Paparazzi

by Jo Fenton

  ***

  Matt is sleeping on the ward, and his condition is stable, by the time a nurse comes along. Once we’d got to the ward, I sent Cheryl back to Joanna, so I’m sitting quietly when the nurse comes in. She beckons to me to leave Matt alone in the side ward.

  “Will he be okay?” I ask as she pulls the door closed behind us. She guides me to the nurses’ station, and hands me a leaflet.

  “He should be fine now. He’s on drugs to thin the blood, and there are lots of monitors and alarms that will alert us immediately if there’s a problem. I think you should go home and rest. He’s going to be in for a few days at least. That pamphlet tells you about our visiting times, and emergency contact details. We’ve got your number now, from the details you filled out in A&E, so please don’t worry. We’ll call you if there’s a problem, but I think he’ll sleep now until morning. You can phone after 8:30 tomorrow for an update.”

  She ushers me to the door leading back to the main corridor before I’ve had time to gather my thoughts, and she disappears without waiting for me to thank her. Not that she should have to wait, but being in hospital in that situation weirdly combines waiting around doing nothing, and flurries of intense activity from the hospital staff. There never seems to be the opportunity to ask questions, or to say something as simple as thank you.

  In the corridor, I get my bearings. I assume Cheryl and Joanna will be in A&E, so checking out the signposts on the wall, I head back to that part of the hospital.

  I feel almost numb with all that’s occurred, but I’m still conscious that the sight of Joanna triggered Matt’s heart attack. Maybe it just altered the timing of an event that was waiting to happen, but either way, I’m shaking at the thought of seeing her again. Being in a hospital is not great either. I’ve not been here since… well, since that awful week. Now that the emergency is over, memories crowd in, and I’m relieved to see a sign for the ladies’ loo. I rush in and throw up in one of the cubicles until there’s nothing left.

  I rest my head weakly against the edge of the cubicle as I try to summon the strength to stand up. I need to return to my younger daughter. I will also need to contact my oldest at Uni. Unless Cheryl has sorted that. It’s not her responsibility, though.

  I finally stand up, but my legs feel as though they’ve been de-boned, and I have to lean against the wall for a moment. Come on, Becky, pull yourself together.

  I splash water on my face from the basin before tottering out to the corridor and making my way the last few yards to the A&E waiting room.

  Cheryl and Joanna are chatting as though they’ve known each other for years, and it’s with mixed feelings that I interrupt.

  “We can go home now. Your dad’ll be in for a few days, but he seems settled now.”

  “You look awful, Mum. Are you okay?” Cheryl stands up and gives me a hug.

  “I just need to get home.”

  “I’ll order a taxi,” says Joanna, heading to a Freephone box on the wall.

  “Will she be staying with us?” My daughter gives me a pleading look, and I suddenly realise that she doesn’t want the responsibility of looking after me alone. Guilt floods through me. I should be looking after her, not the other way round. But I feel wiped out, and the thought of another adult in the house is a relief. Even if it is Joanna.

  Chapter Four

  We’re home now. It’s gone nine in the evening, and I just want to go to bed, but instead curl up on the sofa. Joanna makes herself useful in the kitchen, sorting out something to eat.

  She’s very good at finding her way around a strange kitchen. Is she trying to be helpful, or is it her way of assuaging guilt? Or of trying to get me to agree to the crazy idea of her detective agency? No way is that happening now. Why did Matt have a heart attack as soon as he laid eyes on her? Is she an old flame? Or a newer one? Has he been having an affair? Did Joanna know that he was my husband? Did she come here on purpose?

  I put a lid on all the questions in my head as she brings me supper on a tray.

  “Do you want me to leave?” she asks, setting the tray on the coffee table next to me. Her expression holds wariness and fatigue, rather than guilt. I can’t quite believe she would knowingly have an affair with Matt, then turn up to invite me to go into partnership with her. The girl I was friends with thirty years ago was rebellious and had a wicked sense of humour, but she was never vindictive (except to her stepmother).

  “Yes, probably. Do you think you should leave?”

  “I know it looks bad, but I hardly know Matt. We met at a conference a few years ago and had a few drinks. That was all. I don’t know why my appearance set off that reaction. I didn’t even know we were connected through you until he walked in earlier this evening. I was surprised, but pleasantly, until he fell ill. Now I feel awful. I seem to have caused his attack, and I don’t understand why.” She looks embarrassed, but I’ve been trained to detect whether someone is being honest. I have a gut feeling that she’s telling me the truth, but not quite the whole truth.

  The door opens, saving me from answering. Cheryl comes in, holding a plate of pizza.

  “I found this in the fridge, Mum. I think it’s from yesterday. In case you don’t fancy eggs.”

  “I’m fine with eggs on toast. Thanks. You have the pizza.” I force a smile and turn to Joanna. “Do you want something to eat? It’s nice of you to feed me, but you’re a guest. You should eat something too.”

  “I had chocolate and crisps in the hospital. The vending machine was in front of us, and there wasn’t much else to do.”

  “We did pig out a bit, didn’t we? Do you want some pizza though? A bit of protein?” Cheryl offers the plate, and Joanna takes a small piece. “Shall we find a movie? It’ll help us all take our minds off everything. I’m sure Dad’s in the best place, and they’ll look after him.”

  I love her practicality, optimism and kindness. Maybe I was like that once. Before life got in the way.

  We settle down on the leather suite and let Cheryl choose a DVD.

  ***

  Next morning, I’m up at seven, and itching to phone the hospital for an update. I slept badly, not used to the half-empty bed; and spent the night worrying about Matt, amongst other things.

  I occupy the time to 8.30 by cleaning the kitchen cupboards. There’s no sign of Cheryl or Joanna, but they’d stayed downstairs chatting about books and movies long after I went to bed. I think I heard them come upstairs at around 2am.

  I’m about to call the hospital when my phone pings. It’s a WhatsApp from my elder daughter, Alison.

  ‘How’s Dad? I’m on the train home. Can you pick me up from the Met? I’ll be there in about an hour.’

  ‘Sure. Call me when you get to Crumpsall.’

  We always do this. The time to get my coat on and drive to the tram station in Whitefield allows me to get there a minute or two ahead of her.

  I’m going to have to throw Joanna out. She’s sleeping in Alison’s bed at this very moment. I push the thought aside. She can have another half hour to sleep. I have other priorities right now.

  I key in the phone number on the leaflet the nurse gave me last night. The phone rings out for about a minute, and then finally it’s answered by an elderly female.

  “Hello, I’m Matthew White’s wife. How is he?”

  “I’ll get the nurse who’s looking after him. Just bear with me a moment.”

  A moment later, a male voice says, “Hi. Mrs White?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Your husband is doing well. He’ll be having scans and a stent put in this morning, but you can come and see him after two o’clock.”

  I thank him and disconnect, then immediately regret not asking to speak to Matt directly. I try his mobile, but it goes directly to voicemail. I decline the invitation to leave a message and send him a WhatsApp instead.

  ‘Good luck for this morning. See you later. I love you. x’

  It’s now ten to nine, so I go to wake up Joanna. I knock on t
he bedroom door, and a sleepy voice calls out, “Come in.”

  “Hi. Sorry to wake you up, but my elder girl is coming back from Uni this morning to see her dad. I’m afraid I’m going to need to get her bed ready for her.”

  “Sure. Am I okay to have a shower?”

  I nod, and notice she’s looking more alert.

  “I’ll find somewhere to stay tonight. Maybe there’s a cheap hotel around here. Then tomorrow I’ll start looking for somewhere to rent.”

  I leave her to get herself ready and go down to the kitchen to Google local hotels on my phone.

  ***

  By the time we go to the hospital, Joanna has booked into the local Travelodge – a five-minute drive from home. I’m relieved to have her out of the house, but I strongly suspect I’ve not seen the back of her. I still don’t know Matt’s side of the story, and I don’t really want to confront him while he’s not yet recovered.

  Alison’s been quiet since I picked her up from the tram stop. She went straight to her freshly-made bed when she got home, with barely a hello to our guest. I refrain from telling her that the guest spent the night in her bed.

  Now the three of us are alone in the car. She finally speaks.

  “So, who’s that woman?”

  “That’s Joanna. She’s a really nice lady. An old friend of Mum’s. She turned up yesterday, just before Dad got ill. I think she’s going to live round here.” Cheryl’s description stirs up mixed emotions: a tinge of jealousy that Joanna wormed herself into my daughter’s affections so easily, but also a recollection that Cheryl’s character judgement is remarkably reliable for one so young. Maybe I’m the one who needs to learn to trust.

  Alison is silenced again by her sister’s enthusiastic approval. She remains quiet until we arrive at the hospital.

  My heart pounds as we approach the cardiac ward. I clench my sweaty hands for a moment, but it doesn’t help.

  When we enter the ward, a tall male nurse, roughly in his thirties, catches my eye and comes over.

  “Hi. Can I take your name?”

  “I’m Becky White. Matthew’s wife. Is he okay?”

  “Yes. Are these your daughters?” He smiles, and I nod. “Girls, your dad is down the corridor, in Room Six. Do you want to go down and say hello, while I have a quick word with your mum?”

  The girls head off towards their dad’s room, while the nurse waffles for a few minutes, describing the treatment that Matt’s undergone. It all seems to have gone smoothly, so I’m not sure why he had to banish the girls. Maybe he thought they were squeamish.

  When I finally extract myself from the conversation, I follow the girls down to the other end of the ward. Cheryl’s lively tones reach me before I get to the room.

  “… and she says she met you in London a few years ago and that you had a few drinks with her. She had no idea that you and Mum were married.”

  I arrive in the room in time to see a strained look in Matt’s eyes. But he forces a smile when he sees me.

  “Cheryl, stop chattering and let Mum have a few minutes alone with Dad,” Alison says. “Let’s find somewhere to get a drink. I’d kill for a can of coke.”

  The girls leave me with Matt, and I sit on the chair next to his bed and take his hand. His face has more colour than yesterday, but he looks pale and tired.

  “You look knackered. Have you had a hard morning?” I stroke the back of his hand with my thumb as I speak. I’m rewarded by a slight relaxing of the lines around his eyes.

  We chat for a while about his treatment, and expectations for recovery, and by the time the girls come back he looks a lot brighter. Joanna’s name is not mentioned again this visit.

  Chapter Five

  I leave the club at eleven, after the main band. The object is still in sight, and I take a few more photos outside, before walking to the office – a convenient half a mile away.

  The cold air clears my head and allows me to think. Research is essential. The office is never completely empty, even so late on a Saturday night.

  By the time I arrive at my desk, I have a strategy in place. I smile at the other late workers and place my bag on the floor. The office is organised to allow for privacy; it’s difficult to see what others are working on without their permission. An arrangement that suits me well, particularly now. I turn on the powerful computer and search.

  Information is more difficult to locate than I expected. I need help, but need to be careful. I return to Google with a different type of search.

  Chapter Six

  It’s Friday morning – almost two weeks since Matt’s heart attack, and he’s recovering at home now, watching box sets on Netflix. Alison’s back at Uni, and Cheryl is at school. A strange sort of normality has set in, albeit a different normality from a fortnight ago.

  Matt gets sick pay, so we’re not totally desperate for money, but nothing has been quite the same since I left the police. I took retirement, as I’d been in the force for over the required twenty years. But on only half-pay, with a daughter at university, money is a bit tight.

  I’ve thought, at odd moments, about Joanna’s suggestion. If I’m being totally honest with myself, I miss working. I don’t think I could handle the danger any more, but maybe sitting at a desk doing research – that kind of detection would suit me fine. Joanna can do the dangerous stuff. That sounds mean, I know, but I’m still angry with her for appearing to trigger Matt’s heart attack.

  She said there was nothing to it – just a few drinks; a story that Matt has corroborated since he’s been home. But then, Cheryl told him what Joanna had said. Now I’ll never know what Matt would have said if he’d not heard her version of events first.

  Could I work with her? We liaised all those years ago to help Dan. She was useful to bounce ideas around with, and had the handy ability to see things from unusual angles.

  I put the kettle on, and make a cup of tea for Matt and coffee for myself. Setting his down on the coffee table in front of him, I look at him critically. He seems a lot better and has been making progress every day, but he gets tired easily, and even though he’s watching TV I know he’ll be going up for a nap after lunch.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Not so bad. You should watch this, Becks. It’s brilliant.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Marvellous Mrs Maisel. It’s hilarious, but it’s very realistic too. Come and watch it with me. You’ve got nothing better to do.”

  Shit! Is that how he sees me? I’m turning into a bloody housewife. Not that I have anything against housewives; it was just never my thing.

  “I need to remedy that. I’m just going to make a call. I’ll leave you to watch in peace.”

  Joanna’s number is in my phone still. I call her from the kitchen, with the door shut.

  “Becky, hi. How are you doing? How’s Matt?”

  I can’t help the hackles that go up as she mentions his name, but I suppress them for the moment.

  “He’s getting better; he’s home now. How are you?” I inject friendliness into the inquiry, but it’s an effort. Maybe this is a bad idea.

  “I’ve been house-hunting. I just put a deposit on a little terraced property. It’s about ten minutes’ walk from you. They’re doing the reference checks, but hopefully I can move in early next week.”

  “That’s great. How long is the lease?”

  “Six months to start off with, then they’ll extend to a year if it suits both sides.” There’s a pause. “Becky, will you come and have a drink with me? I’d really like to speak to you properly.” She sounds genuine and nervous.

  The voice in my head that is pushing me in her direction gives me another nudge.

  “Okay, sure. There’s a pub near your hotel. The Paper Mill. We can get a sandwich or something there too.” We arrange to meet at midday and end the call. I have an hour to get ready.

  I don’t tell Matt where I’m going, just that I’m meeting a friend for lunch. It’s nearly true, even if I haven’t y
et decided if Joanna is still a friend.

  ***

  “You look tired,” she says, as I arrive at the table.

  “Thanks. It’s been a challenging week.” I glance around the area, trying to look nonchalant, but my pulse is tumultuous. Apart from the hospital, I’ve avoided crowded areas since that day in the warehouse. Even shopping is difficult. Matt has been the regular supermarket shopper, with me managing brief trips to our local Co-op. I’m going to have to force myself to go to Tesco tomorrow, and I’m dreading it.

  Most of the restaurant customers are parents with young kids having lunch; no doubt on the promise of going through to the soft play area if they’re good.

  Joanna stands up. “Do you want a drink?”

  “I’ll get them. What do you want?”

  I swallow hard as I get to the bar. It shouldn’t be difficult ordering the required two diet cokes, but my mouth is dry. There’s no reason anyone here should know me as Becky Wiseman, Detective Inspector from South Manchester. I’m just a stranger in a bar.

  It’s no actual surprise that I buy the cokes without incident, and I relax slightly as I sit down, positioning myself carefully with my back to the wall where I can survey the surrounding scene.

  “Thanks. Cheers.” Joanna holds up the drink, and I clink glasses with her. “You do it automatically, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Observe. You’re a natural detective. You can’t help yourself.”

  “It’s complicated. Not a story for today, and definitely not for here.”

  “Okay. Fair enough. So what do you think? I know you’ve been thinking about it. You wouldn’t have phoned me otherwise.”

  “It’s been difficult. I know you said nothing happened with Matt in London, but why would he have a heart attack on seeing you? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “You’re absolutely right. It makes no sense at all. But that’s what happened.” She looks down at the table and then glances around. There’s no one remotely within earshot. “Look. I admit there’s something else, but I’m bound by law not to tell a soul about it.”