With his other hand he takes out his own phone. He
presses the speed-dial key to Mel Sanders and prays she
will answer. It starts ringing…
‘Please, Alice. I know this is terrible. But you need to
look again. Do you recognise the room…’
At last, Mel answers.
‘Mel. Matt here. New development with the Alice
stalker case. A video has been posted online of her mother
in respiratory distress.’
‘Jeez. So what’s it showing? Is her mother hurt? Being
hurt? Where do I see this, Matt?’
‘It’s tagged on Alice’s twitter feed. @alicejourno-
henderson. All lower case, no punctuation. Alice is with
me now. She’s in shock, but stay on the line and I’ll give
you what details I can get from her.’ He turns. ‘Alice. Do
you recognise the room?’
She won’t look, so he puts the phone right in front of
her face. ‘I’m sorry, but this is urgent. The room, Alice.
Do you know the room?’
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At last she looks properly at the phone, a frown ap-
pearing instantly on her face. ‘Yes. Yes, I do. It’s her room at the home. At the nursing home.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes. I’m sure. That’s her bookcase in the background.
With her copy of Wuthering Heights on the top. I read Wuthering Heights to her when I visit…’
Matthew puts his hand up to signal for Alice to wait
a moment.
‘Right, Mel. The video is apparently showing Alice’s
mother in her room at her nursing home. What’s the
name of it, Alice?’
‘The Heatherdown Nursing Home. Mitsford. It’s on
the coast between Brixham and Paignton. Room 14.
Second floor.’
He repeats the details to Mel.
‘Right, Matt. I’ve got the video up now. Jeez. This
bloody nasty piece of work. What’s he up to now? OK –
so I’m in Scotland. We’re about to arrest Alex. I’ll get a
DS to phone the home right now. You do the same. See
who’s quickest to check the status on the mother. I’ll get a
car sent round immediately; see what we’re dealing with.’
‘This may not be live or even contemporaneous; this
could just be a recording,’ Matthew says. ‘This could still
be Alex.’
‘Yes, I know. What a bloody turn of events.’
‘Right. You get the call into the home and I’ll try
this end. Talk soon.’
Matthew ends the call and leans towards Alice. ‘Call
up the number of your mother’s home. Dial it. Now. I’ll
speak to them.’
‘Is he with her? Has he hurt her?’
‘Just dial the number for me, Alice. Please. Now! ’
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She picks up her phone and fumbles for a minute
through her contacts. Eventually she dials and hands the
phone to Matthew.
‘What’s your mum’s full name?’
‘Harriet Wallace.’
‘Right… Hello, I’m a private investigator working
with the police. We have an emergency situation – rea-
son to believe someone may intend harm to one of your
residents, Harriet Wallace. Room 14. You need to check
on her right this minute. I’ll stay on the line and you need
to report to me what you find. Immediately please. The
police will be phoning too. They’re on their way. You’ll
hear police sirens outside very soon.’
The receptionist is at first uncooperative. She asks a
lot of questions, wondering if this is some kind of hoax.
Matthew barks at her, demanding someone more senior.
He’s passed to someone else. He repeats himself and at
last there appears to be action…
‘OK. I’m holding on the line. You need to tell me
if Harriet Wallace is OK. I have her daughter with me.’
This is now too much for Alice. She’s slumped on to
the floor – sitting with her back against the wall – tears
pouring down her face as she uses the kitchen extension
phone to call her sister with this update. She tells Leanne
to wait on the line too. Then Alice is sort of mumbling
almost incoherently to her sister. Blaming herself. Saying
that Leanne was right; that they should have moved their
mother to a different home as soon as the stalker used
peonies. Mentioned her mother’s favourite flower.
‘We should have seen this coming. This is my fault,’
Alice says finally, looking up at Matthew. But then the
senior nurse at the home is back on the line.
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‘Mrs Wallace is asleep. She’s well. She was on her own
in her room. Stable. I’ve ordered a member of staff to stay
with her. Do you mind telling me what on earth this is
all about? We can hear police sirens. In fact, I can see a
police car turning up outside. What the hell is going on?’
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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Alice
I watch my mother being wheeled on the trolley bed into
the private ambulance. She’s wearing a full oxygen mask
so I can only see her eyes.
They’re strained but I can read them precisely. Mum
has raised her eyebrows just a little and is widening her
eyes at me. I know from the nurses that she’s uncomfort-
able and has pain in her chest and sides today. She’s also
very worried about what’s going on here but she’s trying
to hide all this from me. Trying to signal that she’s all
right. Not to worry. That everything is going to be all right.
This breaks me. It’s worse than the time with the
police. Worse than the row I had with Leanne over the
timetable of moving Mum. Worse than the rest of yester-
day – Wednesday, bloody Wednesday – spent with Matthew Hill and then later with Tom as we all worked out the
logistics of how to move my mother somewhere secret.
Somewhere safer.
Though Mum’s disorientated and tired and has the
same severe breathing trouble she’s had for the past six
months, she knows nothing of what’s really gone on. She
doesn’t know about the camera concealed in the plant
delivered to her room, allegedly a ‘gift’ from me. She’s
unaware of the video posted of her online. The stalking.
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She knows only what we’ve told her, namely that her
care needs are changing so we’ve decided it’s best for her
to be in a more specialised home near Leanne, who’s not
working and can visit more easily. And so our mother’s
priority, true to her nature and her selflessness, is to put
us first. To show that she’s all right. That people should
not worry. Make a fuss.
I climb the two steps into the ambulance to hold my
mother’s hand and to stroke her hair back from her fore-
head. I again take in the smile in those pale grey eyes.
The same face and the same reassuring expression that
kept me safe right through my childhood.
It was always Mum. Only Mum. Dad died very sud-
denly of a heart attack when I was a baby and I don’t
remember him at all. But in school I would get upset
on Father’s Day when everyone else was making cards.
Mum would have this same look in her eyes when she
comforted me.
And when I sat my first piano exam too. I was nine
and I was petrified. I was doing well in my music les-
sons and my teacher was predicting a distinction. But the
pressure was all of a sudden too much. I froze when they
called my name in the waiting room. I turned to Mum
and asked her to take me home. Legs of lead.
I can’t. I can’t do it.
Mum stayed completely calm. She wasn’t cross. She
wasn’t disappointed. She simply pressed her palm against
my cheek.
Of course you can, my darling girl. I know that you can.
There’s no hurry. They’ll wait a moment. And it doesn’t matter how it goes … only that it goes. Just do your best and who cares how it turns out. Pass or fail, I certainly don’t mind. And then my mother leaned in very close to my face with precisely
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Teresa Driscoll
this expression. Slightly raised eyebrows. A slight widen-
ing of her soft grey eyes with a smile of love in them.
Yes. That special smile that reads, It’s all right, Alice.
It’s going to be all right.
I turn away to brush a tear forming. I wonder how I
will manage without this force of love in my life.
‘Now – you know that I’m not allowed to travel in the
ambulance with you. Something to do with the insurance.’
Another lie. Her mother’s daughter. Papering over my
worries just as she does. The truth is I’m nervous about
being followed. I’m planning to drive in circles again to
throw anyone off. I kiss my mother’s forehead.
‘Will you be OK with the nurse?’
Mum nods and widens her eyes even more.
‘OK. Try to rest. And Leanne will be there when you
arrive to help settle you in. The place is lovely. I’m sorry
you have to move but they have the right nurses for you
at the new place. And I’ll be back to visit you very, very
soon so we can finish Wuthering Heights. OK?’
Again Mum nods, moving her right hand to her mask,
but I reach out to still her.
‘No, Mum. No need to talk. I love you too. Try to
rest. Leanne is going to send me pictures of your new
room. It looked marvellous from her visit. They’re trans-
ferring all your things. Your books. You’re going to be
very comfortable there; you’re going to be all right. And
I’ll visit you very, very soon.’
One final kiss on her forehead and I go back down
the steps and blow a kiss as the nurse closes the rear doors
of the ambulance.
Why am I not braver? Why am I not braver?
Only now do the tears fall properly, as very slowly
the ambulance pulls away.
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I Will Make You Pay
I watch. A child again, watching Mum leave the play-
ground when I was small, wanting to run after her. I’m
back in that piano exam, Mum’s voice a whisper in my
ear. I’m arriving back in England after the horror of my
time with Alex – Mum in the arrival hall at the airport.
That same smile in her eyes. It’s going to be all right…
I watch the ambulance get smaller and smaller and feel
my nails squeezing into my palms. I wish I could travel
with her but Matthew agrees this is best. Safest.
Everyone thinks that any more stalking and tailing is
unlikely, which is why Matthew’s not booked to watch my
back today. Tom – in a complete panic after my mother’s
video was posted – offered to book Matthew every single
day until the whole investigation is resolved but I don’t
want that. I’ve had enough of it all…
It’s Thursday. Alex is now in custody.
He’s the prime suspect for the stalking. And prime
suspect for sending the ‘gift’ of the pot plant with the
hidden camera. The footage was eventually taken down
after police intervention, but not before it had appeared
not just on Twitter but on Facebook and Instagram too.
I take in a deep breath as I remember the messages from
Leanne’s friends. Have you seen this? It looks like your mum.
I try to imagine Alex in the interview room facing
DI Sanders.
Will he buckle? Is it him?
Is it finally over?
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CHAPTER FORTY
Matthew
Matthew flips three small pancakes with a metal spatula.
It’s forbidden – metal implement in a non-stick pan – but
Sally’s not here to police him. The pancakes are a good
colour. They’re also small and thick; American-style – the
kind he and his daughter love best.
Matthew admires Sally’s taste on most matters but in
two areas, he’s baffled. She is obsessed with opera, which
he fails to understand. And she is entirely wrong about pancakes. She likes traditional pancakes – large and thin,
rolled with lemon and sugar. Matthew shudders at the
thought of all that flipping and burning and the sharp
intake of breath when you taste the lemon. No. All wrong.
This morning he’s in charge, so there is jazz on the radio
and the pancakes will be fat and fabulous.
‘One order of pancakes with blueberries coming up,
madam.’
‘It’s not a restaurant, Daddy. Why are you talking as
if we’re in a restaurant?’
‘We can pretend it is.’
‘Why would we do that? We’ll have to pay.’
‘No, we won’t. My restaurant. My rules. Pancakes are
on the house today.’
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‘Like on the roof?’ Amelie frowns. ‘You’re a very
silly daddy. How can I eat the pancakes if you put them
on the roof?’
‘No, no, no. On the house means free. But never mind, sweetie. Here you go.’ He puts two of the plump pancakes
into a bowl and spoons on some blueberries and a huge
dollop of yoghurt. He puts a tea towel over one arm and
delivers the breakfast to his daughter on her booster seat
with a flourish that makes her giggle.
‘Where’s Mummy?’
‘Mummy is picking up the dry cleaning. Now – be
careful because the pancakes are still hot. Try just a little bit. Shall I cut it up so you don’t burn your mouth?’
‘No. I’m not a baby.’ Amelie holds out her arm, rigid
and determined, to keep him away. Matthew takes in the
familiar warning in her eyes. Do not let her see that I am a tiny bit afraid, he thinks. No tantrums today. Please.
‘OK. Well, try a tiny bit with the yoghurt to see how
hot it is? Yes?’
‘OK.’
Matthew watches his daughter cut the pancake with
her little fork. Her eyes relax. Matthew’s shoulders relax.
He takes out his phone to see if there’s a new message
from Mel Sanders. He can still hardly believe how fast
the investigation is progressing, and is praying she will
say yes to his latest off-piste request.
&nb
sp; He knows it’s a long shot – asking to watch the Alex
interview. More than anything at times like this, Matthew
wishes he had an official role. Official status. A long time
ago he had toyed with the idea of retraining. He was fas-
cinated with different techniques for interviewing. Also
profiling. He did a preliminary negotiation course once
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Teresa Driscoll
and loved that too; for a time he’d wondered if he could
get a new qualification which might make him useful
again to the force in some new and different guise.
But he looks now at his daughter tucking into her pan-
cakes and reminds himself of the reality here. The need to
earn a living. To make a go of his agency. There’s no spare
time for courses. He won’t go back in the force – how-
ever much Mel urges him. No. Too late for any of that.
At last, his phone rings.
‘Hi, Mel. So what’s happening?’ He pours some more
orange juice into Amelie’s bright pink plastic cup and
spoons a few more blueberries into her bowl, his phone
tucked between his chin and his shoulder.
‘Well, he’s furious. Claims we’ve infringed his human
rights by stopping the marriage. Is talking about suing us.’
‘Good luck with that, Alex. So – delusional?’
‘Definitely. No surprise there. We’re waiting for the duty
solicitor, then they’re doing the interviews about breaking
his terms of licence first. The team are looking at his phone already. A string of messages to the girl since he got out of prison but we’ve found nothing yet to link him to Alice.’
‘So can I come up? Be useful? I can help out if you
go into labour early.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Seriously, I’d like to see the interview.’
‘Oh, come on, Matt. You know I can’t authorise that.’
‘Unofficially. Sort of adviser. Observer.’
‘You gone mad? You seriously want to come all the
way up to Scotland?’
‘I do. There’s a flight from Exeter to Glasgow. I can
be with you by mid-afternoon. When do you expect to
interview him?’
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There’s a long pause, as if Mel is seriously considering
this. Good.
‘Oh, come on, Mel. You know we work best as a
team. I can be helpful. We can bounce off each other.
When are you getting a shot at him?’
‘I’m just observing for now. When it’s my turn for the
stalker inquiry, I’m sending in a very good DS so I can
I Will Make You Pay (ARC) Page 22
