I Choose You

by Gayle Curtis

  ‘Well, we’re just taking precautions. It’s our necks on the line if we don’t.’

  Elise shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoody and continued to walk. ‘Whatever you think. All I want to focus on is giving my daughter a proper send-off, celebrating her life, so we can try to remember all the good parts.’

  DC Chilvers reached across and squeezed Elise’s arm – the first time the police officer had shown any emotion since the investigation started.

  ‘Do you think Nathaniel will be charged?’

  ‘Oh, he’s been charged already, but it looks like he’ll be released on bail. CPS will want to make an example of him, but it’ll be a slap on the wrist and a fine. There’s nothing to suggest there was anything sinister behind his actions, it was just a stupid idea. There’s paedophile hunters everywhere right now; people wanting to take the law into their own hands.’

  ‘Can we please try to keep this quiet? I really don’t want to see this in the papers tomorrow.’ Elise picked up her pace. ‘It’ll be enough seeing my parents all over the news.’

  ‘We’re trying our best.’

  ‘You have concerns about Sonny, don’t you?’ Elise stopped in front of a bench and sat down, and DC Chilvers joined her.

  ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this just yet, in light of the day’s news, but you may as well hear it now.’

  ‘Go on?’

  ‘During an investigation, we sometimes do a familial DNA sweep, to see if a close relative matches any samples we’ve found at a crime scene to a perpetrator’s relative who happens to be on the national database. It’s a long shot but has been known to work. We’ve solved a couple of historical cases this way.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

  ‘Okay, for example, we nicked a young woman for assault recently and we took a DNA sample, which is standard practice. The following year, the cold case team ran a familial DNA sweep in connection with the rape and murder of a young woman in the early eighties. Samples had been kept but DNA testing wasn’t available in those days. This young girl’s DNA showed up as a match against some DNA taken from the murder scene. Scientists were able to tell it was a close relative of the young woman – it had to be her father. They took swabs from him and it matched forensics from the crime scene.’ DC Chilvers sighed. ‘Sorry, I’m telling you all this and it has no bearing on what I’m about to say.’

  Elise waited patiently for the officer to get to the point.

  ‘The familial sweep that was taken from the DNA samples we took from you and your family showed up some interesting results. You and Sonny are not related. He’s not related to your father, either.’

  ‘That can’t be right, surely? My father knows his adoptive parents. They were patients of his. He arranged for the adoption of Sonny.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Elise. The couple your parents gave Sonny to aren’t called Travers. Their name is Danes and they moved to France with your brother soon after he was born. His name is Christian, and he lives in the south of France with his wife and child.’

  Elise thought about what she’d been told. Lies, all lies, and she’d believed every one of them. Sonny may as well be her father’s son, given they were both so well-practised at deceiving people.

  ‘Didn’t you have any idea when Sonny first arrived?’

  ‘Of course I was suspicious, but you have to understand, my father has always taken people in, looked after them, rehabilitated them. During my childhood, there were various people taking part in my father’s social projects – most of them went along with it for free bed and board. Does he know about Sonny?’

  ‘We’re not sure. If he does, he’s not letting on.’

  ‘So who is Sonny John Travers? Another one of my father’s warped deals, I suppose?’

  ‘We’re still trying to find that out.’ Elise could see DC Chilvers was holding something back, keeping the rest of the story from her.

  ‘Should I be worried? I mean, I’ve got to sleep in the same house tonight.’

  ‘No. Greg and I are there. We don’t think he’s a danger to anyone and your children are staying with your father-in-law. It’s fine, try not to worry.’

  ‘What, because he’s a barrister he couldn’t possibly be a criminal?’

  ‘Not at all, but we’ve checked him out and there’s nothing showing up that causes us alarm. I think he just wanted to be accepted – recovering alcoholic, shunned by his family, and he knew your father would help him. I guess he gleaned information about your brother from your father and it was an opportunity to spin the story you were all related because he wanted to stay.’

  Elise knew DC Chilvers had an idea who he really was but couldn’t tell her because it hadn’t been confirmed.

  ‘Well, what a fucking day!’ Elise threw her arms in the air and stood up, ready to continue her walk.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your daughter.’

  ‘Yep, everyone is.’ Elise breathed in, pain tightening her chest.

  ‘We lost our second child.’ DC Chilvers stared at the plaque on the bench. ‘We called her Zoe. She died just before I was due. It was a difficult pregnancy. And, being dead, the little sod wasn’t able to help me.’

  It was a bad joke and Elise didn’t reply, just pushed her hands deeper into the pockets of her hoody, the single-person-living-alone profile dispersing. She was shocked by this relative stranger’s candid comments.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t want to compare war wounds.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m not looking for anyone’s sympathy. All I’m saying is, it’s shit. Losing children is one of the worst things to go through.’

  ‘Nobody gets a medal for it.’ Elise started walking again. She knew what DC Chilvers was trying to do – she wanted her to talk about her personal life, see if she revealed anything incriminating about Ray. The bastards had probably sent her for this reason – the copper who appeared to have the most in common with them.

  ‘We tried for another soon after and spent months feeling petrified about it, really scared she wouldn’t survive. It turns out we were right to be worried – she has cerebral palsy . . .’

  ‘Why are you telling me all this?’ Elise paused again, hoping the woman would get the message, and preferably leave altogether.

  ‘No reason. Just think we have some things in common.’

  The two women walked in silence, striding through the cold night air until they reached a sectioned area of the park that was filled with flowerbeds. Elise led the way through the gate. The clang of the metal on the frame felt comforting; it was her favourite place to go and think.

  ‘I’m sorry about your children . . . that was cruel of me.’ Elise sat down on a familiar bench; the inscription on the plaque screwed to the back read: In Memory of Louise Tate and her beloved dog, Dot.

  ‘Forget it.’ DC Chilvers paused to read the inscription. ‘That’s got to be a small dog with a name like that, right?’

  ‘No. Dot was a border collie. It was a nickname; he was actually called Billy.’

  ‘You knew them?’ The detective sat next to Elise and stretched her legs out.

  ‘Kind of. We used to chat briefly whenever we crossed paths. I first met her at the support group. The one set up for victims of suicide?’

  ‘Yes, I know about the support group. What was her story?’

  ‘Louise’s sister committed suicide . . . Well, Louise believed she was a victim of the Suicide Watcher, but as you know, not every case was proven.’

  ‘What made her think that?’ DC Chilvers sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

  ‘I’m not really sure. I think it was the content of the letter she left. Louise said it didn’t sound like her sister. They often wrote to one another, so I guess she would know.’ Elise stood up. ‘Let’s walk, it’s cold.’

  ‘What happened to Louise – why is there a plaque?’

  ‘She visited the park every day for years and fought to keep it in good order. All the pathways, play a
reas, plants and flowers are because of her. It was her favourite place. She and Dot were killed while they were on their way home one day – up on the main road.’

  ‘Goodness. Was it a car?’

  ‘No. Believe it or not, they were hit by a cyclist. It was awful. To live such a long life and end it in that way.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’

  Elise looked across at DC Chilvers, realising that for the last ten minutes or so, she’d forgotten who the woman was and her determination not to like her. ‘I’m sure you’ve seen lots of tragedy in your job.’

  ‘It’s different when it’s not personally happening to you. I can go home at the end of a shift. I take it you go to the group because of what you thought happened to your mother?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t really go anymore, just as and when I can. Nathaniel goes quite a bit. His mother committed suicide around the same time as mine.’ Elise stopped herself, realising how normal her mother’s supposed death had become to her. She couldn’t get used to the reality that it had all been a lie. ‘I certainly won’t be welcome there now my father’s under suspicion.’

  ‘You don’t believe he had anything to do with the cases?’ said DC Chilvers.

  ‘I don’t know anymore. I guess I’m past caring.’

  ‘How can you say you don’t care about all those people?’

  ‘Why should I? They all wanted to die – ultimately, they were all going to kill themselves. How else would they be coerced?’ Elise could see DC Chilvers was shocked by what she’d said. ‘My mother was always trying to kill herself; it’s only because my father took her away from me that things were better for her. Eventually, she’ll probably go through with it. Don’t you think if my father was going to kill her, he would have taken his opportunity back then, when he would have got away with it?’

  ‘Okay, you have a point there.’

  ‘I know a lot about it. I grew up with a suicidal parent and it makes you bitter. Don’t ask me to have sympathy for those victims when my daughter has been murdered.’ Elise turned and began walking back the other way. She had suddenly become extremely agitated; all the events of the past week were beginning to pile up on her.

  ‘What are you hiding, Elise?’

  Elise stopped walking. ‘My father didn’t murder my daughter, I know that for sure.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  THEN

  When Elise arrived back at the house, she discovered a voicemail message on her phone from Magda, asking her if she could call round. Elise made arrangements to go to Magda’s instead, because Elise didn’t want to discuss anything in front of the two police liaisons and it was late.

  They gave one another a stiff embrace. Elise and Nathaniel had made it clear they didn’t want to see Alistair for the time being, and even though Magda had respected their decision, she didn’t necessarily like it. Alistair had written to them both, apologising for what he’d done, but the knowledge that Ida had accused him of rape was still hanging over them, however much he denied it.

  Elise took her muddy trainers off and followed Magda into the kitchen. Sitting on the table was a large parcel addressed to Ida.

  ‘That looks slightly too large for the doll’s house.’ Elise pulled it towards her, noting the London postmark. ‘When did it arrive?’

  ‘This morning. I didn’t know whether to give it to you.’

  Elise raised her eyebrows, unimpressed with Magda’s secrecy. They’d been friends for a long time and it seemed that everyone around her was lying. She carefully opened the package while Magda poured them both a drink. Inside was a photo album with a thick cover. Elise turned it over, looking for a note from the sender, but there didn’t appear to be anything. She opened it and flicked through the pages, frowning at the familiar faces she couldn’t quite place.

  The pictures were of a family from the seventies – a guess on Elise’s part, by the looks of the clothes and wallpaper adorning the house, the tinted colour of the photos. There were various snaps of happy occasions: Christmas, New Year, birthdays and anniversaries, all captured on a Polaroid camera, the pages crowded with too many photos, causing the adhesive to loosen the cellophane covering.

  Lifting the book up to her eyes, Elise made a closer inspection of the faces of the people in the photos. One of them stood out more than the others; she assumed it was the mother of the family. The woman’s face was so familiar.

  There was something beneath the smile, a glimmer of corrosion – it was there, and yet it wasn’t, like a hologram. If Elise looked hard it wasn’t visible, but if she moved the book away, it became obvious.

  ‘Do you know whose album it is?’ Magda set two glasses of red wine on the table.

  ‘Not sure. I don’t suppose you have any idea who sent it?’

  ‘No, it came through the post – there’s no return address.’

  ‘I can see that. But Ida was having post delivered here. Did she ever say anything to you about someone other than a company that was sending her parcels? An individual?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Elise pulled out a chair and sat down, examining Magda’s face, waiting for her to say something else. Then she turned her attention back to the photo album.

  It was of a family Elise completely understood – how she imagined hers would have become, if her parents had stayed together. There would probably have been a sibling, maybe two, and so their family life would have trundled on, they would have built a history, like the family in the photos.

  Like Elise’s own mother, the woman in the photograph seemed to be a loner, the odd one out. One of the pages Elise turned to stood out more than the others and she immediately flipped it back to take another look.

  ‘What do you see in that photograph?’ Elise turned the book round so Magda could see.

  The page contained just one photograph – the ghosts of other pictures were apparent by the light-brown square marks – unlike the other pages, which were cluttered with snaps, elbowing one another, desperate to be seen. But this one was solitary and stood alone, regally proud, embracing its oneness. Elise thought it was obvious that whoever sent the book had wanted Ida to look at this particular page.

  ‘It’s a picture of a family playing in the garden.’ Magda frowned.

  ‘Look again.’

  At first glance, the photo showed two children playing swing ball in the garden with what was presumably the dad. They looked happy, laughing, contorting their bodies as they all tried to reach for the ball.

  Magda peered at it again, and after a few moments Elise knew she’d spotted the same thing she had.

  To the left could be seen what looked like the back of the house where this family lived. Faintly at first and then more prominently, as Elise’s eyes had adjusted, she had seen the mother staring through the glass of the large French windows. Not laughing, not smiling, just staring past them; lost to somewhere else, her eyes vacant like derelict swimming pools, devoid of water.

  ‘I wonder who took the photograph, and did they know she was there?’ asked Magda.

  Elise hadn’t thought about who might have taken the photo. She was disturbed by the expression on the woman’s face, a similar look she’d seen on Ingrid’s when Elise was a child. It was the truest, most organic photo amongst them. The lady through the glass. Then it dawned on Elise who it was. The photo album was of Nathaniel’s family. The lady behind the glass was Anna, Nathaniel’s mother.

  Elise and Magda chatted for a while, the atmosphere easing, as they drank wine and talked about the photographs. Elise declined a second glass and stood up to leave. Grabbing the album, she made her way towards the hall and then stopped abruptly, gasping when she stood on something sharp in the shagpile rug. Lifting her foot up, she stared at her thermal sock, then plucked something from it.

  ‘What is it?’ Magda tried to look over her shoulder.

  ‘Nothing, just a small stone stuck in my sock. I went for a walk in the park earlier.’ Elise pretended to throw it out of the
front door as she was leaving.

  When Elise was quite a distance down the road, she stopped under a street lamp and looked at the object she’d found in her sock. It was Ida’s diamond stud earring. She breathed in deeply, knowing if she tackled Alistair about it he’d just say she’d given it to him. It left her wondering if the boy had done something extremely clever by confessing and retracting his statement, a double bluff made to look like a desperate act of love. She needed to talk to Nathaniel about it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Magda was slightly startled to see me standing in the reception area of the school where she held her group meetings. We’d been in contact over the years, but I hadn’t mentioned I was going to pay her a visit. After the initial shock, she gave me a beaming smile and we quickly left the stark building to find a pub where we could get a drink.

  It was 1981 when I first met Magda; 1982 when her brother, Gordon, took his last breath. Magda had come to see me at my firm of solicitors about getting some kind of legal advice on behalf of her parents. Gordon lived with them and they were his carers – he had a severe personality disorder and, as they were growing older, they had no idea how long they would be able to continue caring for him. They wanted to sign the house over to Magda in case anything happened to them, and money was needed to pay for psychiatric care. Halfway through the process, Gordon had an unfortunate accident and died. I knew immediately it had something to do with Magda. There were a few details that didn’t quite add up when she talked about his death – the story lacked conviction and she kept repeating it like she was justifying herself.

  Magda came to see me shortly after his death. We had a friendship of sorts, a connection I suppose. I could see someone who had once been confident and successful underneath the nervous veneer that now faced me. I imagined she had been quite ruthless at one stage; she owned a very successful insurance company that she had built up by herself. I decided to give her a little advice.

  ‘When you talk to anyone about Gordon’s death, it’s best not to say too much about it, especially as you claim not to have been there when it happened. Too many details and you’ll slip up. No one is that good a liar, not even me.’