Be Careful What You Wish For: Three women, three men, three deaths (Kitty Thomas)

by Sue Nicholls

  They all stand, surrounded by open cupboards and stacked boxes, and while Topsy pokes her nose into each policeman’s crutch, the officers introduce themselves as D.S. Bailey - baldy, and D.C. Parks - curly. They decline offers of seats and Paul does not offer them hot drinks.

  ‘Mr Thomas,’ Baldy is definitely in control. ‘We need to ask your movements on the day Mrs Roman went missing.’

  Paul does not think about his answer. ‘Why would you want to know that?’

  ‘Simply eliminating people from our enquiries Sir. Would you please answer the question?’

  Curly takes a notebook from his pocket.

  Paul pauses, making a show of considering his answer. ‘Sorry mate, no idea. Can you remember what you were doing?’

  'Mr Thomas, please think. As I said, we want to eliminate you from our enquiries.’

  ‘Is Twitch dead then?’

  ‘We haven’t found Mrs Roman, Sir.’

  ‘So what enquiries are you eliminating me from?’ Paul’s former high spirits are waning, in fact he finds himself feeling quite stroppy and this drives him to push between the two men and haul open the front door. ‘I'd like you to leave.’ He stares hard at them, his hand on the door catch. ‘I’ll have a think about where I was. And if I remember, I’ll let you know. I have a lot to do. I’m moving to a new house as you can see by all these boxes.’ He nods at the packing cases strewn round the flat. ‘So, if you’d like to get on with your job of finding Twitch then I can get on with my packing.’

  The policemen remain where they are, looking calmly at him. ‘Only a couple more things, Mr Thomas.’ D.S. Bailey's tone is friendly.

  ‘About what?’ Paul stands by the front door with his jaw poked out.

  ‘About your relationship with Mrs – Ms Thomas and the other ladies in that household.’

  ‘The other ladies. You mean Millie and Twitch. Why would I have anything to do with them?’ Fear creeps into his voice.

  ‘Please stay calm Mr Thomas. We are simply trying to build a picture of the situation between you all. If you’d be kind enough to come back into the room, we’ll get this sorted out and be on our way.’

  By the door, Topsy leans her body against Paul’s leg. He gives her a stroke, ‘Good girl,’ and pushes the front door shut and pats his thigh. ‘Come on Tops.’ The dog, now so large she might be mistaken for a small pony, lollops after him to the armchair, and when he is seated, lowers her chin onto his knee. He rubs her warm fur to still his shaking fingers.

  Parks stands by the wall, while Baldy sits down in another chair. ‘You must have felt very frustrated when Ms Thomas left you so suddenly.’

  ‘Well it was a long time ago. I was upset at the time, but I’m OK now. As you can see, I’m making plans to move into a bigger place for the dog – and my kid.’

  ‘Very nice Sir,’ D.S. Bailey shows little interest, ‘but I’m sure you were angry, perhaps you even wanted revenge on your wife and the other two ladies?’

  Paul’s glares at the policeman in silence. Topsy pushes her muzzle under his still palm, but he ignores her. She licks his fingers, and he pulls his hand away, so with a swift movement she leaps onto his lap and licks his face.

  With difficulty, Paul looks round her huge body. ‘Sorry officer, my dog seems to want to protect me.’ He grins and his anger evaporates.

  DS Baldy responds with a quick up and down of the corners of his mouth, and Paul pushes Topsy to the floor. With one hand holding the dog’s collar he looks into the officer’s eyes. ‘Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you more. I’ve told you the truth. I can’t remember what I was doing on that date but if I do remember I’ll let you know. No problem.’

  The policeman looks unconvinced, so Paul continues, 'I was upset when Fee left but so what? If I wanted to punish her, I’d have done something long ago and anyway it would have cost me my kid. I may be stupid, but I wouldn’t risk that for anything.’ He hopes he sounds sincere, hopes Topsy hasn’t ruined his ‘street cred.’.

  When the police have left, letting themselves out, Paul remains in the armchair with Topsy’s collar trapped in his fist and murmurs, ‘Thanks Tops. I really needed to be sat on right then.’ He releases her and stands up. Sod the packing, he needs a pint. He goes to the phone. ‘Maurice?’

  ‘Hi Paul, how goes it?’

  Paul tells of the police visit.

  ‘They’ve been here too, gave me a bit of a start actually. I felt as if I was a suspect.’

  ‘Well, there’s no corpse so I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.’

  Maurice sounds less sure, 'Fee found Twitch’s bike. Apparently, the police are escalating their enquiries, as the saying goes...' There is a pause then he goes on, ‘I’ve done something a bit daft, I think.’

  ‘What? What have you done Maurice?’ What could he have done? The man is a disaster, but he couldn’t make things much worse.

  ‘Sam asked me about Twitch, you know, where she was and when she would come home and I…. Well… I told him.’

  ‘Told him what?’ Paul’s voice is hard.

  ‘That Twitch has disappeared. He went berserk. He thought Twitch had left because he was naughty.’ Maurice rushes this latter part of his sentence into Paul’s silence.

  Paul looks at the ceiling. ‘Bloody hell Maurice, what were you thinking of?’

  ‘Well, he’s got a right to know, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, but I thought we agreed.’

  Maurice is gloomy, ‘I know. You don’t need to tell me. We were in the car when he asked. I told him and he started to screech. I had to mount the curb and stop to calm him down. The pavement was packed - mums and bloody kids everywhere. Josh woke up with all the shouting and started to bellow too.’

  Paul almost smiles at the mental picture of his inept friend coping with two squawking kids in the school rush hour. He relents. ‘I could do with a pint, Mate. How are you fixed?’

  ‘I’m up for that. I need one after the day I’ve had. I'm just going to take the children back to Fee. I don't think she's going to be too pleased with me either.’

  ‘Oh well, it’ll be OK in the end.’ Paul adds a silent addendum: I bloody well hope so anyway!

  Chapter 54

  Fee has spent most of her time at work worrying about that police visit. She tidies papers on her desk and files some documents. At lunch time her boss, Jim Thoroughgood, calls her into his office.

  ‘Fee, forgive me for saying this but you’re not really managing very well, are you?’

  She takes a breath to speak but he holds up a hand.

  ‘I understand. Don’t worry, I’m not firing you. You’re an excellent member of my team, and I’d hate to lose you.’ He leans on the desk in his rolled-up shirt sleeves and the scent of his aftershave wafts over. ‘I’m worried about you Fee. This isn’t like you, so I know things must be pretty dire.’ He leans back again, and the back of his chair reclines under his weight. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, for my peace of mind, would you please go home and stay there until your family life is back to a something like normality?’

  Fee looks at her hands, resting on her knees, and nods. She lifts her eyes to meet his. They are too sympathetic, and she looks away.

  At her desk she gathers papers, takes the key to her filing cabinet from her car keys and walks round to Nick. ‘I think you’re going to need these.’ She drops them in an empty space and grabs a pen. ‘This is the number of my new mobile phone. I have to go home.’

  Nick looks up. Does she detect triumph in his manner? Forget it. She turns away.

  At the lift, she waits with her back to the room, and jumps at its loud ‘ping’. The doors rumble open, and behind her a murmur of voices begins to rise. Inside the lift she leans wearily against the wall, while the doors meet behind her like final curtains.

  The drive home is speedy, the roads almost empty. When she pulls up in the drive, Maurice’s car is parked against the curb and she runs up the steps wondering if he has anything to report.
<
br />   In the kitchen, Maurice is leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Sam and Josh are clinging to Gloria and wailing.

  ‘What’s happened? Is there news?’

  Gloria looks over Josh’s head and frowns slightly, shaking her head.

  ‘Maurice?’ Fee looks at him.

  ‘Fee, can we go in there?’ Maurice points towards the lounge door opposite.

  In the empty room Fee shuts the door. ‘What’s going on Maurice? Is there news?’

  ‘No Fee; nothing like that.’ He hangs his head exposing the beginnings of a bald patch. ‘I’m afraid I’ve done something stupid. I didn’t think it through.’

  She waits.

  ‘Sam asked me when Twitch would be back. I’m really sorry, but I told him the truth.’

  She plops into a chair and presses her palms to her eyes. ‘He’s upset. He would be.’ She looks at her watch. ‘The others will be back soon, I’ll explain the truth to them, as I’m here.’

  Maurice frowns. ‘Why are you home, anyway?’

  ‘Oh, you know. There’s a lot to do in the house. Work can manage without me for a while.’

  ‘You’ve got a good job there. I couldn’t have done that when Twitch left me.’

  Fee pierces Maurice with a look.

  ‘I’m only saying.’ Maurice folds his arms across his chest.

  She clenches her jaw and holds open the lounge door. ‘I need to get on now. Gloria and I will handle everything. Don’t worry.’ A lifetime of practice prevents her scorn from showing.

  She watches Maurice’s back as he stalks down the path, thinking that she has had better days.

  From her handbag, her phone sends out its plaintive cry. What now? She wonders, fumbling to find it before the ringing stops.

  A male voice says, ‘Ms Fee Thomas?’ It is not a voice she recognizes.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘Ms Thomas, this is Bartholomew and Co, Solicitors. I’m sorry to call you like this. I have been trying to locate you as you have moved from the address we have for you.

  Mummy’s solicitors, she guesses what this is about. ‘Yes. My husband and I have separated. Can I help you?’

  The solicitor’s voice is business-like, unemotional, as he advises her that her father died in St Matthews Hospital ten days ago. The firm are executors of his will, and she is invited to hear its contents.

  She feels nothing but exhaustion. ‘I am too busy to come now. Please post the papers to me with instructions.’

  In the kitchen, the boys have calmed down and are sitting at the table, each holding a mug of warm milk.

  ‘Good for the nerves,’ Gloria explains. ‘So,’ she looks at Fee, ‘to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?’

  Before Fee can explain her presence, the doorbell rings to Paul. He hands Kitty in and the child plants a peck on Fee’s cheek and runs off to play.

  ‘How are they?’ asks Paul. ‘Sam and Josh, I mean.’

  ‘OK. I’ll have to tell Kitty now though.’

  ‘Yeah, I thought that. I think she’ll be OK; it’s the other two…’

  ‘We’ll cope.’ Fee shutters her dry eyes with hot lids.

  Paul nods and turns away. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ***

  The children are all in bed. Fee cannot erase the picture of their shocked faces. Although she has not eaten since breakfast, she ignores Gloria’s barrage of offers of food and advice and dashes to the front door with an urgency verging on hysteria. ‘I have to be somewhere, Gloria. You’ll be OK on your own, won’t you?’

  ‘I will dear, but …’

  But Fee has slammed the door.

  The area at the front of the flats where Will lives was once a garden, but the former lawns have been compressed over years into a parking area. She noses her car between flaking white posts, their gates long gone, and reverses at a haphazard angle into a space between a Fiesta and a battered old Beetle.

  Grabbing her bag and shoving herself from her seat she stabs Will’s doorbell and waits at the intercom for his voice. He buzzes her in, and she steps into the cool vestibule and climbs the worn, wooden stairs, drawing in deep drafts of air to control her tears.

  From the top, Will looks down and seeing her face, gallops down to meet her. He takes her hand, relieves her of her handbag, and draws her up the remaining stairs and into the flat.

  Silently leading her to his sofa, Will places a large glass of red wine into her hand and sits beside her, scooping an arm round her shoulders. She can feel his breath, warm on her cheek but she stares at the wall opposite with its rather Avant-garde, russet coloured paint and huge and ornately framed bronze mirror above a traditional Georgian fireplace.

  Will has been working hard on his flat since Fee first met him in the supermarket. True to his word he would accept no help. He said it was therapy; it kept him occupied during the long days when she was unable to get away because of one crisis after another. He's achieved a masculine but cosy space.

  She takes a sip of the wine and puts it down on a side table and they sit in silence. Fee settles more comfortably into the crook of Will’s arm and he strokes some hair from her forehead and kisses the top of her head.

  ‘Thank you,’ is all she can say.

  ‘For what?’ He's smiling; she can tell from his voice.

  ‘For not clamouring; for giving me space and peace.’

  ‘Me? Clamour?’ He sounds mock affronted.

  ‘Everything and everyone have been clamouring since Twitch went missing. You seem to know exactly what I need, so thank you.’

  ‘It is,’ he kisses the top of her head again, ‘an absolute pleasure, ma’am. If you don’t want to talk then it’s fine with me. We can sit here all night if you wish.’

  Abruptly Fee knows what she does wish. Ignoring her weariness, she reaches across, takes Will’s face in her hands and kisses him on the lips. Her need grows and she rises to her knees on the settee and wraps her arms around his neck.

  Will responds with passion and, after fumbling with her clothing for a while, gives a grunt of frustration, picks her up and carries her into the bedroom. They undress quickly and dive into bed to make desperate, urgent love. When they have fallen, shattered onto the pillows, and lain there for some minutes, Will reaches across and begins to explore Fee’s body more slowly and thoroughly.

  Later, she gazes at the ceiling from the comfort of Will’s arm and begins to talk in a low voice. Everything hitherto unsaid pours from her: Her fears for the future, her childhood with her father and his recent demise, her mother’s death and her marriage break-down. When she has run out of words, she becomes aware that Will is still and unresponsive. She rolls onto her side to look at his face and meets a tense stare. ‘Is anything wrong?’

  Will looks away. ‘This sounds mad.’ He seems to be addressing himself then he draws his eyes to her face. ‘I just wondered if you would… Will you...’ He hesitates. ‘Do you think you can…’

  ‘What?’ Please, not that.

  ‘Marry me?’

  Fee is silent, searching for adequate words. ‘Will...’

  Will pulls his arm from her shoulders and twists away. ‘I know. It's mad. Forget I asked. I shouldn’t have put pressure on you, you’ve got enough on your plate. I thought it might help. We could look after the children between us. I could take some of the worries from your shoulders.’ He turns to face her again and cups his palms over her naked shoulders.

  Fee puts up her hand and strokes his fingers. ‘No, don’t blame yourself. I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I’ve been so preoccupied with everything that’s going on...’

  ‘I know. You don’t need to explain, but I can’t get you out of my head, and all this: Millie, and then Twitch, it’s made me realise that you have to seize your chance when you can.’ He pulls her to him. ‘I love you Fee and I want to be with you. I don’t want to spend my time in this flat, waiting for you to slip away from home as though we were having an affair.<
br />
  ‘Look, forget marriage for now and look at this.’ He leans over the side of the bed and picks up something from the floor - holiday brochures, thumbed and gaudy. ‘Come away with me to Mauritius. You don’t need to do anything except say yes. I’ll do everything, book the hotel buy the tickets, get your new passport...’

  ‘You have thought about this.’

  He dumps the pile of magazines heavily onto her lap and they unfurl along the valley between her outstretched legs.

  ‘How did you know I need a new passport?’

  Will shrugs, looking a bit bashful. ‘You mentioned it on our first date.’ He shuffles towards her in bed and picks up one of her limp hands, laying it onto the stream of brochures. ‘Don’t answer me now; think about it. I was planning to go in September, after the school holidays. I know that will be harder, with the children, but you’ll have Gloria, and Twitch might be back by then, and I suppose the children’s fathers can help.

  She remains silent. Up until tonight Will has avoided putting any pressure on her but now… ‘I can’t leave the children, or Gloria.’ She blocks any objection by holding up her palms. ‘I can’t deal with this.’ She pulls away and swings her feet to the floor. ‘I might love you too Will, but I can’t think about it. Give it a week or two to see whether Twitch comes home. Let Gloria get more established and then I’ll give it some thought.’ She looks at him sadly, ‘I’m sorry. I’m not much company at the moment. I’m not saying no – to anything, just,’ she sighs, ‘Give me time.’

  She pulls on clothes, while Will watches with obvious regret.

  ‘You will come back?’

  ‘Yes, yes of course. I won’t run away, don’t think that, but I need time to sort out everything else. You do understand, don’t you?’

  ‘I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I’ve made things worse for you.’

  ‘Well, maybe a bit more complicated.’ Fee gives him a small smile and sees him relax. He beams back and swings out of bed and into the bathroom.