by Gary P Moss
Sara dialled.
‘Evet?’ Andreas growled.
‘It’s me.’
‘Where’ve you been?’ His voiced was laced with suspicion.
She glanced at the nurse, who hovered several metres away.
‘Listen, my love, I can’t be on the phone for long. I’m in the hospital.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing much, I’m all right…’
‘Then discharge yourself. We need to wrap things up. I’ve people to pay.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I’m in a secure unit. I’ve been arrested. Something went wrong.’
There was a silence before the line went dead. Her heart pounded in her chest. She called to the nurse.
‘The line’s been disconnected. Can I try again? Please?’
The nurse folded her arms across her chest.
‘Two minutes, then that’s it.’ She crossed to an office, then called from the open door.
‘Line’s open. Remember, two minutes.’
The phone rang for a few seconds before a sing-song message told Sara that the number she had dialled was not in service. She replaced the handset with a trembling hand. Fury boiled over. She grabbed the phone, then launched it across the room with a scream. It hit a woman in the head. Nurses came running.
Andreas waited impatiently. The flight from Stansted to Ercan via Turkey was on time.
A tall, slim woman strode confidently through the arrivals gate. Glossy black hair spilled over her shoulders. A pair of large sunglasses sat perched on her head. She pulled a large wheeled suitcase in one hand, while in the other she clutched a pair of bags from a designer boutique.
Andreas kissed her on both cheeks.
‘The cards worked then.’ He stared at the bags. ‘Hope there’s something for me in there.’
‘Don’t worry. I got you a Tag and an Omega, and a Rolex for Dad. About twenty thousand, before they put a stop on the cards.’
He hugged her.
‘Well done, Sis. Dad will be proud.’
‘And what about her?’ she asked.
‘It’s gone like a dream, Gülin. Arrested, and put away in a psychiatric unit.’
‘And when she gets out?’
Andreas waved at an airport official as he passed.
‘Her passport details are flagged; she can’t go anywhere, including Turkey.’
Gülin smiled at her brother.
As Andreas left the air-conditioned interior and felt the heat hit him, he was confident that Sara Palmer would keep her mouth shut. And if she didn’t? Her husband’s murder was her idea; the courts would see her as guilty as him. She’d been blinded by lust and greed. He was safe here, and she knew it: no extradition treaty existed between the United Kingdom and the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. And his wife? Let Sara try to find her. She didn’t exist. Never had.
He was home and dry. Literally.
Two months later
* * *
Half a cracker still in her mouth, Lottie explained herself to a slightly irritated Tim.
‘Well, none of us thought she would have the nerve to show up again, did we? What was the point in dragging up old history? It was a family embarrassment.’
Tim sighed. ‘I know, it just would’ve been helpful. I wouldn’t have tried to find her.’
‘But I saved the day, did I not?’ She grinned. ‘And you have a bravery commendation from Police Scotland.’
Newspaper articles had focused on the policeman, with only a passing mention of a woman being involved. Thankfully, there’d been no connection made and none had been offered by any of the witnesses. Aside from his aunt, who knew everything, he’d share the whole story when the time was right, and with the right person.
‘And a psycho mother who’s now being investigated over the death of her second husband, not to mention defrauding men she met on dating sites. And my credit cards. They can’t prove it was her as the transactions happened after her arrest. But I have my suspicions.’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she had a hand in it. And her poor husband! Your dad had a lucky escape. And you, for that matter.’
‘Mike, the old lighthouse keeper. He saved me, when I was in the water, still strapped into my buggy.’ He shivered. ‘I couldn’t thank him, when I passed his room in the hospital. I just thought, you know, he was to blame, too.’
‘Did you know her grandfather, Ted, had been in prison? He killed someone in a bar brawl.’
‘No, I didn’t know.’
‘Your dad said her father was not like that at all though. I met him once, seemed like a decent sort.’
‘Must skip a generation, then,’ Tim said, absentmindedly.
‘Anyway, Tim, forget the lot of them.’
Tim relaxed his shoulders. At first, he’d been angry over his aunt’s interference, but why? He understood it more clearly now. He’d been blinded by the sudden downfall of his new relationship with his mother, angry she’d been taken away from him, despite all the things she’d done, the things she’d said to him in the water.
Part of him had wished he could have whisked her away somewhere safe, got her help, straightened things out. He knew he wouldn’t do anything to worsen her situation. If the police hadn’t stopped her after she emerged from the water, he wouldn’t have hindered her escape. Knowing that helped preserve a certain, fragile bond, but one that he would bury. Her murderous streak was unfixable. He’d tasted some of the depth of her character and had no intention of going any deeper.
He was done.
His aunt brought him a cup of tea, sat next to him on the sofa.
‘I do have some news that might interest you, and nothing related to her. But you might already know.’
Tim raised his eyebrows, shook his head.
‘Good, or bad?’
‘Well, that depends. I bumped into Robyn, yesterday, from the primary school. She said she was going to email you last night. You obviously haven’t seen it yet.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘They were clearing space for some office improvements and found an old box. Your name was on a sheet of paper found inside.’
Tim beamed. ‘So, I was at Thornberry; I knew I hadn’t imagined it!’
‘Hold on though. It was a school release form, but it had your admission date as well. Tim, you were only there for just over a month. It probably explains why your uncle and I remember you being here, but only vaguely, because it was for such a short period of time.’
He was more perplexed than ever.
‘In my mind, my memories, it felt as if I was here for a year at least, maybe even two.’
‘Look, I am no psychologist, but I have been reading up on memory and perception.’
Lottie slowed her speech, as if she were treading carefully.
‘In cases like this, cases not too dissimilar to yours, there have been instances where children have fabricated complete histories for themselves, something safe, and happy. It is to mask trauma, Tim. Completely natural, your mind protecting itself.’
‘Makes sense, I suppose. It’s probably why I always felt a bit weird here, as an adult. As if I wasn’t sure I belonged.’
Lottie slapped his knee, almost spilling his tea.
‘Come on, up for a walk? This might not be your permanent home, but you are as much a part of this place as anyone else.’
‘What would I do without you?’
She placed their cups in the kitchen, donned a waterproof jacket. She winked at him.
‘I know, I occasionally have my uses.’
He left the cottage with his head held high. The night sky sparkled. He took a deep breath of the fresh country air.
Despite the trauma, and the twisted memories which followed, there was no madness in him, and for that he was grateful.
Epilogue
Tim’s toes gripped the pool’s edge. To his right, the swimming instructor issued instructions to a y
oung lad, getting him to position his body correctly. Tim had booked onto a life-saving course, but that didn’t start for another couple of weeks. For now, he was going to enjoy his dive.
In the spectators’ gallery, a blast of sunlight forced its way through the glass. A flash of gold shone from a woman’s hair. He looked up briefly, thought he saw a smile from the gallery but assumed it was for someone else. His mind was on the water, all fifty metres of it. Not quite a friend yet, but no longer a feared enemy. He dropped his goggles into place.
His body sliced through the water like an arrow, powerful strokes propelling him quickly along the pool’s length. He surfaced half a metre before the edge, reaching for the tiles, pulling himself up in one fluid motion. As he stood, he looked up towards the gallery. The woman with the blonde hair had clapped her hands then clamped one hand to her mouth as if to say she was sorry. She was laughing. Now Tim recognised her, grinned then gave her a quick wave.
After showering and changing, he headed for the exit. The woman was seated in the reception area. He’d not seen her for many months. She was alone. He walked over to her.
‘Sorry about the clap,’ she said, smiling. ‘But I thought you deserved it. It was an impressive dive.’
‘Ah, thanks. Well, I’ve been practicing quite a lot lately. Not brought your son today?’
‘Jack? Oh, he’s not my son, he’s my nephew. And I never really got the chance to thank you properly for keeping him calm when I lost him, so let me at least buy you a coffee?’
The woman must have sensed Tim’s hesitation. She looked a little embarrassed.
‘Ah, sorry. You’re probably married and…’
‘No, no I’m not. And coffee, yes, why not?’
‘Great.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Erica, by the way.’
‘Yes, I remember. Jack told me your name. I’m—’
‘Tim, yes, I know.’ She suddenly looked shy. ‘I saw your picture online, the article about your award. Congratulations, by the way.’
They raised their coffee cups in a toast. Her eyes seemed to smile at him, and he held his gaze longer than he’d intended.
But she held hers too.