Next of Kin

by Welfare, Sue

  Now there was no one left to stand between them, no one to save her, no Josh, no Ryan. Sarah picked up a towel from the chair beside the bath and wiped her face, took another and wrapped it round her body trying to still the chill that had finally taken hold. If she was to stand any chance against Woody she had to wake up, she had to find a way to take control, to shake this feeling of helplessness and find a way out. There had to be a way. There just had to be.

  Once she was back in her room Sarah stripped the bed, bundled the bedclothes up, along with the remains of her nightdress, and stuffed them into a rubbish bag, remade it with clean linen, locked the bedroom door, wedged a chair up under the handle, then curled up and despite all the odds fell into a dark deep dreamless sleep, that sucked her in and held her tight.

  Sarah was ripped awake by the sounds of someone knocking at her bedroom door. Knocking hard. There was a moment of stillness and then she remembered where she was and what had happened; Ryan was dead and Woody… She stopped the thought dead in its tracks. Glancing down she could see the bruises blooming on her wrists.

  ‘We need to be going,’ he snapped through the door. ‘You’ve got ten minutes. I’ve got places I need to be today.’ And then his voice dropped to something all together more sinister. ‘Or would you like me to come in there and get you up?’ He paused. ‘Ten minutes.’

  She climbed out of bed very carefully, as if there was a chance that she might tumble and break; that was certainly how it felt. She slipped on clean underwear, a pair of good jeans and a sweater and then – without looking in the mirror, afraid of what she might see, pulled a brush through her hair. Finally, Sarah pressed her ear to the door, afraid that Woody might be there waiting outside. After a moment or two longer she opened the door a fraction, just to check. The landing was empty. With her heart beating like a drum in her chest she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She stood by the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror above; it was strange that there was so little trace of the things that had changed her life forever.

  The marks around her neck could be hidden with a scarf, the bruising on her arms with the sleeves of her sweater. She wondered fleetingly why she needed to hide it: shame, fear? And what would happen if she found she was pregnant. She had already done the maths; it was unlikely, but once Woody had gone she’d ring the doctor’s and ask for a morning after pill, blame a failed condom, a mistake, just in case. The prospect of ending up with a child as a result of the night before made her feel physically sick.

  But would she tell anyone? Would she report it? Sarah looked into her reflection’s distant closed away eyes. Certainly not now, maybe never – the truth was that along with the hurt and the anger she was embarrassed and ashamed; how could she have put herself in a position like this, how? This wasn’t who she was; she had done nothing to deserve this. All she had done was try to make things right. Right for Ryan, right for Woody, right for everyone except for herself and somehow those good intentions had brought her to this place.

  Beneath these thoughts, the leviathan, the bigger knowledge swam in dark breathtakingly cold waters. Ryan. Ryan, even forming the shape of his name in her head made her want to cry. How could he possibly be dead? How? Part of her was still hoping that someone had made a mistake. Maybe someone in the pub had stolen his wallet. Maybe he was hung-over and staying somewhere, staying with friends, waiting to sober up a bit before he wandered home, afraid of what she might say, afraid of how she might be with him.

  Sarah stared at her reflection, into the pale, tired face, part of her mind refusing to believe what she had been told. Busy working out what she should say to Ryan when he got home.

  She would make it clear that this time she was relieved, happy, and that between them they would sort this mess out. She would tell him about Woody and the night before, and together they would make a plan to get away from him. Together.

  The sound of banging on the door made her jump. ‘Come on. We need to be going, I’ll be in the car waiting,’ Woody said. ‘You hear me?’

  How had he guessed she was in the bathroom? Had she left the door to her room open? Had he been listening downstairs for the sound of her moving about; her feet on the bare boards?

  The thought made her flesh creep.

  She gave him time to go downstairs and then went into her bedroom and picked up a scarf to cover the bruises on her neck, along with her house keys and her handbag. He was in the hall by the door.

  ‘Let me look at you,’ he said. ‘Make sure you look presentable.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean? I’m going to identify the body of my brother. How am I supposed to look?’

  He grinned. ‘Fiery this morning. Don’t get ahead of yourself here, Sarah. We need each other, remember? I don’t want you forgetting that. We’re in this together.’

  She stared at him. ‘No, we’re not. There is no we. I don’t want to go with you,’ she said. ‘I want to go on my own.’

  Woody’s expression hardened and he shook his head. ‘Not an option. We told the police that we’d both be there and we will, and if you so much as—’

  ‘So much as what?’ snapped Sarah. ‘What will you do that you haven’t already done? What’s left? Tell me?’

  He looked at her and laughed. ‘Stop being so fucking melodramatic.’

  She didn’t look at Woody as she got into the car. She hoped he would think that he had won, that maybe she was cowed and beaten. What she didn’t want him to see was the hate or the rebellion in her eyes; something had to change.

  They said nothing during the drive. Sarah tried to make herself as distant and absent as possible so that no part of her touched him, not even her thoughts.

  Sarah

  ‘I know it’s upsetting, Sarah, but I don’t understand why, once you’d lost Ryan, that you just didn’t ask Woody to leave?’

  ‘It seems so straightforward and easy to you, doesn’t it? But it wasn’t like that – I thought – he kept telling me that we would be arrested if anyone found out about the wedding.’

  ‘But you weren’t planning on telling anyone?’

  ‘I know, but he said the people from Immigration would come round eventually. We needed to keep up the pretence. We needed to be there together.’

  ‘And you believed him.’

  ‘I don’t know now what I believed, but there was the money.’

  ‘The money? I thought that the deal was if you married Woody the debt would be written off.’

  ‘That was their deal, not mine. I hated Woody for what he had done to me. I was in shock. I hurt. But I intended to pay him off. Buy him off. I thought once he had got his money he would go. We’d be all square. There was no way I could clear it until I sold the house. Although at that point I didn’t understand the relationship Woody had with Farouk, and I wondered…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That if I didn’t do what Woody asked, he might send Farouk after me. After all Farouk had gone after Ryan to make sure he paid up.’

  ‘But presumably you were in a position, once Ryan was dead, to sell the house.’

  ‘That wasn’t the first thing that crossed my mind.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.’

  ‘But, yes you’re right. I just didn’t want to think about it then, not so soon after Ryan drowned. I know it’s irrational but the house is all I have of my entire family. I didn’t want to be forced into selling it straight away.’

  ‘But you would have sold it?’

  ‘Yes. I knew it was the only way to be rid of him. I wanted Woody gone. Paid off. Out of my life. And when I was more rational I realised it was the only way out. But first of all there was Ryan.’

  *

  There was a little bowl of white silk flowers on the wooden side table outside the viewing room. Alongside the flowers was an electric tea-light flickering in a ceramic lamp. Some economy version of an eternal flame, presumably. There were blinds sandwiched between the panes in the double g
lazed windows so that whatever was inside could be cut off from the comings and goings, the hustle and bustle, of the rest of the building. The blinds were closed tight shut, like white unseeing eyes.

  Sarah took a deep breath to still her nerves. She already knew in her heart that Ryan wasn’t sleeping it off somewhere. He wasn’t staying over with friends or nursing a hangover. He was in the tiny, cold, featureless room deep in the bowels of the hospital.

  The female police officer who had come to the house was there, along with a woman from the hospital who accompanied them down to the viewing room. She had the kindest eyes. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

  Woody nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’ He made as if to step forward but Sarah was ahead of him. ‘Would you like me to do it, Sarah? I’m happy to go in there if you want me to. ‘He paused. ‘I don’t want you upset or frightened.’

  Sarah stared at him, deliberately meeting his eye. She knew none of the conversation was for her benefit. The woman looked away graciously, giving them a little space; obviously this was an intimate moment.

  Sarah shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I want to do this on my own.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ he pressed, and as she stepped away from him, he caught hold of her wrist and for a moment her sleeve rucked up to reveal livid purple bruising. It was only for a split second but Sarah knew the woman from the hospital had seen it. She saw her look, and then look away. Maybe now was the moment to say something, but she didn’t.

  ‘You’re certain?’ Woody said.

  ‘Certain,’ said Sarah. ‘He is my brother.’

  ‘Okay. Well, if you’re sure that’s what you want,’ he said gently, but she could see the hardening in his expression, see the disapproval in his eyes, all at odds with his voice, but she didn’t care, after all what could he do here?

  Sarah glanced away from him and caught the woman’s eye.

  ‘Would you like to come with me,’ said the woman. Sarah gave the slightest of nods, and together they walked into the viewing room.

  The body was in the centre of the room covered by a crisp white sheet. The room was cool inside. There was a very slight hum that cut into the silence.

  The woman raised her eyebrows in question. ‘Are you okay?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  Her brother had never frightened her in life, she certainly wasn’t afraid of him in death. With great tenderness the woman lifted the sheet and folded it back to reveal Ryan’s face and a little of his neck. His skin was pale and blotchy, reddened here and there, the colour gone from his lips, and there was a graze across his forehead, but otherwise it looked as if he might be asleep, his features were in repose, his hair was tousled and still sun-bleached.

  Sarah didn’t mean to gasp, didn’t mean to press a hand to her mouth to try and staunch the cry of despair. The woman’s expression folded into something between a supportive smile and a look of concern. Sarah glanced at her; what a job to have. How many times had the woman stood here with people whose hearts were broken, whose lives were in tatters?

  ‘Do you recognise this person?’

  Sarah took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yes, it’s my brother, Ryan.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the woman said, and then after a short dignified pause continued, ‘Would you like a moment or two?’

  Sarah hesitated before replying. It was odd, because although it was obviously Ryan’s body lying there, he was absent. The real Ryan, her Ryan, was already gone. Just like in his flat the night before, it felt as if he had just stepped out. But she knew, too, that that was just wishful thinking.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  So Sarah was the one who told them that yes, it was Ryan and yes, she understood there would have to be a post-mortem and no, she didn’t mind signing some papers, although none of it felt real.

  On the drive to the hospital she had planned to touch him but now she was here she didn’t want to feel Ryan cold. Instead, she talked to him. Told him how much she loved him, how she wished things could have been different between them at the end, how much she was going to miss him, how she missed him already – except that none of it was said aloud, the words were far too precious to share with anyone else, especially Woody who, now the formalities had been dealt with came in to be with her. Woody deserved nothing of this, no moment, no words.

  ‘I want to go home,’ she said after a moment or two more.

  The woman nodded and covered Ryan’s body. No one else spoke.

  Josh

  ‘I’d just got in from work. I picked up the paper while I was waiting for my supper to go ding. And there it was on the front page. ‘Joggers find body while on morning run.’ I was skimming through it when I realised that it was Ryan; it took my breath away. I had to read it again to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. You never think it’ll be anyone you know, do you? And then when I re-read the article I thought about him ringing me and I realised that he had to have rung me that night. With Sarah’s phone number.’

  ‘You had rung before then?’

  ‘Yes, I just told you. I rang a couple of times after Ryan had called me but when I hadn’t heard anything and it was switched off, I wondered if I had made a mistake – maybe I’d misunderstood what Ryan meant. I mean, he was pissed. And I wasn’t sure what good it would do. Sarah had made it obvious that it was over, it felt a bit like a picking a scab.’

  ‘But you rang after you saw the newspaper?’

  ‘Of course, whatever else had happened I cared about her. I couldn’t imagine how it must feel. Given how things had been, I really hadn’t expected Sarah to pick up the phone when I rang, so I was surprised when she answered first time.’

  ‘She answered?’

  ‘Yes’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘To be honest it was me who did most of the talking. I told her how sorry I was to hear about Ryan. And said if there was anything I could do – you know, the usual things. They sounded kind of trite, but they’re all I had.’

  ‘You didn’t talk about your relationship or Woody?’

  ‘No, no I didn’t. I was just so pleased to hear her voice but she sounded fragile and distant. I felt like if I didn’t take it slowly – carefully – that I might frighten her away.’

  ‘And did you offer to go round and see her, meet up?’

  ‘No, not at that point, she sounded stunned and sort of out of it. I wondered if she had been taking something. I mean you see it in films and on TV don’t you? People being sedated after a shock. I said I’d ring back at another time. She asked me how I‘d got her number and I told her Ryan had rung me from the pub and she asked me when, and then she told me what I had already thought, that that was the night he died. She went quiet, and then I told her that whatever she needed I was there.’

  ‘And did Sarah seem okay?’

  ‘What sort of question is that? What’s okay when you’ve lost someone like that? She was close to tears all the time. Like she was choking. I mean, you can’t really blame her, can you?’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, just as I was about to hang up. She told me that she loved me.’

  ‘And that was unexpected?’

  ‘I thought that she had stopped loving me. I thought that’s why she finished with me.’

  ‘And what did you say, Josh?’

  ‘That I loved her too. And then she said something like sometimes love isn’t enough. I didn’t really understand what she meant. She was upset. She told me that she didn’t want me to get involved, that she didn’t want me to getting hurt. And it might be better if I didn’t contact her again.’

  ‘What do you think she meant by getting hurt?’

  ‘I’d been in pieces since we split up. Love or no love, I think she didn’t want to offer me any false hope.’

  ‘So, she was worried that if you stayed in contact that you might suffer emotional pain, there was not any threat of violence?’

  ‘God no, at least I didn’t read i
t like that. I thought she was trying to stop me getting mashed all over again.’

  ‘But you felt you had renewed your connection with her?’

  ‘Yes and no – like I said, it was hard to judge exactly what was going on. In some ways it felt better, but…’

  ‘You were worried about her?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been worried about her since we split up. The whole thing had just been so weird. I wanted to see her. Make it better. Isn’t that what men are supposed to do?’

  ‘So what did you do, Josh?’

  ‘I suggested that we meet up, talk, no strings. Sort things out. And she just laughed and said that there was no such thing as no strings, that everything was all tangled up, all tied together and that she couldn’t see me. That it was too dangerous.’

  ‘Dangerous? She used that word?’

  ‘I know. To be honest I wondered if Sarah might be having some kind of a breakdown. She didn’t strike me as that kind of a woman but anyway, in the end I decided not to push it, and to go round to the nursery and see if I could talk to her there instead. You know, neutral ground where she felt safe. Maybe take her for lunch like we did when we first met.’

  ‘And you told her that?’

  ‘No, I decided that I’d just do it, just in case she said she couldn’t or she made some sort of an excuse. I went early…’

  Chapter Seventeen

  The nursery had only just opened its doors when Josh drew into the car park and parked his truck up under the trees. The place was almost deserted. There were no customers in the main shop. Most of the poly tunnels and the big greenhouse were closed off to the public for cleaning and restocking. The only open tunnel was by the main entrance. It was packed with pansies, polyanthus and primroses, the path between the trays lined with cyclamen in every colour. Inside, a single, early-bird couple was wandering around picking out autumn bedding.