‘I think it’s only natural,’ Becky answered. ‘In my job I speak to a lot of people who’ve lost those they love, and honestly, everyone says the same thing. I’m sure your sister knew how much you loved her. Let’s concentrate on finding who did this – that’s the biggest help you can be to Genevieve right now.’
‘And you don’t think it’s the woman whose face was posted on that Facebook page?’
Becky wanted to be honest with Sara, but needed to be careful about what she told her.
‘We don’t know. It’s not helpful if she’s found guilty by social media, though, and if she knows anything at all, she may well go into hiding.’ If she hasn’t already. ‘Especially if she knows something about the killer – possibly even their identity. She could be at risk.’
‘But she’s missing?’
‘We don’t know where she is, although that’s not necessarily the same as missing. No one seems to have an address for her, so she may well be at home, reading a book or cooking dinner. We have it in hand, and we’re looking for her. In the meantime, was there anything in your sister’s life, as far as you know, that could have put her in any danger?’
Sara rested her chin on her upturned palms and stared blindly across the room. Finally, she shook her head. ‘Nothing that bad, no. She could be difficult. Money seemed to matter to her, more than I thought was healthy sometimes. She always seemed to feel she had to be in competition with everyone about everything, but I could never work out who she was trying to impress.’
‘Can you give me some examples of times when she was “difficult”, as you put it?’
Sara blew out a long breath through pursed lips. ‘She was being a bit weird about Niall. I think she felt it was time he realised there was more to life than what she called his “bloody app”. I told her the same bloody app was paying for their lifestyle, but she just smiled and said she was going to give him a bit of a reality check.’
‘She didn’t say what she meant?’
‘No. I think she was hankering after the days when all she did was party. I suppose you’re aware she went out with that footballer? He was a dick, and Gen knew it, but she liked the kudos, you know? We had a massive row about it. I told her that a relationship with a man who genuinely loved her would bring her far more happiness than going to fancy parties, pushing God knows what up her nose and thinking that getting hammered was fun. But she was livid – said I was tedious beyond belief, old before my time and several other choice phrases that I prefer to forget.’ She paused. ‘But that was a long time ago now. I hoped she’d settle down with Niall, but then he’s flash in his own way too.’
‘Before we get on to talking about Niall, we were wondering about the footballer – Eddie Carlson. Apparently he could get nasty when he was jealous. Do you know how things ended between them?’
Sara gave a short, sharp laugh. ‘His jealousy had nothing to do with love. He just didn’t want to be seen to be losing out to anyone else. And he was always pissed, so it was largely the booze talking. Gen told the world – and the press – that she dumped him because things were getting out of hand with his drinking and drug-taking, but he said he dumped her because she was always trying it on with his mates, and she showed him up. He put out a statement denying that she’d ditched him, but the press didn’t bite. Someone as insignificant as Genevieve getting dumped by him was of no interest. Her ditching him, a famous footballer, was much more newsworthy.’
‘So you don’t think we should consider him a suspect?’
‘Not really. He was furious with her for all she said, but I think he’s playing for some second-rate Spanish club now. If he’d been going to react, it would have been sooner.’
Becky nodded and took a sip of her coffee. ‘What about Niall? How were things there?’
Sara pushed her chair back from the table. ‘Do you mind if I have a glass of wine? I think I need it, and you’re welcome to join me. I must check on the kids in a moment too.’
‘I’d love one, but I can’t, I’m afraid. You carry on, though.’
Sara opened the door to the fridge and spoke without turning round. ‘Niall is okay, but I really don’t know him that well. I think I mentioned to your colleague that we’re not invited there much because of the kids, and although we ask them here, it’s not his idea of fun being surrounded by my noisy brood. Not Gen’s either, if I’m honest.’
‘Did she seem happy with him?’
Sara returned to her chair and took a long drink from her glass. ‘She seemed happy with what he provided, if that doesn’t sound too cynical. She had a lovely house, although it’s not as fancy as Eddie’s place, and she didn’t need to work so she could hang around all day with her friends – go to the gym, have lunch and a gossip, a bit of shopping. What a life! Do you know, since finding out about Gen I’ve had friends call me and offer to take the kids; others have called round with food, offered to do the shopping or just volunteered a hug. I would put money on none of her friends getting in touch with Niall, or even really mourning her.’
Becky didn’t want to tell her that, according to Rob, she was spot on.
‘It was all a bit artificial. When I asked if she was happy with Niall – if she loved him – she said, “What’s not to love? He’s got plenty of money, he’s good-looking, and he’s not a bad lover.” But having said all of that, I got the impression recently that she was worried about something. And it was something to do with Niall.’
Becky leaned forward. ‘Do you have any idea what?’
Sara shook her head slowly. ‘No. Strange as it sounds, I don’t think she would have been that bothered if there was another woman, as long as no one else knew he was being unfaithful – loss of face, you know – and provided he wasn’t going to leave her. If he did, she’d be left with nothing, you see. She’s not had a job in years. But then they’ve been married a while, so I guess he’d have had to give her half of everything.’
Becky knew but didn’t say that this was not necessarily the case. It was always the starting point, but other factors could be taken into consideration.
‘They didn’t have a pre-nup?’ Becky asked.
‘Not that I’m aware of. I’m fairly certain Gen wouldn’t have married him if he’d asked her to sign away her rights.’
Becky didn’t like what she was hearing. Sara seemed to have loved her sister, but Genevieve sounded shallow and self-centred. Becky’s mind flashed back to Niall’s disdainful tone when he talked about how his wife had spent her days, and she wondered what their marriage had really been like.
32
There wasn’t much more that Tom could do at XO-Tech. A search team had arrived, and they were stripping Martha’s office. Rob had volunteered to stay behind with them.
‘It’s not a problem. I’m not doing anything tonight,’ he said.
Except maybe sleep, Tom thought, but kept the idea to himself.
He’d had a word with Elise Chapman, who had been very defensive.
‘I liked Genevieve. She was a friend, and Martha wasn’t friends with anyone here. She didn’t give a damn about any of us. Anyway, I saw her arguing with Genevieve only last week. I heard her shouting – Genevieve, that is. The door wasn’t closed properly, but I couldn’t hear what they said.’
Tom noted the position of Elise’s desk – at the far side of the room from Martha’s office, where it was unlikely she would have heard a thing. ‘Where were you when you heard the conversation between Martha Porter and Mrs Strachan?’ he asked.
Elise had the grace to flush slightly. ‘I was putting a notice up on the board.’ She pointed to a cork board which held some official memos and a few party invitations. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing. Well, not the words, but Genevieve was furious with Martha about something.’
‘Did anyone else hear?’
‘I think Caroline did, but she was further from the door so she wouldn’t have been able to hear what they were saying either.’
‘I understand you were t
he last person to speak to Martha this morning. Can you remember anything she said?’
Elise grunted. ‘What she said? Bloody nothing, cold bitch. She carried on as if I wasn’t there, faffing with her computer and her phone, ignoring me. But she acted a bit weird when I mentioned the police.’
‘What did you see her do with her phone?’
‘She took it out of her bag and put it in her drawer, then fiddled with her mouse as if I wasn’t there.’
‘You’re sure she took the phone out of her bag?’
Elise’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘No reason. I’m trying to understand more of how your phones are used – with the app on them.’
Tom needed to distract Elise from the idea that the location of the phone was important, so he read her the riot act for posting accusations against Martha online. ‘We don’t know that she was involved in any way, and I’d like you to remove all posts relating to Ms Porter, please.’
She had looked rather disgruntled, but then a slight smile touched the corner of her mouth, and Tom knew she was going to make much more of this than she should. Her next post would place him in the role of villain and paint her as his victim. But he was too weary to worry about that now. As long as she took the posts down, that was all that mattered.
Tom drove home carefully, his window wide open to maximise the breeze, and finally pulled into his drive at 8.30, glad to be back. He needed food, a drink, some time with Louisa and – when Harry woke for his next feed – a cuddle with his baby. And then sleep.
Louisa was in the kitchen, and there was no sign of Harry. Perhaps that was for the best. Tom would enjoy him all the more when he’d had time to put the day’s events behind him. He hated the thought of holding his son while images of the gruesome scene they had found that morning flashed through his mind.
‘Hi, Tom,’ Louisa said as she pulled a large bowl of salad from the fridge. ‘Are you okay? White wine, as it’s so hot and sticky?’
Tom was pleased to see that she looked less tired than she had the day before, and he hoped she’d had a chance to rest. He felt slightly guilty about the wine, as Louisa wasn’t drinking while she was still breastfeeding Harry, but she swore she didn’t mind.
‘I’m fine, and white wine sounds perfect. Thank you. How are you feeling? And Harry?’
‘It’s been a good day. Harry has one rather pink cheek, but he seems to be over the worst for now. He’s been a little sweetie today. You should have seen him rolling around on his rug after his nap! He made me laugh, and he was very chatty in his incomprehensible way. Lots of “bur bur” sounds.’
Tom smiled at the thought. Louisa was desperate for him to make any sound that she could interpret as ‘Mummy’, but Tom kept telling her not to wish the time away.
‘Do you want to tell me about Lucy and Kate?’ he asked as she passed him his wine.
‘Of course. Do you mind if I speak with my back to you? I want to cook these fishcakes to go with the salad. Unless you’d rather wait?’
‘No, it’s fine. I’m starving.’
Louisa pulled a plate bearing the promised fishcakes from the fridge and switched on the hob.
‘I gave you the basics on the phone. The new man turned out to be not quite what she expected. Lucy didn’t give many details, and I didn’t speak to Kate. All I could glean was that he’d given up his job on the ship and thought he’d take some time to have a look around to decide on his future direction.’
Tom sighed. ‘Poor Kate. She’s spent her life trying to find a man who will keep her in the style to which she would like to become accustomed, and then she ends up with someone who it seems has the same idea, but in reverse.’
‘Are you gloating, Tom?’ Louisa said, turning round to give him a fake-stern look.
She was right – he shouldn’t make fun – but all those years ago Kate had hurt him badly when she left him for another man, taking Lucy with her. Then, when that relationship went sour, she decided a return to Tom was her best bet. Tom had turned her down, even though he missed Lucy.
‘I tend to be a tad cynical where Kate’s concerned. Too much history. More importantly, how’s Lucy taking it?’
‘Delighted to be coming home, missing Harry – and she belatedly remembered to say she missed us too, but I’m sure she does – as much as any teenage girl would. I think she’s annoyed because she was starting to make some friends in Australia, and now she’s coming back but not even to the same school. Kate told her she doesn’t think they can afford to move back to that area. Since she sold the house, I think she must have spent a lot of the money. She told Lucy they may have to rent a small flat somewhere.’
Tom was pleased that Louisa had her back to him. He didn’t want her to see his expression. He knew exactly what was going on here, but she didn’t know Kate as well as he did, and despite some of his ex-wife’s behaviour, Louisa made an effort to get on with her.
Kate was planting problems in Lucy’s mind – a different school, a run-down flat, a different lifestyle. She knew Lucy would report all of this to her dad, and it was her way of preparing the ground for what was to come.
‘You know what’s coming next, don’t you?’ Tom asked as Louisa flicked the golden fishcakes onto a plate.
‘Of course I do. And I know what you’ll do. It’s fine, Tom. You didn’t think I’d object, did you?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Not everyone would accept their baby’s father shelling out to put a roof over the head of his ex-wife. Why is it always about money with Kate?’
‘That doesn’t matter, because you’re not doing it for her, are you? You normally won’t touch Jack’s money, but I’m assuming that’s where it will come from.’
‘There’s nowhere else!’
‘So it’s fine. And I’m sure Jack wouldn’t mind.’
Talk of Jack was always difficult for Tom. He missed his brother and longed for the evenings they used to spend together drinking whisky and arguing about music, politics or crime. Louisa was wrong about Jack, though. He wouldn’t resent Tom spending the money on somewhere for Lucy, but he’d be bloody annoyed with Kate for taking the piss – which is exactly what he would think she was doing.
33
MARTHA
I was certain that once I started driving, Alfie would fall asleep in his seat, his head propped against the side rests. I was right. The day’s activity and the brief episode with his temperature have taken their toll.
We travelled north from the airport, towards home initially. That made me nervous, but it was the fastest route, and I knew that the sooner we were on the motorway heading east, the happier I’d be. I’ve been driving for about forty-five minutes now, and I’m scared to stop, to have to get out of the car for fuel or when we reach our destination. Who knows how far Elise’s post has spread?
I glance in the mirror and my momentary calm evaporates. A police car is coming up fast behind me, blue lights flashing, and I grip the steering wheel tightly, waiting for it to catch up with me. It pulls out to pass, and the officer in the passenger seat looks my way. I’m waiting, knowing they’re going to signal me to pull over, and I keep my eyes on the road ahead, trying to convince myself that by ignoring them, they will go away. The siren wails, and a groan escapes my lips as the car sails by, speeding along the outside lane, other vehicles moving out of its way. Whoever they’re after, it isn’t me.
I put my foot down, keeping below the speed limit, but I want to reach my destination and get off the road as soon as I can. My intention has always been to go to Northumberland. I’ve researched the area well, and it sounds wonderful. I like the idea of moors, hills and beaches. We’ll be happy there. At least, that’s what I’ve always thought.
Now I think of what’s ahead of me – finding a new home, a new job, maybe even new names for both of us, all the while praying that no one recognises me.
How long can I keep doing this to Alfie?
For over five years we’ve been
in and around Manchester. It’s a big city, so it was easy to move from one side to the other and think that it was a whole new part of the country, especially as we kept out of the centre. I thought I was keeping ahead of the game, but I’m not any longer. The police will investigate me, and hiding will become increasingly difficult. How long before Alfie starts looking for answers?
I look at him now in the mirror. His skin is paler than mine, but his hair is just as wild and curly. I know I should cut it shorter – even without the pink T-shirt he sometimes gets mistaken for a girl – but it’s so glorious as it spreads around his cute little face like a black halo. It’s impossible to believe that there was a time when I doubted he would ever be born.
I shudder at the thought, and Alfie stirs, pushing the memories from my mind.
‘Mummy, I need a wee.’
I don’t want to stop, to walk into a bustling service station, but I can’t deny him a visit to the toilet.
‘We’ll stop soon, sweetheart. Can you hang on?’
I watch in the mirror as he frowns in concentration. ‘I’ll try.’
Five minutes later I spot a sign to the services.
‘Nearly there, Alfie – just a couple of minutes.’
I pull into the car park and, keeping my head down, we walk through the double glass doors into the concourse. Alfie is looking around, his little face a picture of awe. He’s never been anywhere like this before, but I hurry him along, towards the bathrooms.
It’s as we are coming out that I glance up at a large television and I stop, my legs suddenly weak. The screen is filled with an image of Genevieve. A photo of Niall pops up in the left-hand corner and I swallow the lump in my throat. The audio would never be heard over the sound of so many people talking, laughing, shouting, so subtitles flash up every few seconds, and I struggle to read them before they disappear. I see police and lines of enquiry, and I know without a doubt that I will be one of them. Maybe I shouldn’t have run. Maybe it would have been better to stay and pray they didn’t look too closely at me, that they would confine their search to Martha Porter and never discover who I used to be. I’ve covered my tracks well, or at least I thought I had. Now I’m not so confident.
Close Your Eyes Page 13