Crap, Bea thought. That wouldn’t leave her much time to get back from the police station but she didn’t want to have to explain the situation to Laurence.
‘Yes, sure,’ she responded, smiling at him.
Laurence pulled up a chair and sat next to her. ‘How’s Sophia?’
‘Getting better, thanks for asking.’
‘And what about the other driver? Has he been arrested?’
Bea shook her head. ‘No, he’s still in hospital. Apparently they discovered he’s got liver disease. Nothing related to the accident, but they have to keep him in for tests and stuff.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Laurence picked up a pencil from her desk and started playing with it, twisting it between two fingers. ‘This must be a little bit like déjà vu for you.’
It wasn't as if the thought had not crossed her mind. Martin had brought it up. ‘A drunk driver led you to us and a drunk driver almost took away Sophia,’ he’d said at the hospital.
‘It was an accident.’ Forcing a smile, she changed the subject, taking cover in the safety of work. ‘Do you have any new notes to discuss with Luke?’
‘Yes.’ It was as if a switch had been flipped and he was suddenly all business. He leaned back in his chair. ‘He came up with this new conceptual idea that doesn’t really work. Something he dreamed about, he said. Well, it needs to remain in his dreams because it’s awful. But obviously we can't tell him that. So, I need you to help me steer him away from this gimmick and force him to make the right choice. And by that I mean agree to my proposal.’
‘OK, this is all sounding very vague. What is his idea?’
‘Oh, who even knows? It’s so bad that I can’t really remember. But you’re right, you should know. I’ll send you his emails.’
It was so like Laurence to give snippets of information and still expect her to make sure that everything worked out the way he wanted it. As if she were some sort of miracle worker, able to make things happen at the swish of a wand.
But somehow the challenge was welcome, a way to spend the time and stop her brain from constantly wondering about her future. ‘Yeah, no problem. Just send it along and I’ll read through it before the meeting.’
He started to stand, then leaned back in the chair, looking right at her. ‘You should come out with us one of these nights. I’ll introduce you to my new friends. It will do you good to let your hair down, forget about work, be around people who are even more impulsive than me.’
She threw her head back and laughed. ‘More impulsive than you! Is that even possible? Who are these people?’
‘It’s a new group I’ve been hanging out with. Fun but totally crazy. They called me last Friday with a last-minute decision to go skiing in Switzerland. I barely had thirty minutes to pack. It was awesome.’
Smiling, she nodded. ‘Sure, just tell me when and where.’ They didn’t sound like her sort of crowd, but who knew? She might meet someone interesting. She was starting to get tired of being alone. Even Gemma sometimes asked whether there was anyone special in her life. ‘Don’t forget to send me that email,’ she called after Laurence.
The rest of the morning went by quicker than she’d expected. Despite her persisting concerns, working on Luke Osborne’s case made the time fly. She read and reread the email exchange. Laurence and Luke seemed like old pals, cracking jokes and making snide remarks about everyone and everything. Trust Laurence for making her go through that instead of giving her a synopsis.
At eleven she locked herself in a bathroom cubicle. Taking out a small mirror, she dabbed at her face with a tissue, wanting to blot any excess oil before powdering her face lightly. She put on another coat of mascara and light pink lipstick. ‘I’m ready,’ she told her reflection, somehow needing the reassurance.
Laurence was in his office, on the phone. Through the open door she could see him pacing from one side of the room to the other, running his fingers through his hair, a sure sign that he was stressed out. Any other day she would have caught his eye, asked him if he needed her to take over, or wait for him to hang up so they could talk over what had happened.
But not today. She hurried past his office and towards the door. Her hand was poised over the knob, ready to leave, when she heard the distinct tap of high stilettos. Before she could make her getaway, Marcia was standing right next to her, the scent of the perfume she always doused herself with making Bea’s stomach churn. Someone needed to have a chat with her, explain the concept of moderation.
‘Are you going out?’ she asked, running a hand through her hair, letting it fall back in a perfect curtain.
‘Yes.’ Bea had to make tremendous effort to keep her tone even, not betray her annoyance. She opened the door and stepped outside, hoping that Marcia would take the hint and leave her alone.
But Marcia followed her. ‘Would you mind me coming with you? I’d like to speak with you about my contribution going forward.’
Bea craned her neck to look at Marcia’s face, stopping herself from taking a step back, away from the intern. Instead, she cleared her throat, wanting to make sure that her voice was assertive, authoritative. ‘I’m actually meeting someone, so perhaps another time.’ Marcia was staring at her, her eyes narrowed, the corners of her lips curled into a small smile that made Bea uncomfortable. ‘If you need to talk about work, let’s set a meeting and discuss it in the office. It’s more appropriate.’
‘Oh, OK,’ she said, taking a step back. ‘Bye, then.’ She turned and walked back inside, her heels making a staccato sound on the tiled floor.
Closing the door behind her, Bea stopped for a few seconds, before starting on her way.
The walk to the police station went by quickly. Despite her throbbing leg, she’d made good time and managed to arrive a few minutes before the scheduled appointment. ‘I’m here to see DCI Hawkins,’ she told the receptionist.
‘Yes, OK, you can wait there,’ he said, motioning towards the small alcove across from his desk. Bea took a seat, looking at the posters on the walls. Picking up a leaflet from the small table, she read through tips on staying safe on a night out.
‘Miss Hinds?’ Her head shot up and she saw a woman standing a few feet away. She was taller than her and extremely thin, her waist, sheathed in a wide belt, impossibly small. Her dress was perfectly tailored and her shoes buffed to perfection. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was shiny, as if she’d brushed it over and over. She didn’t look as if she fitted in the police station.
‘Yes, hello.’ Bea stood up and walked towards her.
The woman extended her hand and Bea noticed her perfectly manicured nails, painted a light pink. She was wearing a small but evidently expensive watch.
‘I’m Dr Emma Burns,’ she said. ‘Shall we go?’
She turned and started walking down the hallway, towards the lift. Bea had to run to catch up with her.
In the lift, Dr Burns smiled at Bea. ‘Thank you for making the time to come here,’ she said. Bea narrowed her eyes. There was something about the woman’s smile that looked fake. It didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, her gaze remained devoid of any warmth. She looked her over and Bea could feel herself cringe under the scrutiny. Her carefully chosen clothes were no match for the woman’s evidently expensive outfit. Her hair must be out of place after the walk. And her nail polish had a few chips, the bright pink colour looking almost childish.
‘Of course,’ Bea responded, shifting to stand up taller, trying to hide her intimidation.
‘Here we are.’ The lift pinged open and Dr Burns got out and started walking down the corridor, not looking back. Bea’s leg throbbed as she rushed to catch up with her and by the time Dr Burns stopped in front of a closed door and turned to look at her, Bea was flustered. She could feel herself starting to sweat, the pits of her arms dampening, making her panic that her discomfort would be visible through her shirt.
Opening the door, Dr Burns gestured to Bea to go in ahead of her. They were in a small room. There was a desk at one en
d. Bea couldn’t help but notice how neat everything was. There were no open files on the desk, no trinkets, no coffee cups. Just a closed laptop. Dr Burns stepped inside, shut the door and headed towards the other side of the room. There was a small sofa against the wall next to the door and a matching armchair across from it. ‘Please, take a seat,’ Dr Burns said, motioning towards the sofa. ‘Would you like a glass of water? Or a coffee?’
‘Uhm, no, I’m OK,’ Bea responded.
Sitting down on the sofa, she crossed her feet at the ankle. For a few moments they sat in silence, looking at each other. As the seconds ticked by, Bea started feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘Uhm, are we waiting for DCI Hawkins?’ she asked.
‘Oh, no, unfortunately he had to deal with an emergency and won't be able to join us,’ Dr Burns responded, her voice chipper. ‘It’s just us today.’
‘Uhm, OK.’ A frown spread across Bea’s forehead and she remembered Gemma chiding her lovingly whenever she knitted her eyebrows together, telling her that she was going to get wrinkles. ‘I’m sorry, but who are you?’
‘Of course, I should have introduced myself better.’ She scooted to the edge of the armchair and extended her hand. It was tiny and cold but her handshake was firm. ‘I’m Dr Emma Burns,’ she repeated.
‘Are you a police officer?’
‘No.’ She gave a half-suppressed laugh, and Bea shuffled in her chair, slightly embarrassed by her question. ‘I’m a psychologist and do some consulting work for the police.’
The thudding in Bea’s chest was so loud that she was sure Dr Burns could hear it. She swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. ‘I don’t really understand.’ Pausing, she exhaled slowly. ‘I’m not sure I understand the purpose of this meeting. I thought it was all about clearing up some small details.’
Dr Burns’ lips curled up in a small smile and she leaned forward in her seat. ‘Yes, that’s correct.’ She didn’t elaborate but simply sat there, her thin arms folded against her chest, her hair hanging forward in a glossy curtain.
Bea felt the heat rising through her body, starting at her toes and going up and up until her head felt as if it were on fire, the tips of her fingers tingling. But she couldn't let Dr Burns see just how flustered she was, how uncomfortable she made her feel. She needed to get a grip on herself, especially in front of a professional trained to recognise when someone was tense. Bea was sure she’d figured her all out by now, but she couldn't give her more fodder.
Swallowing the lump in her throat again, Bea forced a smile and straightened in the seat, uncrossing her legs, noticing as she did the slight scuff on the toe of her boots. ‘I’m afraid that I don't have much time. I have to get back to work rather quickly.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ Dr Burns’ tone was melodic.
‘So, can you tell me what you would like to know?’ The sharp pain in her leg forced Bea to shift it slightly to the side. ‘As you can understand the accident happened many years ago. It was a very traumatic period in my life. It’s been hard to have to relive all the details.’
‘Yes, of course. I fully understand. It was a long time ago and you were so young.’ She looked away for a fleeting second and then firmed her gaze back on Bea. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me about Sebastian?’
The name reverberated around the small room. It echoed in her head.
‘I’d ra…’ Her voice cracked and she had to stop. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat again. ‘I’d rather not talk about him.’
Dr Burns leaned slightly further towards her. ‘Why is that?’ she asked.
For seconds Bea just looked at her, trying to clear her head, find the words to explain. But she didn’t know what to say. Instead she shrugged. ‘I just don’t talk about him.’
‘I understand that this is a very painful part of your past. But what happened to Sebastian is important. It is part of the accident, an integral part of it. You cannot switch it off.’
Her eyes were narrowed into slits and Bea felt herself cower under her scrutiny. She looked away and saw Sebastian’s face flash in front of her eyes. The mischievous smile. His concerned look whenever Miriam zeroed in on his sister. His soft voice comforting her.
‘He… He was sitting right next to me. I don’t know exactly what happened but when I opened my eyes he… he was gone.’ Bea’s eyes burned and she blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay, wanting to remain strong, focused.
The cold hand on hers made her jump. She looked up and saw Dr Burns leaning towards her, her head cocked to one side, her lips slightly parted. For the first time she almost looked as if she cared.
‘And he wasn’t wearing a seat belt?’
Bea shook her head. Sometimes she’d wondered whether Sebastian would have survived if he had been wearing a seat belt. But she’d quickly stamp out that thought, not wanting to go down the slippery slope of ‘what ifs’. It was dangerous territory that would only lead to guilt.
‘No, it didn’t work.’
‘Oh, you mean the seat belt was broken.’ Dr Burns leaned back and scribbled furiously in her notebook.
‘Yes. None of them worked.’
‘Was that something that had just happened?’
‘I don’t think so. It had been a while.’
‘Hmmm.’ Dr Burns finished writing and brought the pen to her mouth, leaning it against her lips as she looked at Bea through slightly narrowed eyes. ‘And Miss Lancing knew about this?’
‘Uhm… yes… I think so.’
‘Hmmm…’ Dr Burns leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and held Bea’s gaze. She was close enough that Bea could smell her floral perfume, see the light matting of freckles covering her upturned nose. ‘Do you blame yourself for Sebastian’s death?’
Bea’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Did Dr Burns know about the poison, how it was affecting Miriam? Nobody had asked her that question. Never had she thought that anyone would. She was just a child, a passenger in a vehicle. She had been devastatingly injured. ‘No, of course not,’ she finally said. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Well…’ Dr Burns crossed her legs and placed her notebook on her lap. Bea could see the page covered in scribbles but was too far away to read what was written. ‘Why don’t you tell me about living with Miriam? You were there for how long? Four years?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Dr Burns was nodding, encouraging her to continue. ‘It was fine. It was a home. We had a place to live, someone to take us to school, prepare our food.’
‘So, what did you usually eat?’
Bea’s eyes opened wide at the out-of-the-blue question. ‘Uhm, I don’t remember. It’s been so long. Normal food, I guess.’
‘But surely Miriam must have had a favourite dish. One she used to prepare more often. Perhaps one that you liked best.’
Images of the meagre portions, food burned beyond recognition, flashed in front of Bea’s eyes. She could come up with something. But something stopped her. She didn’t want Dr Burns to catch her in a lie, especially if she’d already spoken with the others. ‘There was a housekeeper that came once a week and she always made lasagne. Beyond that, I don’t really remember. It was just too long ago.’
‘Did you feel like you were given enough to eat?’
Bea felt a lump in her throat. This was her chance to tell Dr Burns about the abuse. To unload the burden that she had been carrying for years. But she couldn’t. She could not risk this investigation taking a deeper look into their lives with Miriam, risk uncovering what they had done.
‘Yes, of course,’ she quickly said. Then, just to show her how ridiculous the question was, added: ‘Why would you ask that?’
Dr Burns turned the page of her notebook. She tapped her pen against her lip. Once, twice, three times. ‘It’s just that I looked through the hospital records. You were severely underweight.’
A smile crept across Bea’s face before she could stop it. ‘That’s because I was practising for hours every day
. And I have to admit that many times I didn’t finish my meals.’ She paused, hoping this was enough. ‘You never see a chubby ballerina,’ she added with a smile.
‘So, the bruises on your back came from ballet?’
Bea’s skin erupted in goosebumps despite the warmth in the office. ‘What bruises?’ she finally asked.
Dr Burns looked back at her notebook. ‘The medical notes said that you had several bruises, but specifically noted the ones on your lower back.’
Bea remembered the swish of the pan as Miriam had hit her repeatedly that morning. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. ‘But those were from the accident.’
‘Are you sure? The report said they were inconsistent with the other injuries from the accident.’
‘Ma… Maybe I’d fallen. I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.’
‘Are you sure that there wasn’t somebody who was hurting you?’
‘No, of course not.’ Bea’s face felt as if it were on fire. She needed to bring this conversation to an end before she said something that she’d regret. She had to get out of this office and warn the others. ‘Look, I need to get back to work.’ She started standing up but a sharp pain in her leg forced her to sit back down. Grabbing the arms of the chair, she used them to pull herself to the edge of the seat, then stand up. She straightened her shirt, ironing out the creases with her hands. ‘I have to go now. Please tell DCI Hawkins to call me if he wants to discuss the matter further himself.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Dr Burns said, unfurling from the chair and standing up. ‘I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. Perhaps these questions are bringing back memories that you’d rather forget.’
‘These questions are out of line.’ Bea spat the words at her, her anger overriding her desire to be polite.
‘Did you ever suspect that perhaps Miss Lancing could have been poisoning you?’
Bea’s mouth dropped open but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say, how to even react. But more than anything she was terrified that anything she said could come back to haunt her, reveal what had really happened.
We All Fall Down Page 23
