After kisses and cuddles for Christopher and hugs with Claire, Maria left her flat leaving her mother in charge. She felt bad leaving Christopher with her, but she had to work. Christopher was showing no signs of being ill and whatever had upset him last night seemed to have passed.
Maria was at her desk by eight thirty and was looking through the box of paperwork she didn’t get the chance to read the night before.
She was watching the clock, waiting for the surgery to open and was desperate to get a same day appointment and was adamant she wouldn’t see Dr Marsh this time.
Whilst she was waiting she replayed the video of Christopher on her phone. Watching it on the small screen didn’t make what he did any less bizarre. In fact seeing it played back made it seem weirder than it did last night. His little voice sounded thin and tinny over the small speaker in her phone as he chanted.
Nine o’clock eventually came and she was talking to the receptionist. A same day appointment was available with Dr Marsh. Maria said that she wished to see a different doctor without explaining why. The tone of the receptionist’s voice gave her the feeling that she’d not been the only one who’d preferred not to see Marsh. An appointment for the following morning was made with Dr Sullivan. She’d seen Sullivan before. He was in his fifties and what she considered to be a stereotypical doctor. Unlike Marsh, Sullivan had the gift of compassion. An appointment for the next day was ideal as she didn’t work on Thursday.
She made a quick call to her mother to tell her what time Christopher’s appointment was and checked that he was OK.
Claire told her that Christopher was fine. He was washed and ready for the day and she was planning on taking him to the park as it was a dry and sunny day, followed by a journey to the shops.
Maria’s day at work was arduous and she struggled to stay awake. She tried not to think about Christopher banging his head whilst spluttering and speckling blood over his pillow, but the image wouldn’t go away.
She was desperate to get back to him and the day dragged on. At four thirty she was out of there. Being a manager she would be expected to stay late from time to time, but having a child and being a single parent gave her the excuse to be out of the building and heading home bang on time.
Christopher was excited to see his mother. He was grinning and chuckling and calling ‘mum, mum’.
Claire’s nervousness had been unfounded, Christopher had been absolutely fine as if nothing had happened. Maria had just enough time for coffee with her mother before she headed home.
The rest of the day and night passed without incident.
Both Christopher and Maria slept well. She felt better in the morning and was less tired than yesterday. She’d found getting out of bed easier than it had been in weeks. A day off she thought and smiled.
Her appointment with the doctor was at ten, which gave her a few hours to potter around her flat and attend to Christopher. The chocolate stain on her carpet was still there from his birthday party. She considered having another attempt at removing it but couldn’t be bothered. Depending on the outcome of the doctor’s appointment she was hoping to meet with Samreen. She’d not seen her for a while and they had some catching up to do.
Just over an hour later she was waiting for her mother outside the surgery. Appointments were running on time and they were in Dr Sullivan’s consulting room by ten o’clock.
Maria told the doctor about Christopher’s head banging which had got worse. She was more comfortable with Dr Sullivan than Marsh. He was older, more experienced and a nicer person.
He gave Christopher another thorough examination and declared that her son was in ‘rude health’. He bounced Christopher on his knee and tickled him making the little boy giggle and laughed along with him. He looked to Maria with a serious face and declared it was hard to know what was causing Christopher to head bang.
“And you are sure he is sleeping while all this is going on?”
Maria nodded and shrugged her shoulders.
“Show him your phone,” said Claire, who until now hadn’t spoken.
Maria looked puzzled and then remembered the video she’d taken. She pulled the phone from her bag and brought up the clip. She handed her phone to the doctor who silently watched it with Christopher on his lap. He wore a frown as the video played. Fumbling with the phone he played it again. Maria watched his expression as he viewed the clip and listened to Christopher’s chanting.
He handed the phone back and subconsciously continued to bounce Christopher on his knee. He turned to write some notes and realised the little boy was still on his lap.
“I almost forgot,” as he turned and handed Christopher back to Maria.
He turned back to his desk and made some notes. Maria and Claire waited silently while Christopher cooed and chattered.
“I will arrange for the child health visitor to call to your home,” he said, as he continued to write.
“I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know why he’s doing it. I know some children gently bang their head to get to sleep and it’s quite normal, but what your son is doing seems, well, it seems extreme.”
Maria nodded. She was relieved he had suggested that the health visitor should be involved as it was next on Maria’s mental list.
Doctor Sullivan told Maria to expect a call from Esther Hall over the next few days. Esther was the Child Health Visitor for Maria’s area and had been in the business for over fifteen years. The doctor told her that Esther had a wealth of experience and she was also fantastic with children.
Maria and Claire left the surgery with Christopher chattering happily in his buggy. Maria was feeling happier as now she was getting somewhere. She hugged her mother and headed to Coaster’s to meet with Samreen.
Chapter forty seven
Darlington
7.15pm
Thursday 29th September
Richard and Carla were eating the meal she’d prepared. Lately, her cooking had been pretty good, but compared to her first attempt and the awful burnt offering earlier in the month, it couldn’t have been much worse. Neither of them were speaking as they worked their way through spaghetti bolognaise. Carla was expecting a comment from her father. She’d cooked a nice meal and he hadn’t said a word.
There had been a frosty tension in the air for the past few weeks and Carla had no idea why. Had she done something wrong or had her father been having a bad time at the office?
Richard had been quiet since he’d found her sketch of Markland Garraway. It had been eating away at him. Why would she have such an interest in this man? He’d dismissed the idea that she had anything to do with the murder in the woods. There was no way she could’ve been involved, she just wasn’t that kind of girl. He and his ex-wife had brought her up well and even when they were going through the divorce, he did his utmost to not let it affect his daughter.
He had resorted to the other option that Carla and the man in the sketch had been in some kind of relationship. He found it hard to understand that his daughter would be stupid enough to do such a thing, plus Markland Garraway was a detective, surely high ranking police wouldn’t be involved with teenage girls? Although sickeningly inappropriate, he knew things like that did happen.
Had Garraway abused her or were they having an affair? Carla had certainly become a different girl in the past year. Maybe she was holding a torch for the man.
These thoughts and others like it were poisoning Richard and had been eating at him for weeks.
He looked at Carla as she quietly ate her food and considered how innocent she looked. Had she lost her innocence?
“Is everything OK dad? you seem very quiet.”
“What, oh, I’m fine,” he stuttered.
Carla knew something was wrong. She knew he was lying and was worried about him.
“You know you can tell me if there’s a problem.”
He shook his head and continued to eat.
“I’m fine OK!” was his sharp retort.
Carla pus
hed her half empty plate away and said she wasn’t hungry. She walked out of the dining room and headed up to her room, closing the door with a thud.
Richard left the rest of his food and sat with his head in his hands.
His problem was that he had no idea how to approach her. What should he say?
It was Carla’s job to clear away the dishes as well as cooking the meal, but Richard decided he would do it. He found it easier to think if he was doing menial tasks. Also, he didn’t think there was much chance of Carla clearing up tonight. She was clearly upset.
As he loaded the dishwasher his mind worked overtime thinking about what to say. Wiping down the kitchen worktop he’d made his decision. He would just ask her outright and he would do it tonight.
He threw the kitchen cloth into the sink and walked into the hall and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He could hear music coming from her bedroom. He strode the stairs two steps at time and stopped when he got to the landing. Holding his breath he stood outside her door.
He gently knocked. The music was still playing and she didn’t come to the door. He knocked again, wrapping his knuckles on her door to be heard. The music stopped and the door slowly opened.
Carla put her head around the door.
“Hello daddy, is everything OK?”
“Can I come in please? There’s something I need to ask.”
Carla nervously opened her door wide enough to let him in. He looked around her room which was a mess.
“If it’s about my room dad, I promise I’ll clear it up, I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Richard wished it was something as trivial as her room.
“It’s not about your room.”
She anxiously looked at her father and was trying to work out what she’d done wrong.
Richard paused, which made the tension unbearable, and then he spoke.
“Carla, who is Markland Garraway?”
The colour drained from her face.
Chapter forty eight
Maria’s flat
8.07pm
Thursday 29th September
Maria returned home at six, after a relaxing day with Samreen. They’d spent a few hours shopping after meeting for lunch at Coaster’s. Campbell was still away in Cork. The coffee shop wasn’t the same without him.
Maria had put Christopher in his cot, had finished tidying her flat and was sitting down enjoying the quietness of the early evening. Something from the corner of her eye caught her attention. Her mobile phone was on the table and it was flashing. She’d missed a call. Earlier in the day she’d turned her phone to mute when she was with Doctor Sullivan and had forgotten to turn the volume back up.
She had a voicemail message. It was a call from Esther Hall, the Child Health Visitor and she had left a message to say she was in the area on Friday morning and could call over to see Christopher at ten o’clock. Esther ended the message by saying if she’d heard nothing by six o’clock she would assume Maria would be home with Christopher.
Maria sighed. She should be working tomorrow but she really needed Christopher to be seen by Esther. She called her boss, Maxwell Hart, to see if he would allow her to swap Friday for the following Monday.
Max Hart couldn’t have had a more inappropriate name. He was the most uncompassionate boss she could have wished for. Although he thought a lot of Maria and valued her as manager, he had little time for people’s problems and was angered by his staff when they rang in sick or had an appointment with the doctor when they should be at work.
She called Max on his mobile which diverted to voicemail.
“Hi Max, this is Maria. My son Christopher has been unwell and the Child Health Visitor has arranged to come over in the morning. I would be grateful if I could swap Friday for Monday. As far as I know there are no meetings planned tomorrow, so hope that you will be OK with this.”
She ended the call and expected the worse.
A few minutes later she was watching television with a glass of wine, waiting expectantly for her phone to ring.
Her phone didn’t ring, instead she heard the bleep of a text message arriving. She picked it up and read the text which was from Max Hart.
‘OK. C U Monday. dnt b late’.
And that was it. His message was short, blunt and straight to the point. She was pleased he’d not called, as otherwise she’d have been trying to justify how ill Christopher was and why he needed to see the health visitor tomorrow.
She relaxed for the rest of the evening with her beloved Sauvignon Blanc.
Chapter forty nine
Darlington
7.37pm
Thursday 29th September
Carla was taken by surprise. How on earth would her father know about Markland Garraway?
“I don’t know anyone called Markland Garraway.”
He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was lying.
“I’ve seen the sketch Carla, so don’t lie.”
“You’ve been going through my things?” she replied with a sharp accusing snap.
Now Richard was feeling guilty. He knew not to go through her things.
“I found it by accident. It was in a folder by your waste paper basket and I thought it was to be thrown out. I only looked to make sure it was rubbish……..and then I found the picture you drew of him.”
Carla was silent. Her mind was racing to come up with something to tell her father, other than the truth.
Richard swallowed hard as he paused to ask another question.
“Have you been having some sort of an affair with this man?”
Carla fell face down on her bed and sobbed. Her pent up emotions were released in one go. Her sobbing turned into howling and crying.
Richard knelt down next to her bed, put his arm around her and began to cry with her. After a few minutes Richard got up and left her room. He closed her bedroom door and stood on the landing before slumping to the floor with his head in his hands.
Carla lay on her bed. Through her tears she was struggling to think what to say to her father. Should she tell him the truth about the murder, or should she go along with the assumption that her father had made and tell him she’d been having an affair with an older man? It was the lesser of two evils and she decided to weave some kind of lie about an affair.
She knew she had to be careful about what she said. She didn’t want her father contacting the police and accusing Markland Garraway of an affair with a teenaged girl that had never happened. She sat on the edge of her bed, wiped her face with a tissue and hastily put together a story.
She opened her bedroom door and saw her father sitting outside her room with his back to the wall. His eyes were red and teary. She sat alongside him and held his hand and after a brief pause she started to speak.
“I’ve not been having an affair with that man daddy and that’s the truth.”
Richard looked up at the ceiling and said nothing. He took his hand away from hers and pushed his fingers through his hair.
“Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?” he replied, in a weary voice.
“I’ve not been having an affair, it’s more of a, well……it’s more of a crush.”
“A crush…..why on earth would you be having a crush on a fifty something policeman who is over two hundred miles away?”
Carla struggled to find a reply and as she thought about what to say she began to spin the web of lies and hoped for the best.
“He came to my old school in Bristol, just before the start of the summer holidays.” Carla took a breath and thought what to say next.
“He came to our school with some other policemen and policewomen and they gave a talk about safety and things like that.”
It was true that in the June of her last year at her school in Bristol the police did turn up and gave a talk about general safety, but Markland Garraway hadn’t been there.
“Me, and a few of my friends, we kind of, you know, had a crush on him.” She continued as her father listened wit
hout speaking.
“He just seemed so cool and I thought he was lovely. I spoke to him afterwards and he was such a nice man and………” Her voice trailed off and she put her head in her hands.
“So you’ve never done anything with him?”
“No daddy, I promise, and that’s the truth.”
Richard was not sure whether he believed her. Why would she be sketching pictures of him, checking him out on the internet and getting so upset over him if it was only a crush which happened over a year ago?
“When did you sketch the picture of him?”
“I did it after I saw him on TV. He was doing a press conference about a murder in Bristol and I got all gooey over him again and did the sketch.”
“So you sketched this picture a year ago?”
“Yes daddy. I kept it and found it the other day in the folder.”
“And what about the notes on the back of the sketch?”
“I don’t know, I was just Googling him and trying to find out what he was up to.”
Richard thought about what Carla had just told him. It did seem to make sense. She was a young impressionable girl who had a crush on an older man. And because he was a Detective Chief Inspector she was probably attracted by his senior position.
“Why don’t you find a boyfriend of your own age and forget about this man?”
“I know daddy, I will. I’m stupid, it’s just a stupid crush….I’m sorry.”
Richard put his arm around his daughter and hugged her.
After their talk things became easier between Carla and her father and as time went on he’d put what had happened to one side.
Carla felt awful. She had put him off the scent for the time being, but was feeling guilty about lying to her father on top of everything else. She accepted it was something she had to do and couldn’t tell him the truth about what had really happened.
It would only be a matter of time before what happened that September evening in the woods in Bristol would return to haunt Carla in a way she could never imagine possible.
The Hill - Ben’s Story (Book One).: A Paranormal Murder Mystery Thriller. (Book One). Page 19
