Behind Closed Doors

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Oh come on, Martin, what did you expect? It’s not just about us, you know it’s about the children too, and as far as I’m concerned they matter far more.’

  ‘If that’s true, then how come it’s taken you so long to agree to see me?’

  Flushing angrily, she retorted, ‘Is that your way of trying to say the children don’t matter to me?’

  ‘Of course not, but shutting me out, refusing to let me near you, was hardly in their best interests, was it?’

  Smarting with the truth of that, she said, ‘You’d hurt me enough. I didn’t want to go through any more, and nor did I want them to see me going through it. Anyway, we’re talking now. It’s just a shame it took your father’s death to make it happen.’

  ‘Meaning you wouldn’t be here now if you weren’t feeling sorry for me?’

  ‘Not sorry for you, sad for your loss, though you’re right, if it weren’t for that I probably wouldn’t have come.’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, at least you’re honest.’

  Taking a sip of her drink she said, ‘It would be nice to know that you feel at least some regret for what you did.’

  ‘Of course I regret it,’ he cried. ‘It was never my intention to hurt you, or the children, it was just that when the contract came up I saw how desperate I was to get away. I hadn’t realised until then just how much everything had been piling in on me . . . No, listen,’ he insisted as she made to interrupt, ‘I’ve tried telling you this before, but you’ve never wanted to hear it. You don’t know what it’s like to be a stay-at-home parent, because it’s not something you’ve ever done. If it were, you’d have a better understanding of how bloody soul-destroying it can be at times, not because you don’t love your kids, but because you almost stop existing outside of their needs . . .’

  ‘And yet you managed to build up a very successful business while you were not existing, and somehow succeeded in keeping your frustrations to yourself, because I don’t recall you ever discussing them with me.’

  ‘Oh believe me, I tried, but you’d always find something else to do, or to talk about, as if the minutiae of my world, my needs couldn’t possibly compare to the larger issues you were dealing with outside the home.’

  Silenced by that, it took her a moment to say, ‘I never felt that way, ever. In fact, I used to take time off when you insisted . . .’

  ‘You took hours off, Andee, and maybe a week here in Kesterly before rushing back to London to solve the next case. And do you know what really got to me about it all? It wasn’t only that you’d never actually wanted to join the police in the first place, though that was bad enough, it was how you were behaving like your own parents, shipping the kids off for the summer, focusing on your work, without seeming to realise that you were putting our children in danger of going the same way as your sister.’

  Andee’s face paled. ‘If that’s the rubbish you’ve been telling yourself to try to excuse walking out on us, then you appal me,’ she informed him furiously. ‘To use Penny’s disappearance that way . . . Jesus, I can’t believe you even thought it, never mind said it.’

  ‘I thought it, and said it, because it’s true. You were doing everything your parents had done, and I wasn’t prepared to see our children go the same way.’

  ‘So you saved them by walking out and leaving them? Yes, that makes sense . . .’

  ‘I thought, if I went, you wouldn’t have a choice, you’d have to put them first, but what did you do? You got your cousin Frank and his wife to take over, and then your mother.’

  ‘They were thirteen and fifteen. How the hell was I supposed to cope on my own when I have a full-time job?’

  ‘You could have given up work. I was earning enough, I’d have given you anything you asked for, but oh no, you were too damned proud to take anything from me. You were earning your own money and as long as you could do that you could carry on putting your career ahead of your children . . .’

  ‘That is not true. Nothing has ever mattered more to me than them . . .’

  ‘But you weren’t showing it, you weren’t even acting it . . .’

  ‘So how come I have such a great relationship with them now? And if you’re trying to suggest for a single moment that either of them could at any time sink into the kind of depression Penny did without me noticing, then you are seriously deluded. No, I’m sorry Martin, you can try all you like to make me responsible for what you did, but in the end you are the one who left, not me.’

  Since he could hardly refute that, and because he never had been able to argue for long, he swallowed whatever he was going to say next and sighed wearily. ‘I really didn’t want this to happen,’ he said, ‘but at the same time I guess it was inevitable, and of course, you’re right, I’m the one who’s really screwed up.’

  Reminded of how gifted he was at defusing a situation, of removing the sting before it went too deep, she found herself thinking that this was one of the things she missed most about him. He’d never been able to cope with bad feeling, hadn’t even experienced a grudge that she knew of, though he was capable of regretting his mistakes – and was even big enough to own up to them.

  Maybe she ought to try doing the same.

  ‘So where do we go from here?’ she asked, not quite able to meet his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Obviously I have a lot of ground to make up with Luke.’ He regarded her anxiously. ‘Alayna’s OK, is she? Please tell me there’s not something I’m missing . . .’

  ‘She seems fine,’ she interrupted. Apart from being mad keen for us to get back together, but she certainly wasn’t going to say that. ‘Something she is finding quite difficult,’ she said cautiously, ‘is Brigitte being here.’

  He nodded slowly, clearly accepting that.

  Though she really didn’t want to know, she found herself asking, ‘How long have you been together?’

  Seeming not to hear the question, he said, ‘She understands that it wouldn’t be right for her to come to the funeral. She didn’t know Dad, has barely met Mum and the kids . . .’

  ‘Is it serious between you?’ she interrupted, aware of how tense she’d become.

  ‘Mum wants us all to sit together on the day,’ he said, again as though he hadn’t heard the question, ‘as a family. Are you OK with that?’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed.

  Reaching for her hand, he entwined their fingers and smiled ironically into her eyes. She wondered what was going through his mind, what he might be about to confide, or ask, and almost smiled when all he said was, ‘Do you want to eat here, in the bar, or shall we go through to the restaurant? Apparently there’s a band playing in the other room tonight, so we’ve been advised to get our orders in early.’

  A while later, with their food and half a bottle of wine between them, she was aware of falling prey to another of his natural gifts. He was so skilled at putting people at their ease, being a great listener, always seeming to know the right responses, at the same time as being able to make someone laugh, or feel good about themselves or their opinions. Unless he disagreed, of course, but even then he was never combative or pig-headed, merely persuasive, sometimes insistent, though not to a point where he felt he had to raise his voice or hit back by causing unnecessary offence. In fact there were times when his calmness in the face of her frustration had driven her to start hurling things at him, which had invariably made him laugh.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ he asked, as their plates were cleared.

  ‘Was I?’ she countered.

  He nodded.

  She shrugged, in an effort to make her comment seem offhand. ‘I guess I was just thinking about how good we were together at times. Very different in many ways, but somehow we used to . . .’ She shrugged again. ‘I don’t know, fit I suppose. Or I thought so, anyway.’

  ‘Listen,’ he said softly, ‘I didn’t mean to make it sound all bad earlier, because I swear, it was never that. We had some really good times, the best, and to
go with all our wonderful memories we have two gorgeous kids we can feel damned proud of.’

  Finding her thoughts straying to Sophie whose family had been torn apart by her mother’s death, and by her disappearance, she was about to voice them when she remembered his accusation. She focused too much on her job.

  With the sardonic tone she knew well, he told her, ‘You can’t hide it from me, and you’re right to be thinking of her. She doesn’t stop mattering because you’re out for dinner, or at any other time. So how’s the search going?’

  She regarded him anxiously, needing to be sure he wanted to hear it before she launched into a detailed account of the past week. This was something else she missed about him, the way he used to listen quietly, patiently, as she talked her way through a case, sometimes nodding his understanding, or frowning his confusion, and more often than not helping her to find another perspective, or even an answer that had become masked by a forest of conflicting information.

  It didn’t happen this evening, nor did she tell him about the unease that had overcome her during the press conference. Or had it happened afterwards? She really couldn’t be sure. She only knew that it hadn’t gone away.

  ‘So do you think this Polish guy knows where she is?’ he asked as they reached her car.

  Putting aside her misgivings, she said, ‘I think there’s a good chance he knows something.’

  ‘And what about this Perkins bloke?’

  ‘I’m not sure how involved he is, but something’s going on behind the scenes at that campsite, I’m convinced of that.’

  He nodded pensively. ‘If she’s got her computer and her phone,’ he said, ‘then you have to wonder why she’s stopped making contact.’

  ‘It’s a question we’re constantly asking ourselves, and the answer has to be that she’s managed to lose them, or someone’s taken them from her.’

  ‘Or she didn’t take them at all.’

  She frowned. ‘But we know that she did.’ She regarded him carefully. ‘Are you thinking her parents lied about that?’

  He shrugged. ‘I was just trying to see it another way, but I guess we know she did take the phone because she texted – and I’d say my money’s on the Sikora connection.’

  Sighing, she looked into his eyes as she said, ‘Sorry, I’m making it all about me and my work again.’

  He simply raised his eyebrows.

  She took a breath and tried to think what to say next, but her thoughts were all tangled up in how closely they were standing together, how worried she was becoming about this case, and things she could hardly give voice to in the confusion. ‘You didn’t answer me earlier,’ she began, and stopped as he tilted her mouth to his.

  His kiss was so gentle and unexpected that she barely knew how to respond. ‘What did you ask me earlier?’ he murmured.

  ‘I . . . I was wondering how serious it is with Brigitte.’

  Sighing softly, he dropped his forehead against hers as he said, ‘Now isn’t the time to get into it.’

  ‘Well, it either is serious or isn’t.’

  ‘OK, she wants to get married and . . .’

  Andee pulled away, so sharply that she almost lost her balance. ‘If it’s that serious,’ she snapped, feeling as though she’d been struck, ‘I have to wonder what she’d make of what just happened. I should have known . . .’

  ‘Andrea, I tried to tell you now wasn’t a good time . . .’

  ‘Actually, there’s no good time to break it to me that you’re getting married when you’d never marry me . . .’

  ‘Will you listen,’ he cried as she tore open her car door.

  ‘No thanks, I’ve heard everything I need to for tonight. And for your information, I’ve met someone else too,’ and slamming the car door she started the engine.

  As she reversed out of her space he simply stood looking down at her. She couldn’t look back, couldn’t bear him to see how angry and foolish she felt, so keeping her eyes straight ahead she put the car into gear and drove away.

  ‘Mum?’

  Having expected this from the moment she’d heard Alayna letting herself in downstairs, Andee turned on to her back to see her daughter silhouetted like a spirit in the doorway. ‘Don’t put the light on,’ she whispered, ‘but you can come and have a chat if you like.’

  Kicking off her flip-flops, Alayna climbed up to plant herself cross-legged next to her mother. ‘So? How did it go?’ she asked excitedly.

  Stroking her hair, while feeling for how crushed she was going to be, Andee said, ‘Not the way you hoped, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You mean he doesn’t want to get back together?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’

  ‘Oh no! I don’t believe it. So what happened? Did you talk about it? You didn’t end up rowing, did you?’

  Since she didn’t feel it was her place to tell Alayna her father was getting married, all Andee said was, ‘We had a nice dinner, it was a bit like old times for some of the evening, but I definitely got the impression that he and Brigitte are a lot closer than we’d realised.’

  Thumping the bed in frustration, Alayna declared, ‘He is so stupid. I can’t believe he’s doing this . . .’

  ‘Ssh,’ Andee cut in softly. ‘You’ll wake Grandma.’

  ‘Have you told her?’

  ‘Yes. She was waiting up when I got in.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘The same as I’m saying, we just have to accept that Dad’s moved on and now it’s time for us to do the same.’

  ‘But I don’t want to,’ Alayna protested angrily. ‘I want him to come back to us so we can be a proper family again, and I know it’s what you want. Oh Mum, are you really upset?’ she cried, wrapping Andee in her arms.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Andee lied. Once she saw Graeme again she’d feel more grounded. ‘Where’s Luke? He’s not in his room. Did he come back earlier?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think he’s still at Jake’s. I’m going to tell Dad that if he’s going to be with Brigitte then me and Luke won’t want to see him again.’

  ‘Alayna, you need to give her a chance. You might find you like her . . .’

  ‘Never! It’s not going to happen. I don’t care if he’s my dad, I don’t have to like her just because he does.’

  Pulling her in closer, Andee held her as she wept with frustration and disappointment. A part of her felt like crying too, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Did it really matter that Martin was going to marry another woman?

  Yes, it did, she realised. It mattered a lot.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, despite it being Sunday, Andee drove down to the Cove to see the Monroes. There had been no word from Sophie following the appeal, no sightings showing any promise so far, no breakthroughs at all. Remembering how terrible that felt, how vast and impenetrable the world seemed when it had swallowed up someone you loved, she needed to find out how they were coping today.

  As soon as she walked in she was aware of the atmosphere in the house seeming sadder, more despairing, and knew it was how her own home had felt after the appeals for Penny. In the Monroes’ case they had even more to deal with now that the baby had been diagnosed with this awful disorder. He was asleep, Heidi told her, as she let her in, so she was trying to catch up with some work while Gavin, who’d been awake all night, had a lie-down.

  ‘The firm he drives for got in touch earlier,’ Heidi confided as she made some coffee. ‘I think someone went sick at the last minute so they were hoping he’d fill in, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He wants to be here in case . . .’ Her voice shook, and for a moment Andee thought she was going to break down. However, she managed to catch her breath and continue. ‘I don’t blame him,’ she said. ‘I can’t find it in myself to do much either. All I can think about is where she might be, what might be happening to her, and now, with what we’ve found out about Archie . . . It’s starting to feel as though someone up there has got it in for us.’

  How
could anyone not feel that way in the same situation?

  ‘We heard on the news that Gary Perkins was remanded in custody,’ Heidi went on. ‘I feel terrible that I didn’t carry out the criminal record check. To be honest I thought Jackie had done it. She said she was going to.’

  ‘Does she usually do those things?’

  ‘Sometimes, but not always.’ She stopped what she was doing and gazed out at the garden.

  Andee watched her, noticing how badly she was shaking. After a while her eyes drifted on round the room, across the mugs hanging from the front of a shelf and the keys dangling from a spare hook. She was still staring at the keys when Heidi suddenly said, ‘I know you can’t tell us everything that’s going on, but did he give you any idea where he took her?’ She was already shaking her head. ‘Even if he had, she’s not there now, is she, or you’d have found her. How’s his sister taking it? I had a bit of a go at her the last time she was here. I feel bad about it now, but she has to see she was in the wrong for bringing him to a holiday camp. A bloke with his track record . . .’ Her voice trailed off as the awfulness of everything seemed to envelop her. ‘I don’t expect I’ll have a job at the end of this,’ she said shakily. ‘The Poynters haven’t even come to see us since they got back, although she rang a couple of days ago.’

  ‘What did she say?’ Andee asked.

  She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t here, so she spoke to Gavin. Apparently she wanted us to know she was sorry for what was happening, and if there was anything she could do we knew where to find her.’ She laughed without humour. ‘I suppose it’s nice of her, but she’s not someone I’d feel right about talking to. I haven’t really talked to anyone since all this kicked off, apart from you, and that’s not the same, is it?’

  ‘What about Gavin?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s like we’re afraid to say anything to each other in case the wrong thing comes out, so we just sit here in silence most of the time, waiting for the phone to ring, trying to prepare ourselves for the worst.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘I know he blames me. He denies it, but I know he’s thinking that if I’d tried a bit harder with her, hadn’t allowed myself to get so obsessed with the baby . . . Well, I’m paying the price for it now, aren’t I? She’s gone, he’s never going to be right . . . Makes you wonder what it’s all about, doesn’t it?’