About Last Night

by Adele Parks

  Suddenly, it struck her. Through the fuzziness that sat like wire wool in her head – a product of lack of sleep and food – and through her sturdy ideals and her ancient loyalties. What was she thinking of? Her husband might die. The thought had crept up on her over the past few days and she’d always tried to slap it away, she’d been absolutely unprepared to think about anything so catastrophic. So final. But now she really couldn’t push the thought out of her head. It spread like ink, staining every thought. The boys would have no father! And here she was, in a police interview room, which was just a sneeze away from a courtroom and becoming someone’s little bitch while she rested at Her Majesty’s pleasure!

  Of course she must tell the police the truth and she must get Subhash to tell the truth too and she was very, very sorry that his wife might be embroiled in this whole messy business but better that than her children being brought up by strangers! She’d tried to protect Subhash because she cared for him, deeply. But he was not hers to worry about. Not really, not in the final analysis. He was a grown man. A grown man who had tried to enter into an illicit relationship with a grown woman. He was better able to cope with the consequences of her telling the truth than her little boys were able to cope with the consequences if she didn’t tell the truth.

  Hell, she had to get out of here. Now, as quickly as possible. Pip had been right to be honest with the police. They were the police, for Christ’s sake. As messy and ugly as the truth was, it had to be heard. In fact, it usually was – even when people tried to bury it. Didn’t Julian’s stupid phone prove that much? The thing she had with Subhash, it was just an affair. Not even an affair! Would it be so dreadful facing a bit of gossip? No, after everything she’d been through, she thought the only dreadful thing would be not getting through to the other end.

  Not getting out.

  49

  ‘Oh no. No.’ Pip’s voice was squeaky and her breath seemed squeezed. ‘Imagine if, imagine if he dies and she’s not even with him because she’s being questioned. She’d never forgive me.’ Tears sprang into Pip’s eyes.

  Subhash wasn’t often moved to anger, let alone rage. It simply wasn’t part of his personality. He was firm, yes (bordering on the obstinate), strong and determined but he rarely found the need, either in his private or business life, to raise his voice. He found lowering it and forcing people to lean closer to him in order to glean his pearls of wisdom was so much more effective (and admittedly so much more sinister, if sinister was required). Yet this Pip, this woman whom Steph had always described as her best and most wonderful friend, Pip made him want to blow a fuse. He wanted to rip off her juvenile, pretty head or at least shake her vigorously on the off chance the messages in her brain might jiggle around a bit and reconnect in a more helpful way. She was meddlesome and ineffectual and self-indulgent! He could feel his blood pressure rising. Then a thought struck him – Steph wouldn’t like him like this. He’d often had this thought over the last ten months, if ever he was being impatient or dismissive or even just lacklustre. He’d consider that Steph wouldn’t appreciate him being less than his best. Steph helped him be a better man. He had to get a grip.

  ‘One thing at a time. We need to go to the police station immediately and tell them that Steph was with me on Tuesday night. At least we can get Steph out of there.’

  ‘I told you, she doesn’t want you involved,’ said Pip. She wondered what the police station was like. Would it be cold? It was bound to be intimidating. Poor Steph.

  ‘I understand but I don’t think I can do what she wants. I am involved.’ Subhash considered for a moment. ‘We need someone else to confirm the story that she was with me.’

  ‘Brilliant. Yes. Where did you go?’ demanded Pip.

  ‘Actually, we went to Highview.’

  ‘Highview! No.’

  ‘Yes, you know that lovely hotel—’

  ‘That’s where he was found!’ Pip had turned white. Chloe came across to the table to find out why this man was upsetting her mother.

  ‘Why are you shouting, Mummy?’ asked Chloe, throwing a suspicious look at Subhash. Pip stared at her daughter and was at a loss as to how she should answer. Had she been shouting?

  ‘Darling, don’t worry. Mummy is just rehearsing a play.’ Chloe looked unconvinced. ‘Yes, a play. We’re in a theatre, aren’t we? This man is auditioning me.’ Pip had no idea why this idiotic explanation had sprung to her mind but was it any more stupid than the idea that the Easter bunny existed? No, it was not and in fact it might be a damn sight more useful as Chloe was defiantly loitering at the table and refusing to be ushered away even though Pip tried to bribe her with the offer of lemonade. Pip turned her attention back to Subhash and she started to exchange information with him, while pretending that she was following a script. The irony wasn’t lost on Pip, she longed for there to be a script for her to follow. The truth was she felt as though she was freefalling through a Greek tragedy.

  ‘That’s where the incident happened. That’s where he was found!’

  ‘You didn’t mention that.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was important.’ Pip could only imagine what sort of revenge Stephanie had been trying to extract when she’d taken her would-be lover to the exact same hotel where she knew her husband was cocooned with his mistress. But it hadn’t worked for her. She couldn’t do the eye-for-an-eye thing and now the mess was more profound. Steph had been at the scene of the crime. Pip searched her heart and considered what this new information meant to her. Did she again believe the possibility that Steph was guilty of this crime? No, no, she did not. Pip had thought about Steph all day. She’d remembered her hundreds of kindnesses, her strict moral codes and her legendary calm in a crisis. She believed in Steph’s innocence. She turned to Subhash.

  ‘Did you do it?’

  Subhash looked surprised and then furious. ‘For goodness’ sake, woman, will you stop flinging around ridiculous allegations and concentrate on how we can help Stephanie!’

  ‘But did you? You haven’t answered the question.’

  ‘No, I did not do it.’ Subhash bit down on his lip in a huge effort to remain composed. ‘But it looks bad,’ he admitted.

  ‘Were you seen?’ Pip demanded. Only a minute ago their being seen promised to solve everything, now Pip feared it was going to make a bigger mess.

  ‘Of course we were seen, we booked a room.’

  ‘Shit. Shit.’ Pip turned to Chloe. ‘Sorry, darling.’

  ‘That’s OK. You’re only acting.’

  ‘We should still go to the police,’ said Subhash. ‘I’ll explain she was with me that night. We didn’t leave the room.’

  Pip threw him a despairing and dismayed glance. ‘The police might not believe you.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they believe me?’

  ‘Because you are so clearly in love with her,’ said Pip with a weary sigh. It was obvious to Pip that Subhash would say anything to help or protect Steph, he would lie to the police. The thought made her feel even more inadequate. OK, he didn’t actually have to lie but Pip was pretty sure he would have done so if he’d been asked to. If she could see that much, the police might think so too. Would they know he was telling the truth when the truth was so unexpected – they were there and they had motive but they had nothing to do with the crime? Plus, if Steph was at this moment being questioned and she was continuing to say she was with Pip, his coming forward would have no positive effect on the situation at all. In fact, it would only confuse things further. The police would, at best, start to think that Steph was a bit unhinged and at worst that she’d tried to murder her husband with the help of her lover. Perhaps Subhash was also seeing the difficulties of his proposed knight in shining armour thing, he said nothing for a while. Pip could almost hear his mind whirl.

  ‘Has anyone talked to the mistress?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Julian’s mistress. Well, isn’t she a likely culprit?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ gasped Pip. />
  ‘No disrespect intended, Philippa Foxton, but I don’t think you are cut out for the job of detective,’ snapped Subhash.

  ‘Didn’t you get the part, Mummy?’ piped up Chloe. Normally, she found following the conversations of grown-ups was pretty simple, if a little bit dull. They usually talked about the same things, which were how expensive everything was and what they should do or had done at the weekend. But Chloe was finding this conversation very tricky to follow. She hadn’t got a clue. She hadn’t even known that her mummy wanted to be an actress. Had she got the part? Pip didn’t answer her daughter.

  ‘This other woman, what’s her name?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘When did he see her last?’

  ‘I’m not sure. They were planning on meeting that night but I’d assumed she’d stood him up or he got knocked down before he made it into the hotel.’ Subhash stared at Pip with incomprehension. How could she not have seen this? Were her eyes so misty with jealousy of Stephanie or her mind so fogged with a need for drama and complexities that she’d missed this obvious avenue and instead pursued the ludicrous thought that Steph might be to blame for this terrible incident?

  ‘I’m going to go to the police station, right now, to tell them everything I know. You should too.’ Subhash pushed his chair back and stood up in such a hurry that the chair would have toppled over if Chloe hadn’t rushed to steady it.

  ‘Yes, OK,’ mumbled Pip. But even as she agreed she knew she had to do one more thing first. She had to find this mistress. She would go to Julian’s office and talk to his colleagues and friends. The chances were this woman worked with Julian, when else would he have had time to meet anyone? Someone would know something. These things were never as secret as the adulterers hoped they were. She was sure she could persuade somebody to give her a name. She used to have a way of eliciting information out of men, they always wanted to please her, it just required a bit of flirtation. She was rusty but she was certain she could dredge up the necessary skill so that they’d be falling over themselves to blab on Julian. And if that didn’t work, then she would go to the hospital. She’d check with the nurses to see if anyone else had called to ask about Julian’s health or had visited unbeknown to her or Steph. If this woman had a heart or even a conscience she’d have done that much, surely. She would find this woman. She would clear Steph’s name.

  Pip held out her hand for Subhash to shake but he was already halfway out of the door.

  ‘Mummy?’ Chloe was now aimlessly flicking through leaflets advertising up-and-coming shows. To all intents and purposes it looked as though she was totally uninterested in the conversation she’d just been privy to.

  ‘Yes, darling?’

  ‘Isn’t it funny that your play has a character called Julian? Like Uncle Julian, hey?’

  ‘Erm, yes. But it’s not a very unusual name,’ said Pip. She started to gather up her bag. She found Chloe’s DS under a chair and put it in her pocket.

  ‘Isn’t it? I thought it was. There isn’t a Julian in my class at school.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ Pip took hold of her daughter’s hand and made to leave the theatre.

  ‘No, there isn’t. How many other Julians do you know?’

  ‘Well, there’s Julian Lennon and—’ Pip’s mind went blank. She really didn’t have time for this now. Were there any other famous Julians? She wished she’d never come up with this stupid story about auditions. That was the problem with telling a lie, it inevitably led to other lies.

  ‘Who’s Julian Lennon?’

  ‘He’s a musician. John Lennon’s son.’

  ‘Who’s John Lennon?’

  Oh God, Pip could do with a babysitter. She needed to think. They stood in the street and Pip looked left and right. She could carry on up this road and walk ten minutes to the police station. To her left was the train station where she could catch a train to London but there was no point in going to Julian’s office now, by the time she got there everyone would be leaving for the evening, no one would want to chat. To her right was the bus stop, she could catch a bus to the hospital. It was a longer shot that she’d find answers at the hospital but at least she’d feel as though she was doing something. She couldn’t just go home. She needed to try to help Steph. To make it up to Steph. She marched Chloe to the bus stop.

  ‘Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, darling?’ Pip swallowed her exasperated sigh.

  ‘Does your play have a happy ending?’

  ‘I don’t know, darling. I really don’t know.’

  50

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Blake. But we aren’t ready to let you leave the station yet,’ said the PC bluntly.

  ‘Why? Why not? You have my statement.’ Steph glanced at her lawyer. He had grey hair and glasses, he looked more like a bus conductor than a lawyer. Steph had imagined someone a little more dynamic. A little more powerful. Oh God, she had a lawyer. What a bloody mess. How had she let it get this far?

  This morning she’d banged on the door and asked to speak to Sergeant Mary Jean Brown, Steph had explained that she’d like to change her statement. She’d hoped to revive that deep level of humanity in the sergeant that she’d sensed at the outset but she’d been advised that she ought to wait until her lawyer arrived.

  ‘I don’t need a lawyer,’ she insisted.

  ‘You want to change your statement.’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘I strongly recommend a lawyer. We can arrange one for you or you can instruct someone independently.’

  ‘Well, how long will that take?’

  ‘Someone will be with you in a couple of hours.’

  During her interview, they pointed out that Mrs Evans had said in her statement that Steph had arrived home near midnight and that she was, in fact, tipsy that night.

  ‘Yes, yes, it’s all true,’ said Steph impatiently. All she wanted was to get back to the hospital. Why was this taking so long? Her lawyer glanced at her and there was something in his expression that seemed to want to hush her. ‘What?’ Steph demanded. ‘There’s no problem. I’m just telling the truth. I should have done so in the first place. I didn’t hurt Julian. I would never hurt him. I was with Mr Subhash Sharma.’

  ‘Your lover?’ asked the PC.

  ‘My friend,’ clarified Steph.

  ‘So, you’re not in a sexual relationship with Mr Sharma?’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Steph thought the room was uncomfortably hot.

  ‘Yet the hotel staff testified that you took a room together that night at Highview, where your husband was injured.’

  ‘Yes.’ Steph knew it looked bad.

  ‘Your housekeeper says that you were in an unusually violent mood that day.’

  ‘She said what?’

  ‘That you threw your chopping board and knife at the kitchen wall.’

  ‘I don’t think I threw the knife.’ Steph tried to remember. She didn’t want to be dishonest but Mrs Evans was being misleading.

  ‘Your housekeeper said you went out to buy paint to cover up the damage.’

  ‘I didn’t buy any paint. The woman likes a drama. She cheats her insurance claims, do you know that? She’s an unreliable witness.’ Steph knew she sounded shrewish and panicked. It was because she was shrewish and panicked.

  ‘But you were angry, Mrs Blake,’ added Sergeant Brown in a sympathetic tone.

  ‘Well, yes, naturally,’ admitted Steph. There was no point in denying that. Any fool would know as much.

  ‘And hurt and despairing.’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘Vengeful?’ probed the PC keenly.

  ‘I was upset.’ Steph glanced at the tape recorder.

  ‘Did you smash or break anything else other than the chopping board?’

  ‘No. I— The chopping board didn’t break.’

  ‘Did you want to?’

  The violence had been such a release. To see the wall stained and chipped had felt wonderful, exhilarating. Yes, she’d wanted to smash somet
hing else.

  ‘Well, maybe,’ she admitted.

  ‘The glassware perhaps? Or the crockery?’

  Steph thought back. ‘Both. I wanted to smash glasses and plates and cups and saucers. I wanted to fling, crush, crash and demolish until everything we owned was destroyed. I wanted to plunge the chopping knife into the cushions and gouge out their innards. I wanted to gash and shred our bed sheets.’ When she finished she realised she must have been yelling when she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Her lawyer had a grey face now, as well as grey hair.

  51

  Kirsten had enjoyed her train ride to Riverford with Jake. They hadn’t talked about Jules. They talked about other people that they worked with and people they’d been to uni with. Not in a bitchy way. Jake didn’t really go in for that, he was keener to tell her how well everyone was doing and that, when he met up with any of his old gang, they always asked after her.

  ‘I can imagine,’ she’d muttered.

  They’d talked about V Festival and Party in the Park. It was a laugh being with someone who actually knew the bands you were on about and even had their own thoughts on them. Mark Deally reckoned he was hip because he had Cheryl Cole on his iPod. How sad was that? Jake had talked about his family. He was clearly from one of those families that were into each other, they probably played charades at Christmas and had roast dinners every Sunday. She doubted he’d ever had to put a lock on his bedroom door to keep out snooping parents when he’d lived at home. Then again he probably didn’t have a pot habit that he was trying to hide. To her astonishment, he claimed he’d never nicked anything off his younger brothers.

  ‘What? Not even a shirt?’ Kirsten asked in disbelief.

  ‘I’d just ask to borrow it if I needed something of theirs,’ said Jake with a slightly confused grin.