No Place to Hide

by Susan Lewis

  “Are you sad?” Lula asked, peering worriedly into her face.

  “No,” Sallie Jo tried to laugh. “My eyes are watering from the cold. You’re looking very smart today in your lovely blue corduroy dress.”

  “I chose it myself from Diva,” Lula informed her, “and I got a coat too. Shall I show you?”

  “Oh, yes please. I’d love to see it.”

  As Lula hastened off to her bedroom with Daisy hot on her heels, Justine said, “What is it?”

  Sallie Jo’s mouth trembled as she threw out her arms. “First up,” she cried, “my sister’s car hit some ice and went off the road…It’s OK, no one’s hurt, but the car’s wrecked, so the tow truck is taking them back to Indianapolis.”

  “Oh no! So they’re not coming today? Your parents must be really disappointed.”

  “Tell me about it, but Cora Jane’s not ruling it out. If the weather doesn’t turn any worse they’ll make the journey in a rental car and aim to get here around five, which is about when my ex-parents-in-law are due to arrive, because they’ve been held up too, apparently.”

  “So it means we’ll eat later than planned. That’s OK, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, I guess so. Yeah, sure it is.”

  “There’s more,” Justine prompted knowingly.

  Sallie Jo didn’t deny it, but Lula was back in her new coat—and fur-lined boots on the wrong feet. “You are adorable,” Sallie Jo laughed. “It is the most stylish coat ever, and I just love those boots.”

  “We got them at Diva too, and Daisy’s got a new coat that we sent for online. It’s pink with pictures of snowflakes on it.”

  “Why don’t you go and put it on her?” Justine suggested. “It should be in the drawer at the bottom of your closet.”

  Off Lula zoomed again, apparently unfazed by her east-west-facing boots, and Justine turned back to Sallie Jo.

  “It’s David,” Sallie Jo informed her. “He just told me this morning that he’s been offered a job in Washington and he’s already decided to take it.”

  Justine’s jaw dropped. “Of all the…” Drawing Sallie Jo into an embrace, she said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s OK, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “But to tell you today…Why couldn’t he have waited?”

  “Apparently he didn’t want to spend the day having to pretend. He thought it was fairer to let me—my parents—decide whether or not we still want to invite him. If we don’t, he says he’ll understand.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Sallie Jo shook her head. “I don’t know. Mom says it has to be up to me, and I know what I want to say, but it seems kind of mean to make him spend the day on his own.”

  “It would be no less than he deserves. How long has he known about the job?”

  “A couple of weeks, apparently. He says it’s too good an offer to turn down and he’s not exactly making the best of his skills in Culver, which I can understand. He’s played with the big boys in the past, so why wouldn’t he want to go there again?”

  “But what about you? Didn’t he…”

  “It’s got nothing to do with me. We’re not an item; he doesn’t have any obligations toward me.”

  “But he knows how you feel about him.”

  “Even if he does, it’s not his main concern, and I’m a fool for actually believing it might have worked out for us.”

  Hearing a yelp in Lula’s room, Justine turned round as Daisy came scurrying in to be rescued.

  “She won’t let me put it on her,” Lula complained, appearing in the doorway with a cute pink anorak with four tiny sleeves and a fur-trimmed hood.

  “That is just too ridiculous,” Sallie Jo spluttered.

  Lula’s eyes rounded. “She’ll catch a cold if she doesn’t wear it,” she protested.

  “Maybe you should carry her tucked inside your coat?” Sallie Jo suggested.

  “But I want her to wear this one. Mommy put it on earlier and she looked really sweet.”

  “Isn’t it too small for Mommy?” Sallie Jo teased.

  Lula appeared confused until, getting the joke, she gave a shout of laughter.

  Laughing too, Justine went to check her mobile as it rang. Seeing it was Matt, her heart turned over. If she answered, it would be the first time they’d spoken since she’d told him not to call anymore, and maybe she didn’t want to speak to him now, when Sallie Jo clearly needed to talk.

  “I’ll let it go to messages,” she announced, turning back to her friend.

  “But if it’s important…”

  “It’s not. So what are we going to do about David? Do you think you can bear to have him around after this?”

  Sallie Jo shrugged. “It would be easier if he’d just pull out instead of leaving the decision to me.”

  “Is there anywhere else he can go for the day?”

  “He mentioned something about one of his neighbors, but I don’t know if it’s really an option.”

  Justine glanced at her phone as it buzzed again, this time to let her know there was a message.

  “…or I guess he could go to Toby Henshaw’s,” Sallie Jo was saying, “unless Toby and Melissa are with her family over in Plymouth, and they usually are for Thanksgiving.”

  “We could always ask Iris Longstow to invite him,” Justine suggested, only half joking. “She’s big on taking in strays at this time of year.”

  Sallie Jo had to laugh, but her eyes darted to Justine’s phone as it rang again. “It’s not him, is it?” she asked, anxiously.

  Justine was experiencing a stirring of unease as she held up the cell for Sallie Jo to see that it was Matt.

  “You should take it,” Sallie Jo told her.

  Deciding she probably should, Justine clicked on. “Hi, is everything OK?” she asked, turning away from Lula.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” he answered, not sounding it. “Is Lula with you?”

  Frowning, she said, “Yes, of course, why do you ask?” Her heart suddenly jolted. Had the email led to something? Was he about to tell her she and Lula were in some sort of danger?

  “You need to sit down,” he said softly. “What I have to say…It’s not…It’s going to come as a shock. Is Sallie Jo around?”

  “Actually, she’s right here. What is it?” She knew instinctively this was about Ben, but she didn’t want to say his name in front of Lula.

  “He’s…I’ve…I had a call from the prison this morning. I’ve been there ever since…” He took a breath. “I’d have called sooner, but the time difference…I didn’t want to wake you…”

  When he didn’t continue she felt herself turning cold to her core. She didn’t know exactly what she was thinking, but only because she didn’t want to put it into words.

  “They found him this morning, in his cell,” Matt was saying brokenly. “He used a razor, apparently. No one knows how he got it…”

  Justine was starting to sway. “Are you saying…? Is he…?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid he is.”

  She sat down hard in a chair, tried to speak but couldn’t. A week ago she’d told Matt how she envied the parents of the boys who’d killed themselves. For one bewildering moment she wondered if Ben had heard her, if she’d somehow willed him to do this.

  Realizing something was wrong, Sallie Jo took Lula and Daisy into the bedroom.

  “I’m sorry,” Matt was apologizing. “I didn’t want to break it to you like this. I’d have come to do it in person, but by the time I got there you’d have heard it on the news.”

  Justine’s head was spinning so fast she could barely catch the tail of a thought before it collided with another.

  Ben was…

  He’d used a razor…

  Found him this morning…

  She opened her mouth, and a terrible cry erupted from the very depths of her. “No, no, no,” she wailed. “Oh God, no.”

  Matt was saying something; Lula was rushing to her, crying, “Mommy! Mommy
!”

  Justine could barely pick her up.

  “What’s the matter, Mommy?” Lula sobbed, trying to grab Justine’s face.

  “It’s all right,” Justine tried to say, the words ragged, unintelligible.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Lula choked, wrapping her arms round Justine’s neck as Daisy whined at her feet.

  Gently taking the phone, Sallie Jo said to Matt, “It’s Sallie Jo here. Can you tell me—”

  “Is she OK?” Matt interrupted. “She’s taken it even harder…” His voice broke on a sob.

  Turning from where Justine and Lula were clinging to each other, Sallie Jo said, “Is it about your son?”

  “Yes. He’s…He’s taken his own life.”

  As Sallie Jo’s face paled, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I know things…I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. Can you stay with Justine?”

  “Of course. Will there be…? I guess there are arrangements…”

  “I don’t know anything yet. I’m going back to the prison as soon as I’ve finished this call. I should know more after.”

  “Let me speak to him,” Justine insisted before Sallie Jo could ring off. Taking the phone, she told Matt, “I’m coming over. If I can get a flight today, I should be there by morning. Can you meet me?”

  There was only a brief hesitation before he said, “Just let me know what time you’re due in. Will you bring Lula?”

  “Of course. I’ll call Rob…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll do that. Are you sure you want to come?”

  “How can I not? He’s my son.”

  Present Day—London, UK

  So this was what it was like to be back on the other side of the corn-silk veil.

  It felt strange, familiar but distant, danker, grayer, smaller, louder, kind of impervious to everything she was feeling and everything that had happened. The world had moved on, and were it not for the headlines and hounding of the press, Justine might have felt that she’d never been here before. That was in the good moments; in the bad she felt swamped by the nightmare all over again.

  Six days had passed since Sallie Jo and Al Leith had driven her and Lula to Chicago to catch a flight to London. Al Leith? Who’d called him? Why would he have given up his Thanksgiving to take someone he barely knew to an airport?

  She must remember to thank him. Maybe she should send a note or email.

  She kept worrying about having messed up the day for Sallie Jo’s parents, but she’d already received emails insisting she hadn’t, and expressing sadness for her loss. Before leaving she’d given Sallie Jo permission to let her parents know the truth about Ben; she couldn’t tell by their messages how they’d received the news, but at least they were in touch. And apparently the day of celebration hadn’t ended up with no guests at all, since Cora Jane and her family had eventually managed to get through, as had Hazel’s other grandparents, and Al had managed to get Sallie Jo back by six. He’d stayed for dinner, but had driven home after in spite of a snowstorm.

  Justine was still struggling to acclimate.

  Although everything was in English, it was feeling foreign, different, and she wasn’t sure why. It was as though she’d stepped out of time and was trying to catch up, or slow down, or simply gain some sort of balance. The streets around Rob’s felt cluttered and dreary. The sky was too low, the trees too bare with sad, spindly arms stretching to nowhere and small clusters of leaves clinging on to the last.

  The media interest didn’t let up for a minute. It was as though they couldn’t get enough of reliving the crime, showing old footage over and over, bringing in the same so-called experts they’d found before, speculating on what had gone wrong, how the affected families might be reacting to the news of Ben’s suicide.

  None of those families had come forward to comment.

  Not much had emerged about the suicide itself; all the police would say was that a thorough investigation was under way. However, Matt had been told that a young woman who’d visited Ben only days before the event was being questioned. It was possible that she’d managed to slip him the blade, though how he’d requested it, or even if he had, was not known. Fellow inmates were also being questioned, but no one was hopeful of getting any useful information out of them.

  Justine was still finding it hard to accept that her son was actually dead. Having not seen him for months, she could easily persuade herself that he was still at the prison and this was all a bad dream.

  Or a good dream, depending on who you were.

  Every time she remembered how she’d virtually wished him dead she felt swamped by guilt, grief, regret…

  She hadn’t meant what she’d said. It had slipped out in a moment of angry despair when she wasn’t able to control what she was saying, or thinking. And yet, had she been able to bring him back, she had to admit in her heart of hearts that she wouldn’t. What would be the point, when his life had been all but over anyway? There could be no quality to it while he was locked away from society, and society would never want him back, or accept him if at some distant time in the future he was forced upon them.

  She wondered if he could see them now from wherever he was, her and Matt, traveling in a Mercedes sedan with both their mothers, and Rob and Maggie, following a solemn black hearse containing a coffin where his body lay inert, bloodless, clean-shaven and dressed in the smart gray suit she and Matt had bought specially. Though the windows of their vehicle were heavily tinted, they kept their heads down as they passed the waiting press on their way into the crematorium, aware of flashes going off, voices calling out to them, cold and inquisitive eyes watching, waiting and hoping for only they knew what.

  She shouldn’t have come, but how could she have stayed away?

  How could she never have written him a letter?

  Had he wanted to hear from her?

  He hadn’t said so in the note he’d left for her.

  It had arrived at Rob’s address two days after his suicide, postmarked the day it had happened.

  Why hadn’t anyone at the prison read it? If they had, they could have stopped him.

  She hadn’t given the note to the police yet, or to Matt, although he knew she’d received one. He hadn’t asked to see it, and because of the things Ben had said she’d decided that she wouldn’t be ready to confront them until the funeral was over.

  There had been no note for Matt, and Justine knew how hurt he was by that. The father who’d stayed with him, had visited every week, sometimes twice a week, had not been considered worth a goodbye at the end: another demonstration of how Ben’s conscience wasn’t the same as most other people’s.

  She didn’t glance at Matt now, but was picturing him in her mind’s eye, pale, tense, and with more gray hair and lines around his eyes than she remembered. His natural charisma, though dulled, was still there; she’d felt it the instant they’d found each other in the crowded arrivals hall, and when he’d stooped to Lula’s height to reintroduce himself to his daughter, Justine could tell that Lula had felt it too.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he’d whispered, “do you remember me? I’m your daddy.”

  Lula’s eyes had rounded with awe. She looked at Justine as though seeking reassurance.

  Justine nodded, and Lula turned back to Matt.

  “You’re very naughty because you didn’t ring us back,” she told him earnestly.

  Laughing and sobbing, he’d swept her up in his arms and buried his face in the sweet, little-girl scent of her. “You’re right,” he murmured, “it’s very naughty not to return someone’s calls. We must make sure you’ve got my new number.”

  They’d been inseparable since then, which had been harder to cope with than it should have been, mainly thanks to Ben’s note, but at least it had given Justine time with her mother. Their reunion had been as emotional as she’d expected; she wondered now why she hadn’t always felt close to her mother when it seemed to be happening so naturally, so powerfully. They’d talked a great deal, mostly about Grandma
May and Phillip, with Justine doing all she could to help soothe her mother’s guilt and grief, while Camilla did the same for Justine over Ben. A new and vital bond had developed between them that Justine was drawing strength from right now.

  On reaching the chapel, they got out of the car and Rob and Matt joined the funeral director’s pallbearers to help carry the coffin inside. Justine followed, holding on to her mother’s arm and feeling Camilla’s long, slim fingers curled around hers. Justine was aware of the cameras searching her mother out; being the celebrity among them, she’d make as many front pages tomorrow as her infamous grandson. It wasn’t going to be easy for her, having to live through the shame all over again, but she’d come to the funeral despite this, and Justine was reminded once more that her mother had been there for her more often in her life than she’d ever given her credit for.

  Behind them Catherine and Maggie walked together, soberly dressed and heads bowed. To the rest of the world they probably appeared as no more than bit players in this unholy drama; to Justine and Matt they were as vital in their love and support as Camilla and Rob.

  Matt had chosen the music for the service, along with the readings. He’d kept it traditional, unremarkable, not wanting to give the press any more reason to criticize, or to accuse them of celebrating the life of a killer.

  When the time came the minister didn’t speak for long, but he was generous in the way he commended Ben’s soul to God.

  There was no one else in the chapel, just the six of them, sitting quietly in the front pew watching a heavy curtain moving around the coffin to take it from view. There were no tears, no other movements at all, only a terrible, silent grief for all the children who’d gone.

  Feeling Matt’s hand reaching for hers, Justine let him hold it for a moment, not knowing whether he was offering strength or seeking it. Probably both. Their two eldest children were both dead. It didn’t seem credible, it couldn’t be true, and yet it was.

  There was a chasm inside her, so deep and black and unending it could never be filled.