by Linda Huber
It wasn’t that Susie was suspicious. She didn’t see the guilt mixed in with Amanda’s grief, and when she heard about the expected baby she rose to the occasion with grim determination. The house was spring-cleaned from top to bottom, Jaden was taken shopping and kitted out with more summer clothes than he’d have hot days to wear them on, and the freezer was filled with healthy homemade meals. Susie even sandpapered and revarnished the wardrobe door where the mirror had been, accepting Amanda’s explanation that she’d slammed it too hard one day.
Amanda forced herself to reply. ‘You’ve been brilliant, Suze. I can never thank you enough.’
It only made things worse. Susie dropped her bag and came to hug Amanda, her body shaking with sobs. Amanda hugged back. She had done this. She had allowed a load of trivia to come between her and Gareth and he had paid with his life. If she’d remembered what a great guy her husband was – had been – everything would be different now. Longing for the old life swept through Amanda, and for a moment she and Susie sobbed together. And it was so great, having someone to cry with – but if Susie knew what had really happened, she’d be out that door and on her way to the police station to report Amanda and James, and then she’d be back for Jaden. Amanda retched.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, hen – this isn’t what you need. I’ll make you a cup of tea, plenty of time before we have to leave for the airport.’
Amanda leaned back on the sofa, her head thumping. None of this was going to go away. She’d be alone with her guilt for the rest of her days.
‘Bye-bye-bye!’ Jaden waved as Susie vanished through the doors, and Amanda slumped. Thank God.
‘Na-nana,’ said Jaden.
Amanda pulled herself together. ‘Nana’s gone home, sweetheart. We’ll watch her plane take off, shall we – and then we’ll go home too.’
And oh, she could relax at home without pretending and lying, now. After four days of healthy meals Amanda felt better physically, but her mind was in a very dark place. It was good to be alone again.
Jaden’s eyes were glassy as they drove down the A30. Amanda glanced at him in the baby mirror and cursed. This wasn’t a good time for a nap. She wanted to get him home, bathed and into bed and asleep by nine. She should stop and let him run around for a bit. At Chiverton, the opportunity arose and Amanda turned into a parking area beside a small swing park, where about a dozen children and a few adults were spending some time.
And – for a moment she couldn’t believe her eyes.
It was James.
She sat in the car, her mouth hanging open as he stood talking to a slim, blonde woman while a dark-haired little girl clambered around the climbing frame. The child looked about five or six, and she turned round every so often and waved to James and the woman. What the hell was going on? Amanda thumped the steering wheel. As if it wasn’t perfectly clear what was going on. He was married. He must be. The girl’s hair was exactly like James’. He was a married man having a sordid little affair and she had been every kind of idiot. Her baby would be nothing but an inconvenience to him. Shit. It was so obvious now; this was why the promised letter and phone number had never arrived. He had dumped her. Nice one, James. He had left her alone with her guilt and her children, not knowing where he’d disposed of her husband.
Amanda couldn’t tear her eyes from the little family scene playing out in front of her. It was as if she was staring through a tunnel, darkness surrounding the picture in the centre. The woman called the child, who dropped to the ground and ran over to her parents. After a brief chat the woman and the little girl sat on the roundabout, which James set in motion. Briefly, he turned his head in Amanda’s direction and she ducked below the steering wheel, but at this distance he was unlikely to notice her in her car. Next time she looked the child was alone on the roundabout, the woman staring at her, happiness shining from her face. And why wouldn’t she be happy? She had James, the perfect, good-looking husband, and a lovely little girl. Tears trickled down Amanda’s cheeks and she searched through her bag for a tissue, then slid the car into reverse and left.
Jaden gurgled, and Amanda blew him a kiss. Thank goodness for Jaden, with his grey eyes full of happiness and love. Just like Gareth’s had been, once upon a time. Amanda gripped the wheel and turned back into the main road. Act on, woman, you’ve had plenty of practice. You can do this.
They were halfway back to St Ives before she realised that the clever thing would have been to wait in the car park until James and his wife left, and then follow them. Amanda cursed silently. Talk about having a good idea too late. What she could do, though, was go to James’ flat in Hayle; they were passing by anyway. But it wouldn’t be where he lived… It wasn’t home to a small girl, anyway.
Somehow Amanda wasn’t surprised to see James’ name gone from the bell push outside. She pressed the neighbour’s bell and a woman in her early twenties leaned out of a first floor window.
‘He’s gone to London, I think,’ she said, blowing cigarette smoke towards Amanda. ‘That’s what he said, anyway.’ More smoke, and a pitying glance, and the window was banged shut again.
Amanda drove on towards St Ives. James wasn’t in London, he was right here in Cornwall, and he had a wife and a little girl. Sickness that had nothing to do with pregnancy rose in Amanda’s throat. He had used her. It was all so obvious now. What a fool she was.
She awoke the next morning to the usual nausea, mixed with relief that no pretending to Susie was necessary today. She’d have to get organised. Without a death certificate there would be no life insurance, and presumably no widow’s pension. What were they going to live on? She’d be able to get some kind of benefits to tide her over, but that was a very short term solution; she had no intention of living the rest of her life on the social.
Determination filled Amanda as she thought of James, standing there in the play park, a smug, satisfied look on his face – well, maybe not that, but he must be feeling smug about getting rid of her so successfully. But she wouldn’t let him beat her. She could take on secretarial work – something she could do at home. She would go to the Citizens’ Advice Bureau today. And she would call in at the police station, check that nothing new had come in – which was hardly likely but it would be the normal thing to keep checking, wouldn’t it? As soon as she thought this a lump came into her throat. The real Amanda was sometimes very far away; it was disorientating. She didn’t know who she was any more and it was all James’ fault.
Slowly, she got up, made tea and waited for the nausea to subside. Thankfully, this pregnancy was easier than her first. She should make an appointment at the clinic and get her 12-week scan scheduled. There would be no Daddy by her side this time, oh no, Gareth…
Eleven o’clock saw her pushing Jaden through town, having collected a handful of leaflets about jobseekers and working from home. So far, so good. Now to make them a nice healthy lunch. Amanda went into the baker’s for a loaf of crusty bread to go with Susie’s vegetable soup, rushing out again when her phone rang. As soon as she saw the caller ID her heart started racing. It was the police.
Sergeant Jacob’s voice was calm. ‘Amanda, we need you to look at something and see if you can identify it. Can you come here this afternoon – or should I send someone to get you?’
Amanda thought swiftly. If Gareth really had disappeared, the first thing she’d ask would be…
‘Have you found him? Where - ?’
‘No, no. It’s an item of clothing.’
Clothing? Careful, careful. ‘Oh no. I’ll come this afternoon after Jaden’s nap.’
‘That will be fine. See you later.’
Amanda’s head was reeling as she heated the soup then sat at the table helping Jaden to use a spoon. An item of clothing could be a jacket, or possibly trousers, or a pullover. The sea had a cruel trick of unclothing its victims. James had dumped the jacket into the sea with the rucksack, but what about the rest of his clothes as ‘Gareth’? Amanda massaged her head; think, woman. The jeans had been Ja
mes’ own, so these couldn’t have been found… His pullover? Had he been wearing one?
She sat there worrying until she realised her mistake and almost laughed at her own stupidity. Gareth hadn’t walked along the coastal path and fallen into the sea, so any clothing found, apart from the jacket, couldn’t be his. And how scary it was that the scenario she was acting out had become so real…
She was halfway to the police station when a truly horrific thought blasted into her head. What if the item was Gareth’s? James could have dumped Gareth in the ocean without telling her.
By the time she arrived at the police station Amanda was genuinely distraught. She pushed Jaden inside, hearing her voice tremble when she told the officer at the desk her name and why she had come.
She was expected; that was clear. ‘Right, Mrs Waters, follow me.’
He showed her into an interview room and left. Amanda sat down to wait. Jaden was staring in fascination at the LED lamps in the ceiling, sucking his thumb vigorously. She could only hope he didn’t understand; poor baby, she was about to talk about what his father had been wearing before he died – no, stupid. Before he disappeared. She must get this right, a mistake could be fatal for them all. She began to tremble.
Sergeant Jacobs took one look at her and sent for tea. ‘I know it’s hard on you, but there’s nothing to say whether Gareth fell into the sea or disappeared voluntarily. It’s still early days.’
He sat opposite her, an officer she didn’t know beside him. ‘Amanda, from the condition of the found item we feel it won’t be Gareth’s, but it isn’t impossible. So to rule it out we want to go over again what Gareth was wearing when you left him.’
Amanda froze. They were trying to trick her. This was a test, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what she’d said about Gareth’s clothes.
She managed to burst into tears. ‘I can’t remember! I’ve thought and thought and I just don’t know any more!’
Her tea arrived and she sipped, her teeth chattering against the thick white porcelain. Sergeant Jacobs pulled out a plastic parcel containing a blue cotton pullover.
‘Is this Gareth’s?’
Blackness loomed in front of Amanda’s eyes. Gareth did have a very similar pullover, as did thousands of others who shopped in chain stores up and down the country.
Her voice came out in a whisper. ‘I don’t know. He did have one like that.’
As soon as the words were spoken she realised. She’d used the past tense, she’d said ‘did’. Was it normal to talk about your missing husband using the past tense? Had they noticed?
Sergeant Jacob’s voice was neutral when he spoke. ‘We’ll drive back with you and have a look at his things, then.’
In a dream, Amanda followed the young WPC, pushing Jaden’s buggy back through the police station, Sergeant Jacob following on behind. Jaden clapped when she got into the back of the car with him – did they keep baby seats especially for such eventualities? Neither officer spoke during the short drive back home, and Amanda sat shaking. They would go upstairs and they would see the bedroom, see the wardrobe. Suze had done a brilliant job on it but it was obvious something violent had happened to it recently. Amanda twisted the strap of her bag round her finger. Would she get out of this without incriminating herself? And James, damn him – he was right out of it now.
‘What’s this?’ The discolouration on the wardrobe door attracted Sergeant Jacob’s attention the minute he set foot in the bedroom.
‘We had a mirror from the DIY shop stuck there, but it was loose so we took it off a couple of weeks ago, in case Jaden…’
Amanda walked across the room and opened the middle drawer where Gareth’s pullovers were. The woman officer pulled on gloves and lifted piles of clothing. Amanda choked back a sob. The Aran sweater Suze had knitted Gareth last year, the stupid Rudolph sweatshirt he’d always worn at Christmas, the black polo neck she’d bought him in the January sales… but no blue pullover came to light.
Amanda blinked. She watched as the search continued through the remainder of the chest of drawers and then shifted to the wardrobe where her own things were… and still no sign of Gareth’s chain store pullover. Where the hell was it? The answer hit her like a ton of bricks. He’d been wearing it that day. The blue pullover was on Gareth, so she had no idea where it was… How could she have forgotten?
‘Don’t you – don’t you need a search warrant to do this?’ she asked as the policewoman closed her underwear drawer. This was unbearable.
Sergeant Jacobs looked at her. ‘We’ve seen enough. You’re sure he had a pullover like that?’
Amanda nodded. ‘There are photos on Facebook of him wearing it.’
‘Right. This does make it seem more likely that Gareth fell into the sea, Amanda. I’m sorry. We’ll continue investigating and get back to you in a day or so.’
He still sounded neutral and Amanda saw the glance he exchanged with the WPC.
She did the only thing she could think of. ‘This is so horrible!’ She clutched both hands to her head and dropped to her knees on the floor, more or less where Gareth had lain. ‘Please, please find my husband, oh please… he can’t be dead! I need him, he must come home… He – he doesn’t even know I’m pregnant!’
Rocking back and forth, she sobbed loudly.
And the look on his face was once again kind and fatherly.
Part Two
The Family
Chapter One
Wednesday 11th June
Rick jogged along the sea front, the late afternoon sun hot on his back, a stark contrast to the stiff breeze he was running against. Thank God he was working full-time again. There was so much else to worry about at the moment – he didn’t need financial problems as well.
Frustration welled up inside him. What an unbelievable fool he’d been. Bad enough that he’d had an affair, he had to go and compound his sins by giving up work for a day and a half each week to give him more time to spend with his mistress. Not to mention splashing out way too much of his reduced wage to rent an old mate’s holiday flat to give them somewhere to go when Amanda could get away. He’d been infatuated – she was so bright, with a sparky sense of humour and a refreshing, down-to-earth view of the world. Life with Ella had long-since disintegrated into a never-ending round of ‘how to be a parent’ discussions and activities. But he should never have started anything with Amanda; all it had brought them was grief. And that was before he started thinking about the Gareth situation.
And that was hopeless. Dire. Guilt about not contacting Amanda hit him every night as soon as he closed his eyes, and at regular intervals during the day too. His behaviour was the pits. But that wasn’t even the worst part, no, the worst part was the shed. It stood there in the middle of the garden, mocking him, look what a nice big shed I am, a chalet, really, you were so pleased to have me and so was Ella. That was in the days when they thought they’d soon have a couple of kiddies running round, playing in the garden chalet. Now it had crumbled into an over-large glory-hole and he hated it because underneath it all was Gareth.
Bile rose in Rick’s throat as he forced his legs on. Last week he’d seen a news item about a guy who’d killed someone by accident. He’d been convicted of manslaughter and given a suspended sentence. In a horrible, gut-wrenching way this had made Rick feel both better and worse – he and Amanda had done something wrong, and a man had lost his life – but it had been an accident. The problem was, by panicking and covering it up they had turned an accident into a crime.
In any case, even a manslaughter conviction would mean he and Ella wouldn’t be allowed to adopt, and that would have crushed his wife. So although he’d done it for the wrong reason, the subterfuge was necessary. Because he wanted to stay with Ella… didn’t he? Tears stung in his eyes. What he wanted was the old Ella back, the one with a sense of humour who’d been ready to have some fun.
Rick came to the traffic lights and turned up the hill for home. This was the tough part of hi
s run, something he looked forward now to with a kind of masochistic determination that hadn’t been part of his character before Gareth’s death.
The other worst thing was – you could have any number of worst things, he knew that now – he missed Amanda. She had provided everything that was missing in his marriage – light-hearted fun, laughter, and uncomplicated sex, and he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
The hill became steeper and Rick slowed down. Two more minutes and he’d be home. He could do this; he was strong. He passed a woman pushing a pair of tousle-headed toddlers in a twin buggy, and turned into Cedar Road. He did want a child. If it hadn’t been for all the bad stuff he’d be happy enough about Soraya. She wasn’t a boy, but they could get a brother for her next time and she was a nice little thing when she wasn’t being bloody minded. He wanted to do this right, he did, he did. But poor Amanda… there was no ‘right’ about that.
Ella and Soraya were painting a small wooden table on the side grass when he panted through the gate. A lump rose in his throat. Ella had a streak of yellow paint across her forehead and the happiest expression for years on her face. Having a live-in and soon-to-be-formally-adopted daughter agreed with her. How long was it since he’d been able to put an expression like that on her face?
‘Good run? When do you want dinner?’
Rick flopped down on the grass. ‘Goodish. Let me grab a shower once I’ve cooled down.’
Ella straightened up and surveyed their work, then took Soraya’s paintbrush. ‘No problem, it’s spag bol. As requested by her ladyship. That looks great, sweetheart – we’ll leave it here to dry before it goes up to your room. You can help me make dinner while Daddy’s freshening up.’
Soraya came over to Rick and sniffed. ‘Pooh! You pong!’
‘So would you if you’d just run ten K!’
