by Rachael Blok
She grabs the side of the platform to try to push herself back up, but she doesn’t have enough time. It’s hurtling; fractions of a second away, whining its way forward, brakes screaming.
She relaxes, and closes her eyes.
Then jerked, suddenly, she is back on the platform. Her head lands with a bang on the concrete and she rolls to the side, her legs twisting beneath her. Her skirt billows as she comes to rest, caught up around her knees. Graceful, a single slow movement, the arc of the air beneath the silk like a collapsing tent.
The alarm is ringing and there are screams. Blood races in her ears. She thinks of her bag, crushed beneath the wheels of the Tube, lying down with the rats beneath the rails.
‘Fuck, Ana, are you OK? Ana? Ana?’
And her world fades. The dizziness already taking hold, the heat of the platform a force she can’t fight.
There is blackness.
*
‘Ana! Ana!’
It’s noisy. So hot. Her head hurts.
‘Don’t move her!’
‘Where are the police?’
‘They’re on their way. Please stand back.’
Lights flash. Her neck aches. She tries to move her head but there’s a pain shooting down her left side.
‘Lie still.’ The voice is soft, warm. It’s a woman’s voice. She opens her eyes and looks into brown eyes, a face a few years older than she is. ‘I want you to try to lie still. Please, just lie still.’
Ana drops her head back down onto something soft. She can’t think where she is, but this heat. This overwhelming heat.
The train, coming towards her… ‘What happened! Did someone fall?’
‘Hello, Ana – it is Ana, isn’t it? My name is Petra and I’m a doctor, I’m going to check you. Can you lie still for me, Ana? Can you tell me if it hurts anywhere?’
‘Did someone fall? Did I fall? The train…’
‘You’re OK. Can you take a breath for me? Can you take a deep breath? You fell and almost landed on the tracks, but they pulled you back up. Just in time.’ The woman is working quickly. A light shines in Ana’s eyes and she blinks, seeing spots of black among the bright sheen.
‘Ana, does it hurt anywhere? Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?’
She’s crying, she can feel her limbs shake, her hands shake. She tries to lift them, to wipe her eyes, but her back screams when she lifts her arm.
‘Ana, don’t try to move. We’re going to lift you in a minute. We need to wait for the paramedics. Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?’
‘Four,’ she says. The light hurts her eyes. She closes them, tilting her head. ‘I think there are four.’
Petra lays a blanket over her. Ana is shivering now, despite the heat.
‘My back hurts, it hurts.’
‘You’ve jolted it, it might be bruised. Don’t try to move.’ Petra leans forward and takes Ana’s hand, smiling. ‘You’re looking OK. I’ve checked your reflexes. The shock is making you shake. Just lie still. We’ll get you sorted in no time. I’m going to stay with you. It’s important you don’t move. The paramedics will get you to hospital.’
Who had she been with? Jack, that was it.
‘Ana! Ana!’ The shout again. She can’t see; it’s only on the edge of her vision, but is that Jack being held back?
‘Police are here!’ someone calls.
‘It was him, he pushed her!’ This time a man’s voice calls out. ‘I saw it, he pushed against her and she fell!’
‘I didn’t, someone pushed me! I pulled her back up on the platform. Ana, are you OK? Ana!’
Pressing down, the heat is too much. It’s hot and cold. She’s still shivering. Her neck aches. Her head hurts.
‘Ana, try not to sleep. Can you take another breath for me? Try to squeeze my hand. Tell me where you were going, were you on your way to work?’ Petra says, but all Ana can do is close her eyes.
Like falling backwards, sinking beneath the surface of a swimming pool, she has the impression of immersion, of dipping into the darkness. Being swallowed up.
‘Ana, can you press my hand? Take a breath. Try not to sleep.’
All she can do is allow the blackness in.
There’s a face, at the edge of the crowd. Is it Jack again – calling? Her eyes flicker as her lids fall.
It’s the cap again. The same cap.
Is it Leo?
50
Friday 22nd June
MAARTEN
‘So, she fell on the tracks?’ Adrika looks incredulous. ‘People don’t survive that, surely. They get electrocuted?’
‘Not the tracks,’ Maarten says, shaking his head. ‘She half fell off the platform. The Tube train was coming, and someone pulled her back just in time. Lucky – she wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
‘And this Jack Thurbridge allegedly pushed her?’
‘That’s the story. We have a witness statement sent over from the police. They were called, and she was taken to hospital. They’ve dropped her off by ambulance. There was concern about her spine, but they checked her and they’ve let her go home. She’s suffering from concussion. She banged her head at some point, and there’s been some trauma to her back. But nothing serious. Mainly just bruises.’
Adrika turns the engine off and they step out of the car. The evening air is still hot; the sun relentless. Noise chatters from the pub garden.
‘Friday night, sir. I bet the pub itself is empty. Everyone will be outside in the beer garden when it’s like this. God, we need rain. Do you think she’s up to talking to us?’
‘Who knows. But any threat to her ties in with our case. For all we know, Jack Thurbridge could be our missing link. It’s best to get her statement today. Who knows what she’ll remember on Monday.’ He checks both ways and steps across the country road. ‘I told her mother we’d use the side entrance,’ Maarten says. ‘Come on.’
Ana Seabrook is pale against the sheets on her bed. The window is wide open but it brings little breeze, and the noise from the pub garden sails in clearly. Maarten would hate it. He thinks of Liv still recovering in hospital, and how little disturbance Aggie offers compared to this.
‘We’re just here to hear your side of events. If it was just this incident, we’d wait,’ Adrika says, ‘but we’re investigating any possible links to the body in the graveyard. You seem to have been at the heart of a number of recent incidents. If Jack Thurbridge pushed you then he’s a suspect.’
Ana lifts herself up, leaning back against the pillows, and takes a drink from the glass near her bed.
‘Ana, they can do this later, you know,’ Maisie Seabrook says.
‘She’s right,’ Maarten says. ‘We can come back later for all the details. We really just want to know if you think you were pushed. What you saw.’
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘All I know is that one minute we were standing on the Tube platform and it was hot. There was a crush, you know, busy. The train was coming and I heard Jack shout, and then I fell. The train screamed down the track – I was scared. The lights were so close, glaring.’ She sounds exhausted.
‘Did you feel him fall, or did you feel a push?’ Adrika says.
‘I think more a fall, but I can’t really say. I thought maybe someone had fainted – there are always people fainting in this heat.’ She shakes her head, as though clearing water from her ears. ‘I don’t know him that well. But he seems nice. He could have pushed me. It was the weight of him that forced me to fall. But then wasn’t it him who pulled me up? No one’s told me yet.’ She looks tired. She lies back and rests her head on the back wall behind her bed. ‘I can’t think why he would push me. What would he have to gain? I’ve only known him a week.’
‘Did you see anything? Anything at all that you want to tell us?’ Adrika leans forward, her notebook open on her knee.
‘I might have seen…’
Maarten watches her glance at her sister before she speaks.
‘I might have
seen Leo.’
‘Leo Fenton?’ Adrika is scribbling furiously in her notebook.
‘Yes, but not really him. I don’t know what it was…’
Her sister has gone white, and she clutches the arm of her chair for support.
‘I know, it was the cap. He, whoever he was – surely it can’t have been Leo – he was wearing Leo’s cap. The one he always wore.’ She looks to Maisie. ‘You know.’
Laughter comes in from the pub garden and enters the hot bedroom, hanging in the air like smoke.
51
Friday 22nd June
ANA
‘Can I come in?’ Fran pokes her head round the door.
Ana isn’t asleep. Her head has a dull ache, but other than that she’s just tired. It’s her mind that fizzes, flicking quickly from one thing to the next. Won’t rest.
‘Of course, do. I didn’t know you were still here.’ Ana sits up, lifting her hair to tie up.
‘I’ve just had dinner,’ Fran says. Then grins. ‘With The Leith himself. Who knew the lengths you’d go to in order for me to have a bit of one-on-one time with him. You’re a good friend.’
Ana smiles. ‘And how was he? Small talk scintillating? Masterful?’
‘We talked about you, Ana. He feels really guilty. He said he thought there was something funny about Jack… He’s downstairs. Going to drive me back. He won’t come in here, but he wanted me to say how sorry…’ Fran shakes her head, reaching out and holding Ana’s hand. ‘I had no idea. He seemed so… nice.’ She shrugs. ‘Crap word. Crap judge of character.’
‘But honestly, Fran. The things Leith is talking about weren’t anything. I recognised him from your photo. Awkward – but he joked about it. Asked about you. He was looking forward to meeting you for a drink. I honestly don’t know if he pushed me. I wouldn’t have thought… I mean, I couldn’t see what happened, he certainly fell on me. But pushed me on the track?’
‘Really? Is that what you told the police?’
‘I just said I didn’t know. Why? Why would he do it? It just makes no sense. But then again, nothing does.’ She lays back on the pillow. Her head throbs.
‘He’s with the police now. I haven’t spoken to him,’ Fran says. She traces her finger up and down the inside of her arm, looking out of the window. ‘First man I like in a while, and he turns out to be a lamb with shark’s teeth.’
Ana squeezes her hand, shaking her head. ‘It might be nothing. He might have nothing to do with any of this,’ she says.
‘What, with my luck?’ Fran says. ‘Nah, just your average Friday night out.’
52
Friday 22nd June
MAARTEN
‘Anything?’ Maarten asks, speaking quietly down the phone in the corridor of the London police station Jack Thurbridge had been taken to for questioning. Due to the link, he’s been allowed to question him with the officer here. But Thurbridge is protesting his innocence.
‘I just can’t tell, sir. I’ve stared at this CCTV for hours, and it’s just not conclusive. He stands right up behind her, then falls forward. He could be pushing or could have been pushed himself. There’s such a throng of people on that platform. I’m surprised they don’t have more accidents.’
‘And the cap? What about that, any sightings?’
‘It’s there. There’s a man, at least I guess a man, but you can’t see the face. We’ve looked at his gait and height, and given the find in Norfolk, we don’t think it’s Leo. Someone is trying to give that impression, though. Dressed in T-shirt, jeans. All you can see on the CCTV on the platform is him standing close to our two. The interesting thing is that once the incident occurs, and the crowd forms – gruesome as it is – then this person with the cap lingers for a minute and walks away. It’s interesting only because he doesn’t seem interested. Unless he was trying to get away.’
Maarten leans back against the wall, nodding to a uniformed officer who squeezes through. It’s late, and he wants to see Liv. They’ll let him in late, but he hasn’t managed to catch the girls before bedtime. Jane is still here, saving him. If he were on his own, he just wouldn’t know how to do this job and have children. How do other people manage?
‘Look, the golden hour is long gone. There’s no point carrying on tonight. Are there any leads following the cap outside? Any glimpse of his face?’
‘Zilch, sir. Zero.’
‘Right, then let’s call it a day. I’m done here. He outright denies pushing and it’s not our case anyway yet. If we can find some link to Leo Fenton, then we can call him back in. But it’s late on a Friday night. It’s time to go home.’
Heading out of the station, Maarten breathes in the cooling air. London lights are bright all around. The city is out drinking on the pavement. It feels like a different city in the heat. Tomorrow he will take the girls up to the forest for a walk, picnic, a swim in the river. And see Liv. He misses her, like a thirst.
The country needs drenching. Everything is parched. Even the air is brittle now – the news had reported six fires in the last twelve hours; a message to the public urged vigilance with cigarette ends. The heat has stuck at over 30 degrees Celsius for the past week.
Ana Seabrook has been very lucky today. Or very unlucky, however you viewed it. These close brushes with death: his family, Ana Seabrook. The summer has weaved mortality into its heat. This earth, the grass, the drying river beds – they are all weaker, and he is weaker too. When the heat is close and sticky, he just wants to sit with his arms around his family, their warmth running like blood between them.
Time for a glass of red wine. And a family weekend. Ana Seabrook and Jack Thurbridge can wait until Monday.
53
Monday 25th June
MAARTEN
‘Monday morning, anything new for me?’ Maarten settles back on the edge of the desk, coffee in hand. Liv had been a lot better at the weekend. Aggie was quieter and so Liv was getting some sleep. Almost out, almost home.
‘How’s Liv doing?’ Adrika asks as the team grab pens, iPads, start settling down.
‘Nearly as good as new,’ Maarten says, smiling. ‘The hospital thinks she’ll be home by the end of the week. It’s been tough.’
‘Bet the girls are pleased,’ Adrika says.
‘Everyone’s pleased.’ Maarten thinks of his mother-in-law. She’d had a break over the weekend but she is exhausted. He is exhausted. Liv’s absence is marked in the house: the shower screen has clouded over in the last few days, the post has built up by the door. The washing basket spills over. He feels guilty, realising all that she does. They both work, but she clearly carries the lion’s share at home. Luckily, she is between projects at work. That, at least, had been easy. She hates letting anyone down.
‘Where did we get to on Jack Thurbridge? Anything?’ he says to the team.
‘Well.’ Sunny steps forward. ‘I had a bit of a turn-up. I did some digging, and turns out Leo Fenton was at the same university as Jack Thurbridge.’ He doesn’t wait for an answer, but writes on the board as he speaks. ‘They were a couple of years apart, but there’s a chance they may have crossed paths. Leo received a chunk of money from a pharmaceutical company after a buyout, didn’t he? If there’s any work jealousy or some story there, it could be a possible motive. It’s quite a coincidence. It’s worth pursuing.’
‘Good job, Sunny,’ Adrika says. ‘You must have been working the whole weekend!’
‘A part of it,’ Sunny says, grinning. ‘I couldn’t take the sunburn any more so I knuckled down for a few hours.’
‘It would be useful to talk to Ben Fenton again, to see if there’s any link. There’s no mention of Jack Thurbridge in the files from the original investigation,’ Maarten says, looking down at his notes. ‘What about Leo Fenton? Any word on him?’
‘The Proof of Life hasn’t turned anything up. A credit card, Ana Seabrook thinking she recognised his cap… Not enough,’ Adrika says. ‘And with the soil samples matching between Norfolk and Ayot, we’re working
on the assumption that it is Leo Fenton’s skeleton that was buried in the churchyard. The man Ana claims she saw must be somebody else.’
‘Yes, let’s keep going. Widen the CCTV around the station from Friday? Let’s see if we can find the cap and if we can get a face shot at some point. Let’s try to get to the bottom of this one. Suspects: Ben Fenton is doing time for the murder. Ana Seabrook had a fling with the victim. They could be working together, but the recent attack on Ana makes that seem less likely. Ben could have discovered the affair, killed his brother out of jealousy and now be orchestrating a campaign of terror against Ana to spook her. Difficult to do from prison, though. And now we have Jack Thurbridge, who could be acquainted with Leo Fenton, and is a possible aggressor to Ana Seabrook – though we can’t see any motive. And lastly, we have Fabian Irvine. He’s looking far less likely. He might want to punish Ana for breaking up with him, which would explain the photo and the text, but I don’t see why he would want to kill Leo. Even if they did have a romance, it was after his relationship with Ana.’
Maarten taps his notebook, finishes his coffee. ‘There are still two missing links here. One is the cyclist, and the second is why choose the graveyard to leave the body? I still think there’s something there. If we can get to the bottom of that, then I think we’ll have more of an understanding of where we should be looking. Adrika, anything from the burial applications, or the bodies already buried?’
‘Not yet, but give me another day.’
He scans the room. ‘Adrika, I want to head back over there to do a walk round, and then let’s call in on Ana Seabrook and see how her memory is doing. She must be feeling better today, and things might have fallen into line a bit more. Finish up here and meet me downstairs in a few minutes. I’ve got a meeting with the new Super.’
*
Back at the graveyard, Maarten walks under the sun, letting his eyes fall from each headstone to the next, letting them drift in and out. He’d studied them harder last time, but still, there were no surnames, no family members that seemed to be related to any persons of interest in this case. He comes to a stop by the grave of the young girl, Caitlin Miller, that they’d noticed the day the body was recovered.