Déjà Vu

by Stephen Edger

  ‘If you put it all together,’ he continued, without waiting for her answer, ‘it’s easy to see why you might have had a crazy dream about drowning. Visiting the grave of the man you lost; coming face-to-face with your own near-death experience; confronting a familiar face from your past; and your body still damp from your wash. I can see how your traumatised mind could process that as it did.’

  Megan didn’t agree with his conclusion, but factoring in the real reason she had decided to have a bath last night would only echo his deduction.

  Patel suddenly span round and shuffled through papers on his desk, before lifting a sheet into the air, and turning back triumphantly. ‘Did I ever tell you the real reason I got into psychiatry?’

  Megan shook her head.

  ‘Don’t judge me, but I first decided to be a doctor for the money. So many medical graduates will tell you they had a calling; that they wanted to give something back, or they’d always had an interest in the subject. For me, the guaranteed high salary was what first piqued my interest. Silly, right? Even more so when you learn how squeamish I am around blood. I almost didn’t finish my first year at medical school! But, given my father was footing the bill, and he was a terrifying man to disappoint, I stuck at it, seeing a counsellor to help me overcome the upchuck reflex. And that was my first insight into the positive work undertaken by counsellors and psychologists. And then after Anya’s death, I came close to throwing in the towel altogether. But I didn’t. Instead, I decided to embrace the positive lesson she’d taught me, and dedicate the rest of my life to helping those most in need. That’s why I opted to take on your particular case, Megan: my wife.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  He handed her the piece of paper in his hand. ‘There’s a group who meets every Wednesday afternoon at the church hall, not far from where you live as a matter of fact. All those who attend are grieving the loss of a partner. They’re a friendly bunch, if not a little quiet. I really think you could make a difference to the group.’

  ‘Me? I don’t think I could –’

  ‘Please, Megan? Just come along this afternoon. You don’t have to say anything, and I promise that I won’t put you on the spot or share any of the information you have relayed during our sessions. But in the interests of turning something negative into a positive, will you come along?’

  FIFTEEN

  The doors to the lift pinged open, and Jake trudged after Tosh, as the older man marched forward in the direction of the small restaurant in the belly of the hospital building. Both ordered black coffee and selected a table away from the three groups also sat in the seating area.

  ‘Look, Sir, I know what you’re going to say,’ Jake began, ‘and before you give me a rollicking, you should know -’

  ‘Shut it, Jake, and let me speak,’ Tosh interrupted his stare enough to silence Jake instantly. ‘All that shit from yesterday will go away as soon as you come down to the station and amend your statement.’

  The DCI’s stare was burning a hole in Jake’s forehead.

  ‘I don’t understand. What’s happened?’

  Tosh blew on the top of his coffee, causing small ripples to erupt. ‘Don’t worry about it. Just come in and rewrite your statement. You didn’t strike McGregor, and nobody will contest it.’

  Jake snorted. ‘McGregor will, and what about the paramedics?’

  ‘Both paramedics came by last night and recorded no such incident occurring.’

  Jake couldn’t contain his confusion. Whilst in the long run, this was good news, it didn’t feel like it. ‘They changed their statements?’

  Tosh nodded. ‘Seems they both had a moment of clarity overnight, and I personally escorted them to the station to make the revisions.’

  ‘But they saw,’ Jake began, before realising how loudly he was speaking. ‘They saw me hit him,’ he whispered.

  There hadn’t been even a hint of a smile since Tosh had sat down, so if this was some kind of practical joke, the DCI had a great poker face. ‘Not according to their statements.’

  ‘But what about his injury? I knocked out one of his teeth for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘Self-inflicted according to the medical team. One of them recalled seeing a tooth on the ground when they arrived but they assumed it belonged to a stray cat or had occurred prior to their arrival. Certainly neither recalls seeing you strike McGregor, nor the tooth exiting his mouth. And given McGregor didn’t ask for any treatment for his injury, they weren’t to know any different.’

  Jake looked around the café, the walls a dreary shade of grey, the laminated tables sticky and covered in crumbs from the previous diners’ food. Given how health-conscious the rest of the building was, it seemed somehow ironic that the same standards weren’t being met in a food preparation area.

  ‘So they’re lying?’

  ‘Who’s to say what the real truth is. For all you know, the tooth was already broken and he spat it out for effect.’

  Jake felt bile building at the back of his throat. ‘Listen, Sir, I appreciate your efforts but -’

  ‘Did I ever tell you I was in the Scouts?’ the DCI suddenly blurted.

  Jake couldn’t picture DCI Toshack as a young man, let alone in brown shorts, beige shirt and matching woggle. Again, there was no hint of a smile, or any indication that this was part of the joke.

  ‘Absolutely loved the camaraderie, I did,’ Tosh continued. ‘My father, and his father before him were troopers, and it taught me more about life than anything I would have experienced going away to college or university.’

  Jake frowned, and sipped his coffee to cover the bitter taste in his mouth. Clearly the DCI had had a word with the two paramedics who had treated Annie at the scene. Somehow he had twisted their arms and convinced them to change their statements, in an effort to make the assault charge disappear. But it didn’t sit well with Jake. He had crossed the line and reacted when he shouldn’t have. He deserved everything coming to him, and he didn’t like the growing scent of corruption emanating from the man he had long held as a role model.

  There was a twinkle in Tosh’s eyes, as he reminisced; a reflection from the low hanging ceiling lamps. ‘Probably the most important lesson I learned as a Scout – that I still apply every day in this job – is knowing when to keep my mouth shut. You understand?’

  It was one thing to keep quiet, but to amend his statement and claim McGregor was lying was another breach of the law; the law he’d sworn to uphold and protect.

  Jake lowered his mug, taking a deep breath. ‘Sir, it isn’t that I don’t appreciate you looking out for me, but -’

  Both mugs wobbled as Tosh slammed his hand down on the table. The diners at the other tables turned and stared, their conversations quickly forgotten. Jake felt his cheeks warming, like a child being chastised by a strict parent.

  ‘Change your statement and it all goes away.’

  ‘But what about Professional Standards. The Chief Super said -’

  ‘I’ve taken care of it. I had to cash in all my favours, Jake, so don’t make me look like an arsehole. Do as I’ve told you, and we can all get on with our lives. There are plenty more scumbags out there who need to feel the hand of the law on their shoulders.’

  Jake bit his tongue to stop himself erupting in laughter at the irony of the statement: it was Jake being too familiar with his hands that had got them in this mess to begin with.

  ‘McGregor won’t just let this go,’ Jake whispered.

  ‘It’s your word against his. But you now have two paramedics as witnesses. His claim will seem nothing more than a child throwing toys out of his pram.’

  Jake looked down at his drink, unable to meet the DCI’s continued stare.

  Toshack, smoothed his white moustache. ‘Are we clear?’

  Jake nodded reluctantly, choking down the bile.

  ‘Good. What have the doctors said about Annie’s condition?’

  ‘Um, no news that I’m aware of. I spoke briefly to her mother, but she d
idn’t say much. I’m sorry I disobeyed your orders to stay away.’

  Tosh chuckled, his mood finally lightening. ‘What did I say about learning to keep your mouth shut? Don’t worry about it. I knew as soon as I’d warned you away that you would stop by anyway. That’s how I knew I’d find you here this morning. I figured you probably dropped that little girl of yours at school, and with nothing else to fill your time, headed in. How is Gabby?’

  Jake couldn’t tell what was going on behind those dark and brooding eyes, but he couldn’t fault Tosh’s logic or intuition. ‘She’s fine. I think she enjoyed the novelty of me dropping her there.’

  ‘I’m sure she did. I remember when my daughter was that age.’

  Jake reached for a paper napkin and mopped up the coffee that had spilled when Tosh had slammed the table. ‘What did you want to see me about, Sir?’

  Tosh fixed him with a serious look, and leaned slightly closer. ‘I have a job for you.’

  ‘You need me to rough someone else up?’ Jake asked jokingly, but the smirk soon vanished when the DCI didn’t laugh back.

  ‘Part of my agreement with the Chief Super is that you’re not to be anywhere near the McGregor case going forward. The last thing we need is him riling you further. Which means...’

  Jake knew what he was going to say before the words tumbled out. ‘You’re transferring me out of Major Investigations?’

  Tosh nodded grimly. ‘It’s only temporary. Once the McGregor investigation is closed, you’ll be welcomed back with open arms. But for now, I need you to lie low.’

  Jake knew there was no point in arguing. Clearly the decision had already been made, and no amount of reasoning was going to change the situation. Some battles were worth fighting, and others weren’t.

  ‘Where will I go?’ Jake asked, after a moment.

  ‘Out to division. You’ll still be working out of the Southampton Headquarters, but you’ll be a bit of a gofer for the next few days; going here and there, wherever you’re needed.’

  ‘Like a rent-a-cop?’

  ‘It beats the alternative, doesn’t it?’

  Jake couldn’t disagree with the old man. At least he still had a job, even if it was now tinged with a sickening sense of injustice. And at least he wouldn’t have to disappoint Gabby, or give Isabella the upper hand in the impending custody battle.

  ‘When do I start?’

  The DCI reached into his pocket and withdrew Jake’s identification, sliding it across the table. ‘Get yourself home and changed and then get over to this address.’

  Jake looked down at the piece of paper in between Tosh’s fingers, the address on it barely legible. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘Some farm or nature reserve or something. I’m not sure, boyo. All I know is a detective has been requested to help the local plod with some vandalism or something. From all accounts a gate was rammed by a vehicle; probably joyriders, but go up there and see what you can do. Probably open and shut, and then you can await your next assignment. Don’t let me keep you.’

  The DCI had made no effort to stand, but he was no longer staring at Jake, which meant the conversation was over. Jake shuffled out of his chair, and took a final sip of his coffee, before peeling away. In his head he wanted to thank DCI Toshack for all he had done, but he couldn’t get the words past the bubble of vomit in his throat.

  SIXTEEN

  The windows were covered in grime; the wooden frames weathered by time. And as Megan stared up at the Freemantle Church hall, she couldn’t help but feel she had somehow stepped back in time. The posters hanging in the panelled notice board were yellow and curling at the edges from too much sunlight. She could almost picture how the inside would look: chipped tea cups, a collection of cutlery that didn’t match, and threadbare chairs from over use and under care.

  Was this really where Dr Patel had meant to send her?

  She wheeled backwards, hunting for any kind of sign that would confirm she was definitely on the right street. She had used an app on her phone to find the place, but maybe the app had sent her the wrong way; it wouldn’t be the first time. But just as she was about to give up and move away, a German sports car pulled up at the edge of the road. It looked so out of place on this road filled with ex-council properties, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to find the tyres missing within minutes.

  The driver’s side door opened, and Dr Patel’s bearded face appeared, smiling at her. ‘You made it. Great!’

  It was too late for her to wheel herself away, even though the nagging doubt about even coming along remained.

  ‘I wasn’t sure I’d come to the right place,’ she said, trying to smile back.

  ‘It’s a bit of a dive, I know,’ he admitted, locking the car, and joining her on the pavement. ‘But like the budgie, it’s cheap.’

  She would have giggled had she realised he had cracked a joke to relieve the tension.

  ‘There’s a ramp at the rear of the building,’ Patel continued, leading the way down the side of the outdated building. ‘Just in here,’ he added when they reached the ramp up to the back door, which itself looked barely capable of keeping heat in, let alone withstanding any attempted illegal entry.

  ‘Is it just the two of us?’ Megan asked, as they headed in through the door, arriving in the main hall. The thick cloud of dust overhead glittered in the sunlight streaming through the fogged up windows. And she didn’t even want to contemplate what could be causing the rancid smell of death.

  ‘We’re early,’ Patel admitted, heading over to a stack of chairs and lifting the top one off. He patted it down and a fresh cloud of dust arose. ‘I get here first to put out the chairs. I’m afraid there are no refreshment facilities currently available as the power is off. There is fresh water in the tap, but most bring their own drinks. There’s a shop just up the road if you want to buy yourself anything?’

  Megan’s arms were aching from the effort it had taken to wheel herself from the bus stop. ‘I’m fine,’ she lied, promising herself a trip via that shop once they were through.

  Patel continued to unstack the chairs, setting them in a kind of informal circle in the middle of the room. Megan wanted to offer to help, but there was little she would able to do to support his efforts. At half past one, Dr Patel excused himself and went back to the front of the building unlocking the doors. Megan was amazed to see half a dozen men and women return with him. She was the only black woman, but the group was made up of diverse backgrounds and skin tones. But none of that seemed to matter, as they each took turns to approach Megan and introduce themselves and welcome her to the group.

  And within ten minutes, everyone had taken their seat and waited for Dr Patel to commence the session. Standing, he addressed the circle. ‘Welcome to each of you. Some now familiar faces, and one or two new ones as well. Let me extend a formal welcome to Megan and Rita. Ladies, I hope this group of individuals will help you see that you are not alone. A reminder to everyone that this is an open and safe environment where you are each free to speak your mind, but I would urge a word of caution with that. Remember, we are all human, and have feelings.

  ‘The purpose of our gathering is to share: whether that’s to get something off your mind, or to ask for opinions, or whatever it is that may be troubling you, I want you to feel able to speak freely here. We have a circle of trust, which dictates nothing discussed in this circle is repeated outside. Okay?’

  There were nods and mumbles of acceptance.

  ‘Excellent!’ Patel declared. ‘Well, for the benefit of our new members, shall I-’

  ‘Aren’t we going to wait for Carlos?’ the Cantonese woman next to Megan asked, interrupting him.

  Patel considered the question, before addressing the rest of the group. ‘For those regulars amongst you, has anyone heard from Carlos? Do we know if he’s coming to today’s session?’

  There were a couple of shrugs, but nobody could commit to an answer.

  Patel looked at his watch. ‘Hmm...we’re
already late starting, I don’t think it will be fair to the rest of you to wait. He knows what time we meet. I’m sure he’s just running late and can join in when he arrives.’

  The Cantonese woman nodded her acceptance, happy to move on. Whomever Carlos was, he clearly wasn’t vital to the wider group.

  Patel paused to regain his trail of thought. ‘Now, as always I will introduce myself. My name is Dr Vijay Patel, and I am a psychiatrist specialising in psychosis and trauma. But I am also a victim of loss like each of you. Six years ago I lost my wife to leukaemia. She was my best friend and I believe that had I reacted quicker when she first mentioned feeling achy and tired, and urged her to see her GP, they may have spotted her illness sooner. But I was caught up in my own problems, and missed the signs. There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t ask myself whether I could have done something differently. Like everybody, I took life for granted. And I come to this group so I can share the steps I’m following to forgive myself.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘Who would like to go next? You shouldn’t feel compelled to talk. If you’d prefer to just sit and listen, that is okay in here.’

  The one called Rita raised her arm into the air. ‘Can I go next?’

  Dr Patel looked pleasantly surprised that she had volunteered. ‘Please, go ahead.’

  ‘Do I need to stand?’

  Patel retook his own seat. ‘It’s entirely up to you. I only stood as I was welcoming the group. You can remain seated if you prefer.’

  Rita had to be in her late fifties, judging by the lines on her face. Her hair was almost maroon in colour, scraped thin with lighter roots. She wore thick spectacles which covered most of her cheeks, and as she spoke, Megan noticed her two front teeth were missing.

  ‘I’m Rita, and as the doc said this is my first time at something like this. It wasn’t my idea to come, but here goes. Some of you might recognise my face. My partner, Trevor, was arrested last year on multiple counts of child abuse. When the police confiscated his laptops, they found over two hundred and fifty hours of pornographic material on the hard drives. The story was in the local press, and until four months ago, the police were treating me as a possible accomplice to his horrible crimes. I’m not a child molester, let me make that clear. And I had no clue what the bastard was up to either.’