Clear My Name

by Paula Daly

  Carrie had been to see Ella and asked her to … What were the exact words Ella used? She said Carrie asked if she could be more discreet. Asked if they could conduct their affair on the QT. She said people were talking and it was embarrassing for both her and Mia.

  ‘Then let’s be more discreet,’ Pete said reasonably to Ella. Discreet? He could easily do discreet. How hard could it be? ‘Let’s get a hotel for the night,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you away. Let me spoil you the way I want to. We can go for the weekend. We can go for a week. Whatever you want.’

  And this was when she told him the news. ‘That’s not what I want,’ she said carefully. ‘It’s tricky … but I think I’m …’ and Pete thought: What? What are you thinking? ‘I’m actually seeing someone else,’ she said.

  Gut-punched, Pete nearly dropped the phone.

  ‘You can’t be,’ he replied weakly, and she told him she was sorry, but she was.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘What’s his fucking name?’

  She wouldn’t tell him.

  Instead she said: ‘Listen, Carrie coming around here made me realize that I’m not cut out for this. It’s not right. I didn’t understand that at first. I got caught up in what we were doing … I got caught up in you, Pete. But it can’t go on. You’ve got a family. I never told you this but Carrie visited me at work as well as at home. She brought your daughter with her. It was mortifying. But anyway, besides all that, I’m so much younger than you are and—’

  ‘You’re not that much younger.’

  She paused then. Seemingly to collect her thoughts. He could hear her breath and it sounded heavy; she sounded like a toddler with a blocked nose. Did she have another cold coming on? he wondered. She could be a bit of a baby when she was feeling out of sorts and Pete would have to minister to her like a parent. He’d spur her on, energize her, or else she’d stay in bed for days. Ella was immature and it was this childishness that Pete had found so unexpectedly alluring at the start. Her youth was intoxicating, even when she was being puerile. Especially when she was being puerile – because he knew he simply needed to gain the upper hand and she would do exactly as she was told. She could be so beautifully pliable and it was such a turn-on. She loved to mould herself into whatever he needed her to be and, after Carrie, it was pure novelty. And so he knew that whatever she was about to do next he could talk her out of. That’s how they worked. That’s why they worked.

  ‘I don’t love you any more,’ she said simply.

  And he laughed. From shock. Because honestly, it was hysterical. ‘Aw, don’t say that, love.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘You don’t mean it.’

  ‘It is true, Pete. Carrie made me realize—’

  ‘Carrie? What did Carrie make you realize?’

  ‘She made me realize that what we were doing was pointless. I mean, come on, really. Where is it going? You’re never going to leave her. She told me about your arrangement. She said you had to stay until Mia gets to—’

  ‘I am going to leave! Of course I’m leaving. I just need more time.’

  ‘You’re never going to leave, and I don’t think I ever really wanted you to leave … It was all a game. A lovely game.’

  ‘A game.’

  ‘OK, maybe not a game. But you know what I mean. It was never going to be more than—’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘It’s not important.’

  ‘I want to know. I deserve to know. What is it? Why do you want him? What?’ He laughs. But it’s a maniacal laugh. ‘Is he better in bed or something?’

  Ella didn’t answer.

  ‘You little bitch,’ he whispered.

  An image of the two of them screwing crashed into Pete’s head and he cut the call, staring at the phone in his hand. On the underside of his wrist, the tendons were standing proud of the skin. And he’d started to sweat. He needed to calm down. He needed to get his shit together. His thoughts were ricocheting around inside his head. Don’t do anything rash, he cautioned himself. Don’t do what you want to do and go over there.

  And that’s when he made the decision that he would remain here. He would remain on the edge of this bed until he could think straight.

  That little bitch.

  That little bitch.

  Twenty minutes later and the words are deafening but it’s the images Pete’s having a harder time dealing with: Ella laughing; Ella lying on her back, another man’s head between her legs; Ella lounging on the sofa, her feet in some guy’s lap; Ella, Ella, Ella.

  He wants to weep but he’s too angry to weep.

  He pictures them together. And the thought of someone else inside Ella turns his stomach. Suddenly he feels he might vomit. In a rush, he moves from the bed to the bathroom. He crouches in front of the toilet and rests his elbows on the rim. Heaving, he thinks of Ella’s creamy skin. Her glossy hair. Her big, expressive eyes.

  That little bitch.

  His stomach is empty but he continues to gag. He gags until there is nothing left except the hot sting of humiliation. Then he stands. He washes his face and lowers the toilet seat, sits down upon it to try to recover. But the images of Ella are still coming and they make him want to tear his skin from his flesh. How could she do this to him?

  A thought occurs: if he could just see her, she would come back. If she would only listen to what he has to say, he could persuade her, he’s sure of it. He’ll make her see that Carrie has planted this doubt for her own reasons. Carrie wants Pete for the sole reason of making Mia feel at home in the world. To keep a lid on Mia’s anxiety, which seems to escalate the second her home situation isn’t exactly as she likes it. Well, Pete’s very sorry, because you know who else is anxious? The whole fucking world.

  He’ll go to Ella. He’ll go to her house after Ella finishes work and he’ll make Ella see that this is a mistake. There is no need for this to end. He will leave Carrie and they’ll start afresh. Mia doesn’t need him now. Mia is grown and this arrangement they have, this stupid, futile arrangement he and Carrie have for the sake of Mia’s mental health, can finally come to an end. Mia is almost an adult. A woman. She can take care of herself for a change.

  Yes, he will go there. And Ella will reconsider.

  And if she doesn’t? Well, he’ll …

  What?

  What will he do?

  All at once, he’s not sure what he’ll do. He can’t consider failure as an option. Ella will relent because she has to. Because for him to live knowing she is sharing her life with someone else is simply illogical.

  He washes his face again and brushes his teeth to get rid of the sour taste inside his mouth. He regards himself in the mirror. He turns one way and then the other. He sucks in his paunch, lifts his chin a little to tighten his jaw, and for the first time in his life he’s not altogether confident in what he sees reflected back.

  Is he too old? Too old for Ella?

  Is it possible he might not persuade her? Could she reject him for a second time?

  Pete glances down at the small steel pedal bin beside the sink. Carrie has neglected to push her rubbish in properly – again. There is the candy-pink edge of a sanitary pad wrapper peeping out at him from beneath the rim. He presses the pedal with his foot and stuffs the contents deep inside. ‘Filthy cow,’ he says when his fist makes contact with the used pads. Why can’t she be more discreet?

  Carrie used to flaunt the fact she was menstruating so he’d stay away from her in the bedroom. She used it like a banner so he wouldn’t approach.

  His toes slip off the pedal.

  ‘I hate my wife.’

  He says it again.

  Except now something is forming in the recesses of his brain. Something that could be useful. Something he thinks might just take the pain away. Something like payback.

  His toes move back towards the bin. He depresses the pedal and the lid springs open. Surprise! it seems to say.

  He rea
ches inside and rummages around. His fingers landing on the prize after only a moment. He unwraps it. There is plenty of Carrie’s blood for him to work with.

  ‘Fuck you,’ he says, smiling, grabbing a change of clothes to take with him. ‘In fact,’ he says, ‘fuck both of you.’ And he’s down the stairs, grabbing the long-bladed knife Carrie uses for carving the Sunday roast, before getting in his car and heading back to the office.

  He’ll only have an hour to kill until Ella gets in from work.

  Now

  THE LIGHTS TURN to green and Tess’s foot hits the gas. She can feel the blood pounding in her temples as she overtakes an old guy in a hat. He sounds the horn as she pulls in in front of him, her bumper way too close to his. She doesn’t look in the mirror. He’ll be yelling at her. When she gets the opportunity, she overtakes again. And again. She does this until she reaches P. J. Kamara Estate Agents, Sales & Lettings.

  There are two cars parked at the front. She blocks them in and runs from her car. ‘Where’s Pete?’ she says breathlessly, flinging the door open.

  Pete’s sour-faced assistant, June, is dealing with a young couple. She gives Tess a cursory glance before ignoring her. She is standing by a wall of photographs, starter homes, enjoying the power she wields. ‘But if you were wanting that extra bedroom …’ she is saying to the couple. ‘How much deposit did you say you had again? Eight thousand. Hmmm.’

  Tess takes a step inside. ‘Where is Pete Kamara?’ she repeats.

  ‘Now this one is a very pretty dwelling. And there’s no chain. The owner’s gone into a residential home so there is some cosmetic work to be done. How do you feel about a project?’ The woman now turns towards Tess. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, ‘you are?’

  Tess covers the floor between them in two strides. She gets between Pete’s assistant and the young couple, gets right up into the woman’s face, forcing her against the wall. ‘You know who I am,’ she whispers nastily.

  ‘Home,’ the assistant says. ‘He went home.’

  Tess takes a step back. ‘You were Pete’s alibi? Remember that?’

  ‘Of course I remember that.’

  ‘You said he never left the building.’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  Tess turns and heads to Pete’s office. June calling out from behind, ‘You can’t go in there!’ Tess ignores her protests and flings open the door. She stands in the centre of the office and looks around. Does a full three-sixty. And at first, she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t see the slightest of bumps in the plasterwork. She doesn’t see it because there is a filing cabinet and a potted palm in front. She walks to the wall. Runs her fingertips over the paint. ‘There used to be a door here,’ she shouts to June and June doesn’t answer.

  Tess goes back through the main office. ‘There was a door. Leading directly from Pete’s office to outside.’

  June’s face has lost all its colour.

  ‘Did the police interview Pete in here or in his office?’ asks Tess.

  ‘In here.’

  ‘So they wouldn’t have seen the second entrance?’

  June is quietly stricken as she now realizes what she has done.

  ‘When was the doorway bricked up?’ asks Tess.

  ‘A couple of years ago.’

  ‘Why was it bricked up?’

  ‘It was never used.’

  Tess shakes her head. ‘You stupid woman.’

  Five minutes later and Tess turns into Pete’s street. Immediately she sees Mia’s small Citroën parked outside his house. Which means Mia’s inside. Probably Carrie too. She pulls in behind it and gets out. A hundred thoughts crowd her head. She should call the police. She should wait for them to arrive. But approaching the house, there are no signs of life. The place is eerily quiet. Is she too late?

  She peers through the front window. Everything seems in its place, as if there’s no one at home.

  The front door is shut.

  She tries the handle.

  It opens.

  She steps inside and still there is no sound. Slowly, she moves from room to room. Her heart is in her mouth as she checks the two reception rooms at the front. Both are empty and there are no signs of a struggle.

  She pauses at the foot of the stairs. Thinks about going up. She listens.

  Silence.

  She presses on towards the back of the house. The door to what can only be the kitchen is shut.

  Again, she listens.

  Waits.

  And it’s as she’s pressing down on the handle that at last she hears a cry.

  A baby’s cry.

  Tess bursts into the kitchen. She looks around and her mouth drops open. What greets her there is devastation. There’s blood. A lot of blood. Everywhere. And lying in the middle of it all is Pete Kamara.

  Mia is standing over by the French doors which lead to the conservatory, holding her baby, jiggling her up and down. And sitting on a chair at the kitchen island is Carrie. There is a long-bladed knife next to Carrie and she looks at Tess. ‘Hey,’ she says, softly, as if she somehow expected to see her. There is blood spattered on Carrie’s face, on her bare arms, in her hair.

  ‘Hello, Carrie,’ Tess replies.

  Tess’s eyes drift to Pete. Blood is blooming through the front of his white shirt. He is lying flat on his back on the tiled kitchen floor, his right foot hooked behind his left knee. His eyes are open, his skin is still a good colour, and if you were to take away the blood, you might assume he was faking.

  Tess leans against the wall. Her legs are suddenly weak as though they may give out at any second. She takes a couple of breaths, tries to regroup.

  ‘It was self-defence,’ Mia states curtly from the other side of the room. There is a forthrightness to her tone, a take-no-shit attitude, that is unusual for Mia. Tess glances at the body. It doesn’t look like self-defence. ‘He came at her with a knife,’ Mia adds. ‘She had no option but to respond.’

  Tess walks around the body. She can’t see another knife. ‘What knife?’ she asks, and Mia shrugs as if to say: Whatever.

  Tess squats down. She’s pretty certain this is not self-defence. ‘I need to call the police,’ she says, and no one speaks. ‘Carrie, do you get what I’m saying, I need to call the police?’

  Carrie nods. ‘It’s OK. Call them.’ She’s distant, trance-like, and Tess isn’t sure if she comprehends what’s going on.

  Tess takes out her mobile and hesitates before dialling.

  She can’t believe Carrie has done this. After all they’ve been through to get her out of prison. Why would she do this?

  ‘Did he attack you?’ Tess asks quietly, and Carrie says that he didn’t. ‘What then?’

  ‘I had to,’ and for the first time Carrie looks at Tess straight in the eye. ‘I had to do it,’ she repeats, holding Tess’s gaze, willing her to understand.

  ‘Why did you have to do it?’

  ‘There was no alternative.’

  ‘Because you knew he’d set you up?’ asks Tess.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘The blood,’ Tess says. ‘You knew he’d planted it.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘When? When did you know?’

  ‘Not at first,’ Carrie explains, ‘not when I was arrested. Not even during the trial. But … later. Pete came to see me a few months after I arrived at Styal. He wanted me to make things right between Mia and him, and when I refused, when I told him only he could do that, he got nasty. He said I was poisoning Mia’s mind against him. He told me I’d poisoned Ella’s mind against him.’ Carrie pauses. And then: ‘He killed that girl because he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having her. She’d started seeing another guy and he blamed me for that. He blamed me for warning her off. She’d told him she didn’t want to play around with a married man any more and he blamed me. And so he put my blood in her house so I’d take the rap. He hated me so very much for influencing Ella.’

  ‘So why not tell someone?’ Tess cries. ‘Why not tell me? Why make us go t
hrough all that? Through the whole appeal process when there was no guarantee it would go your way?’

  Carrie swallows. ‘I needed you to get me out of there,’ she says quietly.

  ‘I could have got you out of there. No problem at all. Why did we have to go to the appellate court? Why spend all that time and resources when—’

  And then it dawns.

  Tess closes her eyes. ‘If you’d told me about the blood, Pete would’ve been arrested and charged.’

  ‘He’d be in prison,’ says Carrie.

  ‘And if he was in prison, you couldn’t get to him, could you? You couldn’t kill him if he was locked up?’

  ‘No.’ Carrie smiles sadly. ‘And we had to kill him. I’m afraid we had to redress the balance.’

  We? thinks Tess. What does she mean, we?

  Tess looks over to Mia and Mia turns away. She is cradling her baby against her shoulder and Tess almost laughs.

  She’s been had.

  Not for the first time, she’s been led a merry dance by a prisoner, but she’s pretty sure this is the first time a prisoner’s family has got the better of her.

  Carrie watches Mia softly sway her baby and she remembers meeting her for the first time back in November of last year. The tears, the pleading, the whole I-need-my-mother routine. Was that real? Some of it. Most of it, maybe. Mia simply neglected to make Tess part of the bigger picture. The one in which she gets her mother back and together they execute her father.

  ‘Mia?’ Tess says.

  ‘What?’ she snaps.

  ‘Are you OK?’ And Mia shrugs. This is a very different Mia from the one who played along with their plan all this time. The weeping, oh-so-vulnerable Mia. The wide-eyed innocent who’d lost everything. This Mia is tough. This Mia has a steeliness to her gaze. Her spine is straighter. She stands as though she owns the room.

  But she’s also scared. She’s scared because she doesn’t know what Tess is going to do about this.

  Tess walks over to the body and surveys the scene again. The two women watch her carefully. She bends over and looks at Pete closely. Poor Pete. He still looks a bit of a dick even in death.