‘Who is it?’
‘Did I mention it was private?’
‘Is it Naomi?’
‘No.’
‘Where is she?’
Annabel muttered an apology into her phone and half sat up, forehead creasing. ‘What do you mean?’
Camilla expelled her breath. ‘She took off in your car. Didn’t you know?’
‘No.’
‘Can she be contacted?’
‘She doesn’t have her phone. She’s been using Lorie’s.’
‘Who is that?’ Camilla was suddenly irritated by the mention of Lorie’s name and that a third party was listening in.
Annabel rolled her eyes and returned the phone to her ear.
‘Joel? Something’s come up. Can I call you back?’
Annabel cut the call and swung her legs onto the floor and sat up. Her smile had vanished. Camilla said, ‘Who’s Joel?’
‘Why the accusatory tone?’
Camilla held her eyes closed a moment then found Annabel again. ‘Who’s Joel?’ she managed in a calmer tone.
‘Better. A guy I met in my gap year in Japan.’
‘Is he Japanese?’
‘No, he’s a Geordie. He was staying in the same apartment block as me when I lived in Tokyo. We used to meet up for drinks and stuff. He was good company.’
‘So he’s just a friend then?’
Annabel hesitated, not out of fear of telling the truth, Camilla noted, but out of irritation. ‘Kind of, yeah.’
So he was more than a friend. ‘Why have you never mentioned him?’
‘Because, Mum, you weren’t speaking to me when I was out there, and since I got home there’ve been more important things to worry about. I talked to Naomi about him.’
‘As thick as thieves at the moment, you two.’
‘We’re twins, Mum. We talk, share things. Why is that a problem?’
Camilla, ignoring a question she couldn’t answer, looked away from Annabel’s eyes and found the curtains. ‘Point is we need to track Naomi down.’
Annabel shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Why on earth not?’
Annabel sighed. ‘Mum, just leave her alone, OK? Let her work things out for herself.’
‘I can’t let her wander around at the moment.’
‘You can’t lock her up either. Anyway, I have a pretty good idea where she’s gone.’
‘Tell me.’
A pause. ‘She wouldn’t want you to know.’
Camilla moved closer to Annabel and held out a warning finger. ‘If you know where she’s gone, you tell me now.’
There was a car approaching the house, crunching the gravel. Camilla flew to the window and looked down. Two men pulled up in a white car and got out.
‘Is it her?’ Annabel asked.
Camilla watched for a moment in silence, working out who it was. ‘It’s the police – the two who came on Monday.’ Annabel got up quickly from the bed and rushed to Camilla’s side. ‘If they’re here with bad news, Annabel . . .’ Camilla clung to a nearby chair, vulnerable suddenly. ‘I can’t –’
‘Why would they be here with bad news? They’ll probably just be checking information, Mum.’
‘Surely they’d have rung,’ she said in a small voice.
Camilla collapsed into the chair.
‘Dad?’ Annabel yelled. ‘Daaaaad.’
It didn’t take long for Henry to hurry through the doorway. At the same time, the doorbell rang. Henry stalled mid-stride and looked over his shoulder.
‘It’s the police,’ Annabel said. ‘Stay here with Mum while I go and talk to them.’
<><><>
Naomi knew the voice instantly. One word was enough. Her fists clenched. Her muscles locked. Blood started to drain from her head, but she refused to look away. She glared at him behind dark lenses, relieved he couldn’t see her eyes. She couldn’t find any words at all. Her thoughts were turbulent. She couldn’t organise them into speech. She was aware of her breathing, noisy and desperate.
He was watching her with fascination.
Eventually, Nathan spoke. ‘What happened to your hair?’
‘I burned it,’ she said slowly. ‘I burned everything of yours and hers.’
This seemed to please him. ‘What are you doing here, Naomi?’
She fought to take control of herself and briefly wondered if this was just another nightmare. She couldn’t grasp that Nathan was in front of her, that he wasn’t in a cell where he should have been. For life. Had he escaped? ‘I might ask you the same question.’
‘I live here,’ he said, gently. ‘We live here. We’re married, remember? You’re my wife and I love you. Have you come home?’
Nathan took a step forward. Naomi took three back and found herself in the lift. She could see that Nathan was still wearing his wedding band. He clenched his fists and moved towards her.
‘Why are you still wearing your ring?’
‘Because we’re still married.’
‘Back off. You’re insane. I came here to see Dan.’
‘Of course you did.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know.’ Nathan followed her inside, forcing Naomi to edge backwards until she was against the wall. The lift doors closed. Naomi was finding it difficult to breath. ‘Look, I’m sorry OK? I’m sorry,’ Nathan was saying, close to her face. Naomi twisted her head away from him, trying to tune out of his words. She had no fight. The enclosed space was darkening. A horrible sense of nausea was creeping up on her. She was losing her grip on consciousness.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she panted.
‘I’m not touching you, Naomi. Why are you accusing me of things I haven’t done? And why are you still punishing me? You’ve made your point. I’ll never understand why you chose to make it in the way you did. I suppose it was your way of humiliating me in front of the entire planet.’
It was too much. He was too much. She had no strength to resist his words. She knew she’d black out. She slid down the wall to prevent a crash and Nathan crouched in front of her and watched.
‘Can you ever forgive me for making one mistake with Lorie?’ he asked.
She shook her head with what energy she had left, an attempt to shake off his senseless words. He was sick, sick, sick. She was battling for air. ‘Never,’ she whispered with what felt like her last breath. And as Nathan faded, she thought he was smiling.
6
‘How has Naomi seemed since she got home?’ Detective Constable Desmond Watt asked Annabel, having explained that he and DC Pete Bailey were only visiting to ask a few questions.
Annabel, relieved they hadn’t come to spill bad news, sat in the lounge, cross-legged, the two plain-clothed officers directly opposite her. The fact that DC Watt had no lips and a hairy nose was the only thing in her head, because she really didn’t know how to answer.
‘I’d say disturbed.’
Watt scribbled the word into a small pad. His fingers were dark with hair too. Gross! ‘In what way?’ he asked without looking up.
‘In every way,’ Annabel waffled, distracted by long, wiry nasal-hair. She looked at Bailey instead. He was probably twenty-five years younger and was half decent-looking. Plus he had lips. Bonus. ‘She’s been having night terrors and waking up sweating. She’s talking in her sleep.’ She searched the ceiling for more inspiration. ‘The last two nights she’s been to bed with her headphones on, listening to classical music. I mean, it sounds like a load of plinks and plonks to me, but Naomi connects with it.’
‘Is she afraid of something?’
‘Of course she is,’ Annabel said. ‘She’s been through hell. She’s reliving it all the time. She’s terrified.’
‘Of what, specifically?’
Was he thick? He carried on scratching notes in his pad.
‘Everything,’ Annabel said, watching him form tiny letters that sloped off to the left. ‘The memories, the betrayal, the future. Her life has been turned on its head. Who
wouldn’t be afraid? She’s devastated.’
He paused briefly to attend to an itch inside his ear with the end of his pen. Maybe his ear had a nest inside it too. ‘Let me ask you, did you hear from Naomi after the wedding? Did she ring? Text?’
Annabel was confused by the change of subject. Where was the sympathy, the offer of support? He had to be emotionally deficient as well as stupid. ‘I got some nice pictures and a few messages from Naomi’s phone, but obviously, Lorie sent them.’
His pen worked furiously. ‘Naomi on any of the pictures?’
Annabel was just plain irritated now. ‘How could she be?’
‘And did you suspect it wasn’t Naomi who sent them?’ he said in a croaky, dull tone without acknowledging Annabel’s previous point.
‘Not at the time, no.’
‘Do you still have those messages and pictures?’
‘Yes,’ she said. But he didn’t ask to see them.
Camilla walked in just ahead of Henry. She’d pulled herself together and put on some pale pink lipstick and a black cardigan. DC Watt didn’t look up. DC Bailey stood up to greet them. He briefly shook their hands.
‘We weren’t expecting you today,’ Camilla said, not disguising the tightness in her tone. ‘It’s alarming to see police officers pulling up when you’re not expecting them.’
Bailey said, ‘I can imagine. Sorry. We have tried to call, but the number you gave us was unobtainable.’
Camilla’s features softened. Her neck flushed red. ‘My mistake. I changed our phone number earlier.’
‘First I’ve heard,’ Annabel said.
‘I was tired of journalists calling.’
Bailey smiled. ‘It’s understandable.’
‘I’m not myself at the moment,’ Camilla added, dropping down beside Annabel, ‘and I wasn’t expecting you to visit us again so soon.’
Henry didn’t sit down. He just hovered and paced the floor a bit.
Watt looked up from his pad. ‘We’re just here to get a clearer picture, Mrs Hamilton. Naomi’s out at the moment I gather?’
Camilla wrung her hands together and smoothed her skirt. ‘Yes.’
Annabel said, ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t want to call home.’ Camilla looked at Henry in alarm. ‘Have you given Naomi our new number?’
‘No.’
Watt cut in. ‘Any idea when she’ll be back?’
Camilla had drifted into reflection, so Henry stepped in.
‘I’m sure she won’t be long.’
Desmond Watt finally stopped writing and looked up. ‘That’s good. It gives me a chance to ask a few questions.’ He launched right in. ‘What kind of an employee was Lorie Taylor?’
Silence. Annabel eyed Camilla, to check she was OK. To be fair, how was Hairy-Knuckles meant to know that Lorie was on Camilla’s “do not dare mention” list?
Henry started to answer. ‘Well, she was –’
‘Henry,’ Camilla cut in sharply. ‘I really don’t think it’s a fair question. The employee we thought Loretta was, was only . . . an illusion.’
‘We’re only after an impression, Mrs Hamilton. She worked here, lived here for a lot of years.’
‘I can tell you who I thought she was until recent events,’ Camilla offered, grudgingly.
Watt tapped his pad with his pen. ‘Go ahead.’
Camilla glanced at Annabel then lowered her head. ‘She was like family to us. She was capable, hard-working, imaginative with her work.’ She flicked Henry a look. ‘We trusted her completely. Turns out she thought it was perfectly alright to steal from us.’
‘What did she steal?’
‘Henry lent her ten thousand pounds a few months ago. She obviously had no intentions of paying the money back. Then there’s the car. I’d call that stealing.’
‘What makes you think that Lorie was responsible for the car theft?’
Camilla puffed air through her nose. ‘How else do you think that someone was able to walk into our garage and drive away in the car?’
‘Wasn’t the house left unlocked and unattended all day? The keys were taken from the house without the need for a break-in.’
‘By someone who’d obviously been informed that we were out all day,’ Camilla said firmly.
‘But you have other employees, isn’t that right? A cleaner, a gardener?’
‘Had. They’ve since been sacked.’
‘All we know,’ Watt continued, ‘is that the keys to the Rolls-Royce and the garage were taken from the house. Neighbours may well have been aware that there was a family wedding. There are many possibilities. The fact is that, for whatever reason, the house was unlocked. We’ve had the car examined and there’ll be a report filed without delay. The car should be available for you later today. Meanwhile, you’d better look at this,’ Watt said, reaching into a black briefcase. He pulled out a big, bulging envelope. HENRY was scrawled on the back in capitals with a black marker.
Watt handed the envelope to Henry.
‘What is it?’
‘Lorie gave us permission to search her flat. She assured us she fully intended to return the money and had it ready. We found this at her flat. Bear in mind she hadn’t been home since she was arrested.’
Henry started to wrestle with a strip of brown tape on the envelope. Watt said, ‘Ten thousand in cash. We counted it.’
‘In cash?’ Henry won his battle with the tape and stared inside the envelope, speechless.
‘What’s your response to that, Mr Hamilton?’
Henry shook his head. ‘I’m flabbergasted.’
Watt exchanged a glance with the younger, better looking guy who raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. The look didn’t escape Annabel. She wondered what the hell it meant.
<><><>
Naomi parked Annabel’s car close to the gates of St Phillip’s Primary School. Attached to the gates, the railing continued to her left, which ran adjacent to a footpath. Along this path there was a long row of houses which overlooked the school field. Her legs didn’t feel steady when she climbed out of the car still wearing the stripy scarf and shades. She couldn’t remember the house number, but knew she was looking for a red door. She ventured down the path in search of a house she’d visited once, months earlier.
She narrowed it down to two houses three doors apart and knocked on the door of the first one. A dog yapped viciously behind the door. Wrong house. Without waiting, she staggered three doors along to the next red door and, not finding a bell or a door knocker, beat on the door with her knuckles. Nothing happened. She looked anxiously up the path to her left and right. She felt exposed here. The car was thirty metres away on the nearest road. Children were beginning to pour into the playground behind her for playtime.
What did that feel like?
She’d almost decided to give up when she caught some shuffling behind the door. She lightly knocked again.
‘Hello, yes?’ came a suspicious voice.
‘Siobhan, open up. It’s me.’
A couple of seconds passed. ‘Naomi?’
‘Shh.’
Siobhan opened the door cautiously and studied Naomi. Naomi dragged the scarf off and removed her glasses.
‘I can’t believe you’re here. Where’s your hair?’ she said in her dense Irish accent.
‘Can I come in?’ Naomi asked, exasperated and weak at the knees.
Siobhan always moved slowly, as if her energy was in short supply and she needed to conserve it. Her ginger hair was big and bushy and framed her face. Her eyes were barely blue. She stepped aside and Naomi moved down a narrow hall into a sitting room and gratefully flopped onto a canvas sofa. Siobhan moved at a glacial pace towards a chair beneath the back window, dropped down and clasped her hands together. They looked at each other.
‘Give me a minute,’ Naomi said, closing her eyes, slowing her breathing. Siobhan – her Irish friend from college – sat perfectly still, in silence.
A full minute slithered by. When Naomi opened her eyes, Siobhan was
waiting to say, ‘I thought you were ignoring me.’
Naomi shook her head. ‘Don’t be daft. My phone’s gone,’ she said.
‘I tried to ring your house this morning but no one answered.’
So, it was Siobhan.
‘Things are a bit weird at home. It’s nothing personal.’
‘It’s like seeing a ghost, having you here. When you think someone’s dead, then they come alive and knock on your door, it’s kind of weird.’
‘For me too. Thing is I feel dead. It’s just my stupid heart that keeps beating. Sometimes, I wish it would give up.’
‘That bad?’
‘Worse.’
‘Cuppa?’
‘Yeah sure.’
In the time it took for Siobhan to make two cups of tea, Naomi had steadied her breathing and stopped her limbs from shaking. She was conscious of the house and who might be listening. Siobhan shared with two random students – both guys – who’d advertised the room. Naomi had viewed the property months before with Siobhan and met the two lads, who seemed fine. She was looking out of the back window onto a scruffy little garden overlooked by a parallel row of houses when Siobhan returned.
‘So,’ Siobhan said, taking her seat under the window again, ‘what’s going on?’
‘You won’t believe me when I tell you.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘I probably shouldn’t be here,’ Naomi said. ‘Is anyone else in?’
‘No.’
‘Whatever I tell you has to stay in this room, OK?’
‘OK.’
Naomi spent thirty minutes telling Siobhan what had happened since the wedding. Siobhan wasn’t the type to interject with empathetic little noises. She didn’t know what social graces were, which suited Naomi just fine. She just sat like a sculpture, pale as stone, hearing the full unedited account. She was the perfect listener.
Some pressure lifted while Naomi talked. She put her empty mug on the floor.
‘So when you came round, Nathan had gone?’ Siobhan asked.
‘Yeah. Literally, next thing I was aware of, the lift doors were opening and I was on the ground floor, alone. I felt like death, but I managed to get up and drive here. As far as I know, no one followed me.’
The Darkness Visible Page 5
