Just Like a Woman

by Madeleine Clark

  ‘I took a girl called Sarah for a meal there. But I’d have to check my diary for the date.’

  ‘Can you do that now sir? Please.’

  ‘Look what is all this about? I’m not sure where my diary is, my P.A. left a few days ago and she did all my appointments.’

  ‘Can I suggest you look for it, now, sir?’

  Robert hoped his diary was by the phone in the hallway, that was where Terry usually left it.

  ‘I think it’s in the hallway, by the phone.’ Robert left the room to look. As he walked into the hall he took a long drag on his cigarette. Andy was standing there.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘I don’t know? I need my diary. The bitch better have left it there.’

  With relief he saw it was there, and opened it to November, flicking through the pages. Yes, there it was, in her handwriting. He took it back into the games room. Andy followed him.

  ‘Here,’ he held up the diary. ‘And yes, it is in here. Apparently I did see Sarah on 15th.’

  ‘Can you tell us what happened that night sir?’

  Robert told the policemen what he could remember. He met her in the car park, he drove to the restaurant, and then he drove her back to her car. He left her there and drove home.

  ‘You left her there?’

  ‘Well no, not exactly, I watched her as she got into her car.’

  ‘She got into her car? Did you walk her to the car? Did you sit in your car and watch?’

  ‘I don’t know. For f… godsake. I sat and watched her walk to her car.’ Robert lit another cigarette. What the hell was going on?

  ‘Sir, I would suggest you didn’t sit and watch her at all. In fact she had to fight you off to get out of your car, and had to run to her car. And you chased her to her car, where you tried to rape her.’

  ‘What?’ Robert laughed, ‘What are you talking about?’

  Robert looked over at Andy. He stared back shaking his head then turned and walked out of the room.

  ‘Michael White, we are arresting you on suspicion of the attempted rape on 15th November and subsequent rape on 22nd December of Sarah Colwyn-Smyth. I have to caution you…’

  .

  Chapter Eight

  Stephanie didn’t look at Jane as she left the office on her way to the car.

  ‘Stephanie, your next client will be here in a few moments.’

  She ignored her and kept walking. She needed to get in the car and drive. Drive anywhere. Go home and take the dogs out. That always helped clear her mind. She should have listened to Jane.

  ‘Stephanie! What’s wrong?’ She heard her call as she walked outside towards the car. Jane had been right in the past and had once again been proved right, although she would probably never know. She hadn’t looked forward to the session, but she wanted to know why Sarah had done it. What had caused her to call the police? She was still none the wiser to that question, but she now knew more about Sarah than she wanted to.

  Robert had called her on Christmas Day from the police station and told her what happened. What was Sarah up to? This wasn’t the young girl who came to see her. What had they done to her? She stuck the keys in the ignition, checked the mirror and reversed out of the car park.

  Everything had gone wrong since that night. Well, not everything. Trevor had happened. And so far that had been a good thing.

  After finding the dogs drugged in the kitchen she hadn’t known what to do. Help from Robert was the last thing she wanted after spending a restless night, cancelling all her clients and not leaving the house all day. The dogs woke up the next day as if nothing had happened; tails wagging, waiting to be fed and watered.

  The only person she could think of had been Trevor. Even at Robert’s house with Sarah, Trevor had been in the back of her mind. It felt as if he had infiltrated her; become part of her. Cammy would have come round and stayed with her, but as much as she loved Cammy, she didn’t really feel she would be much use.

  She pulled on to the main road not thinking where she was going. In the end she called Trevor. She thought about the police; they would take a statement and look for finger prints; there was nothing else they could do. And as there appeared to be no theft or break in, there seemed little point in having more strangers roam around her house, contaminating everything, spoiling everything, making a mess. She was quite sure they’d find no finger prints; if whoever had done it, managed to get in without breaking a window, they certainly wouldn’t be leaving any finger prints. And if she went to the police, the newspapers may become involved. She couldn’t afford for that to happen. She’d been far too careful with her privacy, she wasn’t going to let some mad idiot destroy that.

  At 3.00 am the following night she could stand the fear no longer; every noise was an intruder; every twitch of the dog’s ear was another one. She called him.

  Trevor answered his phone almost immediately.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Trevor? Is that you? It’s Stephanie.’

  ‘Stephanie?’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused not sure what to say. ‘Sorry to wake you.’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep.’ She didn’t know what to say and eventually he said, ‘Hang on a moment.’ She heard a muffled sound, his voice speaking to someone, but she couldn’t make out the words. She wanted to hang up, felt stupid. What was he going to do? How could he help her? And he was with someone.

  ‘How can I help you Stephanie? You’re not phoning for a date at this hour? Are you?’

  ‘No. Sorry, I shouldn’t have called.’

  ‘You have,’ his voice softened. ‘Now tell me, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Actually, it’s difficult. I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t know who else to call. I’ve got a bit of a problem and not sure what to do about it. You just seemed like the type of person who’d be able to help.’

  ‘OK. What sort of problem?’

  Stephanie explained some of what had happened. She told him she didn’t want to involve the police, that she didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time she didn’t feel she could leave the house. She didn’t tell him about the white van or the flowers, only about the break in. She didn’t tell him she had called Jane to cancel all her appointments for the following day. There was certainly no way she could pay attention to all those poor-me, self-indulgent clients of hers. He was very good. Listening and not asking awkward questions. After about half an hour she gave him her address and he came round. He stayed the next day, even taking the dogs for a walk one at a time, so she was never left alone. They really loved him. And he stayed the night. The first time since she had left Robert, a man slept in her bed. The first time she spent the whole night with a man. He hadn’t really left since.

  Stephanie found herself driving up to the downs.

  Although she went to her mother’s for Christmas lunch, when she got home Trevor was there in the lounge, the dogs content at his feet. He prepared a small meal for them to share in the evening. For a second she felt a twinge when the dogs hadn’t come bounding to meet her; they barely lifted their heads to acknowledge her presence when she walked into the lounge. Since Trevor had stayed, there were no more flowers, no more phone calls and she let the jealousy go. She checked her rear view mirror, she realized she hadn’t seen a white van for days. She settled on the settee next to Trevor, his arm wrapped around her comfortably and when her mobile rang, she didn’t jump.

  It was Robert, calling with the news of what Sarah had done. It didn’t make sense. She had seen the way Sarah looked at Robert, she heard the way she talked about him. The allegations were awful, and the police claimed there were photographs as well as a doctor’s report of the attempted rape. The alleged rape was her word against his, but with the other evidence it was likely to be believed. She knew Robert got out of control sometimes, but Sarah had been hers, not his. He wouldn’t do such a thing with her toys. Stephanie was grateful for Trevor’s complete lack of interest in the situation.

  Stephanie pulled into
a car park. She kept the engine running to keep warm and she felt for the metal bar, pushing the seat back as far as it could go stretching out her legs, making herself relax.

  When Sarah arrived for the session Stephanie hardly recognised her. She held her head high, her hair tied back, her coat expensive and new. She wore a little make-up.

  ‘Good morning Sarah, come in.’ She told her pointlessly, as Sarah was already in.

  ‘Good morning Stephanie.’

  Sarah sat down without being asked, and Stephanie walked around to her desk and sat behind it. She wasn’t going to sit out front for this appointment.

  ‘Why?’

  Sarah looked at her, and smiled, not with her eyes, just her mouth.

  ‘Because I can. And because you’ll never know why. However I’m going to tell you something else. I thought I’d tell you about myself. Tell you what you should have known by now. I’m going to answer all the questions you should have asked me already. The reason I was here, but didn’t have the courage at the time to speak about.’

  ‘I’m listening.’ Stephanie settled herself down, behind her desk.

  ‘I doubt that. But I’m going to tell you anyway, because I need to tell someone. However before I start, I want you to assure me. What I tell you, you can never tell anyone else? Is that right?’

  ‘Yes. You have my complete confidence.’

  ‘No matter what I say?’

  ‘No matter what.’

  ‘Just to make sure. If you do ever tell anyone, I’ll tell everyone what you did to me. I’ll tell them how you were the one to set me up with Robert. How as a client of yours, you knew what he was like.’

  Shocked by the demand, Stephanie replied,

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘I came to you, because I needed help. I needed help, your help… my mother. That is what you are paid for? Isn’t it?’ Sarah’s voice got louder. ‘Isn’t it? I mentioned her often enough, but you didn’t think it was important.’

  ‘We all have mothers to deal with.’

  ‘I’m sure, but I don’t think most mother’s are, were, quite like mine. I used to think all mothers were the same, until I went to school. There I discovered some mothers actually loved their children, their daughters.’

  ‘I’m sure your mother loved you.’ Stephanie heard her voice. It sounded patronising even to herself.

  ‘No, I know she didn’t. She actually hated me. And after my father left, she showed me how much she hated me. Every day.’ Sarah looked her in the eye. ‘You’ve seen my body. All of it. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the scars? Scars in places that no one else would ever see.’

  Stephanie remembered them. Her face flushed. She remembered being intrigued by them, and then dismissing them.

  ‘My mother became an expert at learning to hurt me in places no one would see, in ways no one would question. I had to walk to school with burns on my feet, and she would threaten me if I limped in anyway. She could trip me up in front of people, making me look clumsy, while she got sympathy for having such a clumsy child. The doctors knew I was clumsy, never questioned the bruises. And when she did go too far, she found ways round it. No, my mother did not love me at all.’

  ‘I’m sorry. We can look at this, and we can see that even though your mother may not have loved you, you are still a wonderful person.’ Oh god, what was Sarah saying. And why was she taking it out on Robert?

  Sarah laughed. ‘So, lovely you, set me up with Robert.’ She paused. ‘Well, now it’s your fault my mother is dead.’

  ‘What do you mean, my fault? How could it be anything to do with me.?

  ‘I killed her.’

  Silence. Stephanie couldn’t speak. She wanted to say, you’re joking, but looking at Sarah, she knew she wasn’t joking. How could she have killed her? All the questions circling her mind and all she could ask was,

  ‘How?’

  ‘Poison.’

  Stephanie said nothing. She wished she had turned the tape on, but she was not expecting this. She had expected Sarah to be upset, ranting about Robert and what had happened. She certainly didn’t want a tape of that. But this? This was serious. If she was telling the truth, Robert was in serious trouble. Stephanie watched Sarah, sitting in the chair, her face impassive, bored, looking ahead of her, as if she was looking out of a window, but all that was in front of her was a blank wall. She wasn’t even looking at a painting. In that split second Stephanie recognised the truth. She had killed her mother. Jane had definitely been right about her.

  ‘It was in a magazine at the surgery.’ Sarah’s voice became quiet, a monotone as she stared at the wall. ‘A little girl died after picking a cigarette butt off the floor and eating it. Nicotine is a lethal poison. Did you know that?’ Sarah turned and looked up at her. Stephanie shook her head, Sarah looked back at the wall. ‘Yes, it is. I looked it up in the book at the surgery. They have a book on poisons there. I made a beautiful steak stew. Mother’s favourite. I spent hours cooking it, making sure the meat was tender. I used oregano, and some marjoram. They both work very well with steak. I think it was in one of Delia Smith’s recipes, or it may have been someone else. It had carrots and peas and just a touch of red wine. Even cold it tastes good. Mother was yelling at me to bring her her dinner. I dished it out, and some for myself, and then when it was on the tray, I poured on this beautiful golden syrup. I made that as well. It only took a couple of days. It looked so pretty, I wanted to taste it.’ She looked over at Stephanie again, ‘I’m not that stupid.’

  Stephanie noted the vacant look she had seen on Sarah’s face at the dinner table, before she turned back to stare at the wall, quietly continuing her story.

  ‘I laid her plate on the tray, and poured her a glass of wine. She’d have her brandy later. The book in the surgery says nicotine is untraceable. Did you know that? Then I took the tray to her while she watched television. She was watching her favourite DIY programme. Aren’t they awful? I decided I’d eat in the kitchen. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to watch her eat or not. Would I stop her if I watched, I wondered?’ Turning to Stephanie, she asked, ‘Would you stop someone you hated eating poison?’

  She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘In the end I stood at the doorway. She didn’t know I was there. And I watched her shovel it down. I didn’t want to stop her, I wanted to help her, I wanted her to eat it faster. I wished I had more of that golden syrup, in case it didn’t work. What if I hadn’t made enough? What if she woke up the next morning? How awful would that have been?’ She looked up at Stephanie, ‘Can you imagine? To have to prepare it all again! Oh yes, I’d have done it all again. But she hardly tasted it. All that work. Gone in just a few moments. She never appreciated my cooking. I love cooking. I’ve got lots of cooking books. The only books she would buy for me, or let me buy. Soon after she finished, she started to feel ill. I think it was because she had eaten too quickly, nothing to do with the poison. You really shouldn’t gobble your food like that. You should chew it at least 30 times before you swallow. I helped her upstairs and put her into bed. Before she went to sleep, I let her have a final cigarette. And of course she wanted a brandy and her sleeping pills with it. I went downstairs to get it for her. And after her cigarette, I gave her a couple more sleeping pills. The doctors knew she was forgetful, they also knew how cantankerous she was, and that I could not control her. So the sleeping pills were to make sure she wasn’t sick. Then I watched again. I watched until she fell asleep. I wanted to make sure she didn’t vomit it all up again. Then I closed the door, knowing when I opened it in the morning, she would be dead. I went downstairs, sat at the kitchen table, and ate my dinner. I was starving. And it was delicious. Completely wasted on her. I’ll let you have the recipe if you’d like it. It’s really nice.’ She turned back to Stephanie once more, her hands smoothing down her skirt. ‘Death by misadventure. The doctor knew she was forgetful and there were sleeping pills missing. Dr. Short wasn’t going to make a fuss, because I’d told him I was worried
and he’d been too busy to see her.’

  Stephanie needed to go home. She needed a drink. She needed the dogs.

  Turning the corner, she could see the gate open. She had closed it this morning; she remembered doing it. Trevor must have gone out and left it open by mistake. Her breathing stopped as she entered the drive. Facing her was a white van. Backed up towards her front door.

  She stopped the car, and with shaking hands took the keys from the ignition, but didn’t want to get out of the car. It was a nightmare, she’d wake up in a moment. It was all just a dream. She forced herself to open the car door and get out. She reached in her handbag for her phone. The front door was open. This time she would have to call the police. He was actually here and in her house. The dogs! Where were the dogs? And Trevor? Had he gone out with both dogs and left the house? Slowly she crunched on the gravel towards the front door, phone in hand.

  ‘Hey Stephanie,’ she heard Trevor’s voice.

  Relief flooded through her. He was here, she was safe. The dogs ambled towards her and she walked round to the back of the van. The doors were open.

  ‘I’m just moving a few of my things in. Thought it would be easier than having to keep going back all the time.’

  Stephanie stared at him for a few moments trying to understand what was going on. Slowly she woke up.

  ‘Whose van is this?’

  He smiled.

  ‘Mine, of course.’

  ‘You! It was you all the time?’

  He smiled and continued to take things from the van, placing them on the drive.

  ‘Why? How?’ She asked, staring at him as he calmly carried a suitcase into the house. Watching the dogs trot into the house after him, their tails wagging, her legs felt weak, she was not sure she could continue to stand. An image of being in his flat, his very empty flat, came back to her. She remembered getting dressed in the bathroom and realizing her handbag was not with her clothes. He was asleep when she crept back in to get it, and lying on the floor where her clothes had been before she picked them up was her bag. Stephanie put her hand out, holding on to the side of the van.