Wrong Place

by Michelle Davies

‘I have what doctors call unexplained infertility – apparently there’s no medical reason why I shouldn’t be able to conceive naturally. We’ve already had three rounds of IVF that haven’t worked; my useless body won’t allow an egg to implant, and the doctors can’t tell why.’

  It struck Maggie as an odd way for Eleanor to describe herself, like her body was a third party separate to the rest of her. Or maybe detaching herself from the process was the easiest way to deal with it failing.

  ‘Simon thinks we should wait a bit before trying again because it’s so expensive. I thought going to the gym might improve my chances of getting pregnant naturally while we save up for our next cycle. He didn’t believe me when I said that’s why I was going out and the row started when I got back late from a class last night.’

  Maggie made a note to suggest to Umpire that they confirm Eleanor was at the gym when she said she was. There was no reason to disbelieve her – it was simply a case of being thorough.

  ‘Is that it?’ said Eleanor. ‘I’m tired now.’

  Maggie had enough information to go on for the time being, but a final question niggled away at her.

  ‘Yes, we can wrap it up for now,’ she said. ‘But before we do, I was wondering if your husband made any attempt to break down the door to the bathroom once you were locked inside?’

  Eleanor’s expression hardened. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, it sounds like he was in an agitated state when the attack commenced and I’m wondering if he made any attempt to get at you in the bathroom.’

  ‘He banged and kicked on the door after I locked it and I thought he was going to knock it off its hinges so I screamed at him to leave me alone. After that it went quiet and then, as I’ve already told you, I passed out from the pain,’ said Eleanor with more than a trace of annoyance. ‘Please, I’m very tired now. Can we stop?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Maggie. ‘Do you want to tell me what items you’d like brought in from home? I’ll arrange to have them picked up.’

  After writing down the list of things, Maggie gathered up her coat and bag and said goodbye to Eleanor, who was far warmer saying farewell than she had been with her greeting.

  As Maggie closed the door behind her, another question popped into her mind and when Umpire rose to his feet in readiness for an update, she fired it at him.

  ‘Sir, when Simon Bramwell was found on the bed, was the empty packet of diazepam with him?’

  Umpire’s forehead creased into deep lines as he stared at her.

  ‘No, he crushed up the pills in the kitchen. The empty packet was on the side along with the vodka bottle. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m wondering how he got hold of them when Mrs Bramwell had locked herself in the bathroom. That’s where she said she kept them.’

  ‘He must’ve taken them downstairs before the row started, which . . .’ His eyes locked on Maggie’s and she knew what was coming next.

  ‘. . . suggests this was premeditated and that Simon Bramwell had every intention of killing his wife last night and committing suicide afterwards. It wasn’t heat of the moment,’ Umpire concluded.

  But something still wasn’t adding up for Maggie and she shook her head to convey her doubt.

  ‘If he really did plan to kill her all along, why stop halfway through? Okay, he was drunk, but why not make sure the job was finished? Mrs Bramwell said he almost took the bathroom door off its hinges to get to her then changed his mind. Why?’

  ‘Perhaps he decided he couldn’t go through with it but felt guilty for what he’d done so he tried to top himself anyway.’ Umpire gave her a searching look. ‘You’re not buying it though, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m not. She’s being so spiky towards us when we’re trying to help her that it makes me think she’s not being entirely truthful.’

  ‘Well, you’re in the best position to find out if she isn’t. Keep questioning her account, but do it subtly.’

  ‘I know what to do, sir,’ Maggie said, more abruptly than she intended.

  The grin Umpire flashed her was so unexpected that it almost wrong-footed her. Then it disappeared just as quickly, the impenetrable mask slipping firmly back into place.

  ‘I know you do,’ he said coolly, ‘which is why I asked for you to be assigned her FLO in the first place. So far the circumstantial and forensic evidence backs her story, but if you think Eleanor Bramwell is lying, find out why.’

  20

  Lou was dozing in bed when a sudden burst of light forced her eyes open. Raising her head off the pillow, she blearily made out Jude’s silhouette in the doorway of her bedroom, the light streaming in behind him rendering his face almost pitch-black and featureless.

  ‘I’ve made you some tea downstairs, Mum. It’s time to get up. We’ve got to get to school.’

  He went across the room and pulled open the curtains. Lou groaned and covered her eyes with her hands.

  ‘It’s too bright,’ she said, pulling the duvet over her face.

  Her head throbbed and her mouth was parched. How much had she had to drink in the end? The evening had started with them ordering beer, that much she did remember. When her second pint started to sour her taste buds, she switched to bottles of cider and then she had a vague recollection of Arturs ordering some tequila shots, of which she downed at least one. She groaned again. How could she be so stupid to drink so much on a Tuesday night?

  ‘Is Auntie Maggie still here?’ she asked in a muffled voice from beneath the cover.

  Her sister had stuck her head round the door first thing to wake her up but Lou had been in no mood to listen to a lecture about being irresponsible and had ignored her until she took the hint and went back downstairs.

  ‘No. She had to go to work,’ said Jude. ‘I made Scotty get dressed and gave him his breakfast and I gave Mae her milk and I changed her nappy.’

  She could hear the pride in his voice and for a moment felt vindicated. Jude was a responsible kid – why couldn’t he babysit his brother and sister? But Maggie’s angry words still rang in her ears and deep down she knew her sister was right. She should never have left him to look after Scotty and Mae while she went to the pub.

  Lou lowered the duvet and turned onto her side so she was facing away from the window. As she moved, her back gave a sharp twinge and she realized her buttocks also felt sore. Through the fog of her hangover she remembered how Arturs had cajoled her into the back of his work van in the pub car park after she told him that he couldn’t come home with her because of Maggie and the children. The recollection made her giggle – it had been years since she’d had such frantic, urgent sex.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Jude, looking concerned.

  ‘Nothing, sweetheart,’ she said quickly. ‘Thanks for sorting breakfast. I’ll get up now.’ She tried not to wince as she pulled back the covers and eased her aching body out of bed. ‘Did you say Scotty’s dressed for school?’

  ‘Yep. Our bags are ready too.’

  She flashed him a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, hon. I’ll get dressed and be right down.’

  There was a three-quarter-length mirror on the front of the wardrobe door. When Jude had gone, Lou stripped off the old T-shirt she wore as a nightgown and stood with her back to it, twisting her head over her shoulder to see if there were bruises on her back and bum from contact with the van’s metal floor. From what she could see, there were none. She turned straight ahead again and appraised her body in the mirror. The toll of carrying three babies could be seen in her flattened breasts and the way the skin across her stomach dimpled, though she’d lost weight in the past six months and her thighs and bum were trim again. But it was in her face that she saw the greatest transformation. Despite her thumping headache and greasy hair, her eyes shone and her cheeks were flushed with an excitement she hadn’t felt for a long time. Arturs made her feel sexy and wanted again.

  As she quickly dragged on her underwear and a pair of jeans and a jumper, Lou told herself she’d have to smooth things over with
Maggie about leaving the kids. She couldn’t afford a falling-out with her sister: aside from the fact she relied on her for emotional support, she also couldn’t manage without the money Maggie gave her every month.

  She knew she took advantage of her sister’s kind nature but she couldn’t help it. Her life was such a struggle and Maggie was always there for her, willing to help out. She had been since Jerome’s accident. Lou knew it was because her sister was chewed up with guilt that she wasn’t able to stop Jerome being hit by that car, but it wasn’t Maggie’s fault – she just happened to have been there. The only person Lou blamed was Jerome, for drinking so much that he couldn’t see straight as he crossed the road.

  Pottering downstairs, a sudden flash of memory came to her. There was something Maggie needed to apologize to her for, the thing Lou had alluded to on the phone last night. She’d found out on Monday from a mutual friend that her ex-husband, Rob, was planning to move to Majorca with his fiancée, Lisa, now the Rosie Kinnock trial was behind them. The friend, who trained at the same gym as Rob in the centre of town, said Lisa’s parents owned an apartment in Palma and the two of them were planning to pick up some bar work on the Spanish island before they got married over there in April.

  The ramifications of Rob leaving the UK were huge. Not only would Mae hardly ever see her dad if he moved abroad, but it would also be much harder for Lou to chase him when he was slack with his maintenance payments, which he often was. And if Rob and Lisa started a family of their own, she feared Mae would become even more of an afterthought.

  Shocked by the news, Lou had texted her mum, Jeanette, to tell her, and it turned out she already knew – because Maggie had known about it for weeks from the witness liaison officer who had been dealing with Lisa ahead of her giving evidence at the trial. Lou couldn’t fathom why Maggie hadn’t told her something so important the second she heard about it and was determined to have it out with her.

  Keeping a secret like that just wasn’t what sisters did.

  21

  Alex wiped an arc through the mist on the inside of the windscreen with his gloved hand and peered up at Sadie’s house. A strip of blue and white police tape hung loosely from the front gate.

  ‘Are you sure we’re even allowed in?’ he asked Della. ‘Isn’t it still a crime scene?’

  ‘I don’t know. I rang the police before we left but there was no answer on the number I was given,’ she fretted. ‘I thought I should check on the house before I went to the hospital though, because I don’t know if the police locked up properly. I don’t want anyone else getting in.’

  ‘I can’t imagine anyone would attempt another break-in after yesterday.’

  His hot breath made the windscreen steam up again. It felt even colder today than it had been yesterday and even though she was bundled up in her thick coat Della still felt chilled to the bone. She was exhausted too, having lain awake all night, petrified the hospital was going to call at some point to say Sadie had died.

  ‘You think we shouldn’t go in?’ she said.

  ‘I think it’ll be okay. If the police didn’t want anyone here they’d put someone outside to keep guard. You need to get inside so you can get the ball rolling on the insurance claim.’

  Della flinched. It felt wrong to be discussing money while her nan was in hospital, like they were being grubby and underhand. Alex had first brought up the subject when he’d turned up at her flat last night, saying it would give her something else to focus on, but she didn’t share his conviction.

  She’d been surprised to see him on her doorstep, given how shattered he had been when he’d left the hospital a couple of hours earlier, but he said he felt bad about her being on her own and she’d fallen gratefully into his arms. When Alex was with her she felt more able to cope.

  She watched as he leaned forward to wipe the windscreen again. He was good looking, with a body kept fit by thrice-weekly runs and thick brown hair he spent half an hour every morning coaxing into a quiff. He resembled nothing of her previous two boyfriends, who were both blond and, like her, on the skinny side, and while she believed it was a bit shallow to think so, she liked being seen out with Alex. He made her look good.

  ‘Have you phoned the insurance company yet?’ he asked, wiping the windscreen for a third time as it misted back over.

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘You need to be quick about these things.’

  ‘I thought I should see what’s actually missing first. I haven’t given a complete list to the police yet.’

  ‘Oh. Well, yeah, I suppose you should do that first. I wonder if your nan had valuables stashed away you didn’t even know about?’ he mused.

  ‘I doubt it. We had a big tidy up when I moved out last year and I didn’t come across anything then that I didn’t know about already.’

  Alex gave a sly grin. ‘Maybe you missed them. It’s always worth putting down for a few extra things when you stick in the claim, like bits of jewellery or maybe a camera.’

  ‘You mean lie?’ said Della, shocked.

  ‘Come on, those insurance companies make a fortune on premiums. What’s the price of another necklace to them?’

  ‘No, I can’t do that. It’s wrong.’

  Alex held up his hands. The black wool glove he’d used to wipe the windscreen appeared soaked through.

  ‘You’re right, forget I mentioned it. Shall we go in? I haven’t got long before I need to get to work.’

  ‘Are you sure you can’t take the day off?’

  His expression clouded. ‘I really can’t, Del. I do want to see your nan but it’s so manic at work right now and you know what Geoff is like. I’ll try to pop up to the hospital in my lunch break.’

  She knew he would try. Alex got on well with Sadie and he understood and respected the importance of Della’s relationship with her. But, still, she was disappointed and ducked her face behind the upright collar of her coat to hide it.

  The entire hallway was covered in a filmy black dust – the banister leading upstairs, the doors and door frames between the hall and the living room and kitchen, the picture frames and ornaments on the walls. Immediately Della’s eyes fell upon the gap left by the missing photograph. She noticed there was a partial handprint in the dust next to it.

  Alex bundled into the hallway behind her.

  ‘So if your nan doesn’t pull through, you’ll get the house?’ he asked.

  ‘No, it reverts back to Quadrant Homes,’ said Della as she peered through the doorway into the sitting room. She hastily backtracked when she saw the dark stain on the carpet by the sofa.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The housing association. But can we not talk about that, please? I want Nan to be okay.’

  ‘You what?’

  The sharpness of Alex’s voice made her swivel round. He frowned at her.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I want Nan to be okay.’

  ‘No, before that.’

  Exhaustion was making it hard for her to think straight. ‘Before? You asked me about the house.’

  ‘You mentioned something called Quadrant.’

  ‘Oh, right, yes. That’s the housing association which manages this place.’

  ‘I thought your nan owned this house.’

  Della shrugged off her coat and hung it on the bottom of the banister. The heating must have come on with the timer as the house was stifling. Sadie always liked it to be tropically warm.

  ‘No. She and my granddad always rented.’

  She caught the surprised look on Alex’s face and grew defensive. ‘My granddad wasn’t well paid and Nan gave up work so she could look after me and they could never scrape together enough to buy their own home. Some families can’t. There’s no shame in it,’ she added hotly.

  ‘I’m not saying there is. I just assumed this would be all yours one day.’

  ‘No, it won’t.’ Suddenly she was overcome and began to cry.

  ‘Hey, come here.’ Alex wrapped his ar
ms round her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘I can’t bear the idea of someone else moving in. If Nan dies, they’ll want the house back straight away.’

  ‘They can’t do that—’ Alex pulled away as his phone pinged in his pocket. ‘Shit, it’s Geoff asking when I’m coming in. Sorry, I have to go.’ He kissed her hard on the lips. ‘Call me if you need me.’ Then, after a pause, he cupped Della’s face in his hands and stared directly into her eyes. ‘You know I love you, right?’

  She nodded. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Good. Right, I’ll see you later. Oh, and have a think about what I said about the insurance claim. If we got a bit of extra cash we could go on holiday when all this is over, somewhere nice and hot.’

  22

  The automatic doors slid seamlessly open but Bea couldn’t bring herself to step through them. Ahead of her was a mass of people and the noise and bustle was too daunting. She took a step backwards and the doors slid shut, cutting her off from the clamour.

  ‘Hey, stop mucking about with those doors.’

  Bea looked round to see a man in a fluorescent yellow jacket bearing down on her, his face twisted in a snarl. Terrified, she shot forward again. As the doors slid open and the milling crowd swallowed her up, she turned to see the word ‘Security’ emblazoned on the breast of the man’s jacket and she felt a stab of relief. He wasn’t the police.

  Bea picked her way round the edge of the reception area as she debated how best to find out where the old woman was being treated when all she had to go on was her first name. Eventually a desk marked ‘Information’ loomed into view on her right, staffed by a man and a woman. Bea sped over to it and settled herself in the woman’s queue.

  ‘Yes?’ said the woman when it was Bea’s turn. She didn’t bother to look up from her computer.

  ‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’ Bea looked helplessly around for inspiration. She couldn’t just ask to see the old woman when she wasn’t a relative: hospitals had strict rules about that, which she remembered from the time her dad had an operation on his knee. Then her gaze fell upon the posters on the wall behind the receptionist’s head and one in particular, adorned with the words, ‘CAN YOU HELP?’