by Helen Lowrie
‘I fell down the stairs,’ I said, lying automatically before realising that I didn’t need to keep covering for Vic any more, that maybe I shouldn’t.
DI Lambert was watching me closely. ‘You fell?’
I hesitated, absently noticing his yellowed teeth and the sprinkling of dandruff at his jacket collar. ‘Vic pushed me,’ I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper and Jamie squeezed my hand. The inspector nodded sympathetically as if he’d already known. I cleared my throat. ‘How did you find me?’
‘The hospital – they had a record of Mr Southwood’s name and CCTV showing you leaving together.’ I nodded, desperately hoping that Vic wouldn’t be able to find me with such apparent ease. ‘Your husband didn’t visit you while you were in St Mary’s?’
‘No.’
‘Has he contacted you since then? By phone? Email?’
‘No.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that unusual would you say?’
‘I, I don’t know – our relationship wasn’t usual. I’ve left him,’ I said. It felt amazingly good – liberating – to say the words out loud for the first time – now I just had to believe them. ‘I don’t want him to know where I am. What is this? Why are you here?’
DI Lambert sighed. ‘Your husband has been reported missing, Mrs Leech.’
‘Missing? Who says he’s missing?’
‘Carol Yates.’
I stared at him confused.
‘You probably know her as Cherry?’
‘Oh.’
‘It seems you may have been the last person to see him. Do you know where we might find him?’
I shook my head.
‘He didn’t give you any indication of his plans? Mention he was going away? Anything like that?’
‘No, but then, he never told me anything.’
DI Lambert nodded wearily and glanced around at the polytunnels. ‘It’s nice here,’ he said glumly. ‘I can see why you prefer it to where you were.’
‘Look,’ Jamie interrupted. ‘Can I ask why you’re here? I mean, you obviously know what sort of man Vic Leech is; he’s probably off on a bender or something so why go to all this trouble?’
DI Lambert shifted his gaze from Jamie to me and then back again, his face impassive. ‘It’s our duty to investigate when a missing person’s report is filed, regardless of who is missing, and in Mr Leech’s case an extended absence from all his known businesses is highly unusual. Add to that the fact he hasn’t used his mobile phone, his passport, his credit cards or withdrawn any money for three weeks and his disappearance looks suspicious.’
‘So what do you think has happened to him?’ Jamie’s voice was reassuringly calm and steady, like that of a man with nothing to hide.
‘It’s hard to say but he was mixed up with some unpleasant people. I can’t go into details but I wouldn’t be surprised if you never see him again.’
‘You think he might be dead,’ Jamie said, a statement rather than a question.
DI Lambert’s attention temporarily flicked to me in concern, as if Jamie’s blunt words might have upset me, but he’d find no hint of grief in my face.
‘It’s possible he’s gone into hiding, fled the country under a false name, but I don’t think it’s likely,’ the inspector admitted. Scratching the back of his head he surveyed the surrounding countryside, his shrewd eyes taking everything in, while Jamie, DS Benton and I remained silent. ‘Mrs Leech, I’ll be honest with you,’ he said, settling his gaze on me. ‘In all probability he is already dead and we’ll never find his body. If I were you I’d just forget about him and move on.’
I kept my expression neutral as our meeting was brought to an end but I barely registered the rest of what was said. Something about keeping informed, further enquiries and an inquest. DS Benton tucked his notebook away and Jamie released my hand as he offered to show them out. Dumbstruck I stared after the three men as they walked away. They thought he was dead. Vic was dead. Could it really be true?
On autopilot I moved back into the shade of the potting shed, sitting down on a wooden crate as my legs gave way beneath me. Was I really free? Pulling off my gloves I sat staring mutely at the cobwebs in the rafters for several minutes as I considered the chance, the extraordinary possibility, of real freedom.
‘Hey, are you OK?’ Jamie had returned and was crouched in front of me, his handsome face creased with concern.
‘They think he’s dead,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what that means?’ I raised my fingers to Jamie’s brow to wipe away the anxiety there. ‘Do you realise what that could mean for me?’ I whispered.
‘I think so,’ Jamie said, his eyes searching mine. Elation finally bubbled up inside me, a smile breaking out across my face. The tension in Jamie’s expression faded to be replaced by a corresponding grin, laughter lines extending into his dark stubble, eyes glowing.
‘I don’t have to go back,’ I breathed.
‘No. You can stay here with me.’
‘You still want me to?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said firmly.
On impulse I reached out, grabbed a handful of his shirt and kissed him on the mouth, our smiles colliding. He laughed deep down in his chest, the sound reverberating against my lips, and I laughed too, suddenly giddy with relief. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, his voice low, his face just inches away from mine. My lips tingled from where we’d connected and as I looked at him I was shocked to see my own desire reflected in his dilating eyes. Releasing his shirt, I straightened up and looked away, flustered by the sudden heat between us.
He cleared his throat. ‘Hey, you know, if Vic really is gone, you don’t have to hide down here anymore.’
I took a deep breath. ‘No, I guess not.’
Reaching out Jamie tenderly hooked my hair back behind my ear. ‘You’re free to go anywhere you want, Kat – beyond the White Bear, beyond Wildham; anywhere you want.’ I gazed back into his now serious chestnut eyes. ‘So, would you like to do that? There are so many places I want to take you to, so many things I want to show you – we could start off small, maybe go out for dinner? Or maybe we could just go for a walk, take a picnic or something? What do you think?’
All my familiar insecurities screamed inside my head, my doubts and fears churning in my stomach. But ignoring them I focused instead on the hope and enthusiasm in Jamie’s face, the gentle reassurance in his words and my own fledgling optimism. ‘Sure, why not.’
‘Thank you, Kat.’ Jamie grabbed my hands in his. ‘I’m going to make you happy, you’ll see.’
‘You already do,’ I murmured under my breath.
Chapter Forty
Two beakers of beer held aloft in her hands, Kat glided through the crowd towards me. Three days ago I’d taken her back to hospital to have the cast removed from her wrist. Her forearm looked pale and delicate where it had been deprived of sunlight for six weeks, but a doctor assured us that the fracture had healed well and a physiotherapist had given Kat some basic strengthening exercises to improve her wrist’s flexibility.
Kat no longer resembled the downtrodden woman I’d met in London. Nowadays she was as beautiful on the outside as on the inside. Even when her pretty summer dress was teamed with muddy wellies she looked like a goddess, bare willowy limbs to rival Kate Moss and hair dancing in the breeze like ribbons of maple syrup. She still moved with the same hypnotic, long-legged grace, shoulders back, head held high and pale eyes bewitching but she looked younger and more carefree every day. And her smile! Sometimes it was subtle, a light gleaming in her eyes, and sometimes, like now as she approached me, it was wide and highly contagious. It was the reason people were always smiling back at her, or stopping to talk, compelled by the delight she now radiated from every pore. Knowing I’d helped bring about her happiness gave me satisfaction beyond all belief.
‘Here you go,’ Kat said, raising her
voice to be heard above the music and handing me a pint with flourish. Another first. She’d deliberately braved the beer tent alone, a crowded place jostling with unpredictable strangers, to challenge herself but she had accomplished it with decorum and finesse. I was in awe of her determination and proud of how much she had achieved in such a short space of time.
‘Cheers!’ I said, knocking my cup against hers and enjoying her grin as I took a swig of lager. The festival was much smaller and more compact than Glastonbury but still atmospheric and alive with positive vibes, providing an experience which I hoped Kat would enjoy.
Since the police had said we no longer had to worry about Vic each week we had spent a couple of days away from the garden centre doing something fun together. It was almost August and business was slow. It was too hot and dry to plant anything and most people were away on holiday, only dropping in on their return to replace the hanging baskets that had wilted in their absence. Kat and I made the most of the glorious weather by going for drives and walks and picnics, taking day trips to the seaside and eating ice cream. Yesterday I’d spent the evening teaching Kat to drive, in Dad’s old car. She had good coordination and quickly got the hang of it, despite the sticky gearbox. She drove round and round the car park with a smile on her face until I suggested she should venture on to the road. She didn’t like that idea. I had no doubt she would do so before long, but only in her own time.
Introducing Kat to new things, new people and new places, was, I’d discovered, one of life’s greatest pleasures. So far I’d been careful not to take her anywhere she might feel uncomfortable, avoiding those places with formal etiquettes and dress codes until her confidence had had time to grow, but in my mind there was an infinite list of activities and destinations that I was eager to experience through Kat’s eyes.
Right now she was staring off in the direction of the Main Stage. ‘I can’t believe how rammed it is! I’ve never seen so many people in one place.’
‘Yeah, there’ll be even more by the time the headline act comes on.’ Her eyes widened fractionally. ‘You OK?’
‘Yeah, course, this is amazing.’
I reached for her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘We can go back to our tent, or leave, any time you want.’ She nodded and sipped her drink and I changed the subject. ‘What do you think of this band?’
‘They’re all right. But if I’m honest I prefer something with a bit more beat, something you can dance to – not that I dance – but something cheerful.’
‘OK, so are we talking pop music?’
Kat shrugged. ‘I guess so – I don’t know that much about music. I’ve only heard whatever the local radio station used to play.’
‘Fair enough. Do you know any artists or songs you like?’
Kat scrunched her nose. ‘I’ll only tell you if you promise not to judge – my tastes are probably not cool.’
I laughed. ‘Kat, it won’t matter to me if you like Engelbert Humperdinck.’
‘Who?’ She laughed.
I squeezed her fingers again, enjoying the subtle electric current that flowed between us. ‘C’mon, tell me what you like.’
‘Why are you so interested?’
I laughed. ‘I’m interested in everything about you, Kat, you must know that by now.’
She shook her head in mock disapproval, her eyes shining. ‘OK, you asked for it, let’s see: Rihanna, Taylor Swift especially that “Shake It Off” song – that stayed in my head for weeks. Oh, and there’s this “Gravity” song by DJ Fresh which I’m completely addicted to, and a song called “Real Love”.’ Kat blushed. ‘I don’t know who sings it but there are all these classical instruments in the background.’
‘Clean Bandit.’
‘If you say so,’ she said, bemused. ‘Oh and, I think there’s a band called Chasing Status?’
‘Chase & Status. Wow, you like Drum‘n’bass?’
‘Is that another band?’
‘No, it’s a type of music,’ I said, tucking a silken strand of hair back behind her ear. ‘I would never have guessed that about you, Kat – it’s very cool.’
She grinned at me and I ached with the urge to kiss her. How did she manage to be both formidable and sweetly innocent at the same time?
‘Do you know Pendulum?’ Kat shook her head. ‘They’re headlining tonight on the Main Stage; I think you’re going to like them.’
‘OK. So are you going to tell me what music you like?’
‘Well I like most of the stuff you just mentioned but I like guitar-based stuff too. Have you heard of Bleeding Trees?’
She shook her head.
‘I’ll have to introduce you to my iPod some time.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Hey are you hungry?’
‘Yes, the smells coming from that noodle bar are making my stomach rumble.’
‘Let’s go check it out,’ I said.
We perched on a pair of oak barrels, drinking beer and eating vegetable stir-fry as the sun began to set behind the hills. Many of the other festivalgoers wore fancy dress – a spectacular array of colourful costumes ranging from the subtle to the extreme. Kat liked the wackiest ones best – people dressed as traffic cones, a group of human-sized, walking bananas and a poor man sweating inside a lobster outfit – the claws severely hampering his attempts to drink beer. I had to explain things like Stormtroopers and the Super Mario Brothers to Kat, as she’d never seen Star Wars or played a computer game, but it was fun seeing her reactions and laughing along with her at the, often absurd, nature of popular culture.
Once night fell and the festival ground was sparkling with multicoloured lights we disposed of our rubbish and made our way back towards the Main Stage, lured by the music and the excited hum of the crowd. Dancing with Kat was magical. She loved Pendulum so much that she was physically impelled to move. And though, by her own admission, she had never been taught and had no real experience of dancing, she was a natural – instinctively moving her body sinuously to the rhythm as if she was born to do it. And whenever, wherever, Kat danced those nearby joined in. We stayed a fair distance back from the stage, where we could still see all the action on huge electronic screens, but where the crowd was thinner and Kat had space to move without having her personal space invaded – only I was occasionally afforded that privilege. And when I grew tired of dancing (long before Kat) I stood back, my mind foggy with alcohol, and took hundreds of photos of her on my phone – she was the sexiest woman alive.
When Pendulum finished their encore and departed the stage for the last time we ducked into the shadow of a nearby tree to wait for the mass exodus to pass us by. Kat leaned back against the trunk, breathless with exhilaration, excitement glinting in her eyes. She was completely unlike any other girl I’d ever known. Obviously her confidence had been badly undermined by abuse so social situations, that other people took for granted, frightened her. But despite all that, underneath it all, there was something of the rebel about her. She shunned most material possessions, spoke her mind with well-thought-out intelligence to the point of bluntness, and danced like no one was watching. Kat enthralled me like no one else.
The temperature had dropped and as we picked our way back to our tent in the semi-darkness our conversation gradually petered out. Exchanging toothpasty smiles we brushed our teeth with bottled water and then, shivering, wriggled down inside our separate sleeping bags still clothed. Once we were settled side by side and I’d turned off the torch, I lay there listening to the distant music and the muffled voices, laughter, and snoring from the hundreds of people camped around us. But I soon became aware of a tension in the air. Kat was lying unnaturally still and silent.
‘Kat? Everything OK?’ I murmured.
‘Fine.’ The strain was obvious in her voice from just one word. Raising myself up on an elbow, I fumbled for the torch and switched it back on, squinting in the light bouncing off the canvas. Kat lay still on her back, her face impassive, eyes closed.
‘Talk to me.’
‘No.’
‘Kat?’
She tutted in irritation. ‘Fuck it – I’m not doing this.’ Sitting up, she unzipped her sleeping bag and shook it off.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just go to sleep.’ Unzipping the door flap she tugged her wellies back on and I began to struggle out of my own bedding.
‘Wait, where are you going?’
Kat launched herself out of the tent into the wet grass and I crawled out after her, my legs still tangled, in time to see her striding away between the other tents. Once free I raced after her, barefoot, tripping over guide ropes, folding chairs, beer bottles and various bodies, cursing and mumbling general apologies as I blundered through the shadows. By the time I caught up with her, Kat was climbing a dimly lit path that wound up through the woodland at the edge of the festival campsite.
‘Stop, Kat please – tell me what’s going on.’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she muttered without looking at me.
Her cool dismissal annoyed me and as she began to move away I reached for her arm. ‘How would you know? You haven’t given me a chance – you never tell me what you’re thinking!’
‘OK fine!’ she said, rounding on me with an angry glare. ‘I think this is disgusting!’
‘What? Camping?’
‘If that’s what you want to call it. I can’t believe your lot do this sort of thing for fun.’ she said, her voice heavy with condemnation.
‘Your lot? What’s that supposed to mean?’
She pressed her lips together in a hard line, as if trying to hold back her own words. ‘Nothing, forget it,’ she said, turning away again. ‘Just leave me alone.’
But I was too angry now to let her walk away. Stepping around her I positioned myself in the space between two large trees, blocking her escape. ‘No, Kat, you’ve obviously got something to say so come on – what did you mean?’ With a raise of her chin, her beautiful eyes locked with mine, dark with angry determination. I fleetingly wondered if she might hit me but I wasn’t about to back down. ‘You think I’m too rich? Too privileged? You think I’ve had life too easy or what?’ She frowned and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and I exhaled with relief. ‘So why are you fighting me, Kat? All I want is to help you be happy. Why won’t you let me?’
