Of course her illness makes her irrational and it could make her seem alarming; he of all people knows that. But she’s unwell; she’s not a bad person. His heart is telling him there has to be some other explanation. She wouldn’t harm Gemma.
He’s confused – much more inclined to put this whole dreadful business down to Alex. I mean – just look at his outburst at the hospital. And the car-park fiasco. It’s hard to believe they didn’t see through him earlier; that they actually welcomed him into their home. Their lives. How the hell could they have missed the signs?
Ed took Alex fishing once on a weekend trip away while Gemma and Rachel went shopping. It was a bank-holiday weekend and they rented a cottage near a river. It had spectacular views and Rachel was mesmerised. She would stand for ages at the folding doors from the kitchen extension. Maybe we should think about moving, Ed. Somewhere with a view. What do you think?
It was back in the days when Gemma was insisting that she and Alex were ‘serious’. Personally, Ed took this with a pinch of salt. They were kids still. But he wanted his daughter to learn her own lessons and wanted above all for her to see that he trusted her. And so yes – he played along and took his daughter’s boyfriend fishing. It was a little awkward at first but Alex wasn’t bad company. They talked music mostly and discovered an unexpected mutual appreciation of jazz; in the end, Ed rather enjoyed the couple of hours at the river together. They didn’t catch anything, but it was fun to share the stories of the bites when the girls returned laden with shopping bags. And he loved Gemma’s smile when she caught his eye and he gave her the thumbs up.
Later in bed Rachel had said she was grateful too as she’d had a lovely time with Gemma, just the two of them. But then she paused and added in quite a serious tone that she found Alex a little bit too good to be true.
What do you mean?
Well – bringing me presents each time. Don’t you find that a little bit much? A bit creepy?
He had to think about it for a bit. Most people would be grateful for a young man who bothered with gifts but she was right, actually. It was a little bit weird. As if Alex wanted to ingratiate himself with Gemma with a show of consideration towards Rachel. It would have been fine and understandable if he and Rachel were close but they weren’t at all. When left alone together, Alex struggled to find anything to say to Rachel. He would immediately get his phone out, she said. Borderline rude. It was almost as if he only wanted to make an effort if Gemma was watching. Ed hadn’t liked this about Alex, but at the time he put it down to his youth.
The truth was, Ed had always seen Alex as wanting to impress Gemma and that hadn’t seemed such a bad thing in a boyfriend. He had honestly not seen any sign in Alex that he was capable of turning on Gemma. Was that a lack of judgement on his part as a father or was Alex just a very good actor?
Whatever the case, Ed now sees Alex as someone deeply troubled – maybe even with some kind of personality disorder. His thinking is that anyone capable of staging that horrific nonsense at the car park is capable of the shooting at the cathedral.
He shudders at the thought of it. Him alongside Alex fishing. Alex in the cathedral with a gun?
What Ed still can’t contemplate is that Laura would be involved. He’s desperately trying to work out why the hell Laura might travel to the UK. There’s been no contact in years so it really shook him when DI Sanders said she was no longer at the clinic in Canada. But the greater leap is Rachel’s new suspicion that she’s here in the UK and has been following her. That could be mistaken identity, of course. Paranoia even? But what the hell is the postcard all about? He presses his hand against his pocket – the rectangle of cardboard inside a plastic bag in case the police need to check for prints. He’s planning to hand it over to DI Sanders, but all of a sudden a crazy thought circles the room and lands in his brain.
Is there a chance the postcard could actually be down to Rachel? Getting back at him? For the secret over Laura . . . He glances across at his wife. This woman has not a bad bone in her body. No, no, no. He’s going mad. She wouldn’t do something like that – not Rachel. Not in the middle of all of this. Would she?
‘What?’ Rachel has looked up from her book.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You made a really weird noise. Like exasperation. Or shock or something.’
Ed wasn’t aware that he’d made any noise at all. ‘Sorry. Mind in overdrive here.’
‘Me too.’
‘I know I’ve said it already but if I could go back in time—’
She puts her hand up to stop him. ‘Please. Don’t, Ed. Just don’t.’
He stretches his arm to put his book down on the end of Gemma’s bed, conscious only as he stares at it afterwards that it’s in the very place her foot should be. Rachel follows his gaze and he can tell by her expression that she’s acknowledging the very same thought.
They don’t say anything. Neither of them are ready to talk about how they’re going to tell their daughter. The prospect of rehab. What it will be like – all the physio and the reality of some kind of prosthetic limb. They don’t talk about it because even that horror – the adjustment that their beautiful daughter has to face – is an assumption too far.
Gemma has to make it out of the coma first.
He checks his watch again. DI Sanders is running late.
‘It could have been someone else with the same colour hair.’ This again is thinking out loud.
Rachel looks up at him. ‘And why would she say such an odd thing? He’s not who he says he is. Something which completely fits with Laura. The whole, bizarre story that is . . .’ She pauses. ‘Laura.’
He’s trying to think how to counter this when there’s a tap at the door.
Ed stands as he announces to DI Sanders that she can come in.
‘Do you want to find a quiet room? An office?’ Mel Sanders is taking in Gemma’s headphones, looking a little puzzled.
‘I would prefer that,’ Rachel says. ‘But I’ll ask if a nurse can sit with her. They’ll probably let us use the corner office if it’s free.’
Rachel leaves the cubicle to liaise with one of the nurses and DI Sanders lets out a long sigh.
‘I can’t believe the media were allowed to cover it the way they did,’ Ed says. ‘Alex’s show.’
‘Some outlets held back. Our comms unit put out direct appeals to news desks. Some edited a lot out.’
‘But not all.’
‘No. We did our best but I’m sorry you had to go through that.’ DI Sanders again looks at Gemma. ‘I understand that your wife wants to speak to me on her own first. We’ll send the nurse in when we’re ready for you.’
Ed is shaken by this. Rachel didn’t spell that out. He knows she’s really upset over the shock of finding out about Laura and he expected her to be. Who wouldn’t be? But he hates the thought of not knowing what she’s going to say to DI Sanders.
The police officer pauses, but he has no idea what to say by way of protest.
‘It can’t be easy for your wife,’ DI Sanders says finally as she heads for the door.
‘No. And that’s my fault. I do know that.’ Ed sits down and leans forward to put his head in his hands as the inspector leaves.
He checks his watch every five minutes and it’s fifteen before a nurse finally comes into the room to tell him they’re ready for him in the corner office. He tries to find a small smile of thanks but his face muscles aren’t working properly. He presses his hand once more against the hard rectangle of the postcard concealed in his pocket. The hypocrisy. He was going to show it quietly to the inspector, hoping Rachel would not see it, but he will need to hand it over in front of Rachel now. He thinks of his bizarre suspicion, wondering if Rachel might have sent it in anger. A little dig. But this suspicion feels like yet another betrayal she doesn’t deserve.
He honestly doesn’t know what it means or what to think any more. His head hurts. Did Laura really send the postcard to him? If so – why? Still
he cannot think of her as anything other than unwell. But what if he’s got this all wrong? What if Laura is now more ill than he realises and he’s allowing his own guilt to cloud his judgement? Ed feels a terrible weight as he pulls himself up to standing and weaves through the door and the centre of the main ward towards the corner office that the nurses use for coffee breaks and admin during the night shift.
Rachel is sitting next to a filing cabinet, drying her eyes. DI Sanders looks up and glances between them, and Ed worries there may be even more to this private meeting than he realised.
But what exactly?
‘Why didn’t you want me with you?’ He says this to Rachel but she won’t look at him. ‘What have you been saying? What’s going on?’
CHAPTER 42
Black
I am watching an ant. It is tracing a line directly along the grout between the floor tiles. Black. Bold. And to me rather beautiful.
I have never minded insects the way others do. Spiders. Woodlice. Ants. When I was a child, we lived in a house that seemed positively infested with spiders. My friends hated them, creating all sorts of scenes. But I was always fascinated by their endeavours. Their secrecy. Slipping in and out of rooms and weaving their magical webs. Works of art, catching the light.
I had a friend who had a large dog that was petrified of woodlice. The dog would cower across the room, sometimes stress-weeing right on the carpet. My friend was mortified and her mother was furious. But I thought it was hilarious. A tiny woodlouse versus a large dog.
As for ants – what little miracles. All they do is work. Busy, busy, busy. I like that. I understand that.
What appeals to me about insects is they have it tough, but they don’t let that stop them. I’m exactly like that. I focus on what I want and I work towards it. Like a spider. Like an ant.
Take this one, now halfway across the room. It’s on its own, which is rare, so it must be some kind of scout. But is it afraid? No. Is it focused? Yes. It probably has a nest of baby ants waiting for it to return with news of a new food source.
This place is clean so it won’t find much, but top marks for trying. I like a trier.
I put my hand up to my head and wish it did not hurt so much. Too much thinking. I am wondering what exactly the police are thinking. How much they really know?
I need to be like that little ant. Keep focused. Keep my thoughts on the road ahead. On the baby ants back in the nest. On the future and the task in hand.
I bet you didn’t know that the worker ants are actually female. That surprised me too. I looked it all up when I was a kid. The queen ant lays the eggs and the male ants die very soon after mating. Then the female worker ants take care of everything.
I remember putting the book down after learning all that and thinking – wow. Realising that you need to look out on the world in an entirely different way.
It’s like my USP now. Knowing all this. Knowledge is power. Once you realise that the females can be in charge and the males had better watch out, you look at everyone differently. You behave differently. You know.
It doesn’t frighten me because I realise that most other people don’t realise all of this. So I have stored the secret away and made myself stronger.
So let me tell you this. I know about the worker ants and the dead male ants and I am not going to let the system beat me.
I am not giving up. I am not letting them win.
I have come this far and I swear on that little ant’s life, I am not giving up now.
CHAPTER 43
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
Matthew checks his watch. He’s spent more than an hour on campus and has drawn a complete blank. Ahead of him is a large, red-brick building with an impressive first-floor terrace. It has smart glass edging the whole area, and he can see a waitress delivering food and drinks. Good. He skipped breakfast and is starving.
It’s well signposted inside and soon he’s sitting at a table, enjoying the view across the parkland that divides the study halls from the student accommodation. It’s an appealing environment and he wonders if Gemma and her friends have ever sat here. Probably. Almost certainly. Seems a prime spot.
The thought chills him. Gemma in the past – carefree and complete with no idea of what lay ahead.
He closes his eyes to regroup, then opens them to look around properly. He’s surprised at the age range. Mostly mature – clearly not students. He’s just processing this as a waitress appears and he orders coffee, water and a panini.
‘I’m surprised you’re so busy?’ he says as she sets out his cutlery and napkin. ‘I thought everything would be winding down.’
‘Far from it. Conference and summer-school season straight after the graduations. Busier than ever.’ She tucks her order book into the pocket of her black apron. ‘Just as well. I need the overtime.’ And then she’s gone and Matthew realises there’s much he doesn’t know about the rhythm of university life and finances. No wonder the chancellor’s paranoid about the bad press. The question mark still hanging over the inquiry. No wonder she wants tomorrow’s final ceremony. The confidence boost. The signal that life must go on . . .
Across the courtyard in front of the building, Matthew watches a small group of teenagers following a woman wearing a university tabard. She has a clipboard and is pointing out various buildings and then waving her hand towards the blocks of accommodation in the distance. Some kind of open day? Summer course?
The teenagers are asking questions just as his waitress reappears with his order. Matthew leans back as she puts the panini down, thanks her and is just reaching for his cutlery when he looks up to see Amanda staring at him.
‘News travels fast.’ He tries to make his tone light. She’s been very helpful, recommending the counsellor for Amelie, and he doesn’t want to fall out with Amanda. But she won’t be pleased. Him poking around the campus. ‘Do you fancy a coffee? I’m treating myself to brunch.’
‘No time, unfortunately. Just wondered if I can help you?’
‘Oh dear. Am I in trouble?’ Matthew bites into his panini to find it too hot. Melted cheese scorches his tongue and he takes a gulp of cold water. ‘Sorry. Always do that. My wife says it’s because I’m greedy. No patience.’
Amanda smiles and sits in the chair opposite. ‘Some members of staff contacted my office. Said you’d been asking questions again. Just wondered if I can help?’
‘No. I’m fine. Just routine stuff. Still trying to find out if the rumours are true: about Gemma having a fling with one of her professors. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything more about that?’ Amanda will know that all the tutors have been interviewed formally. That’s drawn a blank but Matthew is now looking for informal tips.
Amanda shakes her head and her expression falters. Matthew is well aware that the last thing the university needs is a scandal involving the shot student and a member of staff. He doesn’t want to make Amanda’s life difficult with the chancellor but the bottom line is they have very different priorities professionally. She’s here to warn him off.
‘It’s unsettling people. All these questions.’
‘Yes, I know. And I’m sorry. But it is an attempted-murder inquiry.’
‘Of course.’
The truth is he’s found out nothing on any of his trips to campus. It’s Thursday – eight days since the shooting. The students are no longer around and, while sympathetic about Gemma, staff are either wary or openly hostile when he tries to question them about her relationships. He’s spoken to just a handful today – most winding down admin in their offices. He wonders who alerted Amanda. Probably that guy in the politics unit. Do you have permission to be here?
‘I had no idea the summer’s such a season for the university. I thought the campus would shut up shop.’
‘Quite the opposite.’ Amanda takes in a long breath.
‘So have there been cancellations? Summer conferences, I mean?’
‘A couple.’
‘Which is why the ch
ancellor’s so twitchy.’ Matthew tries his panini again and is relieved to find it more manageable. Good too.
‘So are you allowed to say if Alex is going to be charged? Do you think it was him?’ There’s a hopeful look on Amanda’s face. ‘We’re all longing for this to be over. It would be such a relief to see a charge before tomorrow’s ceremony.’
‘I’m sorry. You know I can’t say. But trust me, we want this over as much as you do. Which is why I need to find out if Gemma really was having an affair with someone on the staff. However uncomfortable for the university.’
Amanda looks down at the floor and then back up. ‘Actually, seeing as you’re here, there’s something I wanted to bounce past you.’
‘Fire away.’
‘The Hartleys have been in touch with me via my sister. Looking for some advice about how to handle the media – especially tomorrow. A bit awkward for me, if I’m honest. I feel a bit compromised. Tried to steer them to the police comms team but the mother, Rachel, sounds quite at sea.’ She pauses. ‘I mean – I’d like to help them in theory. To be honest, I still feel guilty for fobbing Gemma off about the work experience. It’s tricky.’
Matthew thinks for a moment. ‘I’ll mention to Mel Sanders that they may need some more support. They’ve said no to a family liaison officer for now. Don’t want someone else with them at the hospital. Privacy, I guess. I don’t see why you shouldn’t speak to them but steer them back to us if you can, please.’
‘OK. Thanks. I’ll talk up the police support.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
Amanda stands.
‘Lovely view from here.’ Matthew turns to take in the panorama. ‘It’s a beautiful campus.’
‘Yes. How’s your daughter doing, by the way? I meant to ask.’
‘Oh, much better actually. The counsellor you recommended was really helpful. Thank you.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that.’
‘So do you normally take a break yourself? Over the summer? Do you have family? I never asked.’
Her Perfect Family Page 18