Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep.

by Sheryl Browne

  Donna looked up at him. His eyes were sincere, yet troubled.

  ‘He gave you something to calm you. A sedative. You slept for a while. A good while. Then you woke up with a fresh bout of the shakes and… I slept next to you, Donna, not with you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘The shirt was because you were ill.’

  He’d brushed her hair from her face. Brushed her hair from her face in the bathroom.

  ‘All in all, very nice though it was, I really didn’t think you’d be too comfortable in your Madonna outfit. And, yes, there was plenty of your own stuff to choose from…’

  Mark paused, holding her gaze.

  ‘… but I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to wear anything that those bastards had had their hands all over.’

  Donna bowed her head, shamefaced. The trousers to Mark’s uniform, she finally noticed, were covered in fluff from the sheets. He’d obviously slept in them.

  She had absolutely no idea what to say.

  ‘Donna, I care very much about you. I know now’s probably not a good time, but…’ Mark stopped as he heard a key in the lock. ‘That will be Matt, I imagine.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Do you want me to talk to him?’

  Donna blinked up at him. Was that all? Wasn’t he going to shout? Feel affronted, slam doors, stomp around? ‘Thank you,’ she said, squeezing his hand back, in the absence of words that could make right what she’d thought.

  She may never take it off. Donna pulled his shirt tight around her as Mark went down to talk to her son, sensitively, she knew he would. How could she have been so insensitive of Mark’s feelings?

  ****

  It was obvious why she’d jumped to conclusions. Mark mulled things over as he drove away from the station more suitably attired for a policeman. He’d had a few unmemorable occasions himself. That wasn’t a problem.

  That Donna thought he’d actually taken advantage of her though. Jesus. Mark was struggling with that. But then, she had woken to find a man in her bed and no recollection of what happened. Dammit, he should have clarified things sooner. Certainly shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

  He should have apologised too, for the unforgivable things he’s said the last time he’d been in that room. Told her how much he loved her — that he’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her.

  The timing hadn’t been right though, with Matt walking into what was basically a crime scene.

  Mark eased the crick in his neck, sighed, and checked his watch. He’d got two hours, before Jody had to get home. She’d been fantastic, child-minding and pet-minding with Starbuck off colour. Mark had no idea how he was going to cope without her. Somehow he would. Right now, though, he had some business to attend to. Unofficial business.

  Thereafter, an errand to run that he hoped might make Donna realise that rubbish he’d spouted hadn’t been about his bruised ego. Jealousy might not be a better excuse, but that’s what it was, pure and simple.

  Because he did love her, and he would damn well find a way of telling her, whatever the outcome.

  Mark reached the end of the drive that lead to the Grade II listed country house. Wow. He let out a low appreciative whistle. Nice. Wouldn’t mind some of that himself. He drove on past an ornamental maze and what looked like an orangery.

  Very nice. Gate house. Pool house, too, he noticed driving by to pull up outside the main entrance. Servants’ quarters. Stables. Mark could see why, if someone got their foot in this door, they’d go to some lengths to keep it there.

  He parked his car discreetly. What he wanted to do was have a quiet word, the uniform lending him a little gravitas if he needed it, which he suspected he might.

  Keeping him waiting wasn’t a good idea. Mark checked his watch, already annoyed — and growing more so by the minute.

  At last, the door creaked open and instead of the airs and graces he’d expected from the person who opened it, Mark was faced with a woman who’d obviously been crying.

  Great. Now, he was going to have to tread even more carefully. He nodded an acknowledgement, deciding as she was doing her best to look poised, to try and do the same. ‘PC Mark Evans,’ he introduced himself, showing his ID card. ‘I was hoping for a word with your partner. Would he be in?’

  The woman nodded and stepped back to allow him access. Mark followed her through the reception hall into a cavernous sitting room, complete with wooden floors, fireplace, ornate cornicing, and a gargantuan brass chandelier.

  Definitely worth marrying into if you fancied top rung social ladder. But the guy wasn’t married into it yet. And if this woman had an ounce of sense in her head, he wouldn’t be.

  The woman turned to extend a hand, retrieved her bunched up tissue from it with the other, then tried again. ‘He’s in the pool house,’ she said. ‘He likes to keep himself in shape.’ She smiled, but the look in her eye wasn’t that of a woman impressed by her man working out. It was more one of quiet disdain. ‘I’ll go and fetch him. Would you like some tea while you wait?’

  ‘No.’ Mark said, with a short smile. ‘Thank you.’ Drinking tea and swapping small talk with the cretin wasn’t why he was here. He’d be doing the talking and the guy better damn well be listening.

  ‘Actually, do you mind if I, er…’ Mark nodded in the direction of the pool house. ‘It’s just that I’m a bit short on time.’

  The woman studied him for a moment. ‘No, not all. I’ll show you the, ahem…’ She trailed off.

  Struggling not to cry, Mark could see. ‘I take it you two had a disagreement,’ he asked gently.

  She nodded.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ he probed, as delicately as he could.

  She shook her head, her eyes still downcast and a tear now rolling freely down her cheek.

  Her bruised cheek, Mark was quick to notice. The bastard. He gritted his teeth, disliking this man more by the second.

  The woman twisted the tissue between her hands. ‘I should have known better,’ she said suddenly. ‘That he wouldn’t change, I mean. That he’d do the same to me as he did to… He didn’t even bother to hide the evidence that well.’ She laughed, sardonically. ‘We don’t even use them.’

  Condoms, Mark assumed. Christ. He placed a hand awkwardly on her arm. This was never easy, watching a woman cry and protocol allowing him to do absolutely nothing to comfort her.

  ‘You, er, didn’t find anything else out of the ordinary, did you, by any chance?’ he asked, hoping for a miracle, even a shred of evidence pointing towards the events of last night.

  The woman looked up to scan his eyes, the look in hers now a mixture of curiosity and — determination, did Mark perceive?

  She straightened up, giving him a small but succinct nod. ‘I’ll fetch it,’ she said, turning to walk to the door.

  Her head high, Mark noticed, marvelling — not for the first time — at how women found the strength to get through the most agonising of situations.

  The woman came back a few minutes later, her tears in check and her poise intact. ‘I’m not sure how much use it will be,’ she said, dropping indisputable evidence into the palm of Mark’s hand.

  Mark nodded his thanks and closed his fist over a metaphorical nugget of pure gold. Got you, you bastard. He sucked in a breath, hugely relieved.

  ****

  Mark slipped quietly in. And there he was, the creep with aspirations way above his station, doing a length of the pool backstroke, keeping his body in shape, probably to facilitate bullying any woman who refused to stroke his pathetic ego.

  Mark had removed his clothes to a safe place. Doubted the little shit would want to go walking in the rain in his Speedos, which was basically the only way he was going to go anywhere if he decided he didn’t want to listen to what Mark had to say.

  He waited for the guy to do his return length, then made his presence known by looming over him as he touched base.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ The guy blinked up through his goggles, then spluttered, went under, and emer
ged spitting half the pool.

  So far so good. Couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried. Mark’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile. He waited again, patiently, while Jeremy Matthews righted himself, blew water down his nose, twanged off his goggles.

  ‘What the hell?!’

  ‘Your good fiancé said I’d find you out here.’ Mark looked him over, noting that Jeremy had backed off a fair way. Excellent. That’s where he wanted him. And that’s where he’d stay, given the guy would no doubt be petrified of getting a taste of his own.

  ‘Leticia let you in?’ Jeremy gawped incredulously. ‘What in God’s name was she thinking?’

  Mark shrugged casually. ‘That you deserve what’s coming, I guess.’

  Jeremy backed up some more, glancing behind him, as if Jaws might pop up at any minute. Yep, he was worried, and that suited Mark just fine.

  ‘She’s on to you, sunshine. Knows you’d go to bed with her horse if it meant getting your hands on her money.’

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ Jeremy shook his head and started for the steps. ‘I’m getting out. I’d be grateful if you’d leave.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Mark said simply, stopping him in his tracks.

  Jeremy paled. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘You’re staying in,’ Mark clarified, ‘for as long as it takes. That’s unless you want to try and get past me.’

  ‘What?’ Jeremy stared at him. ‘Are you mad? As long as what takes?’

  ‘For you to admit where you were last night, freeze to death, or drown.’ Mark shrugged. ‘Your choice.’

  ‘You’re insane.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Mark conceded with a smile. ‘Probably, in fact. Worrying, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m getting out.’ Jeremy turned around.

  ‘No, Matthews, you’re not!’ Mark skirted around the pool to block his exit that side. ‘Not until you’ve coughed up or coughed your guts up. Like I say, your choice.’

  Jeremy glanced at the chair, where his clothes and mobile no longer were. ‘Leticia will call the police,’ he said, a slight tremble to his voice. His teeth chattering, which Mark found most gratifying.

  ‘I am the police,’ Mark reminded him. ‘And, trust me, she won’t.’

  Jeremy was beginning to look very panicky now. His eyes shooting around the pool in search of an escape. His lips blue-tinged. Serve the bastard right.

  ‘Not nice is it, Jeremy, to be bullied, pushed around, frightened?’

  Jeremy wrapped his arms about himself. ‘I’m cold.’

  ‘I know. Someone’s pumping in cold water.’

  Jeremy moved to the side.

  Mark shadowed him.

  ‘Donna didn’t like it, Jeremy, being reduced to tears by a bully. Leticia doesn’t. So you have to stop, don’t you?’

  Jeremy didn’t answer.

  ‘Now, I know you won’t unless you know it’s in your interests to. And I know you think you’ll be able to drag your snivelling body out of there at some stage and get help, but the thing is, in cold water hypothermia can set in quite quickly. Your body constricts surface blood vessels, to conserve heat for your vital organs, did you know that?’

  Jeremy wrapped his arms tighter around himself. More from shock at being bullied than being in the water, Mark guessed, which actually no one was pumping cold into, but still he figured he’d have to get him out soon.

  ‘Blood pressure and heart rate increases. Muscles tense and shiver,’ he went on, needing the guy to know he was serious, and he was. ‘Might make it difficult to climb out, don’t you think? Of course, if your core temperature drops below eighty-two Fahrenheit, you’re unconscious pretty damn fast, and then dead basically. So,’ Mark crouched down, ‘are we ready to listen?’

  Jeremy nodded, his eyes never leaving Mark’s.

  ‘Good.’ Mark swung the pocket watch, a Robert Pybus of London, c1790, pendulum-like in front of him. ‘For future information, Matthews, women don’t like to be cheated on either. They tend to look for evidence of your infidelity. Leticia did, last night. Ready to come out?’

  Mark helped him out. Sat him down. Fetched him a towel.

  ‘I could report you,’ Jeremy said shakily, after a moment of composing himself.

  Mark nodded, sitting in a chair opposite, his hands steepled under his chin. ‘You could. But then, if I go down, I take you down with me. We have evidence you were there, Jeremy, make no mistake. We also have witnesses. Do you?’

  ‘Witnesses?’

  ‘Witnesses,’ Mark repeated.

  Jeremy shrank in his seat. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘You to leave Donna alone.’ Mark waited for a reaction. Jeremy had the good sense to make none. ‘You don’t go near her, you don’t speak to her, unless invited to. You do not go near her property.’

  Jeremy nodded, playing idly with a large plaster on his hand. He might have cut himself then, possibly, but not seriously from what Mark could see, unfortunately.

  ‘The injunction she’s taking out isn’t in place yet. You probably know that.’

  ‘Donna isn’t taking out an injunction,’ Jeremy scoffed, cocksure, even now, when he could so easily be having this conversation down at the station — or not at all, given Mark was now feeling very close to acquainting him with the bottom of the pool.

  ‘Oh, but she is,’ he grated angrily. ‘Don’t know Donna very well, do you, Matthews? Mistaking her generosity in giving you a chance in the first place for giving a shit about you. Wrong, sunshine. She cares about her son and the effect his snivelling coward of a father is having on his life. Do you honestly imagine that Donna would put whatever Matt might think of her above his psychological welfare? That she imagines your input is any longer beneficial to him in any way?’

  He watched and waited, while Jeremy debated, obviously swiftly coming to the conclusion that Donna would consider her son’s welfare paramount. Did he really think she wouldn’t? Unbelievable.

  ‘When the injunction is in place,’ Mark went on, now Jeremy had registered that as a fact, ‘and I aim to make sure it is soon, if you so much as take a step over it… Let’s just say, next time I won’t let you up for air. Got it?

  ‘Now, in regard to Matt, what do you think would be psychologically beneficial to him, Jeremy? To know you’re making your maintenance payments, nice and regularly, i.e. that his father gives a damn about him, or that you’ve been arrested for breaking and entering into his mother’s home — in so doing possibly killing the kid’s dog? Your choice.’

  Jeremy had paled now to the point of grey. ‘I didn’t mean to let Sadie out. She slipped past me…’

  ‘Your choice, Matthews!?’ Mark shouted, jolting Jeremy in his seat.

  ‘The former,’ he said quickly, dropping his gaze.

  ‘Good,’ Mark said, more restrained. ‘However,’ he waited until Jeremy looked back at him, ‘if you detract from it, do anything — and I mean anything — to upset Donna or Matt ever again, I’ll have you picked up so fast, on any number of charges, your feet won’t touch the fucking floor. Understand, Jeremy?’

  Jeremy hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then nodded.

  ‘Make sure you do,’ Mark warned him, ‘because I do mean picked up, Jeremy — what’s left of you, that is. Being a policeman, I have some acquaintances in very low places.’

  Mark waited again, making sure Jeremy had indeed got the message.

  He had. Matthews looked about ready to burst into tears, which is exactly what Mark had intended, distasteful though it was.

  Satisfied, he got to his feet. ‘For your information, Matt knows nothing about your pathetic exploits, by the way. And nor will he, provided he doesn’t have to.’ Mark decided to leave with him some small shred of dignity, assuming Jeremy cared enough to care what his son thought of him.

  ‘What about Leticia?’ Jeremy asked shakily.

  ‘She wants you to leave. And as her father’s loading his hunting rifle as we speak, I imagine she’s serious. She said yo
u can keep the clothes you stand up in. Same applies, Matthews. You don’t go anywhere near the lady, or the house, unless invited to do so. She has my mobile number.’

  Mark resisted a smile as Jeremy glanced forlornly down at his damp Speedos. ‘Your mobile is over there along with your other stuff.’ He nodded towards the bar. ‘You have two minutes to get dressed before I escort you off the premises.’

  Mark eyeballed him meaningfully, then walked to the door where he turned to wait, arms folded.

  Twenty minutes later, after confirmation from Leticia that that’s what she wanted, Mark despatched Jeremy to the town centre, where he waited, looking not very dapper in his coat with track suit under, for the bus.

  Confident the guy knew just how serious he was and wouldn’t double back, Mark drove off, feeling pretty shaky himself. He’d had no idea how that would go, whether he’d be able to go through with it, or whether he’d have to threaten Jeremy or carry out those threats.

  He dragged a hand through his hair, hoping to God Matthews didn’t call his bluff re the break in, because the only evidence so far was the pocket watch, which Mark doubted would be enough to put him at the scene. As for the fictitious witnesses, that had been risky, but at least it got the prat’s attention.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mark paused as he left The Helliots Nursing Home to ring Matt on his mobile. He wanted to check on Donna, but without crowding her, he thought might be best.

  ‘Hi, it’s Mark,’ he said when Matt picked up. ‘How’s things?’

  ‘Hold on.’ Matt went off, presumably to switch off the vacuum. ‘Yeah, not bad,’ he said, coming back on line. ‘I got my badge in housework, at least.’

  ‘Good practice,’ Mark smiled, ‘for when you find the right woman you don’t want to get the wrong side of. How’s Donna?’

  ‘Ironing the curtains.’

  Mark shook his head, bemused. ‘Like you do.’

  ‘It’s Mum’s way. When she’s upset or piss… pee’d off, needs to work things through, you know?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Scrubbing away the stench of vermin desecrating her home; keeping herself busy to keep her mind occupied. Mark knew. ‘Don’t let her work too hard, Matt, okay? She’ll need some rest.’