by Anita Waller
Claudia got out of the car, and Heather ran across the wide pavement to meet her. They hugged each other, and slowly carried everything up the stairs. The flat was warm and welcoming, and they stood, staring at the disaster that Claudia’s belongings were creating. It resembled a car boot sale in the middle of the lounge.
‘You’re not travelling light, then,’ Heather said drily. ‘There can’t be anything left in that house. He’s not hinted that he suspected anything?’
‘Nope. And I’ve one more trip to make, then I’ll never go back there again. Part two of our lives starts now. I’ve already left the letter proudly propped up against the kettle, so it will be there to welcome him home Tuesday night.’
Chapter 8
The online delivery arrived on time and included with the groceries were two sun loungers. Heather set them up in the living room, facing the tiny television set that used to live in Claudia and James’s bedroom. She hoped James would miss it.
By five, everything was sorted, and they opened a bottle of wine Michelle had delivered, along with a coffee and walnut cake, as she finished for the day.
Claudia grinned. ‘As far as I can see, the only drawback to living here is we’re going to get very fat, very quickly.’
‘That cake’s heavenly,’ Heather groaned. She paused for a moment. ‘This has all happened very fast, hasn’t it? And I know you say I didn’t kill Owen, and you’re right, but if I hadn’t walked out of that life, he’d still be alive.’
‘Do you regret it now?’
‘No.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘I regret losing Owen, we’ve been together a long time, but this drinking stuff – it stopped the love.’
Claudia sipped at her wine. ‘There’s something I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I think James has another woman. Marilyn something. He says she’s one of the Labour party workers, but I’ve a feeling she’s a Leeds councillor.’
Heather stared at her friend. ‘My God! Let’s hope he treats her better than he treats you. You bothered by it, if it’s true?’
‘Not in the slightest. In fact, it’ll be easier to tell Harry and Zoe that he’s screwing around, rather than he’s a wife-beater. Makes me look like a strong woman because I didn’t put up with it, rather than the wimp who’s tolerated violence for years.’
Claudia heard her phone peal out, and she looked around. ‘Well, I can hear it, but I can’t see it,’ she laughed.
‘Bedroom?’
‘Could be.’ She stood and moved into what she had already deemed her sanctuary. The phone was on her bedside table and as she bent to retrieve it, it stopped. She picked it up and went back into the lounge, staring at the screen.
‘It’s the hospital,’ she said. ‘They’ll ring back if they want me.’ She placed it on the upturned plastic box they were using as a coffee table and topped up both their glasses. She was taking a sip out of the newly filled glass when her phone rang again.
‘Hello?’
She listened for a moment, then spoke her date of birth, followed by her post code.
There was a period of silence, and finally Claudia spoke. ‘I’ll be there for half past nine. Thank you for ringing.’
She disconnected and stared at Heather. ‘They want to see me again. Tomorrow morning.’
‘You want me to go with you?’
‘Yes, please, if you can. It’s lucky we both booked this week off, isn’t it? That nurse, or whoever she was, has just told me to bring someone with me.’
‘Didn’t she give you any clues?’
‘No, she said the doctor would talk to me tomorrow.’
They were parked in the hospital’s multi-storey car park before half past eight and went in search of the coffee shop. Claudia was quiet, and Heather tried to keep her entertained; she picked out male maids they could invite to stay with them, just for board and lodging, and she bought a couple of doughnuts.
Claudia couldn’t eat hers; worry was etched into her face.
‘Why do they want me back so quickly, Heather?’
‘Could be any number of reasons, Claud. Stop the panic. We’ll find out very shortly, and whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Now… if you’re not going to eat that doughnut…’
Claudia gave a weak half-smile and pushed the cake across the table. ‘Who says we need Michelle to help us get fat?’ Claudia glanced at her watch. ‘Can you eat and walk? We should be going.’
‘I can eat while doing most things,’ Heather responded. ‘That’s the problem in a nutshell.’
They found the clinic easily, and checked in. They hardly had time to sit down before a nurse appeared to lead them to a smaller waiting area; she asked them to sit and wait. ‘Mr Robson will be out for you very shortly.’
‘Is that who did your op?’ Heather asked.
‘No, they did tell me his name, but I can’t remember it. He was a doctor. This chap must be the consultant if he’s a mister.’
Heather wanted to respond with ‘shit’ but allowed the word to fester in her brain instead. Now was not the time to speak of worries.
Mr Robson proved to be a tall slim man; Claudia judged him to be around her own age. He glanced down briefly at her notes, and then his grey eyes locked onto her own.
‘Mrs Bell, I’ve called you back in quickly because we have the results of your biopsy from the mole we removed last week. It is showing that it is malignant melanoma.’
He paused for a moment, and Claudia switched off. She heard the rest of his words through a haze, answering whenever she felt she should, and hoping that Heather was taking everything in.
‘I need you to come in as an inpatient; I will be taking a much larger area than the one we took on Friday, to make sure we remove every single part of the cancer.’ He stood. ‘Can you just come with me into the examination room, Mrs Bell?’
She followed him into the next room, leaving Heather to look through one of the leaflets he had given Claudia.
Claudia removed her top and waited patiently while Robson examined her back. He then checked her armpits and asked her to get dressed and return to his office.
Pulling the file towards him, he began to make notes. Heather stood as Claudia walked through and pulled her into her arms. They hugged for a moment, then Claudia retook her seat. She held on to Heather’s hand, and they waited.
‘Let me start with reassurance, Mrs Bell. Malignant melanoma is the most curable of all cancers. We don’t treat it with either radio or chemotherapy, it is removed by surgery. As I said, I will be removing a much bigger area, and this will necessitate a skin graft. If I don’t do that, you will find that your right arm won’t have full movement. The skin will be removed from your leg. I will also be taking lymph nodes from under your arm. You have obvious swellings there, and we’ll take no chances. These swellings can indicate that the cancer has spread, but it can also mean that it is indicative of your body fighting back from the minor surgery you had on Friday, and it is trying to heal you. Is everything clear so far?’
Claudia nodded, still not able to speak. Heather squeezed her hand.
‘So, I need you to come in on Thursday. We’ll go through everything then, do any checks we need to do, and the anaesthetist will have a chat with you. You’ll be first on my list Friday morning. Do you have any questions?’
Suddenly, Claudia’s head cleared. ‘Does it have to be this week?’
Heather answered before Robson could. ‘Yes, it does. This is our priority, Claud, whatever else this week throws at us.’ She looked at the consultant. ‘She’ll be there, Thursday. What time?’
‘Around ten will be fine. We’ll have you settled into the ward, and I’ll come around in the afternoon to have a chat with you.’
Claudia nodded in acknowledgement.
‘Thank you, Mr Robson.’ Again, it was Heather speaking. ‘Is that everything?’ She was scooping up the leaflets Claudia had been given and putting them in her bag. ‘I think Claudia needs a cup of tea.’
Robson smiled. ‘T
hen go and have one. And try not to worry. We have a very high success rate with this cancer. You’ll be uncomfortable for maybe three weeks, but then you’ll start to feel better. I suggest six weeks off work and then we’ll discuss whether you are fit to return.’
The coffee shop was bustling. Claudia found a small table for two nestled in a corner and sat down while Heather went for their drinks.
‘It’s bloody cancer,’ Claudia hissed, as Heather placed the tray on the table. ‘Cancer!’
‘Curable cancer,’ Heather responded. ‘It’s not lung, pancreas, liver, blood, it’s melanoma.’
‘Malignant. The very word makes me want to cry. I need to go home and find out every damn thing about it. And six weeks off work! I’ll ring Raymond this afternoon, tell him the unwelcome news.’
‘Raymond’s a good boss,’ Heather said firmly. ‘He’ll tell you to take as long as you need. You know he will.’
There were tears in Claudia’s eyes. ‘Why now? Just when we are sorting ourselves out…’
‘We’ll get over it. I’m going in to see my boss after… well, after Owen is found, and ask for a few weeks off, so it’s all working out. I’ll be able to look after you until you’re back on your feet properly.’
They sat for a few minutes, drinking their tea and flicking through the leaflets.
Claudia was quiet; the diagnosis was slowly sinking in. ‘Let’s drink up. I need to go home and think through what all this means, who I need to tell, that sort of thing.’
Heather nodded. ‘I know, but you also needed something to combat the shock. You’re going nowhere until that tea is drunk.’
Claudia raised a tremulous smile. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ She picked up her cup and sipped at the hot drink. ‘I’m not telling James. I’ll tell the kids, but I’ll ask them not to tell their father.’
‘That’s unfair.’
‘I know. But he’s hardly been fair for the last six or seven years, has he.’
Heather hesitated. ‘I mean it’s not fair asking the kids to keep secrets from their father. It might be better not to tell them anything. Then they’re not being asked to lie for you, and you’re not passing the worry onto their shoulders. He said you’d be uncomfortable for three weeks, and then you’ll be back to normal. It might be easier for you all if you don’t tell them. You had decided not to give out your new address yet, anyway, and if you tell the kids about this, they’re going to want to come and see you.’
‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive,’ Claudia sighed. ‘You’re right.’ She put down her cup. ‘Come on, let’s go home and have a couple of hours respite – I reckon the police will be ringing you later.’
James frowned as he approached the drive – his wife’s car wasn’t there. She hadn’t said she had plans to go out. He parked and took his suitcase and laptop out of the boot. The alarm was swiftly dealt with and he bent and picked up the mail. Holding it in his hand, he stood for a moment in the hallway. Everything felt strangely empty.
He hung his coat on the newel post and walked through to the kitchen. Throwing the post on the table, he turned to switch on the kettle. That was when he saw the envelope.
He quickly read the contents, then ran from the kitchen and up the stairs. Everything of Claudia’s had gone. Her wardrobes were empty, as was her bedside table and chest of drawers.
He sat on the bed with a thud.
‘Bitch. Absolute fucking bitch. Didn’t have the guts to tell me face-to-face, bitch?’
Heather. She’d know something about this. He ran down the stairs, and towards the back door, cursing when he realised it was locked. He returned to the hallway to get his keys and then unlocked it, heading around to the Gowers’, feeling fury overwhelm him. He banged on their door, and when nobody answered quickly enough to appease his temper, he used the same bunch of keys to gain access to their kitchen.
‘Heather!’ he roared. ‘Owen, you two here? I know somebody’s here, your bloody car’s out front!’
The heat in the house was overwhelming, and James became aware of a strange smell. He passed through the kitchen still calling Heather’s name. Owen was at the bottom of the stairs; the smell made James gag, and that was the moment he remembered Claudia telling him that Heather had left.
He staggered back into the kitchen, then through to the back garden. Calling 999, he briefly explained the problem, assured them the man was dead, and went to sit on the front doorstep, to wait for the police to arrive.
It didn’t take them long. Everything happened in a blur; a forensics team donned their white suits before moving into the hall, and crime scene tape was placed around the driveway entrance.
Two constables stayed with James in his own kitchen, making him the coffee he had thought about having before this nightmare of an evening began, and he told them that Heather no longer lived there. She was, it seemed, living with his wife.
He passed Heather’s phone number to them, saying he had no idea where the two women were living; until his arrival home from work he had been a married man. Now it appeared he wasn’t.
‘So, your neighbour left her husband last week?’
‘Yes. From what I can remember, she gave him an ultimatum. Stop drinking or that’s it. Owen was a heavy drinker, a very heavy drinker, and I guess she’d had enough. I think she walked out Thursday morning, but you’ll have to ask her, I’m not really sure. And now it seems my wife has joined her.’
It was an age before anything further happened, and then a police officer, clearly senior in rank to the two young men who had kept James company, popped his head around the kitchen door.
‘Mr Bell? I’m DS Liam Norwood.’
James stood.
‘Sit down, please, sir. Just a couple of questions, and I want to fill you in on what’s happening.’ He waited until James was seated. ‘You’re friends with your neighbours?’
‘Very close friends,’ James said. ‘Have been for years.’
‘Then I’m sorry for your loss, sir. We have removed Mr Gower’s body, and there will be a post-mortem, but initial observations from our forensics people suggest it is a tragic accident. The angle he has fallen at leads to thoughts that he lost his balance, and it happened some time Friday afternoon, although that time is a bit vague because he must have turned up the heating, possibly to get the house warmed up quickly.’
‘He would have been drunk,’ James said.
‘Would he?’
‘Oh, yes. That’s without doubt. It was a Friday, and Owen’s Friday lunchtime session tended to last until Sunday evening. You don’t have to look far to find out why he fell down the stairs. Heather, his wife, will be gutted.’
‘I’m going to call her, find out where she’s living, so we can give her the news.’
‘Will you tell me, please?’
‘What?’ DS Norwood looked surprised.
‘My wife left me yesterday. I’ve only just found out, and she says she is with Heather. I’d like to know where that is.’
‘If your wife says I can tell you, sir, then I will. But if she’s left you and not told you, I think it’s highly unlikely she’ll allow me to pass that information to you or anybody else.’ The bloke’s attitude stank, and Norwood had no intentions of pandering to him with information of any kind.
Shock was etched on James’s face. In his world, he gave orders and they were obeyed.
Norwood stood and shook James’s hand. ‘Thank you for your assistance. I’m sure Mrs Gower will be back at the house at some point. I would suggest you leave her alone. We don’t want any problems, do we, sir?’
The two constables followed him out, and James slumped at the table, his head whirling. Harry and Zoe. He needed to get them over, see what they knew. Zoe was particularly close to her mum, she’d know even if Harry didn’t.
But they would want to see Claudia’s letter; the letter that made it very clear why she had left. And the hint that she suspected him of adultery had
caused the most anger in him. He had been so careful to hide his relationship – how the fuck had she cottoned on to that?
He knew he couldn’t speak to his children yet, not until he’d covered his tracks a bit more; not until he’d worked out how to either get Claudia back or… he didn’t know what the ‘or’ was, not yet.
But he would.
Neither of the women wanted anything to eat; both had knife edges of differing sorts hovering over them, and things were coming to a head. They sat on their garden chairs in the lounge, occasionally holding hands when their private thoughts threatened to overwhelm them, randomly getting up to make yet another cup of tea.
It was while Heather was making them a hot chocolate, just for the sake of having something different, that her phone rang.
Claudia leaned forward and checked the screen as Heather rushed back into the lounge.
‘Strange number,’ Claudia said, and quickly passed her the phone.
Heather had no time to think, to consider not answering. She pressed the accept button.
‘Hello? Who’s calling, please?’
There was a momentary lull in the conversation, and then Heather spoke.
‘Yes, I’m Mrs Heather Gower. What’s the matter?’
This time the silence was longer.
‘Yes, of course you can. I will have to ring Moss Way to check who you say you are, though, because there are two husbands out there who would dearly love this address, and you could be anybody. I’ll ring you back in two minutes.’
She switched off, checked the police station number, then verified the caller was genuine. She had known he was genuine. She was just being a bloody good actress.
‘DS Norwood? I’m sorry about that. I have to be careful. Can you tell me what this is about? I don’t think I’ve broken the law.’