Be Careful What You Wish For: Three women, three men, three deaths (Kitty Thomas)

by Sue Nicholls

  She dresses quickly and gathers up her bag, keys and phone, overcome by a powerful need to be at home. As soon as he comes out, she stretches an arm round his neck and kisses his lips. He tastes of toothpaste and smells of soap.

  Outside, there is a chill to the darkness and the ground is uneven beneath her feet. The noise of the engine is shocking in the night-time peace, but when she peers up at Will’s window, his curtains are still. She presses her foot on the accelerator and directs the car between the gate posts. Her brain is already on home, and the car speeds up, too fast. She forces herself to slow down.

  Chapter 55

  Gloria has gone home for a couple of days to sort out something or other, and the children are at school. The house breathes quietly, with the grandfather clock at its heart. Although she often thinks about Will, Fee has let a week pass before ringing him.

  Standing in the empty hallway with the phone to her ear she clears her throat and counts the rings, one, two, three ... There is a click, and Will answers.

  'Fee?' His voice sounds strained.

  She keeps her tone light as she asks, 'How are you?’

  ‘Feeling a bit worried - about you. Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes, fine.' She pokes with her toe at a bit of fluff on the carpet then bends to pluck it up and stretches the coiling wire into the kitchen to reach the bin. The feathery white stuff floats into the darkness of the bin and disappears - like Twitch. 'I’ve been busy,’ she tells him. ‘I thought I’d call now to say goodbye.’ She drags a kitchen stool into the hall and lifts her hip onto it.

  There is a pause, a heartbeat before he replies, ‘Goodbye?’

  ‘Yes, you’re going back to your rig, aren’t you?’ She shuffles her behind more comfortably onto the seat and rubs the shiny telephone table with her sleeve to remove an imaginary smear.

  Another short silence, then, ‘Yes. Yes, I am - on Thursday.' His voice takes on an eagerness. 'Can we meet before that? I’d like to see you before I leave if you can make it.’

  Fee pretends to look at her diary then says, 'Yes, tomorrow looks fine.' They arrange to meet at Will’s flat.

  ‘I’ll cook you a meal you won’t forget,’ he says, ‘Maybe the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.’

  Fee is silent.

  ‘I’m only joking Fee.’

  ‘I know, sorry. You know food isn’t high on my list of priorities. Eggs and chocolate, remember?’

  There is a smile in his voice. ‘I’ll never forget. It'll be omelette with chocolate frosting then. See you later.’

  She puts the phone down and it rings again.

  'Good morning Ms Thomas, this is Chelterton Valley police.' The man's voice is polite and business-like. ‘We have some news about the bike, and other matters.’

  ‘Oh?’

  'We've been making enquiries about Mrs Roman's movements on the day she disappeared.'

  'Well there must be plenty of people who can tell you about that evening. After all she was with a crowd...'

  'Mrs Thomas.'

  'Ms.'

  'It seems Mrs Roman didn't meet a crowd of friends that evening. We need to talk to you about our findings and look at her room if we may?'

  'Yes, yes of course. I'm here now if you want to come.'

  She lowers the phone slowly to its cradle. Twitch lied to her. The small piece of information that Fee thought she knew, was a fabrication. She stares down at the telephone on the table.

  ***

  The officers make themselves comfortable at the kitchen table, accepting this time the offer of a cup of tea. When Fee has dealt with the business of tea bags and coasters, she joins them.

  D.S. Bailey, the scruffy officer from before, introduces D.C. Parks and clears his throat while Parks opens his notebook. 'We've had confirmation that the bike you found belongs to your friend.' Bailey's voice is gentle.

  Fee looks and waits.

  'The fingerprints on the bike match those taken here, so there can be no doubt. As you know the bike is the same model and colour that Sabrina...'

  'Twitch.' Fee interjects.

  '...Twitch, bought from the bicycle shop.'

  Fee's mind churns over the implications of this news. She is still taking in the news that Twitch was not out with her art friends. Could she have been lured away? Kidnapped? Killed? Or has she faked her own disappearance? Through all this, Fee has been convinced that Twitch vanished on purpose, that the pressure became too great and she decided to walk away. You do hear of people who do that, then they turn up, maybe years later. The bike in the ditch changes everything. Twitch did not take her car that evening, she would hardly have gone to the trouble of dumping her own bike in a ditch so far from the college. Then again, she may not have gone to the college. She lied to Fee about her plans so anything could have happened. Fee shakes her head. 'What else have you discovered?'

  ‘Well,’ D.S. Bailey consults his notes, ‘We went to the school where you told us the art class was held and interviewed Twitch's fellow students, and the art teacher,’ he refers again to his notes, ‘Mrs Coombs.’

  Fee forces herself to wait quietly for him to get to the point.

  ‘It seems that there was no outing, in fact most of the students hardly remembered Sab..., er, Twitch.’

  ‘The teacher must have remembered her though.’ It seems important that someone remembers her lost friend.

  ‘Well yes, she did, sort of...’ She seemed to remember more about Twitch’s art though. She thinks your friend has a great talent.’ The police officer looks at Fee with an unreadable expression. ‘Mrs Roman seems to have gone to some trouble to keep her movements secret. Can you think of any reason why she would do that?’

  ‘No, none at all. As I've said before Twitch used to suffer from depression, and she certainly kept that to herself, but once it was out in the open, we dealt with it and I was keen for her to go out and enjoy herself. You know, meet some outsiders with a similar interest, and be free to be creative. That’s supposed to help with depression isn’t it?’

  D.S. Bailey shrugs. ‘Could Mrs Roman have met somebody at another location? Perhaps she’s come across a person somewhere else.’

  Fee thinks. ‘Well… there's the children’s school. I didn't think she’d made any friends there, but I suppose she may have done.’

  ‘We've already been to the school gate. Mrs Roman seems to have kept to herself while waiting for the children.’

  The questions go on for a while before the two officers ask to see Twitch’s room, and Fee leads them upstairs.

  ‘You can leave us to it, Ms Thomas.

  In the kitchen, she picks up a cloth and starts wiping. In the hallway she pokes her fingers into the pockets of Twitch’s crazily coloured woollen jacket and pulls out tissues, sweet papers, and a shopping list. She wanders into the lounge and straightens a cushion, listening for sounds of movement from above, but all is quiet. After a while, the two men lope down the stairs and take to the garden. Fee watches them squint into the shed, cupping their hands round their eyes. They stoop over flower beds, paying particular attention to the partially dug vegetable patch. Twitch was trying to get it back under control, and Gloria has already had a stab at planting something or other.

  At last they stamp their feet on the decking, and heave open the sliding patio door to the kitchen. ‘Thank you, Ms Thomas.’ There is no hint of their findings. ‘We’ll talk to the neighbours now. Do you mind if we leave our car outside?’

  They take their leave, shaking Fee’s hand at the front door and promising to be in touch if anything arises. A curtain moves in the downstairs window of the house opposite.

  An hour later, Fee looks out of the lounge window. The police car has gone. In the lonely room she forces her mind to more practical matters: dinner, laundry and picking up the children.

  Fee feels aimless and weary. She misses the companionable routine that she and Gloria have already fallen into, and there is a lot more work to do without Gloria’s help. She th
inks ahead to the conversation they must have on Sunday. Not only must she tell of the latest events concerning Twitch, but also break the news that the following day, Gloria will have her first driving lesson with her son.

  Chapter 56

  Mick’s voice carries up from the bottom of the stairs at Fee’s. ‘Right Ma, are you ready?’

  ‘OK, just give me a minute, Son,’ Gloria lowers herself onto a squat bedroom chair and with fumbling fingers, pulls on flat shoes. She had hoped that with all the distractions at home, Mick and Fee might forget about her blessed driving lessons. Oh well, better get this over with. She rises, wincing at the pain in her back and hips, and heads for the landing. Standing below her in the hall, her son is holding something made of blue plastic. Gloria is too nervous to think about what it might be.

  ‘Come on Ma. It’s going to be fine. I won't let anything go wrong.’

  ‘I know son. I know.’

  He holds open the front door. Twitch’s large silver coloured car waits by the curb, and as they approach, Mick dangles the keys in front of Gloria like bait on a fishing hook.

  ‘Here Ma,’ He gives them a shake, waiting for her to bite. ‘You unlock it.’

  She takes the large black key from him and pokes it into the lock on the driver’s door. There is a clunk. ‘Well, I got that right anyhow.’ Gloria smiles to herself. She is not feeling confident at all, but you have to look on the bright side. It is only a car, a lump of metal with four wheels. She has been through far more traumatic things in her life than trundling along a few streets.

  Hauling her tightly corseted body into this car has always been a struggle, but when Gloria has tugged open the driver’s door, Mick plants the mysterious, blue plastic object on the ground at her feet. It is a small step.

  ‘There you are. Service with a smile.’ Mick grins.

  She climbs in with ease. ‘That’s a good idea but I don't think I can pick it up once I’m in here, so unless you come with me each time I drive, we need another solution.’

  ‘We'll work on that, but it’ll do for now. OK, let’s get on with the lesson.’ He gathers up the step-stool and climbs in beside her. ‘Now,’ his eyes move to the controls of the car, ‘how much do you remember?’

  Gloria studies the dashboard and looks under the steering wheel at her feet. ‘ABC.’ she says.

  ‘ABC?’

  ‘Yes. Accelerator, brake, clutch.’ Gloria has another look round the car. ‘This is the gear lever, you got to check it’s in neutral before you start the engine.’ She gives the knob a wiggle. ‘That's in neutral.’

  ‘Good. See, it’s all coming back.’

  It is. She looks at the road. ‘I can’t see very well. I think this car is too big for me.’

  Mick stretches across her. ‘I think we can change the height,’ he grunts. ‘Yes. Is that better?’

  Gloria feels the seat rising. ‘That’s better, can you do it a bit more.’

  The tarmac comes into view over the top of the steering wheel, and Gloria feels like the Queen of the Road. ‘Stop there. I can see now. Ooh I feel better already.’ She reaches under the seat and slides it forward until her feet make contact with the pedals. ‘Much better.’ She wiggles in her seat, getting a feel for things. ‘So, let's see. Key in the ignition, check for neutral, adjust the mirror, check the wing mirrors. Turn on.’

  ‘Seat belt.’ Mick interjects

  ‘Oh yes.’ She reaches behind her and pulls it across her body.

  The engine is running, and Gloria looks over her shoulder. ‘Look behind, nothin’ coming so, into first, let out the clutch and...’ With a juddering leap, the car takes off. Gloria grips the steering wheel and leans towards the windscreen in concentration. ‘Where we goin' son?’

  Mick’s astonished voice directs her to turn left at the next junction. ‘The indicator is that lever there, Ma.’

  ‘Thank. I should have used that before, shouldn't I?’

  The car clips the curb as they take the corner.

  ‘Slow down Ma. We’re not in a hurry.’ Mick’s voice sounds strange. ‘OK let's turn into this industrial estate. Indicate. OK, slow down.’ Mick’s hand hovers between the handbrake and the steering wheel. ‘Slow down! Good… and… turn.’

  They make the turn without incident and Gloria finds herself looking at a small business park. To right and left are units, with cars drawn up in bays on their frontages, but no traffic rumbles along the concrete road they now drive on. Soon the buildings peter out, and they reach an area not yet developed. There are car parks but no units.

  ‘Turn in here.’ Mick points to a concrete space surrounded by scrub. ‘Do you remember how to stop?’

  Good Lord - I have to stop! Don't panic girl, think. Oh yes. ‘Declutch and brake of course,’ she announces with pride. They jerk to a halt, both pitching forward into their constraints. Gloria looks triumphantly at her son. ‘There. I did it!’

  Mick looks a bit sick. ‘You did Ma; you did. Hand-brake on and engine off.’

  Gloria obeys. ‘You weren't afraid, were you?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’ He smiles. ‘I think you did brilliantly. Don't forget to put it into neutral.’

  Mick suggests they practise some manoeuvres here, ‘You know? To be sure you have full control.’

  Gloria is indignant. ‘Course I got control.’

  ‘OK, so, can you do a three-point turn, so we are facing the entrance again?’

  ‘No problem. Er, where's reverse?’

  They manoeuvre the car round the space, practising clutch control and steering. After half an hour, Mick tells Gloria to stop, and from the rear of the car he lifts traffic cones, borrowed from the car park at work, and sets them up in a rectangle.

  ‘Right Ma, these are the back of a parked car, and these are the front of another car. He points to two pairs of cones. ‘All you need to do is park between them without hitting them, or the curb, here.’ He indicates the edge of the concrete.

  Gloria fails time and again.

  ‘You have to get this right, Ma.’

  ‘I know that. You think I'm stupid.’ Gloria grips the steering wheel. ‘Right.’

  ‘You've done it!’ Mick leans across and plants a loud kiss on Gloria's cheek. ‘Come on Mother, if you can do it one more time you can take me for a cup of coffee. I'll even treat you to a slice of cake.’

  With no further mishaps, Gloria parks the car again. With pride, she eases out of the business park and they cruise along residential streets towards the town.

  Looking in her mirrors, she indicates right and then left, and they join the main road, passing the spot where Fee found the bike. They reach the High Street just as a car pulls from a space up ahead, and Gloria, all attention, reverses into the spot.

  ‘Hey, not bad.’ Mick climbs out of the passenger side and comes into the road to open the door for his mother. She slides to the ground without the aid of the step.

  It is mid-morning and tables in the tearoom are filling up fast. Gloria sits at one in the middle of the room and watches Mick order their refreshments. She observes his tall, broad body, considering, as she often does, how much he resembles his attractive father, and wondering how she ever managed to deliver that huge baby? It was not much fun that's for sure. She had not considered that aspect when she agreed to marry a big man, that his baby might be equally huge. It was only as Mick was growing inside her, kicking and struggling to be born as if he was ready long before she was, that she began to worry about his size. Her small figure was still slim back then and her front stuck out like Mount Afadjato.

  In those days, you tried to hide pregnancy; not like now when young girls flaunt their stomachs under tight tee-shirts. In those days, at home in Ghana, you did not even mention that you were expecting. That would mean acknowledging what had gone on before it. Gloria had stayed inside for most of her later pregnancy. It was confinement for sure.

  She feels an unasked-for empathy with Millie, also petite and bearing Mick’s children. Did Millie h
ave the same worries during her pregnancy? Gloria apologises to the Lord for her prior lack of consideration.

  Soon, Mick advances between tables bearing a tray with two cups, and a couple of cream buns on plates. The tea is good enough, and the cream cake - mmm! She licks the icing from her fingers and wishes she had not worn such a tight girdle.

  When they have finished, Mick picks up the keys. ‘Would you like me to drive you home Ma?’

  ‘Thanks Son. That would be nice.’

  She sits in the passenger seat and waits as Mick struggles into the car and moves the seat to something like a fit.

  ‘Don't forget to indicate.’

  Mick raises his eyebrows at her, ‘Are you going to be a backseat driver?’

  'Sorry.' She clamps her lips shut.

  They turn into a road that runs down the side of the park, and a streak of movement catches Gloria’s eye. ‘There’s Paul.’

  Emerging from a gate Paul crosses the pavement to his bike. He looks up as they pass, and Gloria could swear he looks afraid.

  Outside the house, Mick parks the car. ‘I'll leave you here Ma if you don't mind. I need to get back to work.’

  ‘That’s fine. I can lock the car. You get off. Thank you for helpin’ me. I feel much happier about drivin’ now.’ Gloria leans across to receive a kiss on her cheek, and they both climb out. While Mick strides to his vehicle, Gloria collects the step stool from the rear footwell and locks the car expertly then trots up the path to the front door.

  Chapter 57

  He no longer perches on the wooden carver. The shapely sides of a wing armchair provide the cocoon-like booth into which Paul now shrinks, peering at Max from a shadowed corner. ‘I couldn’t resist it. I needed to see what they were up to, to know if anything was going wrong. I suppose I wanted them to be unhappy.’

  ‘So why tell me this now, after so long?

  Paul blinks a couple of times and scratches his head. ‘Kitty saw me once, but she doesn’t seem to have said anything. Then the other day Mick and his mum saw me coming out of the park. I thought then, it’s time to stop. I felt ridiculous. Imagine if they’d asked me what I was doing in the park. What would I say? Would I lie some more, or tell the truth, which would seem even more stupid?’