I Will Make You Pay

by Driscoll, Teresa

  ‘We’ve just moved my mother to a new nursing home. Better facilities.’ I don’t know why I don’t tell him the truth. He doesn’t say anything so I assume he hasn’t heard about the video. Some family friends saw it but why would anyone in the office be looking? ‘I’m going up there later to make sure she’s settled in. I’ll feel happier then.’

  ‘Good. That’s good.’

  The waitress is very soon back with the food, and I look at the melted cheese oozing from the golden bread. It makes me feel hungry and I’m just wondering whether to order one myself after all when my phone rings. I raise my hand by way of apology as I take the call. It’s the editor’s secretary, Samantha. She babbles an apology but says she’s been updated about the meeting by HR and needs to change the time we just agreed. Suggests 3 p.m. instead of noon because Ted has a meeting over lunch.

  ‘That’s fine. No problem.’ I add that by coincidence I am with Jack and he’s packing away a cheese toastie.

  Samantha laughs and then adds something which makes no sense at all.

  ‘It’s good to know what Jack gets up to on his day off.’

  CHAPTER 43

  ALICE – BEFORE

  The first time my mother saw me with my new hair colour, I watched the change in her eyes. It wasn’t long after Alex’s trial. She tilted her head, taking in my new look, and there was just this momentary flash of deep sadness.

  ‘Are you shocked, Mum? Do you disapprove horribly? Because if you don’t want me to do this. The name change, I mean. If it’s going to really upset you—’

  ‘It’s fine. The new hair suits you. And if this is what you need to do to put that blessed man behind you, then it’s fine by me.’

  ‘And you think you can cope? Me using my second name? That won’t freak you out too much?’

  And then my mother did that thing with her soft grey eyes. The smile that was set deep within them, to try to reassure me.

  ‘I’ve watched you lose sleep, Jenny. I’ve watched you lose weight. I’ve watched you take those pills for depression to cope with the trial. Don’t think I don’t know about that. And the truth? It has broken my heart into pieces, and if I could get hold of that man, I wouldn’t be responsible for what I might do to him. Leanne is right to have suggested this. I chose Alice for your second name because I love it. I can get used it. I will practise. You make a beautiful Alice.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell them at the new job. I feel so bad about that. A journalist, a supposed seeker of the truth, starting out with a lie myself . . . What does that make me, Mum?’

  ‘It makes you unlucky. Someone who met a snake, my darling. Lots of writers use a different byline. A maiden name or whatever. You have good reason. And it’s not a made-up name. It’s on your birth certificate. It’s a name I chose for you.’

  ‘But do I look different enough from the newspaper picture? I’m very afraid they’ll find me out anyway.’

  ‘You look beautiful. My beautiful girl. And the media didn’t run much about you.’

  I could feel my lip trembling as she hugged me. I still wasn’t at all sure about what I was doing – morally or practically – but I didn’t want Alex to win. To put an end to my career. To stop me writing. When Leanne first suggested changing my name, I thought she was mad. I said no – absolutely not. I was sure I would slip up, maybe answer the phone as Jenny and be the subject of another story. An exposé? But, over time, I just got angrier and angrier about Alex, and I didn’t see what other option I had.

  New name. Clean page. Fresh start. What did I have to lose?

  I was still staying with Leanne when I decided to consider her idea. She started calling me Alice to see how it went. After a while, it felt OK. And then when – as ‘Alice’ – I was offered the new job as a trainee reporter in Devon, it suddenly felt doable. Far enough from Scotland for stories and contacts not to overlap, hence less likely for anyone to find me out. I knew that I would see less of Mum and Leanne than in recent times and wondered how I would manage without their support, but it couldn’t be more difficult than Scotland in terms of the geography.

  ‘I’ll still phone and visit as much as I can, Mum.’

  ‘Course you will.’

  And then she asked the same question the police had kept asking me.

  ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything you haven’t told me, darling? About Alex? About how all this dreadful business started? He didn’t hurt you ever, did he?’

  ‘No, no.’

  ‘And there wasn’t some trigger? Something that might have started—’

  ‘No.’

  I answered too quickly. Too loudly. I felt myself blush. I was still tired and weak and overwhelmed. But the truth? At night, something new had been bothering me. One very private thing. One small, embarrassing and intimate thing that I had not yet told the police because I couldn’t bring myself to believe that it could have anything to do with what had happened. It was too embarrassing. Too personal.

  I had been to counselling and they kept saying over and over that I was not to replay events and blame myself. That Alex was responsible for his perversion. His lies. His behaviour. Not me.

  I had been duped. Tricked. This is not your fault. You must not blame yourself.

  But for all the reassurance, I couldn’t help – in the dark and silence of the night – still wondering. Picking over our time together. I felt so guilty for not seeing through Alex when he had the scene with the girl on his phone.

  And this other niggling thing. The other private, personal thing that was about Alex but which I had stupidly brought up once and it had made him so very upset.

  I didn’t want to believe that it could have anything to do with it all.

  Because if it did? Would that make it my fault after all?

  And was it my responsibility to mention it to the police? Even this late in the day . . .

  CHAPTER 44

  MATTHEW

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want a chair, Mel?’

  Matthew watches Melanie Sanders press her hand into the small of her back, making her spectacular bump protrude even closer to the one-way glass between them and the interview room.

  The police station in Scotland is smaller than any Matthew served in during his time in the force. It is also cleaner and brighter and tidier. He looks at a pinboard on the opposite wall with various posters neatly displayed. Recent appeals. Helpline numbers.

  Finally Melanie lets out a long sigh. ‘You’re right. I’m being stubborn. Trying to put on a show, but the truth is I worry that if I sit down, I’ll never get up. Jeez – this baby is in training for the Olympics today. Through there . . .’ She points to a small room off the corridor and Matthew darts through to collect a chair, watching several eyes in the room turn to him in puzzlement.

  ‘I’ve lied,’ she confirms as she slumps on to the chair on his return, signalling that he should close the door to the corridor. ‘I’ve told them you’re ex-job and that you have crucial inside information on this case.’

  ‘But that’s true – not a lie at all.’

  ‘I might have added that you’re now a respected profiler.’

  ‘Profiler?’

  ‘Yeah. That shut them up.’ She’s smiling. ‘And we all know what most of them think about profilers. They’ll hopefully just gossip behind your back and leave us alone.’

  They both stare through the glass. Alex is sitting next to his solicitor but the interviewer handling the parole issue has been replaced by Mel’s colleague Mark Fisher, who is to lead the questioning about Alice. Alex is already certain to be returned to jail for breaking the terms of his licence, so has nothing to gain by cooperating.

  Matthew does not expect him to be helpful. He strongly suspects his brief will have advised him to say nothing regarding this second inquiry. Sadly there’s no evidence to put to Alex yet so this is just a fishing trip in case they get lucky. Matthew’s hoping he will at least be able to pick up something from Alex’s face and general demean
our while they wait for his phone to be fully checked.

  ‘So, Alex. Back to jail, then. That wasn’t very clever, was it?’ Mark Fisher is a tad careful with his tone as he pauses, before slapping a picture of Alice – or Jenny, as she was – on the table. A picture of her with her darker, longer hair.

  Alex Sunningham looks down at the picture and Matthew leans closer to the glass to watch his face. Not a flicker. Whatever he may be thinking, Alex is careful not to give anything away. Damn. He’s good, Matthew thinks. Very good.

  Alongside him, Mel seems to be holding her breath.

  ‘So. Your fiancée. The one who knew absolutely nothing about what was going on.’ Mark’s tone is still steady. Confident.

  Alex glances at his solicitor, who is also looking at the photograph.

  ‘I find myself wondering how you feel about your former fiancée now, Alex? After your time in jail.’

  There’s silence. No reaction at all.

  ‘Because here’s the thing. We think you may have been stewing about what’s happened to you these past few years. And that you’ve developed some kind of grudge. An entirely unfair grudge. Is that true, Alex?’

  Still nothing.

  Matthew turns to Mel, who still appears to be holding her breath.

  Mark won’t want to give much away in this early part of the interview. Without any evidence, he’s simply goading a bit. He will be looking for Alex to dig a hole – to hopefully give away a small detail that he couldn’t know without involvement. A starting point for the interview proper. But Alex doesn’t even look puzzled. His face is entirely blank.

  ‘Direct question then. Have you made contact or sent any message to or had communication of any kind with your former fiancée Jennifer Wallace since the court case? And most especially since your release from jail.’

  There’s a long pause. Again Alex, expressionless, turns to look at his solicitor before turning back to face Mark. And then it starts . . .

  At first Matthew simply can’t believe it. He exchanges a glance of astonishment with Mel. And then Matthew feels the full irritation and hopelessness of the situation as the noise gets louder and louder . . .

  ‘What the hell is he singing?’ Mel says finally.

  ‘Opera,’ Matthew replies.

  ‘Yes. I can tell it’s bloody opera. I’m not a complete philistine.’

  ‘You need to stop that . . . right . . . now.’ Mark keeps his expression calm but raises his voice to be heard over the singing while Matthew closes his eyes to listen.

  You get quite a bit of singing in police stations. Drunks mostly, as they’re led to the cells to sober up. Mostly it’s very poor. Out of tune and the lyrics gibberish.

  This is different. This is good. Matthew is surprised by something else too. A flicker of recognition. He listens some more, trying desperately to place it. He’s frowning as he thinks hard and tries to tune in.

  ‘I’m warning you, Alex, to stop singing right this minute. This is a serious situation you’re in.’ Mark then turns to the solicitor. ‘Can you please advise your client to stop wilfully obstructing our inquiries and to cooperate with this interview.’

  The solicitor shrugs as if there’s nothing he can do.

  ‘Look. If your client doesn’t stop singing, he will be taken straight back to his cell until he quietens down.’

  The singing continues . . .

  ‘He’s quite good, actually,’ Matthew offers, opening his eyes.

  ‘Unhelpful, Matt.’ Mel is fidgeting with her wedding ring – twisting it round and round, apparently exasperated.

  And then Matthew suddenly recognises it. Yes. The lyrics. L’amour, l’amour! . . . Ah! Lève-toi, soleil . . .

  ‘This is Romeo and Juliet.’ He feels a ridiculous sense of pride. ‘In French.’

  Melanie turns to him, eyes wide. ‘And so who are you suddenly – Inspector Morse?’

  ‘Sally likes opera,’ Matthew offers sheepishly. ‘She’s got a recording of this. She doesn’t speak Italian, you see. She likes this one because it’s in French. Gounod, I think you’ll find.’

  Melanie shakes her head in astonishment as, inside the interview room, Mark announces for the tape that he’s pausing the interview to return Alex to his cell until he stops singing. A sergeant then appears through the door and Alex is accompanied out, still singing at full volume.

  ‘Well, that went well,’ Melanie says finally, then stands. ‘Shall we get coffee from the machine? They’ve given me use of an office while we wait to hear if there’s anything on Alex’s phone. But I rather think we’re wasting our time, don’t you? Unless we find any evidence, we’re snookered. Bet you’re sorry you came all this way now.’

  In the small office, Melanie has a bulging briefcase with notes from Alex’s previous interviews and the court case.

  ‘No videos of the interviews with him last time round?’

  ‘No, just transcripts. I went over them on the flight up.’

  Just then, Mark pokes his head around the door of the room. ‘Sorry, Melanie. Didn’t see that coming. A first for me. An aria mid-interview.’

  ‘Not your fault, Mark. Take a break. Go get a sandwich. I’m going to go over the notes again. Let’s give it an hour. See if the Phantom of the Opera gets bored with his cell. If no progress, we’ll let them transfer him back to jail and interview him inside once we’ve hopefully come up with some evidence.’

  Mark gives them the thumbs up and closes the door.

  ‘He’s a good operator – Mark. Not as good as you of course,’ Mel teases. ‘But I don’t think anyone is going to get anything out of our Mr Sunningham until we have something concrete to put to him. What a bloody waste of everyone’s time.’

  And then Matthew takes a deep breath.

  ‘Romeo and Juliet. Young lovers.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Mel’s expression is once again pure puzzlement.

  ‘I reckon our deluded narcissist is trying to cast himself in the role of romantic hero. That’s what Gretna Green was about. Why he wants to marry her.’

  ‘You kidding me? He seduces a fourteen-year-old and thinks casting himself as Romeo will wash?’

  ‘But that’s precisely it. He’s deluded. Which means he’s capable of anything. So can I look at the notes? All the statements from Alice before the trial.’

  ‘No. Of course you can’t,’ she says – pushing the pile of folders towards him and winking. ‘I’ll go make us some coffee. See if you can spot anything I’ve missed. I couldn’t find anything in the court notes or Alice’s statements – or Jenny, as she was then – which suggests a motive to target her now. Her part in the trial was pretty small actually. It was all about the two girls, especially the one he seduced and dumped.’

  Melanie leaves the room, returning after five minutes with drinks in large, chipped mugs. For the next hour they work together through all the statements and the notes on the trial. Matthew is surprised to find reference to a third girl. Also just fourteen.

  ‘There was a third victim?’

  Melanie takes in a long breath. ‘You are absolutely not supposed to have access to that. But yes. Turns out a third girl came forward but she didn’t want to give evidence so she was interviewed informally. Same pattern. Alex groomed her, slept with her then dumped her. It was at the very time he was getting engaged to Alice.’

  ‘What a snake.’

  ‘The team decided not to push her. They had enough to nail him without her evidence.’

  Matthew continues through the many sheets, appalled at the bitter coffee and wishing they had time to pop out for a decent one. It’s only after some forty-five minutes that he puts the trial notes and statements aside and scours through the files for any additional material involving Alice.

  And it’s then he comes across a single sheet of paper folded within one of the old files of statements. The date is odd. It is some time after Alex was arrested and charged.

  Matthew smooths the paper to read half a dozen paragraphs. It’s t
he record of a short conversation with Alice – then Jenny – at a London police station. She’d turned up to give some voluntary additional information to be passed on to the police in Scotland, stressing that she didn’t want Alex to be made aware she’d said this. He reads it carefully. There is a stamp to confirm it was referred to the Scottish team but no further action seems to have been taken. Presumably they had more than enough evidence against Alex already, and Alice had said she would not repeat the information in court so didn’t want it to be part of her formal statement.

  Matthew goes back to the court notes and sees there’s no reference to this material being put to Alex or any witness formally during the trial. It was clearly not used and he’s not surprised. It wouldn’t further the prosecution case and would have been worthless if Alice wasn’t happy to back it up in court.

  Matthew taps his chin. Hang on. What if someone mentioned this little nugget to Alex during the early and extensive interviews before the trial? To wind him up a bit.

  What if Alex knew Alice had told the police this?

  ‘Don’t get excited, Mel. But I might just have found something.’

  Matthew turns the piece of paper around to place it in front of Melanie.

  ‘Turns out our Romeo had a sexual dysfunction.’

  ‘What? Impotent?’ Melanie is now skimming the sheet of paper, her brow furrowing as she pulls her chin into her neck. ‘But he couldn’t have been impotent. He was done for sex with the girls.’

  ‘No. Not impotent. Something else. Alice didn’t want this to be used in court. She just wanted the police to be aware in case it was relevant. But what if someone slipped up. Off the tapes. To wind Alex up a bit maybe? What if our narcissist guessed it was Alice who said this to police? Well – that would hurt his pride big time. He just might have stewed over this in jail. Bit of a long shot, I grant you. But it’s just possible this could give us a motive for him to be mad at Alice.’

  CHAPTER 45

  ALICE – BEFORE