But Amy barely heard her mother’s words; she was too busy picking over the bones of her past. ‘You shouldn’t have put up with it. You should have told Dad how you felt.’
‘Like you told him how you felt about watching all those James Bond movies?’ Flora emitted an intoxicated giggle. ‘You only pretended to like them so you could spend time together. See? We all put him on a pedestal. But he was human, he made his mistakes, just like us.’
It was true. Their Sundays together watching 007 films were precious only because of the time they shared. They could have just as easily watched hours of wrestling for all she cared.
‘The adoption agency approved us the week your parents were arrested. It seemed like fate,’ Flora said wistfully. ‘When we adopted you, I thought it would bring the family closer together, but it made me feel like an outsider even more. I was so jealous of what you both had.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ Amy said, dismayed to hear such a painful confession.
‘It’s not your fault there was distance between us, Amy; it was mine. There were plenty of times I could have reached out to gain your trust . . .’ She heaved a sigh. ‘But it’s not too late to make things right.’
Amy checked her watch, night was closing in and she had been away from the office for far too long. But she couldn’t leave her mum in such a state. ‘Are you going to be OK? Would you like me to call Craig, ask him to come over?’ Unlike her, Craig had finished his shift hours ago.
‘I’m not going to do anything daft, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just a bit drunk. No law against it, is there, ossifer?’ A giggle bubbled up her throat as she slurred the word.
But Amy did not take Flora’s word for it. After telling her mother she loved her, she quickly called Craig and arranged for him to pop around. He was more than amused to hear that their normally teetotal parent was drunk.
As her phone buzzed in her hand, Amy’s grip on the car door handle loosened. Paddy’s name flashed up on the screen, and she wasted no time in answering it.
‘Sorry to trouble you, ma’am. Are you still in the car park?’
‘I’m coming in now,’ she said, her fringe flying into her eyes as a sudden gust of wind hit her full on. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Gladys Thompson’s died.’
‘I see,’ Amy replied. Given the woman had a terminal illness, the news was not entirely unexpected.
‘Her son is here,’ Paddy said. ‘He said he won’t leave until he speaks to you.’
CHAPTER SIXTY
Amy wondered if the full moon had anything to do with the recent spate of events. She had come across such anomalies before, how a change in lunar energy could result in a wave of vicious attacks. She believed in the power of the unknown. The fact she was not always grounded helped her sense things when others could not. She had been expecting news of Gladys Thompson’s passing since she had awoken that morning.
Shoulders slumped, John Thompson waited patiently at the front counter, his hands deep in the pockets of his creased black suit. Directing him into a side room, Amy passed on her sympathies for the loss of his mother.
With a nod of the head, he thanked her, pulling out the hard plastic chair to take a seat. The shadows beneath his eyes suggested sleep had been a stranger, and the new sprinkle of silver hairs in his sandy beard revealed the depth of his stress. The family liaison officer had since provided John with the ugly truth of his sister’s death and disposal. Losing his mother so soon after the news must have inflicted unbearable pain.
‘Thanks for dropping everything to talk to me,’ he said. ‘I got myself in such a state. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Amy replied. ‘I’m just sorry it has to be under such sad circumstances. Can I get you a cup of tea? It’s vending machine brew, I’m afraid . . .’ They were sitting in one of the rooms off reception, often used for quick enquiries. She could have brought him further into the building, but that would risk exposing him to information she did not want to share. Uniformed officers had been known to openly discuss cases in their offices, and pictures of offenders were pinned up on walls. Their room may smell strongly of its last occupant, but it was the most sensible place to talk for now.
‘I’ve had a million cups already, thank you,’ John said. ‘Mum . . . she’s still at the house. People have been coming all day to pay their respects.’
‘Then your time must be precious,’ Amy said, grateful for the excuse to speed things along. ‘What can I help you with?’
‘I’ve seen something online.’ John delivered a heartfelt sigh. ‘And I can’t rest until I know if it’s true.’
‘What would that be?’
‘Is Lillian Grimes launching an appeal?’ John’s face grew taut at the mention of her name.
‘Where did you hear that?’ Amy replied, neither confirming nor denying it.
‘On social media. There’s this group called The Keepers of Truth something or other. They said they’re working on setting her free.’
‘Right . . . How do they intend doing that?’ Amy said, giving nothing away.
‘They said . . .’ John swallowed, his throat clicking as he tried to clear it. ‘Well, they said they’re responsible for kidnapping Hemmy Parker, you know, the daughter of the TV presenter? They’re holding her hostage until Lillian can appeal. I can’t believe these people. After everything she’s done . . .’
‘It’s news to me.’ Amy’s grey eyes remained cool, despite her accelerating heartbeat. ‘Did you take a note of the conversation? Screenshot it maybe? Can you show me on your phone?’
‘Sorry,’ John said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I saw it just before Mum took a turn for the worst. I would have told you straight away, but . . .’ His words faded.
‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Amy said. ‘It was good of you to tell us at all.’
‘To be honest, I needed the excuse to leave the house for a few minutes. It’s all getting a bit much. People say they’re sorry, but they’ve no idea what that woman put Mum through.’
‘Can you remember exactly where you saw this information?’ Amy said, gently steering him back.
‘In a Facebook group,’ John replied, giving her an empty smile. ‘It’s a bit embarrassing, I can’t imagine what you think of me, looking at Facebook when my mum was so ill.’
‘No judgement here,’ Amy replied. ‘I think I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t use it. Can you show me the group if I log on to my computer?’
‘Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I tried searching for it on my phone, but it’s gone. Some conspiracy theory site I think.’
‘How did you find it?’ Amy wished he would stop apologising. After everything that had happened to his family, the police were the ones who had let him down.
‘I typed in the search term “Lillian Grimes”, and all sorts of things showed up.’ He cast his eyes downward. ‘You haven’t been very forthcoming, I just wanted to know what was going on.’
‘We have to wait until information is substantiated before we share. You’re not going to get an accurate account from social media. We’ve all heard of fake news, right?’
John nodded but did not seem convinced. ‘Can you tell me, is Lillian’s case being reopened, or not?’ He surveyed her with interest, and Amy felt the temperature between them cool. He was bound to hold bitterness towards the police, given what had happened over the years. The stress of not being able to bury Wendy had eaten his mother up inside. She deflected his question with one of her own. ‘This Facebook conversation, can you tell me anything more? Who was talking, for example?’
‘She’s not going to be freed, is she? After all the pain she’s caused . . . murdering my sister and then dumping her in that fridge. What sort of a woman does that?’ Silence lengthened between them until sharply, he inhaled, as if he had been drowning and suddenly found air. ‘She put my family through hell. I can’t bear the thought.’ His eyes wet with tears, he looked at her pleadingly, a
man broken by a lifetime of grief.
Amy realised it was too soon to question him. ‘I can’t see it happening.’ It was the best she could give him for now.
John blinked, dragging himself from his painful past up to present day. ‘I mean, this is just a stunt to get attention. They don’t really have Hemmy, and if they do, they’ll let her go.’ He glanced up at Amy, his expression a question. ‘Won’t they?’
She delivered a tight smile. ‘Thanks for coming in. We’ll need to take a statement covering what you’ve said just the same. Can I book an appointment for a more convenient time?’ She rose from the chair, fighting to keep her expression neutral.
‘Anything to help,’ John said, following her to the front counter.
Something had changed during their short conversation. She could sense it deep down, but was yet to figure out what. All she knew was that for Hemmy, Amy felt suddenly afraid.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
‘There’s something I need to tell you.’ Paddy spoke into his car mirror, trying out the words for size. The lines around his eyes were more pronounced, and he felt as if he had aged ten years.
‘It’s just that . . . well, you know I love you, don’t you?’ He swallowed, tugging at his tie before popping open his shirt collar button. ‘It’s just . . .’ The words died in his throat. Swearing, he cursed his ineptitude. If he could not say it aloud then how would he persuade Elaine to give him a chance? Most people would get a divorce before meeting someone new. He had been selfish. He dropped his gaze from the mirror, unable to meet his own eyes. The solitary life had been thrust upon Geraldine without a moment’s notice. He could have handled things better. You’re weak, a spineless coward. Why didn’t you die instead of her? Geraldine’s voice echoed in the corridors of his mind. It would take a long time for her to quieten. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. His heart thumped in his chest as he tried to rehearse his speech to Elaine. How do you jazz up the fact that you’re married to someone else? Describing Geraldine as violent made her sound like a monster. But blaming himself would surely make him a loser in Elaine’s eyes. He thought of Amy Winter, and how she had faced things head on. Geraldine was wrong; his feelings for Amy were paternal, although he would never admit such a thing. Had his daughter been alive, Amy was just how he hoped Suzy would have been: strong, self-sufficient and on the ball.
‘Honey, I’m home!’ he shouted from the hall, knowing he sounded like a character in a cheesy old movie. Hanging up his coat, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Gravy . . . maybe beef pie? His stomach churned. The last thing he wanted was food. He waited until she had dished up before trying to voice his confession. As she slid their heated plates from the oven, she took the opportunity to ask him about his day. ‘Any news on Hermione Parker?’ she said, dishing up what turned out to be beef stew.
‘We’re closing in. Our DI reckons it’s only a matter of time.’
‘Really?’ Elaine said, turning away to pour some water into a jug. ‘How’s she coping with it all?’
‘She’s not had it easy,’ Paddy said, wondering how they’d ended up on this subject. ‘The DCI seems to have turned on her for some reason. I reckon she could do with a friend right about now.’
Elaine took a seat, her smile fading. ‘Oh dear. Still, as you say. It won’t be long until you find that missing girl.’
Paddy nodded, trying but failing to enjoy his meal. What should have melted on his tongue tasted bitter and fermented; but it was not the quality of the food troubling him, it was what he was due to say. And was it just his imagination, or had the atmosphere between them changed? He regarded Elaine with a sideways glance. She was also picking at her meal.
‘Elaine, love,’ he said, dropping his knife and fork and gently placing them either side of his plate. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’ It surprised him to see her eyes were dewy when she looked up to meet his gaze.
‘I need to talk to you, too,’ she said, her words followed by a soft sigh.
For what felt like a lifetime, they stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Paddy felt like a cartoon character, about to push the handle on a box of TNT. Kaboom, your life is over. Dismissing his thoughts, he took a sharp breath. ‘I’ve been lying to you, but it’s only because I love you. I was trying to protect what we had.’
‘I know,’ she said, the colour fading from her cheeks as she pushed away her plate.
‘You know?’
Elaine nodded.
‘I was married when I met you. But it’s over. I’ve left her for good.’ Tilting his head, Paddy checked for understanding. But Elaine did not flinch. Behind her eyes was blank nothingness. Paddy grasped for the words needed to make this better, but her eyes . . . A chill drove its way down his back as she regarded him with the look of a stranger.
‘I said I know,’ Elaine replied, her words firmer this time. ‘I’ve always known. I thought we could make a go of this, and for a while, it was nice to live in a happy home.’ She sighed, swiping away a tear as if it were an errant fly. ‘But it’s lies, all of it. Which is why I have to go.’
‘You’re leaving me?’ Paddy’s chair screeched against the floor tiles as he stood. ‘No. Please. We can work this out. Please don’t go.’ His stomach lurched as he heard himself echo Geraldine’s earlier pleas.
‘I was never meant to fall for you. For a while, it was nice . . . But you don’t know me. Not really. If you knew the truth . . .’ Her words were hollow, disjointed. As if a piece of her had already left.
‘Then tell me,’ Paddy said. ‘Please. We can fix this. Whatever you’ve done, I don’t care. We can wipe the slate clean and start again.’ Paddy gripped the back of the chair. He could not bear the prospect of Elaine walking away.
‘I’m a bad person,’ she said, the vacant expression returning to her eyes. ‘And you’re better off without me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go this far.’
‘I won’t let you go.’ Paddy stepped forward as she moved towards the door.
‘You have no choice,’ Elaine sighed, gently moving him aside. ‘I’ve paid the rent until the end of the month. You can take over the lease if you like, all the details are in the drawer.’
Instead of going upstairs to pack, Elaine pulled a heavy-looking suitcase from the cupboard beneath the stairs. ‘I was going to go when you were out, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.’
‘Is there someone else? Is that what this is?’ Paddy stood at the door, painfully aware of the irony of it all.
‘You could say that . . . but it’s not what you think,’ Elaine replied. ‘You’re better off without me. The best thing you can do is to let me go.’
Outside, a car beeped. ‘That’ll be my taxi,’ she said, blinking back her tears as she checked her watch for the time. ‘Goodbye, Paddy . . . and . . .’ Her voice broke as she squeezed his arm for the very last time. ‘I’m sorry . . . for everything.’
Paddy stood aghast. Her taxi? She had planned this all along. Yet he could not find the words to make her change her mind. He’d always had a feeling that his relationship with Elaine was too good to be true and far more than he deserved. She had finally seen through him. Seen him for the failure Geraldine knew he was. Standing motionlessly at the door, an awful hollowness overcame him as his whole world walked away.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
1985
New Year was a time of celebration and the house was never as full as it was tonight. Usually, Poppy had to be in bed by seven, but Mummy was out, and Daddy was in a good mood. Sally-Ann said that ‘anything goes’ when it came to Christmas, although Poppy did not understand what it meant. Tired from cleaning all day, Sally-Ann had gone to bed with a set of earplugs firmly embedded in her ears to blot out the music downstairs. Sally-Ann did not appreciate ‘Agadoo’ followed by ‘Rock-the-boat’ – songs Poppy had come to love. Tonight, as things got really loud, her sister wore white furry ear muffs, too. They belonged to one of the girls that visited their house,
but she stopped coming around ages ago. Poppy had noticed her mummy wearing the silver chain the girl had once worn, too. It was not unusual for trinkets to be left behind.
Mandy and Damien were on sleepovers and Poppy’s spirits were high. She loved the Christmas decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the colourful tinsel that spiralled around their staircase. When she had asked Sally-Ann what everyone was so happy about, she said it was because of the New Year. Poppy hoped that it meant Mummy and Daddy would come to a truce. Poppy knew all about truces, given the amount of fighting under their roof. This time Mummy didn’t like Daddy’s new friend, Viv, because she was clingy, whatever that meant. Poppy had met Viv lots of times, and although she sometimes gave her Smarties, she didn’t cling to anything, as far as Poppy could see. Viv did like her daddy though. She liked to kiss him on the lips. Before, Mummy asked to join in, but Viv said she didn’t like kissing girls. Poppy supposed Mummy was upset because Viv wanted to be Daddy’s friend and not hers. Sometimes they would go up to Daddy’s bedroom and play wrestle on the bed with no clothes on. Poppy couldn’t see much fun in that, not when it was so cold.
Slipping into the living room, Poppy weaved through the bodies of sweaty party-goers, and crouched down in her secret place. The thick, floor-length red curtain was the perfect place to hide. Poppy had been clever. Having stuffed her pillow under her bedclothes, she made it look like she was asleep. Her face smeared with chocolate, she felt warmth in her tummy as she washed it down with the honey-coloured liquid someone had left behind. With music still blaring, she fell asleep, hunched up and drowsy from the drink that burnt her throat on the way down.
By the time she awoke, all remnants of the earlier celebrations had ceased. What time is it? Poppy thought, wiping the chocolate-stained drool from her mouth. Her heart fluttered as she peeped out from behind the curtain and caught sight of her mother’s angry face. That was, until she realised the focus of her mum’s attention wasn’t her. Her eyes blazing, Mummy’s attention was wholly on Viv, who was sprawled across the sofa in her knickers and bra. Softly, the young woman snored, a dreamy smile on her face. Poppy peered around the room. Crisps had been ground into the carpet and empty beer cans and streamers littered the floor.
Truth and Lies (A DI Amy Winter Thriller Book 1) Page 26
