Bea heard the click of the call ending and lowered her phone, her fingers wrapped tightly around it. Standing still in the middle of the pavement, she didn’t see the other people hurrying past her. ‘What the fuck!’ she exclaimed loudly, beyond the point of caring who heard her.
Shaking her head, she started walking back to the office. She was worried, not because she cared about Ronnie Moss’ health, whether he would recover from the heart attack, but because this would postpone the court case, give Miriam more time to recover, provide the police with more opportunity to delve into their past. She wanted, no, needed, this case to be over. To be able to go back to her life, forget about Miriam. But it seemed as if the stars were aligned against them.
He’d better recover, Bea thought. She wanted to look him straight in the eyes when he was sentenced. She needed to do that, if not for herself, for her brother. Miriam had already received her punishment. Now it was Ronnie Moss’ turn.
She closed her eyes and saw him again. She tried so hard not to think about him. The memory was too painful. But walking through the busy London street, she saw his blue eyes staring right at her, lifeless. Sebastian. Her brother. The only person left from her destroyed family. She quickly opened her eyes, wanting the vision to go away.
At first she hadn’t believed the social worker who told her Sebastian had died. Surely, she had to be mistaken. Not her brother, the strongest person she knew. But then she realised that she was simply escaping reality. She had seen him, tried to jostle him awake. But he was gone.
Then came the ‘maybes’. Perhaps if she hadn’t sat next to him, he wouldn’t have been right by the window and would have survived. Maybe when she’d seen the lorry coming, she could have pulled him down, shielded him from the impact behind the seat in front of them. Perhaps if she’d woken up on time that morning, they’d have left a few seconds earlier, and avoided the impact.
And then there was the immense guilt that the accident was partly their fault. Despite her many shortcomings, Miriam had always been a safe driver, careful and attentive. But she had become too distracted and Bea was certain that it had something to do with the poison.
She felt a hard bump to her left shoulder and teetered forward, panicking as she feared she was about to topple over and hurt herself. Her arms flew in front of her, ready to break her fall, and she looked around to see a man staring right at her, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. ‘Get out of the way!’ he spat at her, before continuing in the opposite direction.
For a second she didn’t move, just stared at him, wondering what had angered him so much that he needed to lash out at her. She shook her head, took a deep breath and continued walking but as she approached her office, she started slowing down. She had been on her way back after meeting with a client but suddenly she didn’t want to go back. Taking out her phone, she sent a quick message to Laurence.
The meeting went well. I’m not feeling great though, going to head home. See you tomorrow.
Her head was really throbbing. She wanted to go home and relax. But the thought of being alone made her sad. Instead, she continued walking along the Strand, her pace slow, leisurely. She walked by Top Shop and stopped to look in the window, the tiny mannequins sporting the latest fashion. As she was pondering going in, getting a new outfit or two, a tall, skinny girl walked out. Bea looked her up and down. The girl was teetering on impossibly high heels and Bea felt the stab of disappointment. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to wear heels, to fit in with everyone else, it was impossible.
She closed her eyes tight, trying to get the thoughts out of her head. They served no purpose. She could not do anything about it. Still, the wave of depression shook her to the core. All the pain and disappointment came back and she felt the energy seep out of her. As if on cue, her leg started hurting, telling her to find a place to sit down, to take a rest. She looked around, not sure where to go, whether she had the energy to get on the Tube. She could get a taxi, sit back during the journey, allow her mind to relax as she looked out of the window at the passing London streets.
And then, right in front of her, was exactly what she wanted to see. A pub. That was where she’d go. It was like an oasis in the middle of the desert, a place for her to sit down and rest her leg.
The warmth engulfed Bea as soon as she stepped inside. The Coal Hole was almost empty, and she easily found a seat at a corner table. Removing her coat, she folded it neatly and put it over the back of a chair, marking the place as taken. Then she went to the bar, caught the eye of the lone bartender. ‘I’ll have a glass of white wine,’ she said.
‘Big or small,’ the bartender asked, the bottle poised over a glass, ready to pour.
‘Sma… Make it a big one.’ She needed the comfort of alcohol. She’d drink the glass of wine and leave, go home, maybe take a nap and hope that her head stopped throbbing.
Sitting down, Bea straightened her aching leg and leaned forward to rub her calf muscle. Why did it have to hurt so much? she thought. Fine, she couldn’t dance any longer, but, darn, was this constant pain really necessary? Couldn’t it just be an occasional throb? She could handle discomfort, but the shooting pains, deep in her bone, were simply cruel. A way to remind her of all that she had lost.
One sip after the other, she drank her wine. She was comfortable in the almost empty bar. It was dark, quiet, homely. She didn’t want to face the outside world. Not yet. Her leg still hurt too much to walk. Rubbing her calf muscle one last time, she stood up and headed back to the bar.
Two glasses of wine later, Bea was feeling more like herself. The pain, while still there, was muted. Her head was not throbbing any longer and instead she felt a blissful buzz. This was her escape. She picked up her phone to send a text to the others, needing the comfort that she could find only in them.
39
‘That’s unfortunate,’ Sandra told DCI Hawkins when he called to tell her about Ronnie Moss’ heart attack. ‘Is he going to be all right?’
‘Yes, the doctors think he’s going to make a full recovery,’ he said. ‘But, of course, it does impact the timeline.’
‘Of course, that’s understandable. So how much longer will it take?’
‘Well, we don’t know. But this might work in our favour, give Mrs Lancing time to recover. We’re banking on her getting her memory back fully. She’d be a big asset.’
Closing her eyes tightly, Sandra pursed her lips as she inhaled deeply through her nose. This couldn’t be happening.
‘Thank you for letting me know,’ she finally said.
Sandra put the phone down on the breakfast table and leaned back in her chair. Shaking her head slightly, she looked straight ahead, into the garden. Her head hurt. Her chest felt tight. She hadn’t slept properly since the police had tracked down Ronnie Moss and Miriam started regaining her memory. She’d lay in bed for hours, listening to Louis’ heavy breathing, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all that she stood to lose. Her marriage, her children, her social status. She wanted this to be over, she needed this to be over, for the case to be closed.
Her phone buzzed. It was a text message from Bea, sent to her, Helen and John.
Have you heard? He’s gone and had a heart attack now. Nice timing!
She picked up her phone, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
DCI Hawkins thinks it might be better – give Miriam more time to regain her memory.
The antique clock on the kitchen wall chimed merrily. It was time for Sandra to leave to pick up Julia. Taking a deep breath, she stood up, straightened her sweater, and picked up her mug, taking it to the sink and rinsing it out, putting it upside down on the drying rack. She seemed to survive on coffee these days. There was a time when her morning espresso was enough, but ever since the whole debacle had started she was drinking multiple cups every day, needing the kick of the caffeine to get through the most mundane tasks.
Another text message came through as she got to her car. This time it was Helen.
Per
haps we should meet up. Everyone free tonight?
Sandra closed her eyes. Tonight was impossible. She had to accompany Louis to a work dinner, not something she could cancel.
Can’t do tonight. How about tomorrow?
Putting her phone down, she started the car and reversed out of the parking spot, focusing on the road as she drove the short distance to the nursery. For the next couple of hours she gave all her attention to her daughter, playing with her, hearing about her day. Every now and then, she’d catch herself staring at Julia, thinking how the toddler’s idyllic life would come crashing down if Miriam started making accusations. But then she’d shake her head and push the thoughts aside, wanting to live in the moment, enjoy the time she had with Julia.
Hours later she locked herself in the bathroom. She loved her children immensely but needed some time to herself, to think while getting ready for the evening. She had no desire to go to dinner, force herself to make small talk with Louis’ clients, but her presence was expected. She’d smile and talk about the weather, a recently released movie, the latest news about the royals.
As she waited for the water to warm up, she read the text messages on her phone. They were from the others. Helen was busy the following day and was suggesting Thursday. John and Bea were game. She exhaled slowly through her mouth, realising that she had been holding her breath, before texting back.
Thursday works for me. See you all then.
She’d have to make arrangements, make sure dinner was prepared in advance, book a sitter, let Louis know that she was going to be out, but she wouldn’t miss this for the world. They were the only people she could share her fears with and she needed their support.
*
The rain started some time in the middle of the night. Sandra could hear it pelting against the window panes, softly at first, then more loudly as it came down more forcefully. She lay there, hoping the noise wouldn’t wake up Julia. Rolling over, she tried to find a more comfortable position, stretching her legs and then pulling them back against her chest. This insomnia was killing her. She could hear the clock on her side table tick as the second hand made one revolution after another. Still, she refused to check the time, knowing that it would depress her further to find out it was still the middle of the night.
At some point she must have drifted off because the sound of the alarm startled her. She couldn’t remember the last time she was woken up by her alarm. She sat up quickly and switched it off, amazed that Louis had managed to sleep through it. He didn’t even stir when she jumped out of bed and Sandra put her hand on his chest to make sure that he was breathing.
Downstairs she made coffee and started preparing the children’s lunches, her mind going over the list of things she needed to do as she slathered butter on the bread. She had just finished when she heard Julia calling for her and went upstairs to get her youngest daughter ready for nursery. By the time Julia was dressed, the rest of the family was downstairs, chattering as they ate breakfast, Alistair and Amanda bickering over the last of the Coco Pops. ‘I’ll get more today,’ she promised them, searching for her phone to add it to her shopping list.
‘Have you seen my phone?’ she asked nobody in particular, as she walked round the kitchen searching for it. Nobody answered. She finally spotted it hidden under Amanda’s backpack. She was surprised to find that there was a voicemail. It was just past 7 a.m. Whoever would be calling her this early? Probably a telemarketer. Still, she picked it up to check. A man cleared his throat.
‘Yes, this is a message for Mrs Sullivan. It’s DCI Hawkins. Nothing to worry about, but I’d like you to come down to the station again when you can. We need to go over your statement one more time.’
Heat rose to her face and she felt her cheeks burning. Her knees were weak and she felt the need to lean against the kitchen counter to keep herself from falling into a crumpled ball on the floor. Why would he want to waste time going over her statement again? Something must be wrong. Perhaps one of the others had veered off course, given him reason to believe there was more to their story than they were telling.
‘Is everything all right?’ Louis’ voice right behind her startled her and she jumped when he put a hand on her waist.
‘Yes, yes.’ For a moment she was going to tell him about DCI Hawkins' message but then she decided against it. She didn’t want him asking too many questions, didn’t want to have to lie to reassure him. She never spoke much about the accident or her time with Miriam. She’d told him that the memories were too painful, but really she was afraid of what she might blurt out. The less he knew, the safer he was if the truth ever came out. She smiled at him. ‘Just thinking what I need to get from the shops. Anything for you?’
It was not until she had dropped the children off at school that Sandra sat in her car and dialled the number he had left her. She was surprised and relieved when he picked up himself. ‘Hello, DCI Hawkins, this is Sandra Sullivan.’ She tried to keep her voice as even as she could, not wanting him to suspect that talking to him made her anxiety flare. ‘I’m returning your call.’
‘Yes, yes, good morning, Mrs Sullivan.’ There was a rustling and Sandra could imagine him going through the papers on his desk. ‘Uhm, yeah, so uhm, as I said on the phone, my voicemail, I’d like you to come down to the station to go over your statement.’
‘Why? Is there a problem with what I said on Monday?’
‘N… no, no, of course not.’ His voice sounded strange, not as assertive as usual. Sandra could sense the doubt and it made her uncomfortable. ‘But something else has come up that I’d like to discuss.’
The lump in her throat made it hard for her to swallow. Her fears were not unfounded. Someone must have let the cat out of the bag. She, no, all of them were in real trouble now.
‘Mrs Sullivan, are you still there?’
‘Uhm, yes, of course.’ Her mind whirred as she tried to figure out what to say, make sure he didn’t realise that she was starting to panic. ‘Uhm… can you tell me what happened?’
Again, he cleared his throat, the sound booming through the phone. ‘I’d rather speak face to face.’
Sandra’s heart stopped. The blood rushed to her head and she felt as if she was about to throw up. She leaned her forehead against the window, the cold glass offering some relief.
‘Of course,’ she finally said.
‘Thank you. So, is there a convenient time for you to come to the station today?’
She thought about her day, the massive shopping list, the stacks of laundry that needed to be put away. The cleaners would be coming tomorrow and she wanted to have everything done before they showed up. She was planning to hit the high street, do some shopping, while they were there, but she needed to get this over, find out what he really needed, put it behind her. And it might be an opportunity to learn whether Miriam had said anything.
‘Not today unfortunately. But I can make it tomorrow. Would 11 a.m. work? It will have to be quick. It’s a busy day.’
‘Yes, of course. Thank you for making the time. We’ll see you tomorrow.’
She heard the click of the call ending and wondered who else was going to be at the meeting. Or maybe she had misheard. Perhaps he hadn’t said ‘we’ after all.
40
The office was quiet when Bea got in. She enjoyed this time of day, the silence allowing her to focus on what she needed to do, the interruptions minimal.
The church bells had just stopped chiming when her mobile phone rang, sounding louder than it really was in the silence of the office. It was barely seven o’clock and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as anxiety took hold. Something must be wrong for anyone to call at this time. Sophia! Her breathing quickened as she picked up the phone and pressed a button to answer it. ‘Hello!’ Her voice sounded panicked in her ears, a sharp staccato intended to encourage the other person to get to the point.
‘Good morning, Miss Hinds, apologies for the early call.’ It was a booming voice, authoritative. It cou
ld certainly belong to a doctor.
‘Wh… who is this?’ She gripped her phone tighter, hoping that it wouldn’t slip through her now sweaty palm.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ The man on the other end of the line gave a small laugh. Bea felt her heart miss a beat. ‘It’s DCI Hawkins.’
She swallowed hard. There was momentary relief. And then alarm set in again. Such an early call couldn’t be good.
‘Oh, hello.’ She tried to keep a level voice, make sure that her state of panic couldn’t be discerned. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’
‘Yes, in fact there is. I was hoping you could come to the police station for a quick chat. I’d like to go over some things with you. Clear up a few details.’
Bea felt herself exhale slowly, the panic escaping her body like air from an open valve. This had to be normal procedure, she tried to convince herself. He just wanted to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.
‘Yes, of course, anything I can do to assist.’ The more helpful she was, the less likely he’d think she had something to hide. Wasn’t this what seasoned criminals always did? Not that she considered herself a criminal.
‘Do you have some time this morning?’
Bea narrowed her eyes. Why all this urgency for a routine meeting? Still, perhaps it was better to get it over with. Opening her calendar, she scanned through her meetings for the day. It was a busy one, but she could shift some things around. She had a call that should end at eleven and she could leave for the police station straight after. ‘How about eleven-fifteen?’
‘Hmm.’ There was a pause. She heard papers being shuffled. DCI Hawkins breathing somewhat heavily. She wondered if he was a smoker. Or perhaps it was the extra pounds he was carrying. ‘Can you make eleven-thirty?’
Lifting her eyebrows, she shook her head but stopped herself from sighing loudly. ‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘See you then.’
*
‘Can you handle the one o’clock meeting with Luke Osborne?’ Laurence asked.
We All Fall Down Page 22
