There was no time for coffee and a chat in the staff room before my first class and so I made my way to the music rooms hoping perhaps I could grab a hot drink before the first students arrived. I stayed in the music room referring to the teaching plan and selecting the sheet music for the day’s lesson, then I went to make myself a coffee in the small kitchen behind the stage in the main hall. When I returned to the music room it was still empty. None of the students had arrived. I looked at my watch to discover that it was a quarter past nine. Perhaps the students had been sent elsewhere because I’d been ill the day before? I decided to go and see Miss Keeble, the school secretary. She frowned at me when I walked in the room. Surprised and not a little embarrassed. I smiled warmly at her although I feared something was wrong.
‘Hello Joan,’ I said. ‘I was waiting for my class in the music room, but no one has turned up.’
Joan flushed and pursed her lips at me.
I waited patiently, but I was astounded, as I’ve never seen Joan lost for words.
‘The headmaster wants to see you,’ she said finally. ‘There was a note in your tray in the staff room.’
‘I’m so sorry, Joan. I was running a little late so I went straight to the classroom. Is there a problem?’
‘You could say so,’ Joan sniffed. ‘If you just wait here and I’ll let Mr Jacobs know you’re waiting to see him.’
I flopped into the chair opposite her desk. I wondered if David Jacobs, the headmaster, wanted to discuss my absence yesterday. It wasn’t the first time Topher had called in sick for me and, much as I found it irritating, He says he’s doing it for the best reasons. The divorce lawyer I’d spoken to had another word for it, however. Controlling.
Joan returned to the office; her face still flushed. ‘Headmaster will see you now.’
There was sharpness to her voice I’d not heard before and I quickly made my way to David’s office. In the past I have just knocked on the door and walked in, but today something felt different, so I knocked and waited.
‘Come in.’
I pushed the handle down and peeked around the door. He didn’t smile as he normally did. What the hell was going on?
‘Come in, sit down, Mrs Gundersen,’ he said.
David had never been so formal with me but, following his lead, I greeted him in the same formal manner.
‘You’re probably aware of why I have called you in today,’ he began.
I shook my head. ‘I’ve no idea, David. Am I in some sort of trouble?’ I sat in the plastic chair opposite his desk and waited for him to continue.
‘There have been complaints, Mrs Gundersen.’
‘What sort of complaints?’
‘Serious complaints, Mrs Gundersen.’
‘David I’m sorry I don’t understand. What kind of complaints? And please call me Lily you’ve always called me Lily. Why are you calling me Mrs Gundersen today?’ My nails dug into the palms of my hands as I clenched my fists in my lap. I looked down. Twisting my hands had made my knuckles white. I quickly released my fingers and stretched them out, massaging first the right hand fingers and then the left. Although many years have passed since my accident, too much clenching still made my hands dreadfully sore.
David had been extremely quiet during this time and I looked up to see him watching me massaging my fingers.
‘Lily…’ He coughed. ‘Mrs Gundersen. There has been a complaint that you assaulted one of the students.’
I stared at him but he couldn’t meet my eyes. ‘You’re seriously be suggesting I would hit a student?’ I stood and started pacing behind the chair. ‘David, I implore you, please tell me who is saying this?’
‘I’m sorry,’ sighed David. ‘The full accusation will be put into writing and be sent to you in the post. In the meantime I must ask you to give me your identification card and any keys you have for the school. I will arrange for someone to escort you from the premises. You may not return to the school unless invited for interview, but it is highly likely any conversations will take place in the council offices, rather than at the school.’
I stopped pacing and I hung onto the back of the plastic chair, trying to maintain an upright position. My legs no longer seemed strong enough to hold me. David picked up his phone and asked Joan to join us in his office. I opened my handbag and gave him the keys and my ID card. Joan took me gently by the elbow and propelled me back to my car.
‘Will you be okay to drive home?’ She said.
I nodded. I no longer trusted myself to speak without bawling, releasing the hot tears stabbing at my eyes. She pushed the driver’s door shut. I sat in the car park eyes closed, brushing the tears away, waiting until my heart stopped pounding and I could drive home safely.
Recovering my composure, I turned on the engine and connected my phone to Bluetooth.
Stephanie sounded really excited when the call connected. ‘Hello you, ‘ she said. ‘I was just thinking about you. That was a great party. How are you?’
‘Not good,’ I replied. ‘I’ve just been fired. They’re accusing me of hitting a student.’ Even as I said it, still couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.
‘What?’ Stephanie sounded as shocked as I was. ‘Did they say who’d made the accusation?’
‘No, they wouldn’t tell me.’ I bit back a sob and blinked away tears, which were still forming. ‘They said they would send it all to me in the post.’
Stephanie’s howl of laughter took me by surprise, until I remembered it was her habit to laugh when she was embarrassed. ‘You are joking?’ she said.
‘I’m really not.’
‘So, if they’ve fired you they have to give you good reason,’ she said. ‘They can’t just say they’ll provide the evidence later. Have they told you that you need to talk to the police?’
‘No, nothing like that. Oh, god I’m going to have to tell Topher. If he thinks this will reflect badly on him, he’ll kill me.’ Fresh, hot tears ran down my face as I envisaged the conversation with my husband.
‘Where are you now?’ asked Stephanie, ever practical.
‘I’m still at the school,’ I told her.
‘Have you got the car?’
‘Yes I’m sitting in it now. I’m still in the car park.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘Go home. Drive carefully, but just take yourself home. Have a cup of tea and a good cry. I’ve got a couple of meetings this afternoon, but I’ll put them off and come round and see you after lunch.’
‘Okay,’ I said, disconnecting the call, putting the car in gear and pulling slowly out of the car park.
‘Call Heather,’ I said, and the technology did its thing.
‘Hi Heather,’ I said when I heard her answer. ‘There’s been a bit of a mix-up at school, so I’m on my way home.’ I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth, although I knew she’d have to know at some point. We chatted for a few more minutes and she told me she was taking the children to the park. Did I want her to wait until I get back?
‘No,’ I told her. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache so I think I’ll have a lie down when I get in. Listen Heather, there’s a guy trying to undertake me in a Range Rover. I think I probably need to concentrate until he’s out of the way.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Catch you later.’
The black Range Rover was completely filling my rear view mirror. I didn’t know what I’d done to annoy him, but he was weaving around, headlights flashing.
I pulled onto the North Circular and moved to the inside lane, but instead of overtaking and passing me, the Range Rover stayed behind me, flashing lights inches from my tail.
Chapter Nine
Lily
I had no idea what to do. When I slowed down, the Range Rover slowed down. When I sped up, the Range Rover sped up. Even though he was close enough that I should be able to see him in the rear-view mirror, the windscreen was so dark I couldn’t make out a face.
Up ahead I saw a garage and I put my indicator on to
let the driver behind know I was pulling off. As I reached the slip road to ease onto the garage forecourt, the Range Rover nudged my car and pushed me past the exit lane. I clenched the steering wheel as hard as I could to stop my car being pushed into the outside lane.
I twisted in my seat and waved at him with my right hand to beckon him past. But he just flashed his lights at me again. I maintained the speed limit and he sat on my rear bumper. Why was this happening to me? I didn’t believe I’d pushed in front of him or cut him up. I couldn’t understand what was making him behave this way.
I shook, ‘what do you want from me?’ I whispered. My mind raced as I flicked from watching the road ahead to looking in the rear view mirror. I want to go home, I muttered. But you can’t leave the dual carriageway, another voice in my head hissed at me. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel. I grimaced with the pain but it was nothing to the pain in my chest where my heart pounded. My mouth was dry. My head aching with the noise of blood hammering through it.
Ahead I saw a lorry, the blue curtains on the trailer swollen, beating time with the breeze. It swayed from side to side. You’re going to have to get past it. I peeked in the rear-view mirror. Yes! He’s dropped back. Perhaps he’s calmed down? Still unsure what I had done to cause his annoyance in the first place, I pulled out and, miracle upon miracle, the Range Rover remained several metres behind me.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief, overtook the lorry, and indicated to pull back in. The lorry driver pulled on his air horn. Confused by the cacophony of sound, my blood curdled. I lunged forward as the Range Rover crashed into the rear of my car. I tensed my arms, bracing myself before hitting my chest on the steering wheel. The Range Rover shunted me from behind again. My hands throbbed with pain as I clenched the steering wheel, wrestling it to keep the wheels straight. I tried everything I could think of. Everything I had ever been taught, just so I could keep my car on the road. What if the car span? I couldn’t remember how to correct a spin!
Then it happened. My Volvo hit the central reservation barrier, but we bounced off. I braced myself for the collision with the lorry, but the Range Rover shunted me again. My car lunged forward once more. The whole car shuddered as we left the ground. The collision with the barrier launched us into the air, over the central reservation and into oncoming traffic. Still I held onto the steering wheel. This time to stop myself from hitting the roof which was now below me. I hung upside down. The seat belt cut into my shoulder blade, flattening against my crushed ribs, and constricting my hips. Every loose item in the car; sweet wrappers, tissues, crayons, crisp packets, swirled around my head. I must have a clear out, I thought as the car flipped over and rolled again, miraculously landing on its wheels.
Horns. Squealing tyres. Burning rubber. Crunching metal. The nauseating stench of diesel and petrol. A car hit the Volvo’s rear, twisting the car around. A people carrier coming towards me. A glimpse of a child cocooned in a car seat. It’s the same one as I have for Darcy. The last thing I remembered were the horrified faces of the parents before I hit the vehicle head on.
Then, there was silence.
When I came to, an oxygen mask covered my mouth, pressing on the bridge of my nose. I tried to raise my hand to remove it, but my fist remained, clenched and frozen at my side.
‘Stay still,’ I was told. The calm demeanour of a paramedic but she looked worried, as her eyes skimmed the condition of my car.
‘What’s your name?’ she said. ‘I’m Katie. Can you tell me your name?’ All smiles and professional optimism as she held my hand. She shifted to one side and I saw a fire-fighter approach with a machine which looked like oversized bolt cutters.
Katie covered me with a blanket. ‘To protect you from the glass,’ she whispered and then stepped back.
The fire-fighter began to cut away at the upright around the shattered windscreen. I felt the small squares of glass fall on the blanket, but I was protected underneath.
As he worked, I drifted in and out of consciousness. It was a relief, as the noise from the machine was unbearable.
As he prepared to pull the final sections of crumpled metal from my legs, I screamed in agony. I remembered the pain from the night I mashed my fingers, and yet I couldn’t envisage how much pain there would be from my crushed legs. I needed not have worried, as Katie changed the mix in my breathing mask, and I drifted into unconsciousness.
I woke again as the trolley was pulled from the back of the ambulance, yelping as the wheels hit the floor jarring my body. I couldn’t avoid the view of the bright fluorescent lights overhead as I was raced into accident and emergency.
Memories of another emergency room flooded my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my jaw, I held my breath, trying to compel the pain to shift, but it wouldn’t leave. My fingers were aflame. Exquisite agony. Nausea threatened to overwhelm me but lying flat on my back on the trolley would have made me choke. Opening my eyes I saw my fingers were mangled. Twisted and bloody. Misshapen.
Bright lights in front of my eyes, which I squeezed shut again. Obediently though, I tried to open them when told. I bore the probing white light on my pupils. Then a mask placed over my nose and mouth. Cool air, gas, and then, sweet oblivion.
Stern, determined faces surrounded me, rushing my trolley to a side room for intensive treatment. I whimpered at each jolt to the trolley as it crashed into the double doors closing off sections of the emergency area.
I knew nothing of what happened next, although later Topher told me everything. My right leg was broken, with significant damage to the knee. He told me he hoped I would be able to walk again. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the children hadn’t been in the car as well.
The next few days passed in a blur of sleeping, groggy from the pain medication, forcing myself to open my eyes so I could stare at the small bright light, and watching the path of the doctor’s index finger to prove I wasn’t concussed.
Once again, my mind went back to a different accident and the same promises of a full recovery.
Another of Topher’s lies.
Chapter Ten
Lily
I woke one morning to find a diminutive dark-haired woman sitting in the visitors’ chair.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘My name is Detective Constable Denise Jones. I’d like to ask you some questions about the road traffic collision.’
‘I can’t remember anything clearly. It’s all such a muddle,’ I shook my head, an action which I instantly regretted as pain reeled around my head and neck. I closed my eyes and allowed my head to sink back on to the pillows. Pictures flashed through my head, the images whirling around, but I couldn’t make sense of any of it.
‘Mrs Gundersen,’ she said, ‘when you crashed your car, four people died.’
Unbidden, a small face came back into my mind. My vision fixed on her car seat logo. The same car seat as Darcy’s. ‘No,’ I screamed.
A nurse rushed into my private side room. ‘You’ll have to leave,’ she said to the detective constable. ‘I can’t have you disturbing Mrs Gundersen like this. She’s still extremely ill and she needs to recover.’
Detective Constable Jones stood, slipping her notebook and pen into a small black bag. ‘I do need to talk to you, Mrs Gundersen. I will come back tomorrow and see if you are any better. Four people were killed. I need to speak to you about that and interview you under formal caution.’
‘Out!’ Demanded the nurse. ‘Out now. You were told quite clearly not to upset my patient. Have you even got permission from Dr Sanders to be in here?’
DC Jones backed away, giving me a short, sharp nod.
As she turned to go, she collided with Topher. The top of her head barely made it to his chest. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back.
The detective stiffened and glared at him. Taking a deep breath, she drew her shoulders up and back, thrust her chin out towards him. Part of me admired her bravery. If only I could be that brave.
‘You,’ he s
aid. ‘I thought I made it quite clear that you couldn’t interview my wife without a solicitor present. Since I can see no solicitor here I must ask you to leave.’
He turned to the nurse. ‘Has Dr Sanders said my wife is fit to be interviewed?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘I’ve already made it clear to this police officer, but she refuses to leave Mrs Gundersen alone.’
‘I’m a Detective,’ Denise Jones said. ‘Not a police officer.’
Topher looked down at both women. He then fixed DC Jones with a steely gaze. ‘Do we need to add harassment to your list of misdemeanours, Detective? My wife will talk to you when the doctors deem she is fit to do so, and not before. Now leave.’
He held the door open for her, and she gave me one last penetrating stare before, chin held high, she departed. Through the mesh window, partially obscured by a Venetian blind, I saw her speak to a uniformed officer. Was I under arrest?
‘What the hell have you done this time, Lily?’ Topher rounded on me as soon as we were alone.
I tried to raise myself on my elbows and push myself into a sitting position. It was no use and I flopped back onto the pillows. With a grunt Topher threw a device onto the bed. Lifting it, I saw that it raised the back of the bed. I pressed the button and waited whilst the bed whirred me upright.
When I sat facing him, I told him everything that I did remember: the conversation with David Jacobs at school, how the accident appeared muddled, disjointed, but I remembered the lorry, its loud horn and being shunted. Had the lorry hit my car? Topher paced the room, occasionally batting the back of the chair. I was terrified. Expressions of disgust; anger and disbelief crossed his face.
‘Are you sure,’ he said, placing his hands on his hips. ‘Are you sure someone tried to push you off the road? Why would anyone do that? Why would anyone want to do that to you? Are you sure that you didn’t do this to yourself?’
The Love Trap: an unputdownable psychological thriller Page 4
