You Let Him In

by JA Andrews

  Oh. She’s unfriended me.

  I turn off my phone because I’m too tired and upset to scroll through all of the pictures. I spare a moment for Gary Taylor and wonder how he manages to sleep at night with everything that he had to see. I couldn’t imagine being in that awful situation. I’m so thankful that he was there. At least Michael wasn’t on his own when he died. I only wish I could have been there with him to hold his hand and tell him how much he means to me. When Gary talked about what he witnessed it brought me some comfort. It made me feel like I was a part of his death in some weird way. He seems really nice to talk to.

  I’d like to meet him again.

  Fourteen

  Jenny

  The phone call from Sharon sounded important. Again, she has information, but only wants me to know face to face. It infuriates me when she does this to me. My mind has been racing in different directions all morning. I hate the uncertainties – the suspense which only adds to my worries. Sometimes I don’t think she realises that she doesn’t help me but makes my anxiety go through the roof.

  Maybe she has found Michael’s wedding ring?

  I’m sat on the sofa looking towards Donna who is twiddling her thumbs. She is sat cross-legged on the chair by the window with her eyes peering through the curtain. Leaves are blowing through the air in the autumn wind. I watch the neighbours walking their children across the streets. I see fathers walking their children to school and can’t help but think that Daniel has been robbed of a father – denied the love of another parent because of one stupid mistake.

  ‘Where is she?’ Donna asks. ‘Shouldn’t she be here by now?’

  I sigh, unable to hide my tiredness. I can see her looking at my heavy eyes. I hold the cup of coffee close to my chest to provide a gentle warmth. In the background, I can hear Peter talking to Daniel as he eats his breakfast. At least, through all this trauma, Daniel still has the same routines.

  ‘It’s only nine,’ I reply, wishing time would speed up. ‘She called me at eight and said she’d be here around ten-ish.’

  ‘Did she hint at what it possibly could be about?’ Donna asks. I can hear the tension in her voice. ‘She should have told you over the phone rather than put us through this worry. What do you think is going on?’

  I shake my head to acknowledge that I am unsure of the situation myself. Donna stands up and walks up and down the living room carpet peering out of the curtains at random intervals to check every car she hears driving past the house.

  ‘Do you think she has found Michael’s wedding ring?’ I ask, putting out a suggestion for why the call seems so urgent. Sharon knows how desperate I am to locate it. ‘Maybe it has turned up after all?’

  Donna stands still in her tracks, giving the carpet a break from the shuffling of her trainers. I sense her tension by the look on her face.

  ‘No disrespect, Jenny,’ Donna says with her hands now moving to her hips, ‘but I think you need to let it go. Stop being so obsessed with his ring. Michael is dead. He’s dead and he’s not coming back. No wedding ring can fix any of this. We’ve lost our son and you’ve lost a husband. Daniel has lost a father. The wedding ring is gone. Accept it and just let it go.’

  I place the coffee cup on the floor and a few splashes hit the carpet. I’m a little shocked by her reaction. I wasn’t expecting this behaviour. How dare she!

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ I respond. ‘How dare you tell me what I should or should not do in my own home?’

  I raise my voice as the audacity of her comment sets in my mind. I’ve had very little sleep for days and our wedding day meant something to me. Donna appears equally shocked by my response but who is she to tell me what to do in my own house? I’ve let her talk down to me over the years for far too long.

  ‘You don’t have to remind me that Michael is dead. That he walked out that door and the last time I saw him was in the hospital spread out on that cold slab. Don’t you dare patronise me, Donna? I know he was your son, but—’

  Peter appears from behind the living room door to interrupt the beginning of what could be a very heated argument.

  ‘Hey, hey, hey, calm down,’ Peter says, closing the door a little so it’s ajar. ‘Daniel doesn’t need to hear you two going at it like this. Come on, get a grip. Michael wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want us all falling out with each other, would he?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m tense and uptight,’ Donna apologises. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean it. We’ve all been a bit tense this last week. I feel bad now. It was insensitive of me. Maybe the ring will just turn up eventually.’

  I could mention how little she saw her son in the last few years. I could say how Michael always said how she put her business before her family at times. All that she was interested in since becoming self-employed was money and her constant stream of designer clothes. Michael used to complain that she treated his father like nothing more than a chauffeur. Someone to drive her down to Cornwall, open the shop and watch as she dictated her commands to the shop staff who she wouldn’t trust to work on their own.

  I will keep the peace and hold back.

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ I reply, ‘let’s put it behind us. Sharon will be here soon and we’ll know more about whatever it is then.’

  I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. How I have managed to not burst into tears I don’t know but the tiredness is taking its toll on me today. All I want to do is go back to bed and sleep. Curl myself up and remember the days when my husband would take care of me. Those times also when he needed me, especially when was ill. We joked about man-flu but he was terrible if an illness came along that hindered his working pattern. I liked to take care of him, make sure he ate well enough to keep his strength up.

  I glance at the bright orange mug left on the window sill. It was Michael’s favourite. Not that Donna knew this before she made her cup of tea and left it there. I look at the mug and little things come flooding back to me like the time I made him breakfast in bed. That was when our first ever argument happened. He was holding that very mug. I couldn’t sit and watch him play the online casino slots, watching all that money go to waste with each spin. I’d rather waste a few pounds every now and then on the lottery but he said it was only a one-off.

  Peter leaves the room to return to the kitchen. I hear Daniel talking away to himself, using words he has picked up from the kids’ channels on the television. Donna, in the meantime, has returned to the chair and continues to gaze out of the window as if her stares could hurry Sharon along.

  ‘I don’t mean to go on about it,’ I say to Donna, who doesn’t turn to look at me, ‘but that wedding ring is now the only reminder of our wedding day that I have left. It’s important to me.’

  Donna doesn’t give an immediate response. She stares out of the window before eventually giving a reply but still doesn’t look in my direction.

  ‘I don’t have anything,’ Donna replies. ‘Absolutely nothing except for my memories. Memories of him growing up, leaving university, leaving home. I too have my regrets. I can’t change anything though. He’s gone and I want to help plan his funeral – to give my boy the send-off he deserves.’

  I watch her in silence as she pats her chest while holding back the tears. I have very rarely seen any emotion from her in all the time that I have known her. On our wedding day, she sat and watched, hard-faced, as if she’d seen him marry thousands of times over. Two days before the wedding, Donna took me to one side out of earshot of Michael.

  ‘There’s still time to cancel,’ she explained. ‘You don’t have to get married nowadays because you’re pregnant. Michael will understand.’

  I never told Michael what she said until weeks after the wedding happened. He always made an excuse for her dominating behaviour and explained that she probably meant it in a caring way. Now that I know her better, I believe she was checking to see if I was having second thoughts. That comment upset me but nothing would stop me from walking down that aisle.


  I know she hasn’t always approved of me because I argue back. When Daniel was a baby, all I would hear was ‘in my day’ at every given opportunity. Donna would make me feel as though I was a new mother who was doing everything I shouldn’t be: the baby milk was always too hot, I shouldn’t lay Daniel on his side – as if I didn’t know already. It’s thanks to Donna and her interfering that I went on to the parenting advice forums. I waited for her other remarks after doing my online research and hit her right back with her own advice. It’s a good job that she’s not on that website to read all the comments I left about interfering mothers-in-law. I gave her a grandson and for that I know she is respectful of my presence in her son’s life. We are a family and we’ve grown to love each other.

  Together we hear the slowing down of a car outside. Donna stands up almost immediately and pulls back the curtain.

  ‘She’s here,’ says Donna. I stand up and place my empty coffee cup on the mantelpiece, taking a glance at all the unopened mail I need to sit down and sort through. I don’t have the energy or enthusiasm for it. I keep putting it off because it reminds me of the huge credit card bill that Michael was hiding from me on the day of his death – but the more I look, the bigger the pile is becoming. I’m concerned I’m going to open the letters to reveal a whole stack of them.

  Another day, maybe.

  I stand ready by the front door, anticipating the unknown news. Through the glass, I see the outline of her appearance and open the door before she has a chance to knock.

  ‘Sharon, hi,’ I say to get the niceties out of the way. ‘Come on inside. Michael’s parents are here too.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good, love,’ Sharon replies, holding a black carry case that resembles a laptop bag. ‘How have you been holding up?’

  ‘Not good, to be honest with you,’ I reply as she walks straight past me into the hallway. ‘I have good moments and bad ones. To be expected, I imagine under the circumstances.’

  Peter stands by the kitchen door rubbing his hands into a tea towel. My eyes focus on him as I stand there in the hallway, smiling. My smile hides my nerves and anxiety over the uncertainty of what I am about to hear.

  ‘Daniel has just had his breakfast and I’ve washed up,’ Peter announces. ‘Shall we all come through to the kitchen?’

  I nod my head and follow behind Sharon, who is leading the way. Peter pulls out a chair for her. Daniel is watching us all as he plays with a toy car on the kitchen table.

  ‘Hello, Daniel,’ Sharon says as she removes the contents of her bag. A few sheets of printed paper. I see the police logo on the heading. ‘Have you been keeping Granddad busy?’

  Daniel mutters a few words. His speech has improved a lot since Michael died and continues to get better week by week. He pushes the car forwards and backwards to entertain himself.

  ‘Hello,’ Daniel replies and holds his hands to his ear as if he is on the telephone. ‘Hello.’

  We all laugh with him as he realises what he is doing wrong. Donna is first to sit down, followed by Peter. I remain standing as I am unsettled by Sharon’s presence. I want her to tell me what news she has. I want it over with. I look at Daniel to admire his innocence; unaware of the tragedy, he continues to play with his toys. He’s the only thing that keeps me sane.

  ‘Sharon, please tell us all what has happened,’ I beg of her. ‘My nerves are in tatters as it is. Please, just tell me.’

  Sharon holds the paper closer to her eyes. I watch her pull the paper backwards and forwards again while squinting to adjust her vision.

  ‘The toxicology report from the suspect came back much quicker than anticipated, and the results are conclusive,’ Sharon continues, as I hold my breath. ‘He had a cocktail of amphetamines, methadone and diazepam in his system.’

  Donna starts to cry and holds her hands across her face. Peter grabs her hand to comfort her. They both look teary.

  ‘He was driving under the influence, after all?’ Peter asks. ‘The man that killed my son was off his head on drugs?’

  ‘And alcohol,’ Sharon butts in, interrupting Peter’s flow of conversation, ‘but that’s not what killed him.’

  The three of us look at each other with this revelation. No one speaks a word until Sharon continues.

  ‘The post-mortem and toxicology results combined have given us the evidence to suggest that after hitting your husband with the vehicle he fled the scene and unfortunately passed out in the stream deep within the grounds of the Taverton Estate Hotel. He drowned.’

  Drowned?

  ‘It all seems like a complete waste of life,’ I snap, holding back my emotion. ‘Some fucking druggy just kills my husband then runs away to pass out and drown.’

  I can’t deal with this.

  ‘I know the suspect is dead but I don’t feel that justice has been done,’ I cry, the tears full flow. ‘What happens now? What are we meant to do?’

  Donna and Peter hold each other. I sit down at the table to comfort myself and acknowledge my own feelings. I look towards Daniel, who has stopped playing with his car to look up at me. He seems confused by what is going on around him, I look at my boy and wish I could explain everything, but he wouldn’t understand.

  ‘It’s all right, Daniel,’ I say, looking into his eyes, ‘Mummy’s just a bit upset right now.’

  ‘We are compiling a report for the coroner’s office. All of the evidence gathered that includes CCTV footage, toxicology reports, witness statements and forensic evidence from the vehicle, all support that Mr Clifton was killed by a man who was driving a vehicle at full speed under the influence of drugs and alcohol. We have no reason to believe it was intentional. Aware that he struck your husband, he fled the scene immediately, but he could not have known if Mr Clifton was deceased at this point.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ I ask, wiping my eyes. ‘That he is innocent, that he had no idea what he was doing?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ Sharon replies. ‘If he were alive it would have been a case of manslaughter – at best – but due to the circumstances we cannot charge him. The events of that evening appear to be a tragic coincidence: your husband being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s no proof to support anything more than this. Your husband and the suspect were not known to each other.’

  I look at her, helpless and disappointed that the best support she could offer was to suggest that my husband was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have someone to blame, but nothing I can do about it.

  I just want everyone to leave. I have that deflated feeling back and I want to be on my own with my own thoughts. I have an urge to tell Gary, see what he says about all of this. He was there, he will understand the injustice.

  ‘His girlfriend is also a known to the police as a drug user and both have been arrested before for carrying class A and B substances,’ Sharon carries on. ‘The vehicle we suspect was also stolen due to it displaying false number plates and we are confident it did not belong to the suspect. Our records indicate that he had lost his license twelve months ago for drink driving offences too. He was a known criminal.’

  ‘Basically, if he had been locked up for his previous drug use and offences, my husband would still be alive?’ I interrupt. ‘Why was he allowed to get away with it, surely he should have gone to prison?’

  Sharon places the papers back into the folder and puts it directly on the table in front of her.

  ‘A judge had given them both suspended sentences,’ says Sharon.

  I look at her in disbelief and shake my head. Michael died because of some low-life scumbag who stole a car.

  Donna turns to look at me while Peter picks up Daniel and holds him in his arms.

  ‘I’ll take him through to the lounge,’ says Peter as he carries Daniel through to the hallway. ‘He’ll pick up on the tension. It wouldn’t be good for the little lad.’

  Donna and I both look at each other. Our eyes are puffy and swollen from the constant tears and grief that seem never-ending. All Mi
chael wanted to do was better our lives, and it resulted in his death. I wish he never left the house that night. Why couldn’t he have just stayed at home? There’s absolutely nothing more I can do.

  ‘There’s also one more piece of information I need to inform you of,’ Sharon tells us both with a look of dread in her eyes. I sense that she’s anxious about continuing. ‘The post-mortem report and the coroner’s certificate approving a cremation have been posted to you. First-class to be signed for. I know you are already aware that Michael died from the injuries he sustained from being hit by the vehicle. The post-mortem revealed he died from being crushed by the car on one side of his body, causing fatal injuries to his vital organs.’

  I’m shaking with fear as though this is unexpected news, even though I am fully aware of it. I witnessed his dead body with my own eyes. I know she is doing her job but I really want her to leave me in peace. Both Donna and I nod our heads in agreement.

  ‘I noted your wish for Michael to be cremated from our telephone conversation, so with this release form from the coroner’s office, you can now start to arrange his cremation. We can release the body to the funeral parlour of your choice when you have someone in mind. Please keep me updated.’

  It couldn’t be more real to me than the words spoken.

  Cremation. A funeral parlour.

  I hold back another emotional outburst. So much to do in what feels so little time. How can I grieve in peace with so much to organise?

  ‘Thank you, officer,’ Donna responds. ‘We’ll start the arrangements as soon as we can. We have so much to talk about between us. Michael’s last wishes, his favourite song.’