice to a whisper. Her eyes widen and she clasps a hand to her chest. ‘Has he been charged?’
‘No, not yet. But I have such a dreadful feeling, Lucy. The Major Investigation Team have moved him to London now – they’ve still got until Saturday evening to question him. To gather evidence.’ I swallow hard, take another sip of my drink, and look around me at the few remaining customers. Thankfully, they don’t seem to be watching me or listening in to our conversation. I recognise all the faces today, which is reassuring. For now, anyway. If Tom is charged, all hell will likely break loose.
‘Do you think there’s any evidence to gather that will allow them to charge him?’ Lucy asks. I hesitate. How should I answer? By defiantly stating there’s nothing to find because Tom is one hundred per cent innocent? Or should I admit out loud that Tom has lied to me – that they must’ve found something during the house search otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to extend the custody time? My thoughts are a mess.
‘I honestly don’t know, Lucy,’ I say, deciding to be straight with her. I need to be upfront with someone, and I don’t have many options.
She’s silent for a while, staring straight ahead, out the front window and beyond. I wonder what she’s thinking. Probably how on earth I can sit here and say I’m not certain whether I think my own husband is guilty or not. It’s not exactly what I’m saying, but it is what I’m implying.
‘What can I do to help, Beth?’ she says, focusing back on me.
‘There isn’t anything you can do,’ I shrug, tears making their way down my cheeks, tiny drops splashing on the table. I wipe them away. ‘Unless you can tell me where Tom went on Tuesday because he didn’t go to work like he told me!’ A bitter laugh escapes my lips.
‘Oh, erm …’ Lucy’s face slackens, her surprise clear to see. She shakes her head a little and blows out her cheeks. ‘Wow. Okay, then you’re right – I can’t help. I don’t ever see him really. The odd occasion at a weekend, maybe, and I’ve seen him at the garage a couple of times when I’ve popped in to see Oscar, but that’s about it. He doesn’t exactly mingle with the villagers, does he?’
‘Nope. He doesn’t. In fact, I’d say your boyfriend is the closest thing he has to a mate around here.’
‘You’ve no clue why he didn’t go to work?’
‘Not one. I just can’t get my head around it, Lucy. Day in, day out, week after week, we have the same routine,’ I sigh. I’m surprised at myself for confiding in Lucy so readily, but speaking my thoughts out loud to another person has an immediate effect. The tension I’ve been holding seems to flow out of me. Opening up is helping, so I continue. ‘Maybe that’s the problem – I was complacent. I wouldn’t even have thought to look for any anomalies on Tuesday morning. I was still reeling from him being taken in for questioning the previous evening and I was trying to get him to tell me about it. I was so focused on that, I wouldn’t have seen anything untoward in his actions, or spotted any differences in his behaviour.’
It hits me now that I wouldn’t even know if Tuesday was the first time Tom had missed work. How am I to know if it was a regular occurrence? The fact he lied to me once means he could easily have lied before.
My confidence in him being released is waning. Not just because of evidence the police might have, but because I’m suddenly aware he might always have been holding things back from me. Has my trust in him for all these years been misplaced?
Chapter 26
KATIE
Eight years ago
Katie lay on her back, Tom next to her, the heat from their bodies mingling and their breathing rapid. Beneath her, the picnic rug was rumpled and uncomfortable, but she didn’t move. Her mind wandered as she contemplated their relationship. Today had been a good day, just as he’d promised. He’d gone to a lot of effort with the picnic – brought all her favourite foods – and he’d lovingly held her hand as they’d chatted. His gift to her had been overwhelming – a total shock, but she’d recovered from it quickly enough. The sex that followed had been wild and abandoned; neither had cared if anyone saw. It was electric, like when they were first together. For those short moments, Katie had forgotten her concerns. Forgotten her cancelled plans with her friends.
Tom was a good boyfriend, wasn’t he? The fact he only ever wanted her to spend time with him was natural in a new relationship, she told herself. Maybe it was her who was being unfair, expecting him to put up with her immature friends when quite clearly they were still caught up in their post-uni lifestyle. She and Tom had moved on – had reached a different stage in their lives. Tom wasn’t afraid of commitment; today had proved that. Perhaps sh
e was, which was why she had shied away. He could be so intense; but that was something she’d loved – craved, even – at the start. But now sometimes, just sometimes, that intensity frightened her.
She lifted herself up and, propping herself on one elbow, stared at Tom. She ran a finger over his slightly parted lips. So soft. His high cheekbones, beautifully chiselled; his intense eyes, large and the most amazing shade of blue she’d ever seen; his dark hair, wavy and dishevelled in a way that looked as though he’d styled it that way. Everything about him made her heart beat faster. Physically, he was perfect. But she couldn’t help sensing that something imperfect lay beneath. Something tugged at her unconscious: a stubborn red flag; a warning voice that refused to be silenced.
But for now, she relished his touch; his smell; his love for her. She’d worry about the rest another day. And maybe it was too late now anyway, seeing as she’d accepted the engagement ring.
***
TOM
I knew the picnic and the present would win Katie over. How could she fail to be impressed? How could she say no? Judging by the sex, the way her body shuddered when I made her climax, I’d definitely sealed the deal. It had been a perfect moment.
If only she hadn’t gone and ruined it when we got back to the flat.
How dare she go behind my back like that? I trusted her. She knew how much I loved her; wanted her. I went out of my way for her all the time. I’d spent so much time and effort, and she repaid me by lying.
I read the texts over and over again.
She was mocking me, insinuating that I was forcing her to cancel her stupid plans – that she really couldn’t do anything about it. Is she trying to make me out to be some control freak? It’s like she wants to destroy our relationship. We’ve literally just committed to each other. Had she accepted the ring to placate me? So as not to cause a scene? Isaac can fuck right off – he’s always trying to wheedle his way in. He clearly wants her; I won’t have that. He must be stopped.
I’ll have to bide my time. Reacting immediately when I’m this wound up won’t be the best way. I’ll sit on it. Work out how to ensure she stays with me.
Chapter 27
BETH
Now
Poppy keeps asking when Daddy is coming home. We’re on our way to the café before we head back to the empty cottage. I’ve promised her she can choose a new animal to paint: anything to keep her little mind occupied and stop her getting upset that Daddy isn’t going to read her a bedtime story again. Tomorrow will be even worse. Being a weekend, she’d usually play games with him, or we’d all set off for a walk, or maybe go to Westgate shopping centre in Oxford and have food out. None of this will be on the agenda this time. Maybe next weekend, though? the small voice in my head asks.
‘Oh, thanks, Lucy,’ I say, as I see she’s set up a table for us already.
‘You’re welcome. Hey there, Poppy!’ Lucy reaches a hand down and ruffles Poppy’s hair affectionately. ‘How’s my favourite princess this afternoon? Good day at nursery?’
Poppy giggles. ‘Good day, thanks, Luce.’
I grin. It’s so great to hear Poppy laugh, and I love how she calls Lucy ‘Luce’ – it’s adorable. I’m grateful to Lucy for being so upbeat – she’s being her usual cheery self, despite what I divulged earlier. It’s almost as though that conversation never happened. I wish I could paper over the last few days as easily.
‘Excellent – glad to hear it. I’ve got some special animals waiting to be loved,’ Lucy says, taking Poppy’s hand and leading her to the selection she’s put out.
I make myself a latte and pour orange juice for Poppy, put two chocolate chip muffins on plates and take them to the table. Poppy dons a pink flowery apron and begins painting. She’s incredibly independent, especially for a three-year-old, and doesn’t wait to be told what to do. This is good, in part, but I’m guessing it might be a tad challenging in the not-too-distant future. I sit, quietly watching Poppy as I eat. She glances over as she reaches for a new colour, says, ‘I’ll eat mine when I’m finished, Mummy,’ then returns her expression to one of intense concentration, brows furrowed. She’s so precious, so innocent. I can’t bear to imagine her ever feeling upset. Hurt. Abandoned.
I push those thoughts away, and while she’s busy painting, I quickly flit around the café picking up a used mug and neatening the table that’s just been vacated. Anything to help stem the flow of negative thoughts. It’s almost four; not long until closing time. How will I fill my evening once we get home to the cottage? Poppy will be in bed at six, and by six thirty I’ll be sitting eating a microwave meal for one, as I haven’t been bothered about cooking or shopping this week. The telly will have the usual crap on; nothing interests me at the moment. Maybe I’ll just go to bed.
‘Well, hello there.’ The silky-smooth voice catapults me from my musings. Adam is standing just inside the doorway, Jess’s face peeking out from behind his legs.
‘Hi, Adam,’ I say as I walk over, then, bending down to her level, ‘and hello, Jess. Poppy will be so delighted to have a friend to sit with and paint animals. She’s over there,’ I point to the back of the café, to Poppy, who is deep in creative thought as she jabs the paintbrush, distributing green splodges all over the bear. A glowing sensation swells inside me as I see the tip of her tongue poking out of her bow-like mouth, her eyes screwed up in concentration. Jess comes out from behind Adam and walks over to Poppy. I’m pleased she appears less shy than last time.
‘You okay?’ Adam cocks his head, his eyes seeking mine. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look very tired.’
‘Great. Roughly translated as “you look like shit”, then?’ I offer a tentative smile, afraid I’m about to cry and embarrass myself yet again.
‘No, not at all. If I thought that, it’s what I’d have said.’ He smiles and laughs. ‘You know me.’
Only, I don’t know him. But currently he’s the only person I feel fully at ease with. For some reason I trust him, and an overwhelming sense of calm comes over me when I’m in his company. Then I remember I used to have the exact same sense with Tom, and that’s not working out well for me right now.
Still, there’s no harm in chatting with Adam while the girls paint. They look good together: almost like siblings, they’re so similar. My womb aches. Tom and I haven’t discussed having another baby since Poppy arrived. Beforehand, we often talked about having a family: Tom used to inform me he wanted two or four children. ‘Definitely not an odd number,’ he used to say. I was adamant that in that case I’d be happy with two. Now, I wonder if we’ll even have that. I’m not desperate to have another yet, though. Up until recently I’ve been very happy with the way things are.
‘Penny for them.’ I hear Adam’s voice and turn towards him.
‘Sorry. I’ve been to the station today to give a statement and I found out the detectives from homicide command have taken Tom to London to continue questioning him. I’m a bit preoccupied.’
‘I expect you are. I’m sorry, Beth. I can’t imagine how stressful it is for you, waiting like this. How much longer can they hold him?’
‘Until Saturday evening. They have until eight p.m. I believe.’ I let out a juddering breath and look into Adam’s eyes. ‘What if they don’t release him? What the hell will we do if they charge him, Adam?’ Desperation clings to each word.
‘Honestly? All you can do is cross that bridge if it comes to it, Beth. It’s the only way to get through this. It’s how I cope, anyway. Literally hour by hour, day by day. I don’t tend to look forwards into the future, it’s too scary. That’s when I lose control. I was given some helpful advice: if you can’t change it, let it go. Otherwise you’ll be consumed by worry.’
‘And if I could change something?’
Adam frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Never mind,’ I say. ‘Right, you’ve been without a drink for too long. Such dreadful service,’ I say, brightening and finally moving into the shop. ‘What can I get you?’
>
Adam regards me for several seconds before responding. ‘A lemonade, please.’ I turn and head to the counter, but I can feel the weight of his stare – he knows I was about to say something else. Knows I held back at the last moment.
Chapter 28
BETH
Now
‘Is Daddy gone work again?’ Poppy asks, the second she runs into my bedroom, launches herself at the bed and scrambles up. It’s five a.m. It’s Saturday. Sadly for my sleeping patterns, she can’t differentiate between weekdays and weekends. Last night when I tucked her in I’d asked her – in a moment of desperation – to please give Mummy a lie in in the morning, and if she was awake before the light came through her curtains, to stay in her bedroom and play with her animals. It was a long shot, and one which has failed. Not that I was sleeping anyway, or even resting peacefully; my mind is far too busy working its way through every possibility, every path our lives might now take.
‘Yes, Poppy – I’m sorry. He’ll be …’ I’m about to say, ‘home soon’, but I shouldn’t lie even further to her. I can’t make false promises. ‘He’ll be gone for a bit longer,’ I say, the words sticking in my throat as I know even this might not be exactly true. If he’s charged, it’ll be a while before a trial, then if he’s convicted …
A sharp pain shoots through my temple. I can’t let my little girl grow up without her father like I did.
Fucking hell, Tom.
Nerves prevent me eating. I sit watching Poppy devour her breakfast, queasiness consuming me. Rain, or perhaps hail, pelts against the windows – I haven’t even bothered to draw back the curtains to look. Hardly any light penetrates the heavy dark-green material: I’m hiding away from the world, tucked away in my cottage. A part of me wants to burrow even deeper into the depths of self-pity, but I have Poppy to think about. The relevance of today will no doubt overshadow everything, though.
