by Diane Ezzard
“Don’t tell me. He brought girls over from Eastern Europe to work for him.”
“That’s right, but they held back. They’re trying to find out who the main man is behind it. So, their enquiries are still ongoing.”
“Interesting,” I nodded.
We drove on, mainly in silence until we arrived near Jack’s office.
“Can you drop me off at my place, Sophie?”
“Of course.” I had assumed he would be continuing to work while it was all so fresh. Now I looked to the left and caught a glimpse of his face, I saw how tired he looked.
“I’m going for a few hours sleep.”
“Sure,” I said. “That’s not a bad idea.” I pulled the car up outside Jack’s home. As he touched the door handle to leave, he was about to get out then he had a change of heart and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. He took hold of my hand, squeezed it, winked at me then let go of my hand.
“Thanks for everything you’ve done for me. It hasn’t gone unnoticed. You really are a special lady, Sophie.” I smiled. My heart pumped fast. My mouth felt dry, and I swallowed hard before I spoke.
“I think the same about you, Jack.” I blinked. I felt giddy. In such a short time, we had been through so much together. I smiled. “Now go and get some rest.”
As I drove home, I thought about Jack and smiled. I wanted more than just friendship. I was so afraid to say or do anything because I didn’t want to spoil what we had at the moment. Things were good between us. He had become a friend to me but at night I lay in bed pining for him to be beside me, caressing me. I so wished he didn’t have a girlfriend. I often pictured them together when I was home alone. I needed to speak to him about her, to find out how serious his relationship was, but I was scared to.
I wasn’t sleeping well. I didn’t want to go to the doctor’s for sleeping pills so I looked for alternatives to help me relax. I had joined a meditation class, and I found that beneficial. I found it easy to fall asleep in class but not in bed at night. Still, I persevered.
I’d started going out running more regularly. I went out for a jog virtually every day. It meant I was often tired at work. At night when it was time for sleep, the washing machine brain began again. It played over and over things Jack had said. I tried to figure out who Cassie’s killer could be. It kept me awake thinking about it. I wondered if it was Randy. It would make sense if he had done it and couldn’t live with his conscience and that was why he had taken his own life. That was the best conclusion I could come up with. The only person who might know the truth was Georgia.
Chapter 28
SOPHIE
I needed to have some time away from the case so arranged to meet up with Joyce the following day to do some work on myself. It wasn’t exactly light relief from my day-to-day work. I was dreading it.
The next day, I was sat in Joyce’s lounge drinking coffee thinking to myself, I should have asked for tea. It was instant coffee, and it tasted bitter. I looked around the room. Nothing had changed from the first time I visited her, a number of years back after I’d split up from seeing her son Kyle. She told me she didn’t see much of him these days. I was glad because I didn’t want the embarrassment of bumping into him.
We split up when we were both in a bad place. He suffered from depression and I went into rehab. We stayed together for longer than was healthy. Because of Kyle’s suicide attempt when I tried to leave him once, I felt obliged to stay with him and look after him but I became his carer. He didn’t work and didn’t seem to have any intention of getting a job even though he was very gifted when it came to technology. I resented him and that grew and festered.
He had gone downhill after we split up but I realised now he wasn’t my responsibility. I had enough to do just looking after myself and keeping well. I was learning to be selfish about my recovery. It was what Joyce taught me. She was an excellent teacher. She didn’t push me. She gave me gentle nudges in the right direction. I did know the right thing to do, most of the time. I knew when I was in the wrong because I suffered emotionally.
Joyce always said to me, “If you’re in pain mentally then you’re doing something wrong.” I often had emotional hangovers.
I moved a pile of newspapers and magazines off the sofa onto the table. I remembered on the last occasion I was here, Joyce said she would get a cleaner in to clear the place up. It was full of clutter everywhere. The house looked like she had been clearing out the place getting ready to move. I suspected it was always like this. It didn’t appear as though she had ever had a cleaner in. I still didn’t feel comfortable in the ramshackled old house that felt like it was haunted.
I much preferred it when she came to my place. We alternated our meetings, one week at hers, the next at mine. I had been seeing her on a weekly basis for a number of months now. I had got to know her well, and I enjoyed her company. I felt safe with her. I knew what I told her wouldn’t go any further. I’d learnt something of her life. She had come from humble beginnings.
Her first marriage to Kyle’s dad hadn’t lasted. He was a violent drinker and womaniser. She ended up in a refuge to get away from him. Then she met her second husband, Jim. Jim was a wealthy businessman who often worked abroad. She had another son with him, Nathan who was away studying at Durham University. I never met Nathan but heard of him through Joyce. She was obviously very proud of him. I knew from my time with Kyle that he was jealous of Nathan. Nathan had been given a private education, going to the best public schools. Apparently, Jim and Kyle never got on. Jim couldn’t stand being in Kyle’s company.
I only met Jim once and if I was honest, I didn’t like him. He looked unkempt for a businessman. He always dressed scruffily. He sported a bushy beard and his hair looked greasy like it needed a good wash and a comb through it. Joyce was very proud of him though. She often talked about how he turned businesses around and got them to make money at the drop of a hat. He sounded like something of an Alan Sugar, somewhat ruthless. They spent lots of time apart because he was always away on business but that probably helped the marriage. Joyce enjoyed her independence and being with Jim gave her a lifestyle envied by many.
She was able to go on luxury holidays and buy expensive clothes but money seemed wasted on her. She never looked well dressed. No one would have guessed she was married to a millionaire. She told me Jim was a recluse which I thought was unusual for a businessman. She said his eccentricity was what first attracted her to him. He wore what he liked and said what he wanted and didn’t care what anyone thought. I wished I had some of his attitude. I was far too concerned with what everyone thought of me. It made me question everything I said and did.
Looking around the room, I realised the old pieces of furniture that looked shabby and not my taste were probably expensive antiques. I didn’t have a clue when it came to things like that. In fact, Joyce’s collection of papers had been there that long, chances were they qualified as antique themselves now and would be worth something. Apparently, Jim was something of a collector. He collected comics amongst other things. Joyce told me he had a first edition Beano comic worth thousands. That was the one thing they had in common, their love of antiques.
They had items in their home I would have binned years ago and for all I knew, I could have been sitting on a fortune. Joyce often mentioned names of pottery designers who I had never heard of. She and Jim spent their Sundays going to car boot sales looking for items they knew were worth more.
Joyce always loved a bargain. She had no airs and graces. She was just plain old Joyce with a fortune in the bank. She certainly hadn’t spent any money on her appearance. Her hair looked like wire wool and needed cutting. She normally wore it tied back in a ponytail.
We got to the point where I had to open up to Joyce about my life story. I had written it down, and it made uncomfortable reading for me. I had been dreading this part of my recovery and tried to put it off but Joyce saw through me.
She often threw in classic comments such as “Your p
ast will set you free” or “You are only as sick as your secrets.” I did believe there was some truth in those words because if ever I kept anything to myself, I felt uncomfortable. We sat there for a moment in silence and Joyce looked over at me. I had one event in my life I hadn’t spoken to anyone about. It ate away at me but fear of the consequences kept my secret firmly locked inside.
“Would you like another cup of tea before we start?”
“Go on then,” I said. I’d been picking at my fingers since I got there and Joyce obviously observed my fidgeting and restlessness.
“It’s never as bad as it seems,” she said as she walked through to the kitchen to make a brew. Not being able to sit still, I sauntered over to her bookcase to have a look through her collection. Many of the books were non-fiction. She had classics like The Road Less Travelled. Naturally, she had books on alcoholism. I picked up a book called The Language of Letting Go and began flicking through. One of the pages caught my eye when it mentioned accepting people for the way they were meant to be.
Joyce came strolling back in with a tray in her hands.
“You’d do well to get a copy of that,” she said. I looked up at her. Was she having a go at me?
“No, seriously, it gives sound advice when it comes to relationships. It’s been my lifesaver. I’d go as far as to say it saved my marriage by taking on board what it said.” I raised my eyebrows.
“Okay, I will then.” I made a note of the title and author. We sat down and my stomach churned in anticipation of what was to come.
“Listen, before we start, it’s only fair that I tell you something about me and my past.” If it meant putting off my reveal a bit longer, then I was all for it.
“Okay,” I said. Joyce appeared deep in thought, looking up at the ceiling.
“I know you’ve heard something of my past but I was a chronic alcoholic. My drinking started as a teenager. When I met Kyle’s dad Ray, we both drank heavily together, but he was very violent with it. Eventually, I left but had nowhere to go. It wasn’t like nowadays. There was nowhere for me. I lived in B & B’s when I could afford it. I’m ashamed to say I subjected Kyle to a life he didn’t deserve sometimes sleeping rough on the streets.”
“Surely there must have been a refuge for you to stay in?”
“I got thrown out of them all because of my drinking. When I look back now, I can’t fathom why social services didn’t intervene and take Kyle from me.” I looked across at her with a doleful face. “I was very fortunate then and now looking back, God looked after me because he sent my guardian angel in the form of Jim. I loved Jim from the start. Funnily enough, he didn’t have much money in those days, though money has never been something I sought, anyway.”
I could tell from Joyce’s attitude to her wealth that she could take it or leave it. Chance would be a fine thing.
“He helped sober me up. He paid for me to go into rehab and looked after Kyle while I was there. There aren’t many men would do that, especially at the start of a relationship. No, he’s an absolute diamond is Jim and I’ll be forever grateful to him for picking me up off the streets.” Joyce took a sip of her drink. “Come on Sophie, drink yours before it goes cold.” I did as I was told. I had left it because I was enthralled by Joyce’s story.
“Not long after that, Jim’s fortunes changed. His business took off, then, everything he touched turned to gold. I got pregnant. It wasn’t intentional but Jim was over the moon. From the offset, he idolised Nathan, sadly to the detriment of Kyle. Kyle was treated like Cinderella. His schooling had been basic whereas Nathan went to the best schools.
Nathan even had private tutors and learnt to play the trumpet. He was a clever boy and Jim encouraged him. I felt sorry for Kyle and it caused arguments between us. We did split up for a while but I knew Jim would fight for custody of Nathan. I thought he would win, what with my chequered past and his money behind him and I didn’t want that.
Nowadays, we have more of an understanding. We live separate lives but get together from time to time and it suits us both. It may sound strange but somehow it works. He may not be my knight in shining armour anymore but I am a strong woman now who can take care of herself. When I sobered up, I did lots of studying and trained as a psychotherapist. I love my job and I love helping others especially when they have been in a similar position as I was in.”
I sat there taking in what Joyce told me. I felt inspired by her story. I hadn’t known she was a psychotherapist. I knew she worked for the NHS and had done for many years but I’d never asked her about her role. It didn’t surprise me though. She was very caring and had a natural empathy for people that I wanted to emulate.
It got near my time to tell all. The palms of my hands were moist. They were sweating. I rubbed them.
“Do you need a refill, Sophie?”
“No, thanks but I’ll just nip to the loo if that’s okay?”
“Sure, you know where it is.” There were things in my past Joyce didn’t know and I wondered how she would react to me afterwards. I rose from the chair and caught the handle of the mug with my elbow. It fell to the ground. Luckily it was empty, and the area was carpeted so there was no damage done.
“Sorry Joyce,” I said. I didn’t look her in the eye.
“It’s alright, now I’ll clear these things away before we start.” I walked off to use the toilet. My fingers and toes tingled. My breathing was shallow, and I kept taking deep gulps. Walking back in the room, I thought how it would be good if I could free the butterflies from my stomach. We both sat back down.
“Look, I can see how nervous you are but I promise you, only good will come out of this. I am not here to judge you. I have done far worse than you myself.” I tried to smile but only my mouth responded.
“We should start with meditation to calm you down. Close your eyes and take in deep breaths.” I did as I was told. I didn’t think I’d be able to concentrate on any meditating at the moment. I felt faint. I had got myself too worked up and my shallow breathing didn’t help matters.
“Start whenever you’re ready.” I took the notes I had made out of my bag. I decided to read through them without stopping. There were ten pages. Much of my story Joyce knew. My dad worked hard, and I didn’t see him much when we were growing up. My parents always argued about money. My mum’s behaviour affected me. I was far too sensitive. She was verbally cruel to me and I was shy. I left home at seventeen and met an older guy who I allowed to move in with me. He was violent and sadistic.
After finally getting away from him, I met Kyle, Joyce’s son. The relationship was a difficult one. He suffered from depression and didn’t work. He played computer games constantly, and I was left to my own devices. This was when my drinking took off. I had an affair with my married boss, Simon that Kyle never knew about. My drinking got worse. I’d trashed the kitchen after a fight with Kyle when I was in a drunken stupor. It was a wake-up call for me so I went into rehab after that.
Since that time, Joyce had been in my life as I turned to her for help after I came out of treatment. I knew she was in recovery herself from alcoholism. She knew of my time being stalked and Mum’s death. I finished by talking about how much Cassie’s death affected me. Cassie had been a client I got close to and tried to help get away from Charlie, her violent boyfriend. To think, I had been on the verge of forming a close relationship with Charlie myself.
Hearing my story read out loud made me realise what an idiot I had been. My behaviour hadn’t been good. I saw where I looked for instant gratification to change the way I felt. I came to the end and put the papers down. I looked over at Joyce.
“Thank you, Sophie. It was good of you to share that with me. Thanks for allowing yourself to get vulnerable and trusting me.” I rubbed the back of my neck. My chest tightened. “How are you?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I nervously played with my fingers. Joyce frowned. She sensed something wasn’t right.
“Is there anything you’ve missed out?” H
ow did she know?
“There is something, I’ve been too afraid to tell anyone. Not even my own sister knows.”
“And can you share it now?” I thought for a moment. “I don’t want to pressurise you. It is your call,” she said. I had a lump in my throat that wouldn’t go. I looked Joyce straight in the eye and then down at my hands.
“It’s concerning my time with Simon.” I scanned the room. I had to do this. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes.
“Oh, you mean your married lover?” I didn’t feel comfortable with Joyce’s blunt words.
“Yes, when I was seeing him, we met up one night on one of our secret liaisons. We had been for a few drinks. We were both probably over the limit but foolishly I agreed to drive his car. We were in Salford and I took a shortcut by the Cliff.” I hesitated.
“Go on,” she said.
“I knew I’d had too many but still thought I was okay to drive. There was this guy, a black guy. He was busy looking on his phone as he walked along. You know, not looking where he went.” I kept looking at Joyce watching for her expression to change. It remained deadpan. I didn’t know if I could continue with the story, it was so bad.
“Carry on,” she said.
“He stepped out into the road and I hit him.” By now I shook. I recalled the terrible incident. The bump that his body made as it hit the side of the car.
“So you ran him over?” Joyce was making sure she got the facts correct.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So, what happened next?” Joyce asked.
“Simon told me not to stop. We couldn’t inform the police because of my drinking and also our affair would have been found out.”
“So what became of the guy you hit?”
“We just left him lying in the road.” The tears flowed. I put my hands over my mouth. I continued, “I was so afraid I had killed him. I was deep in shock. I went along with keeping quiet about it. I kept listening to the news and reading the papers, but never saw anything of the incident. I just hoped and prayed he had survived.” Joyce passed me a tissue.