by A J Waines
‘Is Kelly your little girl?’ said Sophie, looking up from a copy of Vogue magazine.
Shareen tipped back her head, realising where Sophie had seen the name.
‘Yes. She’ll be five by now.’ She sat on the bed naked, towelling dry her cropped hair.
‘Don’t you miss her?’
‘Not really. I gave her up quite soon after she was born.’
Shareen rubbed cheap cream from Poundland into the tattoos on her arms. ‘I’m going to get a beetle done on my tongue when I get out.’
Sophie winced. ‘Your tongue? Won’t that hurt?’
‘I don’t mind. It’s a good kind of pain.’
Sophie looked away and wondered how any kind of pain could be described as good.
‘When will you get out?’ she said.
Shareen dumped the towel on the bed and sat back against the wall. ‘I got life, because people died in the fires, but I wasn’t right in the head, so they keep reviewing my case. What about you?’
‘My court case is coming up soon and Dr Marshall thinks I’m getting better.’
Shareen pulled a face. ‘Getting better isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, darlin’. When you get better, they sentence you and if they reckon you’re sane, you go to prison.’
Sophie brought her fingers to her mouth. Her once perfect nails were now chewed and tatty. No, not prison. That couldn’t be right. Surely, they’d see the attack was due to some mental aberration, just one moment of madness brought on by Daniel’s behaviour. Wouldn’t that be mitigating circumstances? She’d get character references. Everyone would realise she’d suffered some kind of breakdown.
Her eyes travelled back to the marks on Shareen’s thighs. They looked like old scars, but Shareen had said she kept a razor blade somewhere, in case she needed it. Sophie made a quick scan of the room, wondering where it was hidden.
‘Yoga starts in five minutes, you coming?’ said Shareen.
‘Can’t – I’ve got a group therapy session.’
Shareen pushed out her bottom lip in disappointment and Sophie realised she was probably only nineteen or twenty. So young – such a waste.
When Shareen crept into the room that evening, Sophie was already asleep. She brushed her teeth and gave her face a cursory rinse, before putting out the light. As she rested her head on the pillow, she felt a lump underneath. She flipped on the light again and ran her hand under it, pulling out a small paper bag. Inside was a folded note, with two words, For You, in neat handwriting. In the bottom of the bag was a small jar of Chanel No 5 body lotion. Shareen glanced over to the bundle of bedclothes, slowly rising and falling.
‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered, then opened the jar, sniffed it and smoothed a generous layer of the luxurious cream along her arms.
Chapter 26
The Past – 5 September 2017
As he sat on the Tube, Rick pulled out the small photo he’d slipped inside his wallet that morning. The one he’d found tucked away at the bottom of a shoebox in his mother’s wardrobe. It had been troubling him for days; sent him searching back through piles of useless uni notes and poring over his own snaps from way back when. All because he’d been poking around in his mother’s belongings for rich pickings before she sold the house.
He checked the back again. March 30, 2002 would have been right at the end of term at Oxford Uni. Most students would have gone home, so why would there have been a party? It was a party, surely?
And why had this one been put inside a fancy frame?
He studied the scene once more. Figures were standing in pleased-to-meet-you poses with glasses in their hands. Balloons hung from the ceiling and he could pick out empty beer cans strewn on the carpet. It certainly looked like the kind of party he’d have been to.
Nothing was coming back to him.
Nor could he find himself amidst the blurred faces. Did that mean he’d taken the snap? Perhaps he’d been so blind drunk he couldn’t remember anything about it. Surely he must have been there, otherwise why had the picture been kept?
There was plenty going on in the small picture. It seemed to involve a lot of water being sprayed everywhere and carpets getting soaked. And candlewax dripping down the side of someone’s expensive glass cabinet. But that wasn’t the whole story. There was something unnerving about the photograph that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something important. Something that sent a tiny spiral of fear up his windpipe.
Chapter 27
The Present
Daniel sat with Ben on his lap in the kitchen. They’d got off to a good start, only it was short-lived. The Where’s Mummy? tantrums started as soon as Daniel tried to get the Rice Krispies down him.
‘Daddy’s got the whole day free, so what would you like to do? Pool, swings, Granny’s or stay here playing with the carpark… train set… paints?’
Ben’s reaction was instant. ‘Swings,’ he shouted.
‘Swings it is.’
Just as they were about to leave the house, the phone rang and Daniel reluctantly answered it.
‘Fancy lunch at the Wig and Mitre?’ said Rick.
‘Sorry, mate, Ben and I are just off to the park.’
‘Can’t you get the girl next door to have him?’
‘Not this time, mate. Ben and I have some catching up to do.’
He held the phone to his chest. The obvious option was to ask Rick to join them, but he didn’t want to encourage him. Rick was increasingly finding a way back into his life and he didn’t want him hanging around all the time. ‘Only I’m at a loose end,’ said Rick.
What harm would it do if Rick tagged along? Twice as much fun for Ben, surely. Ben seemed to like him.
‘Come with us if you like. We’re just going over to the Common. See you by the swings.’
Ben squealed as Daniel chased after him across the grass, imitating an angry bear. He was surprised when he looked up and saw Rick, tramping towards them so soon.
‘Didn’t take you long.’
‘I’m Superman,’ said Rick, tickling Ben in the ribs until they were both rolling on the grass. Daniel picked Ben up and tried to spin him round but had to stop, wincing with pain as the stretch tugged at the wound in his chest. He was glad to let Rick take over, otherwise he could imagine the stitches in his side peeling apart like a zip on an anorak.
For once, Daniel admired Rick’s hyperactive streak. He watched them both lurch up and down on the see-saw, Ben shrieking with delight, then followed them round to the sand pit. A few minutes later he saw Ben rush over to the swings with Rick growling behind him. His son, who loved chasing and being chased even more, was thrilled by the attention.
‘Rescue me,’ Rick shouted, ‘this boy is wearing me out!’ Rick was wearing tatty jeans with tassels hanging so long at the hem that it looked as though his shoelaces were undone.
‘I think you’re wearing yourself out, but you’re doing a great job,’ said Daniel. He crouched down, hugged Ben to his chest and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
‘Listen, Ben,’ said Rick in a pretend whisper, bending down beside them. ‘Shall we run away from Daddy and see if he can find us?’
Ben whooped with excitement and Rick pulled him by the hand towards a clump of bushes. Daniel turned his back and covered his eyes. He gave them time to settle in a hidden spot and then began the charade of trying to find them.
Rick was a complete natural; he hadn’t wanted to admit it before. Daniel wondered if he would ever have children of his own. The only drawback was Rick’s unpredictability and reckless approach. He would have to grow up himself, first.
Daniel stood up and tried to work out which direction they had taken. There were rows of trees with undergrowth on all sides, groups of children bobbing in and out with footballs and dogs. Starting to his left, he wandered from one patch of shrubbery to the next, but he couldn’t see Ben’s distinctive striped yellow T-shirt. After ten minutes, he didn’t have the energy to prowl around anymore, so he went back to the bench and dec
ided to wait until they came back.
Stretching out, a wave of exhaustion swept through his muscles. He watched with half-closed eyes as figures drifted across the expanse in the distance. He sank a little lower to ease the pressure off his wound, letting the low sun’s rays soothe him. It was so glaring that he closed his eyes.
A dog barked behind him, jolting him awake. He checked his watch, realised he’d dozed off for over half an hour. Where were they? He stood up and stared ahead of him, then turned a full three-hundred and sixty degrees. Had Rick been distracted and allowed Ben to wander off by himself? Was Rick searching for him, not daring to come back alone? He refused to let worst-case scenarios race through his mind.
Daniel patted his pockets. He’d left his phone at home. Had Rick got bored and left? He wouldn’t put it past him. His palms were wet with mounting surges of panic.
Then two figures started ambling across the grass. One large, one small. They were each holding an ice cream.
‘Where have you been?!’ snapped Daniel.
Rick stumbled towards him, pretending to be out of breath.
‘Hey, man, don’t be so jittery.’
‘What do you expect, going off like that?’
‘Thought I was doing you a favour. You’d dozed off last time we checked.’ Rick grunted and sat down. He took a big chunk out of the side of the cornet and a lump of ice cream fell onto the grass. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’
Ben leant quietly against his father’s legs. ‘We did games, Daddy,’ he said. ‘We did a trick with coins.’ He turned to Rick with excitement. ‘Do the trick with the magic coins!’
‘Not now, sweetheart,’ said Daniel. ‘You had a good time, yeah?’ He patted Ben’s head, hiding the rasp in his voice. A small white clump of Mr Whippy had found its way into Ben’s hair.
‘So, you going to shout me a beer or not?’ said Rick. He pointed to the concrete building on the far side that looked like a public convenience, but was actually a café.
‘A coffee, maybe,’ he said.
They began making their way towards it in silence.
By the time he’d got to the till, Daniel had got a grip on himself. He set both mugs down on the picnic bench outside. Ben found a ball in the toy box in the corner, threw it on the ground and ran after it.
‘He seems to be adjusting,’ said Rick, flicking cubes of sugar across the table.
‘All things considered, he’s doing pretty well. Has the odd tantrum now and then, but I’m being fairly easy on him.’
‘Not like your dad did with you, eh? Pushing you to play chess at some ridiculous age, trying to get you to learn Hungarian for your mum.’
Daniel had forgotten.
Rick clicked his fingers. ‘Remember the time you stole Beanie’s biology essay?’
Daniel winced. ‘You remember that?’
‘I didn’t tell on you, did I?’ said Rick, slurping his drink loudly. ‘Because we were mates.’ Rick reached over and patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’re a complete fraud, Duke. Everyone thinks you’re a boring old goody two shoes.’
Ben got tired of the ball and started banging the table with a plastic spade. Daniel pulled out a tractor from the jumble of toys in his rucksack. Ben liked it best when Daniel ran it over his son’s chest. Rick liked it best when he revved up the wheels and sent it at speed off the edge of the table.
A little boy passed their table and Ben followed him, captivated by the spaniel playing with a rubber bone at the boy’s side.
‘Have you taken him to see her?’ Rick asked.
‘He’s been with Greta and Sophie’s father, but I’m still persona non grata.’
A robin hopped onto the adjacent table and tucked into a crust abandoned by a previous customer.
‘Have you thought about my offer to take him? Give you a break.’
Daniel took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It was cold. He pushed the mug away and the bird took off.
‘I’m not sure––’
An image came to mind of Rick dropping by for lunch at Kew a few weeks before the stabbing. He was on his way back from the funeral of his school’s deputy head and had been wearing novelty socks with a matching tie. In Daniel’s view, Rick hadn’t done a great deal in his life to establish himself as a grown-up.
‘I can put in a good word for you at the same time. Do what I do best and stand up for you.’ He chuckled. ‘She might see sense.’
Rick had a point. He certainly wasn’t getting anywhere on his own. And Ben obviously felt comfortable with him. To be fair, while Rick could be reckless at times, he was the one who’d acted fast and saved his life at the beach.
‘That might not be such a bad idea,’ said Daniel.
Chapter 28
Sophie decided the clock in the ward lounge ought to belong in an American diner. She sat and watched the heavy minute hand jolt forward with an angry snap as she waited for visiting time. Time was strange in here: stretching out interminably in an unchanging wasteland. She took a magazine from the coffee table and flipped through it without reading a word.
In over nine weeks, the doctors and psychiatrists were yet to give a name to her condition. Dr Marshall had mentioned the phrase ‘lost touch with reality’ several times, but what did it mean, exactly? She’d done psychometric tests, had blood and hormone tests. She wasn’t psychotic, had no symptoms of schizophrenia or paranoia. They’d taken brain scans, but there didn’t seem to be any swellings, lesions or bits missing.
Was this the beginning of some mysterious mental illness? If so, it really didn’t feel like it. The outburst in the kitchen felt like it had happened to someone else. The idea of wielding a knife at anyone now, least of all her husband, was utterly preposterous.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a woman lurking beside her. Doris had the face of a thirty-year-old, but shuffled around like someone far older. Wearing a pinafore and tatty slippers, a bunched up yellow rag hung out of her pocket. She looked like she was about to start dusting. Instead, without saying a word, she reached forward and ran her grubby fingers through Sophie’s hair. It wasn’t the first time one of the other patients had wanted to touch her. If Sophie had learnt anything in here, it was patience; she wanted, more than anything, to push Doris away. She had to squeeze her fists and force herself not to scream: I’m not some doll on display for you to play with whenever you feel like it!
It wasn’t Doris’s fault. And more to the point, Sophie couldn’t risk the consequences if she reacted. It wouldn’t help her cause one bit. Violent streak. She could hear the psychiatrists drawing their own conclusions about her. Instead, Sophie ducked out of the way, beckoning Annie to come to her rescue.
‘Come away, Doris, leave the pretty lady alone.’
Doris muttered something incomprehensible as she was guided towards the television set and Sophie was left dabbing at her hair with a tissue when Rick walked in holding Ben’s hand.
She hurried towards them. ‘Thanks for bringing him,’ she said, gazing only at her son.
‘Any time,’ he said.
Ben climbed straight onto Sophie’s lap as soon as she sat down and she breathed in the smell of him, soothed by his familiar warmth against her belly.
‘How’s it going?’ Rick asked, looking shiftily from one patient to the next, as though expecting one of them to charge at him with a flaming lance.
She hissed her response. ‘These people in here… honestly, they are seriously out of it.’ She glanced over at Doris, who was now tearing pages from a Radio Times into long strips.
‘I can see that. I brought some books and magazines. I had to leave them at the front desk. Not sure why. Maybe to check I haven’t slipped in a nail file or something.’ He winked.
‘Thanks,’ she said, ignoring his attempt at levity. Sophie would never have agreed to see Rick had he not brought Ben. He was merely a conduit to her son.
Ben was wrapping her hair around his fingers and watching it uncurl, but within minutes had fallen fas
t asleep in her arms.
‘So, how’s Daniel?’ she whispered.
‘Moping. Not good, Sophie. Stuck at home the whole time.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah, he’s hardly been out.’
‘Really?’
Rick shook his head. ‘Pretty much. There was a feeble night out with the lads a while back, that’s all. Oh, and he dragged me to a West End show.’ He did the shifty thing again with his eyes. He looked like he was going to say more, but changed his mind.
‘Come on, spit it out. What else has he been up to?’
‘Nothing much, I’m sure. Honestly. He came to a meal in Soho. Theatre people. Nothing special.’
‘So… having a great time, then.’
If Rick was trying to reassure her that Daniel was miserable as sin without her, he was making a lousy job of it.
‘No! He’s in a bad way, Sophie. He frickin’ misses you.’ Her eyes darted up to see if anyone had heard. ‘He doesn’t know what came over you.’
‘Rabid jealousy. That’s what came over me. He was cheating all right, but even so. How the hell I could attack him like that is completely beyond me. We should have worked through it, like sensible adults.’
He thumbed his eyebrow. ‘Dan wants you well again. He wants you back. That’s all I know.’
There was an awkward silence.
‘His laddish days are over. You know that,’ he went on. ‘He’s a reformed man; he was as soon as he met you.’
‘Is he? Leopards have spots, Rick, and you can’t wipe them out or paint over them for long.’
He shrugged.
Sophie folded her arms. There was something about the whole conversation that made her think Rick had been trying just a little too hard to convince her.
Sophie watched Ben sleep. She’d had her heart set on reading him a story, playing a game, chatting about nursery, but their time was fast running out.
