I wanted to hate him, I really did. He was barely out of school and didn’t appear to have the ability to grow a beard but suddenly that didn’t matter. He was a kid just trying to do his job. When I pictured him like that I stopped minding. Skinny and uncomfortable in his own skin, he didn’t mean to offend.
‘What’s all this about, then?’ I realised I hadn’t washed and felt grimy.
‘We’ve received some new information about the disappearance of your sister, Dawn.’
‘Dawn? What’s she got to do with anything?’
‘I think it’s best if you come down to the station and answer some questions.’
‘What are you talking about Dawn for?’ I had my hand on my hip and tried to ignore the growing feeling of nausea rising from my stomach.
‘When did you last see your sister, Mrs Miller?’
‘A while ago. Like I said before, she came here when she left Ian. He was not a good husband. Not like my Larry.’
I watched Small raise an eyebrow but decided not to react.
‘So she came here, all upset and stuff, telling me how he’d got angry and hit her. I said she could stay for a while. Then one day I came home and she’d gone. She left a letter for me on the table saying she was leaving the area and would be in touch when she got settled. I didn’t think twice about it. If I’d married that animal I would have run away too.’
‘So when did you next hear from her?’ Small pulled out a little leather bound notepad, his biro paused to write.
‘She sent a postcard a while back.’
‘Do you still have that or the letter?’
‘No. Why should I have kept them?’
‘Did she say where she was in the postcard?’
‘It was from the Costa Del Sol. I guessed she’d gone out there to stay with a friend. Someone she knew from school moved out there a few years back.’
‘Can I have the name of her school friend please?’
‘Oh, I can’t remember. Jane or Janet. Something like that. I’ll have a think.’
‘That would be helpful.’ Small folded his notebook and put it back inside his jacket pocket without having written a word.
‘How long did she stay with you for before…’ he paused, ‘leaving?’
‘A little less than a year. We had room so there was no need for her to move out. My kids liked having her and Daisy around.’
‘And one day she just disappeared without a proper explanation?’
‘Yeah. I figured she got bored of relying on us.’
‘I see.’ His scepticism wasn’t lost on me.
‘I still don’t get why you’re looking in the cellar.’ I frowned at him, knowing he wasn’t telling me the whole truth.
‘Just received some information that suggests we need to have a look around down there.’ He remained cagey.
‘To do with Dawn?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say, Mrs Miller.’ He tucked his hands into his navy trouser pockets and rocked on his heels enjoying his moment.
‘Whatever.’ I returned to the sofa and slouched down on to it feeling the start of a headache coming on.
‘Mum?’ Owen appeared in the doorway accompanied by an officer.
‘I think it’s best if he remains with his mum for the moment.’ The officer closed the door on us both.
‘Mum, what’s going on? Why are police here again? And where are Sue-Ann and Robbie?’ He looked frightened and I pulled him to my bosom.
‘Don’t worry. It’s all fine. Police just want to come and have a look. They think they forgot something last time. Your brother and sister have gone to stay with friends. It’s just you and me, kid.’ I ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head, still aware of my boozy breath. Suddenly I felt exhausted. I just wanted to go to sleep. Reaching for the remote control I flicked the telly on and we cuddled up on the sofa, under a faux fur blanket watching some daytime dross until there was a knock on the sitting room door. Then Small walked in.
‘This house is now a crime scene. You need to get some things and leave with your boy.’
‘Where am I meant to go?’
‘We’ll arrange some temporary accommodation for you. Pack some essentials and a car will pick you up. If you need anything more, you can ask an officer to bring it later on.’ Small stood looking at Owen with sad eyes. He wasn’t enjoying turning my little boy’s life upside down.
‘Is that it? I’m just supposed to leave my house without a proper explanation?’
‘It’s a crime scene. You cannot remain here.’ When he looked at me his expression had changed. He was cold.
‘What have you found? I demand to know.’ I stood up throwing the blanket off me. A rush of blood flooded to my head, making me feel dizzy.
‘Remains, Mrs Miller. We have discovered another body. The crime scene boys are on their way.’
‘Another body? Whose?’
‘It is impossible to tell at this stage. One of my officers will escort you upstairs so that you can pack.’ His shutters had come down and I wasn’t going to get any more information out of him. I doubted there was much more he could tell me at that stage.
‘Fine.’ I looked down at Owen who was pretending to watch the TV, refusing to take in what was going on around him. ‘Come on, up we get.’ He did as he was told without saying a word and I followed him out of the lounge and up the stairs. I could feel the weight of the looks from the other police officers who had gathered in the narrow hallway.
I shoved Owen into the boys’ room and I told him to pack a little bag. Then went into my own bedroom to do the same. A fresh-faced officer with ginger hair pulled back in a tight ponytail watched my every move. I grabbed a few fresh clothes and my toothbrush and phone charger.
‘Do you like your job?’ I turned to her.
‘Yes I do.’ She didn’t flinch.
‘Even when it means evicting a family from their home?’
‘Do you really want to stay? Knowing what’s in the cellar?’
‘I don’t know what’s in the cellar. That’s the point,’ I huffed.
‘You know enough. If I was you, I’d be happy to get as far away from this place as possible.’ She had a point.
‘Another body?’ I said the words again, allowing them to sink in that time.
‘Yes.’ She folded her hands behind her back and stood upright. She was on duty. It was that simple.
‘Well,’ I threw my hold-all over my shoulder and walked past her, ‘I know my Larry and he had nothing to do with it.’
On the landing I was met by DS Small who had been listening in.
‘My experience is, Mrs Miller, that when a man admits to burying one body on his property, subsequent human remains discovered are rarely “just a coincidence”. Mr Miller will be questioned regarding the discovery of this latest victim and I suspect he is going to sing like a canary.’
I couldn’t understand why the policeman was taking so much pleasure in goading me.
‘Think what you like, detective. I’ve got my boy to worry about now.’
‘Where are your other children?’ he inspected his fingernails.
‘Staying with friends.’
‘Funny that. I thought they were with your aunt Mary.’
‘How do you know where my kids are?’ I hissed at him. He smiled but didn’t reply. ‘The car will be here shortly. I suggest you wait downstairs.’
‘Owen, hurry up!’ I called moments before he appeared carrying his school rucksack. ‘No school for you today.’
‘I know that Mum. It’s the only bag I’ve got.’ He eyes were wide and his expression timid.
‘Right.’ I muttered pushing him in the direction of the staircase. ‘Say goodbye to the nice policeman. It’s time for us to go.’
‘OK.’ Owen gave a little wave before descending the stairs. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I don’t know, Owen.’ I couldn’t think straight and his question
s weren’t helping. ‘We’ll know when we get there. Think of it as a little adventure.’
‘Will we see Dad? Is he waiting for us?’ He stood at the bottom of the stairs watching as I lumbered down each step.
‘No. He isn’t.’ I watched as the look on my son’s face fell.
‘Oh.’
‘Go and wait by the front door. I need something from the kitchen.’
Once in the kitchen I opened the two doors on the fridge freezer and started to pile food into plastic bags.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the ginger policewoman perplexed.
‘I’m not letting this food go to waste. God knows when you lot will let us come back. There’s a kitchen in this place you are sending us to I presume?’
‘I believe you are being sent to a safe house as a temporary measure.’
‘You mean until they actually decide what to do with us?’
‘Yes.’ I admired her frankness.
‘Right well, my boy is upset and I know the thing that will cheer him up is a bellyful of home cooking.’ I closed the bare fridge freezer doors and gathered the two plastic bags.
‘You don’t strike me as the motherly type.’ She was getting cocky.
‘You don’t know me at all. You have no idea what I’m capable of. Now get the fuck out of my kitchen.’
‘After you.’ She held the door open, put her arm out and offered a sarcastic smile.
The panda car drove us through the town to a building in the north side of the city on the outskirts off Huntingdon Road. It was an unappealing apartment block of probably six flats. The metal sign outside read ‘Shirley House’.
‘This is temporary.’ A skinny woman with a gaunt face in plain clothes stood next to Owen and me as we stared at the building. She had introduced herself earlier as a Family Liaison Officer.
‘How temporary?’
‘I don’t know at the moment.’ She tucked her dark hair behind her ear. ‘Let’s get you settled.
I held on to Owen’s cold little hand and we followed her into the building. The poorly lit foyer smelt of urine and a rough-looking man whose chin was covered in whiskers shuffled past us.
‘You’re on the first floor.’ The FLO said, leading us up the concrete stairs.
‘This place smells a bit funny, Mummy.’ Owen whispered clinging on to his bag.
We were led along a dark narrow corridor until we reached a door that had the number three on it. The officer removed a set of keys from her black mackintosh pocket and fiddled with them, fitting them to the unwelcoming lock.
I went in first, casting a reproachful eye over the space. The flat consisted of one reasonably sized kitchen-diner-living-room. Off it were two doors. One led to the small dated bathroom, the other to the bedroom, which was sparsely decorated and had twin beds.
Dropping my bag down on to the floor I sat down on the bed nearest the window. Owen followed my lead and put his bag down on his bed. The officer stood in the doorway looking at us.
‘So this is it?’ I made no attempt to hide my frustration.
‘I’m afraid so.’ The officer looked down at her feet.
‘Well, you can leave us alone now.’
‘Sorry, but that’s not the case. I’ve been instructed to stay around for the moment.’
‘So we are kicked out of our home and now we have to have a babysitter?’
Owen buried his face in a comic and pretended not to be in the same room as us.
‘Mrs Miller, I understand this is difficult.’
‘Difficult?!’ I spat, standing up, the bed creaking as I did so. ‘Difficult? My life has been turned upside down and I’m being treated like a common criminal. My boy can’t go to school and I can’t even speak to my husband about all the terrible things you are saying about him.’
‘The purpose of bringing you here is for your protection.’ She spoke softly and calmly.
‘Protection from what?’
‘From the press.’
‘Fuck the press.’ I folded my arms in front of my chest and stood defiantly. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Owen was sneaking a look, presumably because I’d sworn. ‘I’m just upset.’ I sat back down, apologising to them both.
Owen kept his eyes firmly glued to the comic and the officer, whose name I was struggling to remember, slipped away from the room.
‘It’s OK, Mummy.’ Owen had a decisive frown on his face. ‘The bad guys never win in the end.’
‘Maybe you’re right.’ The tears were welling as I lay back on the hard bed and closed my eyes.
I wanted to argue with him, to give him a harsh lesson in life. I wanted to scream, ‘You are wrong! The bad guys do win. Often.’ But I didn’t. He reminded me so much of my younger self. Sitting there with his mind lost in a fictitious world, he was happy and untouchable and it was right that he should remain so.
After allowing myself a period of self-pity I hauled myself upright position and decided to see where the policewoman had got to. I didn’t trust her on her own.
To my surprise, she was sat on the faux leather sofa waiting for me, her piercing blue eyes waiting in anticipation.
‘Is Owen all right?’ She leant forward. She was still wearing her mac.
‘He will be.’ I could only hope.
‘Shall I make us some tea?’ she asked getting up and going toward the kitchenette.
‘Sure.’ I stopped walking and watched her find her way around.
The few cupboards were pretty empty. A few bits and bobs were spread between them. It was like the most basic holiday let you could imagine.
‘Do you want me to help you put that away?’ She moved towards the carrier bags loaded with frozen food.
‘No,’ I stepped forward, ‘it’s all right. I can manage. Would love a cuppa, though.’ I dragged the bags towards the ancient fridge, which had turned a tired yellow colour on the outside, and opened the door. No light came on and I felt no blast of cold air. It was empty and silent.
‘Oh.’ I could tell she wanted to curse. ‘They didn’t turn it on.’ She ducked around the back of the fridge and flicked the switch on. ‘There, that’s better.’
Artificial light came pouring out on to the floor.
‘It’s going to take ages to get cold.’ I was not prepared to refrain from complaining. ‘What about all my frozen goods?’
She came bustling over and opened the freezer door, pulling one of the three drawers out.
‘I’m sure they will be fine.’ She spoke brightly. ‘It’s January and this place hasn’t had the heating on. They will be fine until it starts to work again.’ Bending down she reached for a bag and made a move to help me unpack the contents.
‘No.’ I barked more fiercely than I intended to and she backed away cautiously. ‘You’ve done enough. Thank you.’
Still she stood there looking at me.
‘Look,’ I felt an obligation to be honest, ‘I know that none of this is down to you. But enough of my life has been turned upside down already. I can manage to put the food away alone. Please, let me have some sort of normality.’
She nodded and backed away, returning to the kettle to make the tea.
And while I was feeling open and honest I added ‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t remember your name.’
‘Helen Thornhill.’ She stirred the milk and watched the hot and cold liquids merge.
September 18th 1993
When she showed up at my door her face looked like a punch bag. Her left eye was purple and swollen shut. Her top lip was split and had blood drying on it. Daisy was clinging to her mother like a small monkey. Dawn stood clutching her child in one arm and a suitcase in the other. Her dog, Rollo, a German Shepherd cross, sat obediently by her side.
‘I didn’t know where else to go.’ Tears fell from her one good eye.
‘You’d better come in.’ I took Daisy from her with difficulty. The child didn’t want to come to me and held o
n to her mother like a limpet.
‘Go with Auntie Debbie.’ Dawn winced with pain every time she spoke. Her jaw was swollen and red on one side.
Sue-Ann came to investigate and I handed Daisy over and instructed her to take all the children upstairs to play.
Dawn remained outside, trying to hide her face from her niece and nephews. When she was sure they were all out of sight she stepped inside lugging the large suitcase in with her.
‘I’ll take that.’ I pulled the heavy case into the hallway and propped it up against the wall. ‘Come into the kitchen.’
Dawn followed me through the house and took a seat at the kitchen table. Despite being so battered and bruised the rest of her appearance was neat and tidy. She had on a pair of light blue jeans, a thin leopard pattern top and a grey cotton scarf. I felt shabby standing next to her in my old slippers, still wearing my dressing gown. It was half-past ten on Saturday morning.
‘Here,’ I poured a measure of whiskey and slid it across the table to her, ‘drink this.’
With a trembling hand she picked up the tumbler and took a small sip. She moved the glass away from her mouth quickly since the alcohol stung her cut lip.
‘It will help.’ I sat down opposite and encouraged her to finish the drink. She shook her head and pushed the glass away. I picked it up and drank it down in one go. She might not have needed it but at that moment I felt as if I did. ‘So, are you going to tell me what happened this time?’
I’d gotten used to Dawn showing up with injuries that were the result of Ian losing his temper. Countless times over the last year I’d told her to leave him. His outbursts were becoming more frequent but every time he hit her she made excuses – It was her fault, he was stressed. In the end I got tired of giving her advice. She wouldn’t listen. All I could do was be there to pick up the pieces.
But something about that Saturday felt different. Not only had her face taken the brunt of his rage, when normally he concentrated on her body where nobody would see but that time she arrived bringing luggage. It seemed as if she had finally found the courage to leave the bastard. Those brothers were peas in a pod and I was glad they were out of our lives.
The Optician’s Wife: a compelling new psychological thriller Page 16