by Kerena Swan
‘Not everyone likes cake. Anyway, I don’t want the police here. There’s nothing they can do now.’
Sophie fetches a brush and dustpan and sweeps up the fragments of china and ornaments then wipes the tea stains off the wall. She straightens the cushions on the sofa and rights the coffee table. She picks up Max’s photograph and shakes the loose glass off it then looks at it for longer than necessary. Ivy watches her, the tension building in her whole body.
‘There, it looks almost back to normal now,’ Sophie says. ‘Just a couple of chunks out of the plaster and a few gaps where the ornaments were. It’s lucky you don’t have wallpaper, or the tea would have left a stain.’
‘Thanks, you’re such a sweetheart.’
‘Shall I put the kettle on?’
‘In a minute, dear. Could you possibly take my shoes off first?’ Ivy asks holding one foot aloft.
She needs to get a move on as Max will be here soon. ‘My slippers are down there.’ She reaches surreptitiously for her paperweight as Sophie fetches them, exhilaration bubbling up inside her. Sophie kneels in front of her and pulls the Velcro apart as Ivy lifts the heavy glass orb and swings it at Sophie’s head.
55
Max thumps his hand in the middle of the steering wheel. His car horn blares loudly, making a pedestrian jump with fright.
‘Get a bloody move on! The lights are on green, you stupid moron,’ he shouts. He nudges his car forward almost touching the bumper in front then to his horror the car stops and he has to brake sharply. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ He’s screaming hysterically now, the veins in his temples swelling and throbbing.
The driver in front gets out of his car and starts towards Max, his face red with anger. Max winds down his window and hangs his head out.
‘Get out of the fucking way you bastard. It’s an emergency!’ Spittle flies from his lips but he makes no attempt to wipe his chin.
He doesn’t know if it’s what he’s said or the wild look in his eyes, but the driver clearly has second thoughts and jumps back in his car. The light changes to red as it moves away but Max shoots across the road as soon as his exit is clear. He doesn’t care if the traffic camera has caught him. This is a matter of life and death. He takes the next corner at breakneck speed and accelerates along the straight road. Ahead of him, the lights change to red again and he almost weeps with frustration as he pulls up behind another car.
The bitch. The absolute bitch. He’s convinced Ivy will harm Sophie. Why else would she have wanted a lift home from the day centre? The manager had looked at Max like he was deranged when he’d yelled in his face, asking how long ago they’d left. Max had run from the building and screeched out of the car park, leaving rubber marks on the concrete. As he’d checked his mirror, he could see Peter standing by the entrance, staring after him.
The lights change, and Max is off again. Sweat runs down his forehead and stings his eyes. His clothes are sticking to him. This is even worse than when he found his mother after she’d overdosed. The steering wheel slips in his wet palms as he takes the last corner into his nan’s road.
56
What is she doing in there? She’s been ages. Tilly has been distracted for a while texting Izzie about her group, but her battery has just died and now she’s bored, bored, bored. Bloody thing is so old the battery doesn’t last long. She can’t wait to get the iPhone from Max. Tilly sits up and turns to look at Ivy’s bungalow. She’s debating what to do when Mr Brentwood appears from inside his house. He approaches the car and knocks on the window. She can’t quite work out what he’s saying so she levers the driver’s seat forward, opens the door and clambers out. He clutches her with both hands and she looks at him in alarm.
‘Is someone in there?’ He points to Ivy’s front door.
‘Yes, my mum was helping Ivy indoors but she’s taking ages.’
‘You must get her out. It’s not safe in there.’ He pulls her towards the gate and drags her up the path.
Mum has told her that Mr Brentwood gets confused, but Tilly doesn’t know how to handle him. She tries to release her arm, but he has a strong grip and is tugging her to the front door that Mum has left slightly ajar. They stumble into the hall and through to the lounge. He’s frightening her now.
‘Mum, I think Mr Brentwood needs your …’ The words die on her lips as she absorbs the scene in front of her. Ivy is standing over Sophie, a cushion clutched to her chest. Sophie is lying on her side with blood in her hair, her eyes closed.
57
Oh Christ. Sophie’s car is parked outside. He can’t see anyone in it and for the first time he wonders if Tilly is here too. Without cutting the engine Max opens his door and leaps out of the car, running up the path and calling Sophie’s name. The front door is wide open. Oh God, is she safe? There’s someone in the lounge doorway What the hell is he doing here? Max pushes past Mr Brentwood and sees Tilly kneeling on the floor next to Sophie. She’s crying and rocking backwards and forwards.
‘Mum, Mum. Wake up.’
‘Is she OK? Let me see her.’
Tilly looks up at him and moves aside, fear and confusion clearly etched on her face and tears dripping off her chin. Max kneels beside Sophie. Her skin is pale and clammy, and she doesn’t move. A sob catches in his throat. He can’t speak. Pull yourself together, for Christ’s sake. Fear trails icy fingers down his back and he looks across at his nan. She’s standing watching him with a slight smile on her face, and why is she clutching that bloody cushion? Was she about to make sure she’d properly finished Sophie off?
‘Sophie, Sophie.’ Please don’t leave me. He strokes her hair tenderly from her face then rests two fingers on her neck as he’s seen them do in hospital programmes. His hopes soar as he feels a pulse and Sophie’s eyes flutter open.
‘Thank God!’ Tilly cries. ‘I’ll get a cold compress.’
She rushes to the kitchen then returns holding out a wet tea towel. Max takes it and gently places it on Sophie’s temple. She groans and tries to sit up.
‘Sshhh, stay still for a minute,’ he murmurs softly.
‘What happened?’ Tilly asks Ivy, and Max looks up to see what she’ll say.
‘She had a bit of a fall and bumped her head.’ Ivy says. ‘She’ll be all right in a minute, you’ll see. I was just going to put this cushion under her head.’
‘Should we call an ambulance?’ Tilly looks at Max.
‘I think you should call the police,’ Mr Brentwood says.
‘Oh, shut up, you daft old bugger.’ Ivy looks angry but then her voice softens. ‘Tilly dear, your mum caught her foot on my bag and hit her head on the coffee table as she fell. She’ll be right as rain soon. Sophie, are you feeling OK?’
Ivy leans forward in her chair and Max scowls at her. Should they call an ambulance? What if Sophie tells them Ivy hit her? It’ll lead to all sorts of questions and links will soon be made to the missing women. But he can’t put Sophie at risk. What if she’s got concussion?
‘How are you feeling?’ he asks after a long pause.
‘Better,’ she replies weakly. ‘Can I sit up?’ Max gently scoops her up and sits her on the sofa. She gives him a faint smile then looks at Tilly’s pale face.
‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘I’ll take you home,’ Max tells her. ‘I can’t let you drive after a knock on the head. I need to be sure you’re OK.’
Sophie puts her arm around his neck and he picks her up again. She rests her head on his shoulder and the corners of her mouth lift.
‘My knight in shining armour,’ she whispers.
58
A huge weight of disappointment pins Ivy to her chair. She doesn’t even have the strength to get up and watch them leave. Thank God that stupid bastard Brentwood has gone home. She can’t bear to look at him. She sits alone, staring at the floor where Sophie had lain and strokes her paperweight. She must be losing her strength. She’d wanted to hit Sophie so hard that she wouldn’t even need the cushion.
She’s certainly lost Max completely now. There’s no way he’ll see her after this. She won’t be able to kill again unless she can make it look like an accident.
She feels helpless. She’s lost the only thing that gave her any sense of power and control. All the memories of indifference and neglect surge to the surface of her consciousness and overwhelm her; ill fitting, grubby clothes, the constant growling of her empty stomach, the taunting laughter her skinniness drew from her father’s friends, as well as other children, and the isolation. The total isolation. That was the worst thing. Being told to stay in her room with nothing to do. Not even a book to read. She used to scream inside her head and plot ways to get back at Mavis.
She’s unwanted and always has been. Her eyes fill slowly with tears that roll down her face and neck. They feel strange. She can’t remember the last time she cried. Has she ever cried? The room darkens but she makes no move to turn the lights on. The television stares blankly at her.
A sudden knock on the door jolts her head up but still she doesn’t move. She has no intention of answering it. The only person she wants to see is Max and he always lets himself in.
‘Police. Open up.’
For God’s sake! That stupid old fart, Brentwood, must have phoned them. Ivy drags herself out of her chair and answers the door to two policemen.
‘We’ve received a report of a disturbance at this property. May we come in?’ one of them says.
Ivy steps aside and leads the way to the lounge. ‘I’m afraid you’ve been sent on a fool’s errand, officer. I suppose old Mr Brentwood called you, confused as usual. There hasn’t been a disturbance. Just an accident. My friend Sophie tripped over and bumped her head. My grandson has taken her and her daughter home.’
‘I see. What’s her name? I don’t suppose you have her phone number, do you? We’d like to call her to check she’s OK. Just procedure, you understand.’
Ivy can see across the hall where the second officer is peering into her bedroom, looking under the bed and in the wardrobe. He should have asked her permission first, the rude man, but she can’t be bothered to challenge him.
Ivy opens a cupboard and pulls out her care folder then hands it over. ‘The number’s in there.’ She hasn’t got the energy to be charming today. What’s the point? Let Sophie tell them what happened. Ivy is past caring.
The policeman jots the number in his notebook then asks his colleague to sit with Ivy while he goes outside to make the call. He returns within a couple of minutes and appears satisfied.
‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’ They walk towards the door. ‘We’ll show ourselves out.’
Ivy barely responds but then a flicker of her old anger ignites, and she calls out, ‘and tell that meddling old bastard next door to leave me alone!’
59
‘Are you sure you’re OK, Mum?’ Tilly asks again. The incident must have really frightened her. She’s never normally this attentive.
‘I’m fine now. Just a bit of a headache. Paracetamol might help.’
Tilly rushes to the kitchen and reappears with a glass of water and tablets. I take them gratefully, trying not to let Tilly see my hands shaking. I lie down again on the sofa, a cold compress on my temple. The truth is that I’m confused and disorientated. Tilly says I tripped over Ivy’s bag and hit my head on the coffee table but I’m normally careful about trip hazards. After all, my job involves warning other people about them. Perhaps I saw the bag too late and twisted round trying to save myself. That would explain why I have a lump on the side of my head instead of the front. Karen will think I’m an idiot. Just thinking about it is exhausting and I close my eyes.
‘Are your eyes OK? No double vision?’ Max is on Tilly’s laptop researching head injuries and what to look out for.
I slowly open my eyes again and the room swims into focus. ‘My eyes are fine and no, I don’t feel sick.’
‘How did you know I was going to ask you that?’ Max looks surprised.
‘Because I’ve done first aid training and know what symptoms to look for.’ Actually, I do feel a little nauseous, but I think it’s the shock. I just need to rest awhile. I feel dreadfully tired. I’m almost drifting off when Max’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain.
‘It says if you’ve lost consciousness you should get checked out by a doctor and have a responsible adult with you for forty-eight hours. Maybe I should take you to the surgery then to your parents’ place so they can look after you.’
‘I can look after Mum! I’m capable.’ Tilly turns to me. ‘Aren’t I, Mum? I can take time off school and stay with you.’ She jumps up and starts straightening cushions and picking up empty mugs.
‘You can’t afford to miss school in the middle of GCSE’s. Anyway, I don’t need to go to the doctors. It’ll mean a massive wait and I’ll feel a fraud.’ I heave myself up to a sitting position and plaster a smile onto my face, trying not to wince as a sharp pain shoots through my temple. ‘I’ll keep my phone by me and call Mum and Dad if I feel unwell. They can get here within fifteen minutes.’
‘You certainly shouldn’t go to work tomorrow,’ Max says. ‘Have a day to rest.’
I’m tempted by the idea, but I’ll see how I feel later. I don’t want Karen moaning about me taking time off. ‘I should call the office. They’ll wonder why I haven’t come back.’
‘Tilly’s already called them and explained. Don’t worry.’
‘What did they say?’ I ask Tilly.
She stops in the doorway, her hands full of dirty cups and shrugs. ‘Not much. Karen didn’t sound overjoyed. Said to call her first thing in the morning if you’re still ill.’
‘Thanks. And what about Mia?’ I look at Max. ‘She needs collecting soon. I don’t feel strong enough to drive just yet.’ I’m struggling to focus my brain and come up with a solution. I just want to sleep. Maybe a strong coffee would help.
‘I can fetch her if you want me to,’ Max offers. ‘She knows me and you can speak to the child minder to say I’m coming. I need to get a cab to my nan’s first, though, to pick up my car.’
Of course. Max brought us back in my car. I picture him squeezed behind the wheel of my little hatchback. It must have seemed an old wreck compared to his sleek BMW, but he didn’t pass comment. It was good of him to bring it back here for me. I don’t remember much of the journey. I was feeling spaced out. I still can’t believe I fell over like that. I’m not usually clumsy.
‘Don’t you need to go back to work? I can ask my parents to pick Mia up. Ivy might need you as well. She kept feeling dizzy.’
Max shoves the laptop aside and abruptly stands up, his mouth in a grim line.
‘It’s not that I don’t trust you,’ I add quickly. ‘I’m sure Mia would love you to collect her.’
His face brightens with a wide smile.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to appear grumpy. I just don’t feel like going back to work. I’d rather be with you. But you’re right. I need to go and check on Nan. Shall I fetch Mia on my way back?’
‘Please. I don’t really want Mum fussing and worrying. We can get a takeaway for dinner. I’ll call the childminder to tell her you’re coming. If she asks for a password say “picnic”.’
‘I’ll order the cab. Tilly, stay with your mum and call me if you’re worried.’
As we wait for the taxi my mobile rings. I glance at the caller display but it’s a withheld number.
‘Hello?’ Maybe it’s a Social Worker.
‘This is PC Burns. I understand you sustained an injury at Ivy Saunders’ property. Could you tell me how it happened?’
‘I think I tripped on Ivy’s bag and hit my head on the coffee table.’ I glance up at Max who is staring at me, frozen to the spot.
‘You think?’
‘I can’t remember clearly.’
‘Was anyone else present?’
‘Only Ivy and she was sitting in her chair. Sorry. What’s this about? Why are you calling
about an accident?’
‘We had a report of a disturbance. We heard someone was attacked.’
‘That must have been Mr Brentwood. Ivy’s neighbour. I’m afraid he gets confused sometimes. I’m fine. Ivy’s grandson kindly drove me home.’
‘Thank you for your time. If you wish to report anything else, please call the Bedford station and leave me a message.’
I end the call. Max’s face looks drained of all colour.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ I assure him. ‘Just Mr Brentwood getting the wrong end of the stick again.’
I can see Max’s limbs lose some of their tension. ‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he says and kisses me gently on the forehead.
I glance over at Tilly who pretends not to have noticed.
‘I hope Ivy’s all right.’ I call after him. ‘Give her my best wishes and tell her I’m sorry for being so clumsy.’
‘Right, Mum, what else can I get you?’ Tilly asks.
‘A coffee would be lovely and maybe a couple of those chocolate biscuits Max bought.’ Tilly seems to be enjoying a role reversal, so I might as well make the most of it.
‘I’ll bath Mia tonight and read her a story,’ Tilly says. ‘Can we have an Indian takeaway? We haven’t had one for ages. I wish we could have them more often.’
‘I’m afraid they’re too expensive.’
I suddenly remember the five hundred pounds I shoved into my jacket pocket. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to discuss it with Tilly. I get up a little unsteadily then go to the hall and take my jacket off the hook.
‘You can’t go out! Max said I need to look after you,’ Tilly protests.
‘I’m just fetching something.’
I pull out the envelope and return the jacket to the hook. Back in the lounge I sit and open it then spread the money out on the sofa. Tilly’s eyes are wide.
