Suzie had pulled out a chair at that. It was obvious. Phil had sent that message. He'd been on Twitter and forgotten to log out of his account. He was having an affair and arranging his rendezvous on his mobile, unaware that he was still logged in on the home laptop.
‘Oh shit,’ she'd said and then, ‘I'm so sorry.’
Rachel stared at the screen in silence.
Suzie put her hand out. ‘Oh Rachel,’ she'd said after a moment. ‘What a way to find out.’
Rachel had let out a confused little laugh, the air coming out of her mouth in little puffs.
‘Don't be silly,’ she'd said. ‘Phil's in London. How could he be arranging to meet someone in Chester when he's in London?’
Suzie had raised her eyebrows.
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Rachel had said. ‘My Phil?’ She’d looked at the screen, the message and shook her head. ‘Impossible. No. Not Phil. He’s in London. He caught the train there this morning.’
Suzie watched as Rachel took in a deep breath and logged out of the Twitter account.
‘It's probably Della,’ she said with two bright spots of colour on her cheeks. ‘I'll have a word with her when you've gone. Speak to her about using my laptop, she knows she's not allowed on it. Silly girl.’
* * *
Suzie had been very still as she listened to Rachel talk about how it was most certainly Della, and how it was even possible that Twitter accounts could be hacked. She didn't say a word as Rachel came up with excuses as to what they'd both seen. They'd gone on to plan the Gatsby party then, but it had been under an atmosphere.
Rachel had taken out one of her personalised pens, a silver roller ball specially designed for the left handed, and laboriously written everything down as if she was afraid of opening up the laptop again.
Suzie had found it slightly infuriating as Rachel had filled the A4 pad, she'd wanted to grab the laptop and take it back to the Twitter account. She wanted to read each and every one of those messages, look at the images that had been sent and pull apart exactly what Phil had been up to.
She’d always thought Phil wasn’t the type. He seemed so reliable, so boring. As long as she’d known Phil he’d never once done anything to surprise her. He was predictable, reliable; it was what she supposed Rachel found attractive about him. Whenever Suzie saw him, he was quiet, happy to go along with whatever Rachel was planning. Happy to be told what to do. But as Rachel talked about the party, Suzie re-evaluated her opinion of him.
She wanted to take the pen from her friend and ask about her marriage. She wanted to look at the messages and see if it was Phil, see if he wasn’t predictable after all. But as Rachel talked about the arrangements to meet up the following day, she made it clear it wasn’t up for discussion. So Suzie had left to go on her jog. Now, sitting opposite her broken friend, it looked as though Rachel had done exactly what Suzie had wanted to as soon as she'd left.
* * *
Suzie looked at Rachel, sitting in the wheelchair at the hospital with her head in her hands, and felt a great wave of sympathy. Rachel knew. Deep down, she knew that her husband was being unfaithful, even if she hadn't seen him at the hotel that afternoon. Rachel had doubted him enough to go there. She had her suspicions. She just couldn't admit it to herself, yet.
‘It's okay,’ she said and put her arm around Rachel's shoulders. ‘I’m here now, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Mrs Farrell?’ a smiling nurse came toward them. ‘They're ready for you now.’ She went to push the wheelchair forward and Rachel looked to Suzie.
‘I'm coming,’ she said. ‘I'm right here.’
The nurse nodded. ‘You can wait for her outside the fracture ward then they'll be sending her home as soon as it's set. Shouldn't be too long.’
The nurse started to wheel Rachel away and Suzie walked alongside. They went out of the waiting room at a quick pace and just as they turned to go down the corridor, Suzie faltered in her step.
He was wearing a suit and tie. Carrying a briefcase with his overcoat slung over his arm, looking like the manager of some small car dealership. He came running over as soon as he saw them.
‘Oh my darling.’ He bent over and kissed Rachel full on the lips. ‘When Della phoned I was distraught, thank God I was able to get home.’
‘Phil,’ Rachel said his name as if she couldn't quite believe it was him, ‘why aren't you in London?’
‘Got the train back as soon as I heard,’ he’d said and Suzie watched as he looked at Rachel's ankle, shook his head in alarm and made sounds of sympathy.
‘But I asked Della not to call you,’ Rachel said. ‘I told her not to.’
‘Well she did,’ Phil ran his thumb along Rachel's cheek, removing the dark stains of mascara. ‘Thank God she did, because I’m here now. With you.’
He leaned forward and kissed Rachel’s cheek and Suzie couldn't be certain, but she was sure Rachel flinched at his touch.
3
Rachel
They were in an unmarked car at the side of the road. As we came back from the hospital, the taxi pulled into our driveway and I’d seen them. A jolt of terror sweeping over me at the sight.
I watched as they got out of their car and braced themselves against the wind. There were two of them, an older one with greying, tight hair that looked like it was a perm, and a younger man about half his age with an overbite. They wore the kind of clothes that are sold in big supermarket chains and as they reached our house, they stared at us intently. They’d been waiting for our return, as I guessed they would be, and my heart thrummed against my ribs.
Phil didn’t see them or, if he did, he stayed silent about it. Our taxi came to a halt in front of our house, where Della and the girls were standing. They’d seen our taxi pull in and had opened the door, the three of them staring out at us, a small group of anxiety. I'd opened the car door to get out, but Phil beat me to it. He pushed my crutches aside and lifted me out, leaving the driver and my belongings waiting. He ignored the two men walking towards us and carried me through the doorway as if we were newlyweds. Jessica and Katie started to fuss, asking me questions, asking Phil why he was home, whilst Della stood to the side, shaking her head and biting her lip.
‘They wanted to come in,’ she said to us, ‘but I made them wait in their car. I made them sit out there until you came back from the hospital.’
‘Mr Farrell?’ one of the men asked. ‘Detective Sergeant Bailey. I see we've come at a bad time, but if I could just have a few moments? Won't take long.’
His voice cut through the chatter and he smiled in the sudden silence. He had a way of standing that gave the impression he lifted weights, puffing out his chest and rocking on his heels. The younger one hung back, barely inside the house, obviously a little politer than his senior officer.
Phil placed me down on the chair by the coat rack, making sure I was seated before he spoke. ‘Is this about my stolen car?’ he asked them. ‘Have you found it?’
Sergeant Bailey shook his head. ‘’fraid not.’
Without saying another word, Phil left to collect my crutches and pay for the taxi, leaving the two men waiting in the hallway watching us. I looked to my girls. Jessica put her hand to the back of her neck. She’d recently had her hair cut short and was still loving the novelty of the freshly exposed skin there. I gave her a weak smile and she smirked at me.
‘Can’t let you go out anywhere on your own, Mum,’ she said as she came over to me. ‘You okay?’ I nodded and she looked at my cast, large and ugly. ‘Can’t wait to see how you accessorise that one,’ she said and gave a small laugh.
I wanted to hug her, to wrap my arms around my eldest daughter for a moment and hide but Jessica wasn’t like that, she needed personal space. She gave me a slight shrug, as if she could read my thoughts as Katie bounded to my side. She went to put her arms around my neck, then stopped abruptly.
‘Ugh, what’s that smell?’
I glanced at the police officers and felt my
self flush. Katie was, as most fourteen-year-old girls tend to be, very dramatic. She held her nose as she looked at my stained shirt with disgust.
‘Mum!’ she said as she saw where I’d been sick earlier.
Jessica gave her a shove. ‘Mum’s been in an accident, stupid,’ she told her. ‘Back off.’
‘You back off,’ Katie immediately retorted and I closed my eyes.
‘Katie, could you stop thinking about yourself for just one second?’ Jessica asked and I looked at Della. It had been less than three minutes and they were off, arguing and bickering.
Della gave me a small smile. ‘You okay?’ she mouthed through the girls’ chatter and I nodded back.
Phil's car had been stolen. He wasn't anywhere near the retail park when the hit and run had happened, he was on a train. He'd explained everything at the hospital, how his car had been taken, meaning that it wasn't him I saw that afternoon, it was just his car. Just his car. His stolen car. But even as he was telling me, I couldn't shift the image of what I'd seen from my mind. I'd been certain it was him I was following.
‘We had to eat vegan curry,’ Katie was telling me, ‘because Jessica insisted she cook, when she shouldn’t have because it was disgusting.’
‘It was delicious,’ Jessica said.
‘I’m only ever eating what Della makes from now on,’ Katie said and took my hand, ‘aren’t I, Mum? Because Jessica shouldn’t be allowed to cook. And being vegan is bad for you.’
‘It is not!’ Jessica said and started to list off all the reasons why a vegan diet was preferable. The police watched us, they made no effort to avert their gaze or pretend to be distracted. The younger one in particular seemed mesmerised by Jessica. With her newly short hair she had a look of a young Keira Knightley, lovely high cheekbones and dark eyes, completely unaware of how beautiful she was.
‘Mum?’
I blinked rapidly, Katie had asked me a question and everyone was looking at me.
‘Mum, are you okay?’
‘Fine,’ I told her. ‘Completely fine.’ My cast, which went up to my knee, lay heavily on the floor with my toes sticking out, the glossy nail varnish chipped. I smiled but it didn't feel how I wanted it to and when I swallowed I was surprised at how tight my throat was, how close I was to tears.
‘Girls, could you…?’ I looked to Della for help. ‘Perhaps go into the den? Whilst I…?’
Della jumped into action. ‘Cookies?’ she offered. ‘Or we’ve still got some popcorn, I could bring you that whilst you watch a movie?’ She took a step toward the French doors that led into the kitchen. ‘How about a hot chocolate?’
‘I’ve got to get back to my studying,’ Jessica said and went on ahead of them.
‘I’ll have a hot chocolate,’ Katie said as they left and suddenly it was silent in the hallway. I looked to the open door. Phil was still out there, sorting out the taxi. I could hear him chatting, it felt like he was taking his time unnecessarily, delaying the moment when he had to come back inside.
‘Kids,’ Sergeant Bailey said after a moment. ‘Got one that age myself, so I know what it’s like,’ he looked down at my leg. ‘So what happened to you then? You are Mrs Farrell I take it?’
I told him, in few words, what I'd done. As I talked Phil came back in, quietly closing the door. He came to my side, putting his hand on my shoulder.
‘The hotel on the retail park?’ Sergeant Bailey asked when I'd finished, and shared a look with his partner, he shifted his weight and took out his notebook as my heartbeat quickened. I knew how it sounded, knew what they were thinking.
There was a long pause as he went through his notes, a bemused smile on his face. ‘You’re not going to believe this,’ he said looking up. ‘But there was a serious incident on that very same retail park this afternoon,’ he turned to Phil. ‘With your car.’
Phil stared back, his face blank. ‘My car? My stolen car?’
Sergeant Bailey gave a solemn nod. ‘The driver left the scene,’ he said, ‘in your car.’
‘So whoever stole my car,’ Phil said, ‘drove it to the retail park and it was involved in an accident and then they left? In my car?’
Sergeant Bailey paused, as if what Phil had asked was a difficult question. After a while he nodded. ‘It was a hit and run.’
I heard a gasp and realised it was me. My hand was at my throat and I'd started to shake slightly.
‘A hit and run?’ Phil repeated. ‘Bloody hell. Was anyone hurt?’
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Sergeant Bailey said. ‘They’re stable at the moment, at hospital. In a coma. So you can appreciate why we needed to speak with you tonight.’
We were all silent for a moment. I could hear a small argument starting in the kitchen between the girls and I looked down, staring at my cast. At my toes with their slight greyish colour, the polished wood floor beneath, at the Persian rug I remembered buying in some expensive chain store. The drum of my heart was echoing around my body, I could feel it vibrating, feel myself shake with the force of it. I brought my hand down and clasped it in my other, my wedding ring glinting out at me.
‘What time did you report your car stolen, Mr Farrell?’
Phil thought for a moment. ‘It would’ve been when I got back to the train station,’ he said. ‘About, what? Four? Half past?’
Sergeant Bailey nodded thoughtfully and as he looked to me, my heart seemed to stop for a moment. As if it had jumped up in my throat and got stuck.
‘And your collision, Mrs Farrell?’ he asked gently. ‘What time was that?’
I swallowed, my throat tight. ‘I don't know,’ I told them, ‘I wasn’t wearing my watch, didn’t have my phone.’
He nodded, writing something down in his pad. ‘Approximately,’ he said, ‘if you had to make a guess, what time would you say it was?’
I shook my head, swallowed, ‘I would say… I mean… I was only there to see it as a venue, I was looking at the hotel as a venue. I run an events company and I was just checking it out, so I didn’t really think about what time it was. I didn’t look at the time.’
‘But you were in the hotel?’
I nodded.
‘And the staff were aware you had an accident?’
‘They called the ambulance.’
‘Of course they did,’ he said and gave a smile. ‘So that’s easy to find out.’
I was getting short of breath, couldn’t seem to take any air in.
‘Just routine questions,’ he reassured me. ‘Nothing to worry about. And you,’ he said looking to Phil, ‘where were you this afternoon?’ His pen hovered above his paper. ‘Whilst your wife was having her accident and your car was being stolen?’
‘Crewe train station,’ Phil said quickly. ‘I was on my way to London, for work. The train goes from Chester and changes at Crewe. I was ready to board the train to London when I got the call from Della,’ he waved toward where Della was in the kitchen.
‘And Della would be…?’
‘She’s our nanny, our housekeeper,’ Phil said.
‘And you’re certain Della was here when she made the call?’
‘Della was here,’ I told him. ‘I spoke to her, after my accident. I used a phone, called home and spoke to her.’
Sergeant Bailey made a note, then looked at Phil and gave him a nod to continue.
‘So Della tells me about Rachel's accident and instead of getting on the train to London, I get a train straight back to Chester, to see my wife. And then…’
‘And then you find your car gone.’
Phil nodded. I made an effort to breathe normally, to remain relaxed despite what my heart was doing. The repercussions of its beat were making my hands tremble, my chest shake. Fear was reverberating around my body. I could see the hit and run in my mind, hear the crunch of bones, see Phil's face behind the wheel.
‘Here,’ Phil said and reached in his pocket. ‘My train tickets if they're of any help. There’s the one I used to get the train from Chester to Crewe, and these
are for the second leg of my journey, the ones I didn't use going on to London. And here's the ticket I bought to come back to Chester, from Crewe train station. Proof I was there at that time.’
I stared at the tickets.
There was his train ticket. The ticket that Phil had bought that afternoon from Crewe train station at the time when I’d watched the hit and run happen. I had a strong urge to snatch the ticket, to examine it myself as it was passed to Sergeant Bailey. I held my breath as he studied it for a moment then tapped it against his pad. He rubbed his thumb along the top of one of the other tickets and then looked at it, as if to see if the ink was dry.
‘Okay if I keep these?’
‘Of course,’ Phil said, and we watched as Sergeant Bailey handed them to his younger partner.
‘And Mrs Farrell, your accident,’ he looked at me. ‘You ran into the back of someone outside the hotel on the retail park? Metres away from where the accident happened with your husband's car?’ he had his eyebrows raised, as if he found it unbelievable. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. ‘I assume you've the information of the other driver? We'll need to check with them, with the hotel staff, the people involved. And I'll probably need to question you about it again,’ he looked at Phil. ‘Both of you, I'll need to take you to the station –’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Phil's voice interrupted. ‘What happened with my stolen car has nothing to do with Rachel. She's just out of hospital. She's broken her ankle in a minor collision that had numerous witnesses and you’re talking of taking her to the station? Don't be ridiculous!’
I took in a shaky breath; Sergeant Bailey was watching me carefully and I could feel myself colour. I didn't know how to organise my features, was afraid I'd give something away.
‘Now if you don't mind,’ Phil went on. ‘I'd like to take care of my wife. It's been a very long day. So please, come back when you've found the real criminal. The person who stole my car.’
If He Wakes Page 3