What Lies Hidden

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What Lies Hidden Page 7

by Fran McDonnell


  Tears started to run down Claire’s face but she seemed oblivious.

  “I asked her if Thomas was hitting her. She nodded. I told her that she could leave, that I would help her. She just shook her head and whispered that nobody could help her. She was terrified. Then her phone rang. She looked at it and I knew by her face that it was Thomas. She answered immediately and explained that she had come for coffee in town. In a second she was jumping up, gathering her stuff and getting ready to leave. She said she had to go and that she wasn’t going to tell him that I’d visited.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “A week later she rang me and started a fight with me about how I was trying to destroy her marriage by badmouthing her husband. I reminded her that she had told me that Thomas had hit her. She said that she only said that to make me feel better about what had happened to me. She said that she never wanted to see me again. If I came near her she was going to get a solicitor to issue a barring order. I felt that Thomas was behind all of this, maybe even listening to the conversation and orchestrating it, making sure that Anne was cut off from any help. A week later a letter arrived from their solicitor threatening legal action. I didn’t know what to do. They changed their phone numbers. I sent some letters but they were returned unopened. Once, I even waited outside the school where Tommy was. I managed to speak to Anne as she was collecting Tommy. She basically begged me to leave her alone, that I was causing trouble for her and Tommy.”

  Claire paused and looked in anguish at Isobel.

  “And did you?” Isobel prompted.

  Claire whispered, “I didn’t know what to do for the best. In the end all I could say was ‘Never forget that I will help you’. I did speak to a solicitor myself. He basically pointed out that unless Anne was prepared to make statements about what was going on, there was nothing I could do. In the end I prayed, that seemed all that was left. Then, I heard from Mum about the divorce and Anne’s drinking.”

  “Were you surprised? Had Anne always been a drinker?”

  “Well, she liked to have a good time as much as anyone when we were younger. Obviously I haven’t been around much so I don’t know about more recently. To be honest, I thought she’d found a way out at last and I was delighted.”

  “What do you mean?” Isobel asked, puzzled.

  “Well, I always thought that Thomas would be a man who wouldn’t let go and I thought Anne had figured out a strategy where he would be happy to get divorced. I thought the drinking was serving that purpose. I was afraid to mess things up for her so I didn’t get in touch. But as soon as everything is finalised I plan to see her. I’m not happy about Thomas having Tommy at the moment. I’m a bit confused about what Anne is doing in that respect. Maybe this is the only way she can get the divorce and, when things have settled and Anne has shown that she has been sober, she can have more and more time with Tommy. Hopefully eventually Tommy can live with her.”

  “So you think that the real problem is spousal abuse rather than Anne’s drinking?”

  “Living with that man would have driven anyone to drink. So what if she drinks? From what I hear, Anne is sober now and she isn’t living with him. I call that progress. I think she’s better off. And hopefully when she is on her feet she can see more of Tommy.”

  Isobel twitched in her seat. “Claire, no one else seems to feel that there’s abuse here. If anything Thomas seems to be doing his best for Anne and Tommy.”

  “So he has you fooled as well. You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with. He has my mother convinced that he’s the good guy and that Anne is a bitch – I mean, her own mother! Mind you, my mother doesn’t have the sense she was born with and she was always a sucker for a charming man – first my father and now Thomas.”

  Isobel rubbed her hands over her face. “So you think that Anne found the one thing, her drinking, that would cause Thomas to divorce her?”

  “Yes – he would hate to have a wife doing that, being messy. Look how good he looks in all of this. He needs to always look good. He’s a narcissist. So I think when Anne gets her divorce and when she has been sober a while she can petition the court again to get visitation – and eventual custody. She just has to play by Thomas’s rules to get out of the marriage. And she feels secure in the belief that Thomas would never touch his son and heir.”

  “So you think that Anne is faking an addiction to get out of her marriage?” Isobel put her head in her hands. “Claire –”

  “I know, I know, I sound crazy.”

  Isobel winced. “Not crazy – maybe a bit fixated –”

  “I don’t care what you think. When Anne gets away she’ll tell you all about what’s been going on. It won’t be long now. She said she had a plan. I have to be patient so that I don’t mess things up for her. She’ll contact me again soon.”

  “Again?” Isobel asked softly.

  Claire put her hand over her mouth, her breath catching in her throat. She peered at Isobel. Neither of them spoke, neither moved.

  Taking a gentle breath, Isobel said, “Claire, I’m not actually a personal friend of Anne’s. Her solicitor has brought me in to consult on the case because he’s concerned that there’s something off about the divorce.”

  “Oh, no!” said Claire, aghast. “You’re going to wreck Anne’s plan!”

  “Not at all. Neither Anne nor Thomas knows that I’m talking to people. Anne’s solicitor has done this because he was concerned that her rights were not being protected and that was a worry for him. My job is just to clarify what is going on. He doesn’t want to disrupt the process, just to be clear that it is in everyone’s best interests. Please believe me, we only want to help.”

  Claire frowned, then after a few seconds she said, “All right, I’ll tell you what happened. From what I’ve told you, you can see that Anne and I weren’t in touch much over the years. Then, about three or four months ago I got a letter from her. In it she said that she had a plan. She couldn’t give me details because that would put me in danger and maybe jeopardise the outcome – but as soon as everything was sorted she would be in touch. In the meantime, I was to tell no one that she had written to me and I was just to play dumb. I don’t even know if I’m making a mistake in telling you this.”

  “Did she say anything about Thomas abusing her?”

  “No, no – but don’t you see that’s why she wrote to me? Because she knew what I believed about her marriage and this was her way of alerting me that she was ready to do something about it. To be honest, I thought that she was going to run away. She knew Thomas would come to me and Mum first, thinking we would know where she was, and this was her way of warning me. I never mentioned the letter to anyone.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m only telling you because it seems to be taking so long and, maybe, if you’re in contact with Anne, you can quietly find out if things are working out for her. And, I’m still concerned about Tommy.”

  Claire bowed her head. Isobel leaned across the table and touched her shoulder. They sat silently for a few more minutes and then Claire lifted her head, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

  Isobel looked into her eyes. “I’m on Anne and Tommy’s side. I promise you that I will do everything that I can.”

  Claire nodded.

  “Can you tell me where Brian Poole lives or works or his phone number?” Isobel asked. “I’d like to talk to him about Thomas – to get his impressions.” She could see Claire about to make an excuse so she hurried on. “I want to get all the information that I can. It helps me be clearer about what’s going on and what’s the best, and safest way, to move forward.”

  Claire nodded, and opened one of the drawers in her desk. She pulled out an address book and copied an address onto a piece of paper.

  Isobel then exchanged numbers with her, exhorting her to make contact if she thought of anything else or heard from Anne.

  Chapter 10

  Isobel put Brian Poole’s address into her satnav and drove to his home. It was on the outskirts of Petersfield. There was n
o car in the drive. It looked like he was at work. She decided to go for dinner and maybe take a walk. Her mind was reeling from all that she’d heard. It was seven o’clock when she called back at the house. This time there was a van in the driveway.

  Brian Poole proved to be an enigma. He was six foot tall, with brown curly hair and blue eyes. His face wore the colour of someone who spends a lot of time outside. His initial greeting as he swung open the door was pleasant, his smile warm.

  “Hi, I’m a friend of Anne Banks. I was wondering if . . .”

  His face became shuttered. “No. I’m on my way out. I can’t talk now.” He started to close the door.

  “Claire told me where you lived.”

  He paused. “You know Claire?”

  “Yes, I’ve just come from her. We spent the afternoon chatting. She said that you were close to Anne.”

  “Was – past tense.”

  “I was hoping that you would talk to me about her.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’m concerned about her and –”

  “I’m going to phone Claire and check up on you.” Brian closed the door.

  Isobel bit her lip. Claire wasn’t wrong – this man was intense and a bit strange. Why so paranoid? She realised that she was nervous. Quickly she took out her phone.

  Patricia answered almost immediately. “Hi, when are you getting here? I was going to get pizza –”

  “Patricia, listen. I’m about to talk to Brian Poole.”

  “The best man?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m a bit nervous. Here’s the address. If I don’t call in an hour, ring me.”

  “Jesus, what are you getting yourself into?”

  “Nothing, nothing. This is just to make me feel better.” Isobel heard footsteps in the hall.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Just ring me in an hour. I’ve got to go.”

  Brian swung the door open again. “I’m only talking to you because of Claire. Come on in.”

  The hallway had honey-coloured wooden floors. The wallpaper was of trees. It was like walking into a forest. The stairs rose ahead, beautifully varnished with wooden knots on every step. The sitting room was off to the left with the floor there just as beautiful.

  Isobel perched on one of the chairs. Brian filled the other one.

  “So what do you want? Claire said that you knew Anne and cared about her.”

  “Yes, I’m working for Anne’s divorce solicitor. I’m checking up on some background to make sure that everything is in order.”

  With a jerk of his head, Brian said, “This is the first sensible thing Anne has done, get a divorce.”

  “You don’t like Thomas?”

  “That obvious, eh?” Then silence.

  “Why not?”

  Brian looked at her. Isobel returned his gaze steadily, not challenging him but open, attentive.

  After a minute he said, “What do you want me to say? That he stole my girl, he did – that he turned her head, he did – that she is the love of my life and that I’ve never got over her, she is, I haven’t. So, I don’t see her. He asked me to be his best man, I refused. Then Anne asked, said his friends couldn’t get away from work. I agreed for Anne, more fool I. He rubbed my nose in it. Said he was the better man and warned me off. The first few times Anne came to visit her mum she rang and we had coffee together but I had to stop meeting her. It was just like salt in an open wound.”

  “Did you know that Anne had been drinking?”

  “I don’t know anything about what she’s been doing. I told you, I keep away.”

  “Did you know that Anne was getting a divorce?”

  “I saw Claire one day and she mentioned it. It’s none of my business anymore.”

  Isobel leant forward in her chair. “But this is the love of your life, and she may be free again.”

  He met her gaze. “She’ll never be free of that man.” He looked down at his hands.

  Isobel pursed her lips pensively and kept her gaze on Brian.

  Sensing her regard, he looked up. “I haven’t seen Anne in years. I know nothing about her life. I’m surprised she’s getting divorced but that’s mainly because I never thought Thomas would let her go but, if that is what they’re doing, fine. It’s none of my business. I’ll believe it when I see it. What do you want from me?”

  “Claire believes that Thomas is a bully, violent maybe. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No. It doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Anne’s an alcoholic and has been to rehab. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Again, I’m telling you that I know nothing about what’s going on. I haven’t seen Anne in years!” Brian’s voice was raised now.

  Isobel shifted in her chair. “I wonder if I could use your bathroom?”

  Brian frowned but stood up, opening the door into the hallway. “Up the stairs, to the left.”

  Isobel stood up. Entering the hall she gently closed the sitting-room door and made her way upstairs. Thankfully there were carpets upstairs to muffle any noise and she had flat shoes. She looked quickly into the bathroom: one toothbrush. Opening the bathroom cabinet she saw some shaving foam, a razor, aftershave and a bottle of perfume – Coco Mademoiselle – maybe Brian had a girlfriend. Moving back out of the bathroom, she closed the bathroom door noisily, then very gently opened one of the other two doors upstairs.

  The first door opened into a boxroom. There was a desk with a laptop, a filing cabinet, a calendar up on the wall and a cork board. Knowing she had very little time, Isobel scanned the room. The calendar was Brian’s life planner. There were the names of woods and gardens listed and hours of work. It looked as if it had been quiet in the first few months of the year, apart from a weekend in London. A weekend in Glasgow in March was also marked. There was another weekend in Glasgow in October with a question mark. Obviously that was his favourite place to go – maybe he had family there.

  The cork board had tickets for a local play pinned to it along with numbers for plumbers, carpenters and other handymen, some fliers for counselling and for Adapt house, a woman’s shelter. Brian was obviously quite community-minded.

  Moving back into the corridor she entered the second room, Brian’s bedroom. It was very tidy, the furniture was wooden and the colours masculine. The only relief from austerity was two silver photo frames. One showed a young couple dressed in formal attire. Isobel picked it up. It was Brian and Anne, very young. It must have been a school formal or something.

  The second picture looked familiar. It was of a blonde woman beautifully attired in a black dress. This was the same picture of Anne Banks that the lady in the clothing store had given her. But Thomas Banks was not in this picture. As the lady had said, it must have been on the internet – or perhaps in a local paper? Wherever Brian got it, he had photoshopped Thomas out of the picture. It seemed he was obsessed with Anne Banks.

  Realising she needed to hurry, Isobel quietly made her way out of the bedroom, opened the bathroom door quietly, flushed the loo, splashed her hands and then noisily closed the bathroom door and came down the stairs.

  “Are you OK?” Brian asked.

  Isobel smiled. “Yes. Thank you for talking to me. Goodbye.”

  She drove quickly away and pulled into a pub car park.

  Patricia answered on the first ring. “Thank God. I’ve been so worried. Are you OK?”

  “Sorry, Patricia. I didn’t mean to worry you. I suddenly got a bit nervous and I just wanted you to know where I was.”

  Peter’s voice came over the speaker. “Isobel, don’t do anything like that again. We were worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was probably overreacting.”

  Peter said, “You’re all right, that’s the main thing. How did it go?”

  “Fine, fine. Brian Poole, the best man, is an old boyfriend of Anne’s and is still carrying a torch for her. He has two photos of her in his bedroom.�
��

  “Isobel, what were you doing in his bedroom?” Patricia said.

  “Oh, I pretended to go to the bathroom. He didn’t know. Patricia, I’m going to send you the photo. Will you check Anne and Thomas’s online accounts and see if you can find that picture? Also see if it’s in a local paper, or webpage for the event. It’s the same photo as I was shown before, but Brian Poole has photoshopped Thomas out of the picture.”

  “That seems a bit extreme,” Peter said.

  “Exactly,” said Isobel. “He says he hasn’t seen Anne and knows nothing about her present life, yet he has a recent photo of her.”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  “How are things with you – anything new?”

  “I’m going to the school to talk to the principal at half past two tomorrow.”

  Isobel laughed. “How’s the toothache?”

  “It was terrible today so no work tomorrow while I get it sorted. Oh, and I made an appointment with a Mr Byrne for you tomorrow at the rehab centre for ten o’clock – you said that you wanted to see it.”

  “Great, Patricia. I should probably stay here tonight then, find a room in a pub or a hotel and go on to the rehab in the morning.”

  “I thought you might say that so I found out that there’s a room available at a hotel in town. The car is fine for tomorrow too.”

  “You’re way ahead of me.”

  “I told you she was a star,” Peter said.

  Isobel raised her eyebrows and was glad they couldn’t see her. “I’ll phone you tomorrow after the centre. I should have time to get back for our school trip.”

  “Yeah, I would prefer if you were with me.”

  “I’ll do my best. Bye.”

  Isobel was delighted to get to the hotel. She ran a bath, got in and tried to relax. All of the conversations had taxed her and continued to run through her head, even after she got to bed. There were two different versions of the Banks marriage: one where Anne was the problem, drinking, falling, banging into things and Thomas was the good guy trying to maintain things – and the other where he was the bad guy, controlling, abusing, bullying and Anne was his victim. Different stories, different viewpoints of what was going on. What was the truth? Did Anne Banks need help? Or was the divorce the best thing to happen for this couple and they should let them get on with it?

 

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