by Ali Carter
Every blink I took set off another blotch of black dancing around the room. I couldn’t cope. I shut my eyes, allowing the cells in my retina to recover in darkness and pulled my knees up to my chest in despair of the day to come.
My head began to throb and I blamed the duvet for being white. If it was a colour it would have absorbed some of the light rays but no, it’s not, and every single wavelength of light in the visible spectrum had bounced off it into my eyes.
I hugged my knees tighter and opened my eyes. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud and a great shadow cast over my room. It was dark and sinister, and riddled me with fear of ‘the end’. What will become of us when this life is over? Hailey’s eyes had shut the world out, leaving her in darkness never to wake again.
I needed to get up and out, go for a breather and inject life into my limbs before taking on the long journey home. My body was stiff, having lain comatose in sleep, and as I stood up slowly I knew exercise was all there was for it. I crossed the room in that way one does with a body that’s yet to loosen up. Rather similar to Archie’s yesterday I remembered.
Crickey! Cricket. Why hadn’t I thought about it before… lunch in the pavilion. No one had mentioned it, not even DCI Reynolds and Sergeant Ayari. Did this mean it hadn’t been searched?
I had to rush, right now. Get to the ground before the early morning dog walkers were out.
As quickly as possible, I got into my clothes and pulled on my trainers. No time spare to do up the laces. Not one bit of me was feeling jaded any more.
I grabbed the yellow Marigolds from the sink, stuffed a plastic bag into my pocket and bolted from the kitchen out of the door.
Leaving a trail of footprints on the dewy grass, with no time to circumnavigate the boundary, I scampered straight across the square heading for the charming blue-and-white pavilion Archie had tried to tell me about. Any conscientious groundsman would be furious, but acting on thoughts like this was far from my mind.
If Hailey died from something she ingested at lunch, then traces of poison were what I was looking for. Some substance that would take time to work its way through her system and kill her in the early hours of Sunday morning.
What a sight I must have looked in yellow rubber gloves hoisting myself over the veranda, the gates of which were chained shut. Blast. The door was locked, the windows too, and both shielded by internal blinds.
I swung my leg back, all set to kick my way in, when inbuilt good manners brought it to a grinding halt. Susie! I thought, don’t let yourself get out of control.
Round the back of the pavilion, out of sight from the village, I found two quite small free-standing wheelie bins. Out came my leg again, and my arms, carefully toppling one over. Dumph! it went on the dry ground, the lid flipped open and nothing came out.
It was empty. A big deep dark cavern of emptiness. Not even an unbranded plastic bag stuck to the bottom. I left it for dead as I wobbled the other bin from side to side. And as it groaned under its own weight, I creaked back the lid and immediately shut it tight again. The stench was so bad I was almost sick on the spot and as I gagged I prayed that if I opened it again I’d discover something vital inside.
Holding my breath, I flung back the lid and took out the top bag to lighten the load. I gave a great shove, the bin crashed to the ground, and as the sound of bottles and black bags tumbled out I wafted the air to disperse the dreadful smell before putting my head inside.
I untied one of the sacks and sunk my yellow hand into its revolting contents. Out came more sandwich crusts than any hungry seagull could eat; tangerine peel; cocktail sticks with glacé cherries left to rot; half-eaten scones and a mountain of tea bags. I gave my hand one last ruffle before the stink became too much to bear and I had to leave this one for now and try the other.
I wiped my hands on the grass, looking away for fear of gagging again. And as I untied the knot of bag number two my heart stepped up a beat at the sound of the glass clanking inside. With no thought for mess, I tipped its entire contents onto the ground.
The pile of empty bottles at my feet smelt like a Soho gutter the morning after a frivolous parade. With one final shake a few vegetable crisp packets fluttered out onto the ingredients of Primrose’s punch. There was an empty bottle of gin lying next to the thick glass of some rare peach liqueur and by its side rolled a fancy bottle of blue curacao.
An empty packet of Fortnum & Mason’s finest filter coffee stuck to my glove as I scrabbled through Fever Tree tonic cans to reach the plastic bottle at the bottom of the stash. I grasped it and the crystal blue liquid sloshed and frothed up the neck as if there were some chemical inside.
‘Antifreeze,’ it said on the label, ‘tailored for the Tiguan.’ What on earth was this doing in a cricket pavilion bin? It’s the height of summer for heaven’s sake.
Then, the name of the car hit home… a Tiguan – it’s exactly what the Geralds had. I knew it was. George had teased Stanley at dinner for having a ‘spivs’ car in the country and Primrose had retaliated, ‘Oh George, that theory went out with the war, it’s nonsense gents only have a green 4x4 in the country any more. We love our black Tiguan, don’t we darling? Smartest car we’ve ever had.’
Now, I’m no chemist but I knew this blue liquid could be my answer to it all.
A high-pitch whistle came from the other side of the pavilion. I glanced around the corner, charging across the cricket square some distance away was a stocky miniature English bull terrier, mobility restricted by what used to prompt my grandfather to say, ‘that dog should be wearing underpants’.
I stripped off one glove, flapped the plastic bag out of my pocket and slipped the bottle inside. The voice calling ‘Governor, Gov, here boy, Govvy,’ was getting closer but I knew if I was unbelievably quick I’d have just enough time to stuff the majority of the rubbish back into the bins.
The voice was coming from the right of the pavilion, so swiftly and carefully I crept down the left. With gender on my side – no one would suspect a blonde girl in a dress to have been digging about in a pile of rubbish – I strolled unhampered around the cricket-pitch boundary and, as I unlocked my car, I felt the wind in my hair.
If antifreeze could kill, I knew who would know.
I returned the Marigolds to the sink and made two cups of tea. I urgently needed Toby’s co-operation. He’d give me a reliable answer far quicker than I could search for one on Google and therefore I owed it to him not to be cruel.
‘Knock, knock,’ I said standing outside his bedroom door feeling proud of myself for rising above the underlying issue, thinking perhaps there was a reason he didn’t tell me about Tom.
There was a grunt that I took to mean ‘come in’.
‘I thought you’d like some tea,’ I said putting a mug down on his bedside table.
‘Susie?’ he’d rolled over to face me. ‘What is it?’
I made no excuses for my entry and sat down in the mini armchair at the other end of the room. Toby’s colour was high and his face expressionless, no doubt he was wishing I’d go away.
‘I had to come and tell you.’
‘You’ve had a dream?’ he butted in and we both laughed.
He was so good at breaking an atmosphere. I liked him for that.
‘I’ve just been to Fontaburn cricket ground and found a bottle of antifreeze in the wheelie bin behind the pavilion.’
Toby kept looking at me and it was hard to tell what he was thinking or if he was awake enough to think at all. His chest began to appear above the duvet as he sat up.
‘One: what were you doing rooting around in bins, and two: why have you woken me up to tell me that you’ve found a bottle of antifreeze?’
‘Please don’t be cross. I know you’ve been trying to get me to stop my investigation and it’s not that I wanted to go against you it’s just I couldn’t resist trying to…’
Toby finished my sentence, ‘Prove everyone else wrong.’
I was hurt by his comment. I shut up a
nd very nearly left the room.
‘Susie, I’m sorry, it’s just, after our discussion last night and all, I’m surprised you’ve woken me so early to bring up the same old subject of Hailey’s death.’
‘Shh, shhh, we don’t want to wake Lucy.’
Toby quietened his voice but it didn’t take away the sting in his tongue. ‘I really did think you’d managed to drop it once and for all.’
‘It’s lucky I haven’t, honestly, please let me explain. Can you just help me out one last time, please? I need to know if someone can die from drinking antifreeze?’
He pulled the duvet up and pushed the entirety of his upper body back into the headboard.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, you can?’ my body was tingling.
‘Car antifreeze is generally ninety-five per cent ethylene glycol. This is a toxic alcohol, which when drunk is broken down by the body into glycolic acid and oxalic acid.’ The monotone explanation rolled off his tongue, him giving me the answer with no wish to do so.
‘Oxalic acid!’ I exclaimed so loudly I’m sure Lucy must have woken. I clasped my hand over my mouth.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Toby. His tone was still dull. ‘I don’t think Lucy came home last night. I lay awake a long time and didn’t hear a thing.’
It consoled me to hear he’d struggled to sleep.
‘If Hailey drank it, how would it have killed her?’
‘The toxin would have poisoned her kidneys.’
‘How?’ I asked. Accuracy was all I wanted right now.
‘Calcium oxalate would have accumulated in her kidneys, damaged them and led to anuric acute kidney failure.’
‘If they did, is there any way the medics could have missed it?’
‘The signs of ethylene glycol poisoning are not specific and share very, very similar signs and symptoms to the likes of kidney stones. Anuria is non-passage of urine and can occur from an obstruction such as kidney stones.’
Like that of any brainbox, Toby’s ego couldn’t resist giving a thorough, if a little tedious, answer to a question he knew all about. There were no ‘sort ofs’ or ‘thingamajigs’, he gave me every detail I could have possibly wanted.
On and on he went… ‘Because calcium oxalate is the same by-product produced from kidney stones and as Hailey had kidney stones it might’ve masked ethylene glycol poisoning.’
‘No wonder they made the wrong diagnosis.’
‘What you think is the wrong diagnosis,’ said Toby, but it didn’t perturb me. I ploughed on regardless, gleaning the information I needed, now knowing he’d answer any medical questions I wanted.
‘Is it easy to test for antifreeze poisoning?’
‘No. It costs a fortune to measure blood ethylene glycol concentration so many hospitals don’t have the ability to perform it.’
Then came Toby’s rocket. ‘If the investigators were in any doubt over the cause of death they wouldn’t have closed the case. They have concluded Hailey wasn’t murdered and so should you.’
I sipped my tea making sure not to show the slightest reaction to his proclamation. This got under his skin and I could tell it did when he tried to persuade me there was no way Hailey would have drank such a vivid blue liquid, even if it tasted sweet.
‘Toby,’ I raised my head. ‘That’s exactly my point. Primrose’s cocktails were blue. I’m absolutely sure Hailey’s drink was spiked at the cricket.’
‘You’re wanting it to make sense.’
‘But let’s say she did drink antifreeze, what symptoms would she have shown?’
Toby knew I’d been upset by him last night, which was now perfect. He was on the back foot and as he’s neither nasty nor unkind I knew he was going to play into my hands.
‘You may as well know,’ he said defeated, ‘that someone poisoned by ethylene glycol shows very similar symptoms to someone who’s drunk too much.’
Toby pulled his fingers through his dishevelled hair. He wasn’t looking at me, he didn’t share in any of my excitement. His high colour had subsided to pale cheeks and it took a lot of pleading to get him to re-entertain the idea that Hailey was poisoned.
‘What are the exact signs she would have shown early on?’
‘Dizzy, lacking co-ordination, slurred speech, confusion and thirst,’ he said with a half-smile.
‘That’s exactly what we wrote down.’
‘You wrote down.’
I rushed to my room to get my sketchbook.
‘Here it is.’ I handed it to him open on the list of symptoms: Slurred speech; Energetic; Dizzy; Thirsty; No urination.
‘You have a point,’ he said finally. ‘But the signs are very close to alcohol poisoning and with ethylene glycol they don’t always kick in immediately. A person can look well for several hours before showing signs of poisoning.’
‘But the combination of these symptoms, the excessive levels of oxalate in the autopsy report and the bottle of antifreeze surely gives us…’ I corrected myself, ‘Me, enough reason to go to the police.’
‘Your call, Susie, but I’m staying out of it. It wouldn’t do me any good challenging the conclusions of other medical professionals.’
‘How long would it take to kill her if she drank it?’
‘You don’t give up easily do you?’ he said.
‘I need to know. I have to be sure.’
‘At the very least twelve hours and at the most around thirty-six hours.’
‘Hailey died in that window.’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘How would she have died?’ I asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Would her heart have stopped? Would she have choked on sick?’
‘Oh, I see.’ Toby was slowly becoming more forgiving. ‘If someone drank it they’d probably slip into a coma and die soon after.’
The talk of death silenced me. Poor Hailey was dead. This put things into perspective and I grasped the opportunity to smile at Toby, regardless of how I’d felt last night.
He looked back at me with pity. ‘Susie, I think you’d be taking too big a risk by going to the police. You’d have to tell them you’d doubted the forensic pathologists’ conclusion and gone out on your own to prove them wrong. DCI Reynolds obviously trusts his men and who are you to tell him they’re wrong?’ Toby took in a deep breath. ‘I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself, all you have is a bottle of antifreeze found by rooting around in a bin.’
An emotional lump formed in my throat and to keep the tears at bay I continued the fight. ‘The antifreeze is branded for a Tiguan. The very car Primrose and Stanley had.’
‘You don’t know if the Geralds’ car was even at the cricket or if the antifreeze had been chucked away by a cleaner for the simple fact that no one has any use for antifreeze in a cricket pavilion.’
‘Too true,’ I said with a smile. ‘Thanks for not refusing to discuss it.’
Toby let out a pffft. ‘Your poor parents, you must have given them an exhausting upbringing if you’ve always needed such thorough explanations.’
The word upbringing brought Toby’s son Tom in to the forefront of my mind. Arguing last night had created a reserve between us and I didn’t want the memory of it to fester under the carpet.
‘I’m sorry I was so outspoken last night.’
‘No worries.’
He cut me off. Nothing more was said and the tea I’d brought him remained untouched. I left the room feeling sad. Sad that Toby wasn’t backing me and sad that we’d damaged whatever it was that felt so good between us.
I dragged my feet downstairs and sat at the table drinking black coffee, which only darkened my thoughts. I didn’t even bother to open the front door, despite Red-Rum clawing at it. The air in the kitchen was stale and I didn’t care. My whole being felt empty and I’d lost the drive to carry through my theory on Hailey’s death. The only place in the world I longed to be right now was home but not one bit of me felt strong enough to take on the journey.
Th
ere was a loud thud on the other side of the door. ‘Oh, hi Susie,’ said Lucy as she came crashing in. ‘Hell of a party.’
‘I can tell,’ I said with an unavoidable grin. Lucy’s dress was crumpled, her legs were grazed and her glittery make-up smudged around her bloodshot eyes.
‘There’s some coffee in the pot,’ I said, glad of her presence forcing me to lift my mood. ‘I can heat it up if you want some.’
‘I’d vomit if that hit my stomach. I have to go to bed, sorry Susie.’
‘Don’t apologise, it’s your house. I’m leaving soon so thank you very much. You’ve been a wonderful landlady and thank you for having Toby too.’
Lucy’s pale face hung off her worn-out body. She looked like she might faint any minute so I decided against slowing her up by giving her another hug.
‘Bye Susie,’ she just about got out before her eyelids began to droop.
I gave Red-Rum a cuddle goodbye and went upstairs to pack my stuff. It wasn’t till I was in the driving seat all ready to go that I glanced across at the antifreeze bottle in the plastic bag and decided that for once in my life I was going to heed someone else’s advice. I wouldn’t go to the police; I wasn’t prepared to take the risk.
It’s not that I minded the thought of being wrong; it had more to do with losing Toby’s respect and spoiling any chance of a future together (if that was even a vaguely realistic thought).
I let out a breath and took a deep one in, encouraging myself to grow up and go and say goodbye.
Toby was up and dressed and packing his bag.
‘Time for me to go,’ he said.
‘Me too, I was just coming to say goodbye.’
‘Off to the police, are you?’
This stab made me so furious that in the fiery heat of anger I changed my mind then and there, ‘Yup.’
Toby advanced towards me and kissed me coldly on both cheeks. ‘Thanks for a happy few days in Norfolk, safe journey home.’
‘And you.’
I turned and left, there was nothing more to say.
Goodbye Pluton Farm Stables! Norham Police Station here we come…
