"Sorry, this is all I have at the moment until I can get to the shops," Alice said. Tamara smiled politely. Alice opened the end of the pack and put it in the centre of the table. "These are Saffy's favourites."
"Solid choice."
Alice smiled and sat down in the armchair off to her right. "She hardly eats any others… and don't ever think you can swap out branded for supermarket own because she can tell. You'll never hear the end of it."
Tamara laughed. "I have several nieces and their parents can feel your pain, I'm sure."
Alice lifted her feet up onto the chair, drawing her knees to her chest and sitting side-on among the cushions.
"You've never fancied having children yourself?"
Tamara bit her lower lip, looking away.
"I'm so sorry," Alice said. "I didn't mean to—"
Tamara held up one hand as she reached for her mug with the other. "No need to apologise. It's a question I hear a lot from people. Friends and family. I'm used to it."
Alice looked nervous, perhaps fearing she'd touched on something private. Tamara sought to reassure her.
"It's not that I don't like children as such, only that I can't see myself as a mother." If the answer was what Alice expected to hear, she didn't react. She just nodded.
"My daughter is my whole world," Alice said, her expression taking on a faraway look. "I'd be lost without her."
Therein lay Tamara's problem, or one of them at least. She feared that level of responsibility. If she were to become a parent, she knew her life would have to radically change. That was probably the same for all parents to be fair. Change. That was something Tamara relished, much like upping sticks and moving across the country as she had done with her fiancé. But he was in her past. Would she be able to make such drastic moves with a child in tow? Or two? Surely not. And that wouldn't be fair on anyone, especially a child. The familiar nagging doubt crept to mind. These were just excuses. But she was afraid.
"Have you seen much of Tom?" Alice asked, trying her best to be nonchalant, but Tamara was wise to it.
"Not today, no. But he's around."
"Is he okay?"
Tamara sipped at her black coffee, thankful she'd asked for decaf because this was made stronger than she would've cared for.
"Yes, I'm sure he's fine."
Alice pursed her lips, frowning slightly. She spoke over the rim of her own cup, avoiding meeting Tamara's eye as she spoke. "Did you know he… isn't living here at the moment?"
Tamara nodded. Alice's frown deepened. She appeared hurt. It couldn’t be easy. She chose not to mention it at all unless Alice continued on the subject. She didn't. Her eyes drifted to the floor alongside the television. A copy of the local paper was lying there. It was folded over and at an angle to her but Tamara could read much of the headline and the accompanying press photograph was of Tom standing outside this very house as he was about to get into his car. She indicated the paper.
"How are you handling all of that?"
Alice glanced at the paper and back to her. "The press? It was a nightmare until I stopped reading the papers, watching the news or… speaking to people."
She was angry. Keeping it in check, certainly, but angry, nonetheless.
"And your daughter?"
The anger left her, replaced by a visible cloak of sadness. "I took her into school yesterday. The first time since her father died. I wish I hadn't."
Tamara cocked her head. "Why?"
"Kids are cruel," Alice said quietly. "It's one thing to cope with losing her father, I suppose, but when people are pointing the finger at your mother, it must be unimaginable. I thought it would be good for her, be a distraction. I had no idea people would be like they were, children and parents alike. Even the teachers were different with me. I guess I was naïve."
"Were they standoffish?"
Alice shook her head. "Quite the opposite. The staff were so polite and friendly, over and above what they would be like normally. But I could see it in their faces. Much the same as how I felt the eyes of the other parents on me as I walked through the playground. I made it to the gates and then I must admit I ran to my car as fast as I dared."
Tamara felt a touch of guilt. Although Alice hadn't been arrested or referred to in any of the briefings she had given to the press as a suspect, word had spread amongst the small coastal community. It often did.
"And Saffy herself, how did she cope?"
"Like I said, kids are cruel," Alice said, lifting her mug to her lips. "She hasn't been sleeping well at all because of all this. I put her to bed a couple of hours early today. She was dead on her feet."
"I am sorry. That must be hard for you both."
"Oh, believe me it is. I've kept her home since and will do so until…" She looked directly at Tamara. "Until all this is over. Stuff the fines. Half the town think I killed my ex, so a few letters from the school aren't going to trigger me."
It was hard to know what to say. Tamara felt responsible, in part at least, but the investigation had to go where the evidence took them. The door from the hallway opened part way. Both of them looked, but no one appeared. Alice put her mug down.
"What is it, Baby?"
A little face peered around the door, scanning the room, all brown curls and rosy cheeks.
"I couldn't sleep," Saffy said. Alice held out her arms and the little girl entered, clambering up onto Alice's lap and smiling as she felt the comfort of her mother's arms wrap around her. Saffy eyed Tamara warily. For her part, Tamara smiled warmly.
"Hi, Saffy."
The girl's eyes remained fixed on her. Her expression blank and impassive. A blur of white, black and brown passed through her eye line as the terrier Tom kept from their most recent case navigated the tangle of legs around the coffee table, coming to stand before Tamara. He stared up at her expectantly. She smiled at the dog, which was all the encouragement he needed. He leapt up onto the sofa alongside her and, when no objections were made, he climbed onto her lap and curled up, resting his head on her chest, nose between her breasts, staring up at her, ears pricked and eyes wide. She stroked the top of his head. She thought he liked it. The dog didn't move, so that was positive. She smiled at him too.
"I heard voices," Saffy said in a monotone voice. "I thought it might be Tom."
Alice leaned down and swept the hair from in front of Saffy's eyes, kissing her forehead affectionately. "No. I'm sorry."
"Will he be home soon?"
Tamara watched Alice's chest inflate as she took in a deep breath, hugging the girl tighter, but she didn't answer the question.
"Come on. Let's get you back upstairs to bed."
Alice shuffled to the end of her seat, not wishing to put her daughter down. She stood up, with difficulty, which was unsurprising as an eight-year-old child, however slight, was heavy. Promising to be back once Saffy had settled, the two of them left the room.
Tamara sipped at her coffee, which was awkward with the dog attached to her but he seemed disinclined to move. Hearing movement upstairs, she glanced up at the ceiling, wondering how long Alice would be. Not that it mattered. She was really only here to get an insight of what she was like away from the pressures of an interview room. The other members of the team arguably knew her better, through Tom obviously, but as for herself, she'd actively avoided socialising with partners. It wasn't that she didn't like spending time with people, she did, but it was an environment she didn't feel comfortable in. When she was with Richard, she found it a breeze to do so. The two of them would never be joined at the hip, as most couples were at social events. It was a regular occurrence for them to arrive at a function and not see each other again until they went home. Maybe that was what made them different to other couples. Maybe that's another reason for their split being a good thing.
But now she would socialise alone. Not easy when everyone else has a partner. And they were lovely, as far as she could tell. Becca was good for Eric. It seemed a good fit for him to be dating a primary-
school teacher. She was steady, reliable, and kind. Much as he was. Cassie could usually be relied upon to arrive unattached, easing Tamara's sense of awkwardness, but even she appeared to be embarking on a new relationship, although she was being very coy with the details. Alice was good for Tom too, that was obvious. She was strong, confident and yet vulnerable at the same time. Tom needed to care for someone, to be a saviour of sorts. Such levels of empathy were what drove him, which was one reason why he made a decent detective. Alice and Tom Janssen. They were a good fit. It annoyed her, which was a ludicrous notion but one she couldn't avoid.
Were her emotions colouring her judgement? Is this why she was considering Alice both as a suspect and at the same time listening to her instincts that told her there was no way this woman could commit such a violent act? After all, she spent her life caring for others in her role at the hospital, and her spare time bringing up a daughter who seemed as secure and grounded a child as there could be. That was only achieved through parenting with love and kindness. But then Harold Shipman dedicated decades to healing the sick whilst killing others in the most cold and calculating manner. Alice wasn't like that. But this didn't mean she couldn't have killed Adrian Gage. And she was lying.
A car passed by outside. The dog lifted his head from her chest, looking towards the window. He climbed off her unceremoniously and onto the sofa and then the floor. He trotted into the kitchen, stopping at the French doors to the garden. She looked at him and he barked, turning to the door and shuffling his paws excitedly. Tamara got up and went over to the door. Fortunately the key was in the lock. The dog shifted his weight from one side to the other, scratching at the frame as she unlocked the door. She cracked it and he ran out into the garden.
Rather than sit down again, Tamara waited for the animal to do his thing and come back. Her eyes scanned the kitchen. It was far cleaner and tidier than her own. She told herself that was because she cooked from scratch every night and when it came to vegan food, you had to be creative with a lot of ingredients to make the most of it, otherwise the dish could be bland and flavourless. That created a mess. At least it did when she made it.
There were a few bits of paper on the end of the breakfast bar. Opened letters. One was a utility statement alongside a school lunch menu by the look of it. Her eyes lingered on a blank envelope; she swore she recognised the handwriting. Sounds of the night carried through the open door and she quickly closed it, listening for movement upstairs. All was quiet. Picking up the envelope, she saw it was already open and addressed to Alice but only by her first name. This must have been hand delivered, left somewhere for her to find or given directly to her. She recognised the style of the letters A and the I in the name from the notes Gage made on the maps in his work backpack. Teasing open the envelope, she saw there was only one slip of folded paper inside. She removed it carefully, her eyes flitting towards the hall, half expecting Alice to appear and catch her at any moment.
It was the briefest of notes. It said I am so much better at writing than talking… I will make it up to you and Sapphire. I only need one more chance. The future is ours. It was signed All my love, as always, A x.
"He left that on my car last week," Alice said.
Tamara was startled. The shock passed quickly, shifting to embarrassment and shame having been rumbled snooping.
Alice was staring at her, arms crossed, a stance that only increased Tamara's growing discomfort.
Chapter Twenty-Six
"I'm so sorry… I was just letting the dog out and," Tamara said, looking around, words escaping her. "I wasn't deliberately—"
"I found it when I finished my shift rotation of nights last week," Alice said, ignoring her bumbling justification. Tamara put the note down on the breakfast bar alongside the envelope. "Kinda creepy to find it tucked under the windscreen, to be honest." She folded her arms across her chest. "I've had my fair share of dysfunctional relationships in the past, obsessed exes and all of that, but at least I knew not to fear Ade. He could be an idiot." She smiled ruefully. "Believe me, a complete and total prat, but not a stalker."
"Why did he leave it?"
"Because I had told him that we weren't getting back together. I said it repeatedly."
"But he kept trying?" Alice nodded. "And you kept seeing him." It wasn't a question. They had the data from the mobile phone company and had put it to Alice in interview. She'd refused point blank to discuss it at the time.
"Ade was persistent," Alice said, running a hand through her hair. She looked exhausted. "He was used to getting his own way and seldom took no for an answer."
"Then why keep seeing him, going to his house?"
Alice exhaled, averting her eyes from Tamara's gaze and shaking her head. She leaned back against the door frame, casting her eyes to the ceiling. "Because… because I'm human. All I ever wanted was a normal life – whatever that is?"
Internally, Tamara thought, don't we all.
"I thought that's what I was getting with Ade," Alice said. "I thought we grew up, forged a career of some description, met someone and had kids. That was how life is supposed to go, right? I didn't get married thinking I'd ever be doing it again. When we had Sapphire, I thought that was it. Then, which came as a shock to me, a divorce loomed large on the horizon and in what felt like the blink of an eye I was a single parent. I'm struggling to work out exactly what I was supposed to be doing with zero clue as to where I would be in five or ten weeks, let alone years."
Tamara observed her calmly. She was speaking from the heart. "And now?"
Alice gathered herself, thinking about her response carefully. "Recently, Ade was all those things that drew me to him in the first place, caring, charming… focussed on me. On us. Despite everything we've been through, all the pain and the fighting… there was still that link between us. Do you know what it's like to give yourself over to another person with no expectation of taking it back?"
Tamara shook her head. "I was supposed to, but I realised it wasn't right for me. I caused a lot of pain in doing so as well."
"But if you were sure… and that person wanted you back, would you stay or would you go?"
Alice's eyes were gleaming now, watching Tamara closely. Did she expect reassurance, absolution?
"That would depend on the circumstances," she said finally.
Alice cocked her head. "Such as?"
"Well, if I'm putting myself in your place – there's Tom for starters."
Alice looked away, nodding.
"There's no one else here, Alice. I haven't read you your rights and this isn't being recorded. Were you and Adrian—"
"No," Alice said, meeting her eye. "As much as I was drawn to him, no. We weren't. I know what's right for me… and for Sapphire. Ade and I, as much as we were great together for a time, that time was in the past. I have a future… I had a future with someone else."
A scratching at the door made Tamara turn and let the dog back in. He bounded into the kitchen, giving his body a good shake before trotting past them and out into the hall.
"You're welcome," Tamara said to the dog.
"He'll be heading to Saffy's room, I expect," Alice said. She sounded despondent.
"Tom will come around," Tamara said. "Once all this is over, he'll come around."
Alice laughed, but it was a sound devoid of genuine humour. "My ex has been murdered and my current partner thinks I was either sleeping with him or that I murdered him. Or perhaps both. I might be waiting a while." She pushed off from the door frame, coming further into the kitchen and rubbing at her eyes with her hand. "I've made such a mess of things."
Tamara thought that was true, she'd handled the situation badly. But it was salvageable. Alice put her hands on the breakfast bar, steadying herself.
"Tom said he had to leave because his presence might distort the perception of the case. Is that true?"
Tamara nodded. "Yes. I think so. It was a wise move… from a professional point of view, but perhaps not from a personal on
e. I think I should fess up. I'm afraid it was me who put the idea in his head." She braced herself for a barrage of abuse, but it didn't come.
"Thank you for your honesty," Alice said, smiling weakly. She then went to speak but checked herself.
"No, please, go on."
"Tom speaks highly of you, you know. In fact, he talks about you all of the time. At least, that's how it feels sometimes."
Tamara looked down, fearing her face was flushing and not wanting Alice to see for fear she would see straight through her expression to the feelings she was still yet to admit to herself.
"I must admit to being quite jealous."
Tamara scoffed, trying to take a firm grip on the conversation. "Of me? Don't be."
"He cares for you. Tom, I mean. A lot," Alice said. Still, Tamara made sure not to meet her eye. "He cares about all of you, deeply."
"Tom cares about everyone," she said, summoning the courage to front this one out. "That's why everyone loves him so much."
"Do you?"
Alice's gaze was piercing. Tamara felt her chest constrict, completely thrown by the question. The doorbell sounded. Tamara was relieved.
"I'd better make a move," Tamara said.
Alice looked over her shoulder towards the front door. "I hope that's not the press again."
Tamara hastily excused herself, moving into the living room, and set about gathering her things. Alice came with her and the two of them walked to the front door together, reaching it just as the bell sounded again. Alice opened it to find Tom standing on the step. His eyes flicked between them, clearly surprised. He focussed on Tamara.
"What are you doing here?"
Tamara and Alice exchanged a glance. "Girl stuff," she said.
The Dead Call: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 6) Page 20