‘No, thanks. It’ll be fine. I think it’s stopped bleeding now.’
‘You should go straight up and have a lie-down,’ she says, her voice low and even as she pulls the car to a halt outside the door. ‘You’ll find some plasters and ointment in your kitchen. I’m going to make you one of my infusions to relax you. I’ll be up in a few minutes.’
I kick my boots off at the door, and Thea bends to pick them up and put them on the shoe rack. I am still totally wired, and I charge up the stairs to my room, thrusting the door open with such force that it crashes into the wall. Flinging myself on the bed, I lie with my hands behind my head and gaze at the ceiling. Ian is a bastard. How could I have ever thought I loved someone as mean and lazy as him?
I can’t settle and jump back off the bed and stride to the window. It is dark outside now, and all I can make out is the black shape of the trees that border the vast garden. Suddenly, they make me feel hemmed in. I want to get out of here. I want to sort my life out once and for all.
The bag that I brought with me is sitting on the floor where I threw it, and I pick it up and up-end the contents onto the bed. I stare at the flimsy lace knickers and bras, the low-cut tops and the short-sleeved T-shirts – ridiculous clothes, not at all practical. At least I thought to push in a couple of jumpers and some clean jeans. I bundle everything into drawers and then I don’t know what to do. I can’t lie down, or even sit down. I’m so tightly wound I think I’m going to snap.
There’s a tap at the open door, and I swivel towards it.
‘Sit down for a moment, dear,’ Thea says calmly. ‘Drink this. I find it does the trick when I’m a bit worked up.’
I want to tell her that I’m more than a bit worked up, but even in the state I’m in I know none of this is Thea’s fault, so I do as she asks. She perches herself on the edge of the bed and pushes her hands under her thighs as she watches me sip her infusion. It tastes good – I can taste lemons, but other herbs too. For a moment my mind is distracted as I try to identify the ingredients, and as always Thea seems able to read my mind.
‘It’s got some camomile in it,’ she says, ‘but I like lemon balm for stress, and a bit of sage too, not forgetting the valerian. Oh, and a bit of passion flower. All designed to make you feel better.’
It seems to be working, but maybe it’s the comfort of a hot drink and my hands cupped around a warm mug. ‘I lost it, Thea. I really lost it with him.’
She smiles. ‘Good. From all that you’ve told me, it sounds as if he deserves everything you threw at him. Do you have a plan?’
‘I told him to get out because I want to let the spare room. If he’s not gone in two days, I’m going to tell that snotty kid at the building society to repossess the house and throw him out on the street. At least I’ll get my deposit back.’ I can hear my voice getting a little calmer and my breathing has steadied. I feel a pang of guilt about the way I spoke to the girl, who was only trying to do her job.
‘Would you like to have a chat with the doctor? He is so good at helping people see things as they are.’
I don’t want to be rude, but I remember the last session. ‘What value do you bring to the world?’ he had asked. I have thought of those words often since, and on top of everything else I don’t think I could cope with feeling worthless right now.
‘It’s kind of you,’ I answer, relieved that my manners seem to be returning, ‘but for now I think I’m fine. I’ve expended so much energy over the last few hours that I think I might have a bath and go to bed. Is that okay?’
Thea pushes herself to her feet. ‘Of course, dear. But you need to eat something. I made us some soup for lunch – how about that? I’ll go down and get you some now.’
‘No, Thea. It’s fine, honestly,’ I say, embarrassed about all she is doing for me.
‘I’m not taking no for an answer,’ she says. ‘Back in a moment.’
I give in. I am starting to feel lethargic and I imagine it’s the adrenaline seeping from my system. I’ll probably just do as I’m told.
I don’t know how long it is between Thea going and coming back, but she returns with a bowl of soup, some bread and butter and a glass of wine on a tray. She puts it on the table beside me and I lean forward and start to eat. She’s talking to me in a low voice, and gradually I begin to feel numb.
I feel Thea’s hand under my armpit. She’s lifting me from the chair and helping me towards the bed. There’s a mist over my eyes, and it’s getting darker by the second.
30
Tom Douglas leaned back in his chair and pondered the case at Pennington Flash. Information was coming in thick and fast about Jasmine DuPont, the woman found in the bird hide. They now knew that her deceased twin sister, Esme, had been troubled for years. She had suffered from depression since her early teens and had been bulimic for a while. Jasmine, it seemed, had always been the cheerful one, supporting her sister through her illness, desperate to protect her from the worst of the demons that had haunted her.
In spite of Jasmine’s insistence that her parents could have done more for her twin, Tom could only imagine how difficult it must be to deal with a child who was suffering from any kind of mental health issue. However much you might want to help, it would be so easy to take the wrong step. But Jasmine clearly felt they should have done better with Esme.
He thought back to the night when, as far as they could determine, Jasmine had died at the Flash. The witness, Sharon Carter, had seen two people get out of a car and only one get back in, so it seemed certain that Jasmine had been driven to the place of her death on the night the big freeze began. The driver appeared to go with her into the hide, carrying a bag which must have contained the cylinder of gas, although it was impossible to tell for sure. The post-mortem and the routine toxicology analysis revealed plenty about the drugs that Jasmine had been taking around the time of her death, but they didn’t kill her. Amy Sanders had been unable to find any other cause of death, so the only logical conclusion, given the lack of helium found in the gas analysis of her lungs, was that an exit bag filled with nitrogen was used.
It seemed that Jasmine had voluntarily got out of the car and gone with the man – if it was a man. Maybe after all those months of missing her twin it had seemed to her that she had nothing left to live for, and so she had sought the help of a person she could trust. Maybe she felt that dying at the place where her sister had originally tried to kill herself would bring them closer together in death.
Tom recalled the case they had discovered with similarities to Jasmine’s death – the young woman who had been found dead on a golf course, hidden from passing view in a deep bunker. Another team had investigated her death but found nothing to indicate how she had died. Just like Jasmine, she appeared to have died as a result of hypoxia, but there was no explanation as to how this had occurred. They had assumed the woman had gone there on her own. Her footsteps were clear in the sand of the bunker, but the area around her was raked to perfection, so due to a lack of any other evidence it had been assumed that the woman had walked in alone, sat down and died.
Perhaps now they knew the identity of their hide victim – Jasmine – they could find a tangible link to the other woman. Maybe the woman on the golf course had been helped too. It could have been the same modus operandi, the evidence of the cylinder and another person’s footprints having been removed by raking the sand.
He would get Becky on to checking it out the next day, because if Jasmine was the second person to suffer death with help from an unknown third party, it suggested a pattern. And Tom had to ask himself if that meant more women were destined to die the same way.
31
I gradually become aware of myself. I can feel my arms, my legs, and they are warm, relaxed. I don’t want to open my eyes – it seems like too much effort. I just want to enjoy the calming sensations. I can hear the sloshing of water, and I feel its heat on my chest. Something is rubbing gently on my hands, up both arms and along my shoulders. It feels won
derful, and I hear myself sigh and settle back further. I’m in water. It’s up to my neck and it’s soft and soothing.
I must be in the bath.
Vaguely I sense movement and maybe the sound of a door closing quietly, and it takes a moment for me to realise that someone is here with me, holding my arm with one hand, rubbing it with the other. I slowly open my eyes. The room is dark, lit only by two candles placed on a low stool at the end of the bath I am lying in. I look at the hand holding the flannel, and I know it belongs to Thea.
The calm evaporates in an instant.
Why is Thea bathing me? This isn’t right. I struggle to sit up, covering my breasts with my arms.
‘What are you doing?’ I mumble, my words sounding jumbled as if my mouth is full of cotton wool.
‘Shh. It’s okay, Judith. We’ll look after you.’
I don’t know what she means.
The candles flicker as if a gust of wind has hit the wicks, and light momentarily flashes onto the water. I stare in horror, unsure for a moment what I am seeing.
The bath water is red. Blood-red. I glance to where my clothes are piled on the floor. My cream-coloured jumper seems to be covered in something dark. It looks black in this light, but I know what it is. Blood.
I lift my arms clear of the water. There’s not a mark on me, apart from the cut on my hand from earlier. But the plaster is holding firm, and I’m sure it can’t be that. One by one I lift my legs, exploring my body for signs of injury, but I can find none. So where am I hurt? I rub my fingers over my scalp, but I feel no pain. Where has all this blood come from?
I look at Thea. ‘What’s happened?’
She tries to shush me again, but I need to know.
‘Tell me, please, Thea.’
I realise she’s kneeling on the floor, and that can’t be comfortable for a woman of her age. She struggles to her feet, using the lip of the old-fashioned bathtub for help, then goes to sit on a chair. Her face is in shadow. I can’t see her. I can only hear her words.
‘I found you outside again, my dear. You took my car, and we didn’t know you’d gone. It was only when you came back that I woke up, and I found you like this.’
‘Am I hurt?’
‘Not that I can see, no. But there was a lot of blood on your clothes and on you. It had soaked right through.’
‘I don’t remember. Thea, I don’t remember!’ I realise I’m starting to panic. What have I done? Where have I been?
There is a gentle knock on the door, and I hear the doctor’s voice. ‘Thea, a word, please,’ he says softly, as if there is someone in the house that he is scared of waking.
‘I’ll be back in a moment. You just relax,’ Thea says as she slips out of the door.
I hear frantic whispering. I can’t make out what they are saying, but I can tell by the inflection in Thea’s voice that she’s asking questions. After no more than two or three minutes, she comes back into the bathroom.
‘What?’ I ask rudely.
She comes over to the bath, and I feel self-conscious again, although given that she obviously stripped me it’s a bit late for modesty. Thea is looking down at me, the candlelight casting strange shadows on her face. Her eyes seem lost in sunken hollows, and I can’t guess what she is thinking.
‘I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, my dear, but the doctor was listening to the radio. He does that sometimes when he can’t sleep.’
I wish she would get to the point, and I lean towards her, my hands gripping the edge of the bath.
‘I’m afraid they’re saying that a man has been killed in Crumpsall. They’re not giving any more details until his next of kin has been traced, of course, but we thought you should know.’
I wonder what that has to do with me. Yes, my house is in Crumpsall, but I don’t know many people – only Ian. I feel my eyes opening wide. Surely that can’t be what she means?
‘Ian?’ I ask, the word almost choking me.
‘We don’t know, Judith. They’re saying that the man was attacked and suffered multiple skull fractures. They won’t say any more. I’m so sorry to have to ask you, but do you know where you were tonight?’
I can feel myself staring blankly at her. I don’t know what she is talking about. The last thing I can remember is climbing into bed. I don’t know why I was outside, but if I was then surely I couldn’t have driven anywhere? I give a tiny shake of the head.
Thea purses her lips and nods. ‘When I found you, you had rather a lot of blood on your clothes. You seemed dazed by whatever had happened to you – you couldn’t speak.’
I feel tears spring to my eyes. What’s going on? Surely I can’t have hurt Ian? That must be wrong. I know I was furious this afternoon, but he was fine when I left. Thea was there. She knows he was okay. But she’s saying I went out later, after everyone was in bed.
My gaze returns to the blood-drenched clothing on the floor, and I can’t tear my eyes from it. Thea reaches into the shadows for a towel and lifts it to shakes out its folds. The candlelight flickers and grows stronger for a moment.
I gasp. Protruding from under my jumper is a rubber-covered handle. It too is covered in blood, and I recognise it. I remember buying it weeks ago. I keep it on a shelf in the garage.
I don’t have to see its split, curved, stainless-steel head to know that it is a claw hammer.
32
I’m still shaking, and it’s hours since I woke up in the bath. However tightly I curl myself up in the bed, I can’t get warm, and the tears won’t stop.
Thea left me last night after she showed me the hammer. She took everything with her – my clothes, the flannels she had used to wash the remnants of blood from both me and the floor, and the claw hammer. I never asked what she intended to do with any of it, I only know that I felt totally dazed. And I was so cold. The bath water was warm, but my whole body was covered in goosebumps, and however much I rubbed my arms, they wouldn’t go away. They still won’t, even now.
I forced myself to get out of the bath and dried myself quickly, wrapping the towel around me to run to my bedroom. Thea said she would be back with something to help me sleep, but I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to lie there – awake – wondering whether I had done something terrible. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. I know that my behaviour yesterday was aggressive, but not violent, never violent. Just words and a few gestures to demonstrate my anger and frustration.
I have to be rational. The dead man was probably some random bloke in Crumpsall. It might have nothing to do with Ian at all. But what if it does? I can’t wipe from my mind the people who had seen me yelling at him, throwing his clothes out of the window.
I’m being ridiculous. Surely there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. But where did the hammer come from, and why was I covered in blood? Did I go to see Ian and then someone came in while I was there and attacked him? Did I try to defend us both?
My mind is spinning round and round, thinking of every single possibility. Because none of it makes sense.
It’s light now, so I know it’s morning, but I haven’t slept. Thea’s infusion is still sitting next to the bed. I wish the television in here worked so I could find out what was happening, but I have no access to the Internet, television or radio. I feel blind and deaf.
Someone is coming along the corridor. I don’t know if I’m ready to speak to anyone, but I don’t suppose I have a choice.
Thea knocks briefly on the door and pushes it open. She is frowning, the corners of her mouth turned down and deep worry lines between her eyebrows.
‘What is it?’ I ask, sitting up in bed and leaning eagerly forward. Perhaps she has discovered that the victim is some unknown vagrant and there’s a perfectly sensible explanation for the blood.
She walks over to the bed and sits down.
‘I’m so sorry, my dear. They have announced the name of the victim on the news. Is Ian’s surname Fullerton?’
I nod, speechless.
‘Then I�
�m afraid he’s been murdered. They must have informed his next of kin, otherwise they wouldn’t have released his details. Does he have family?’
I nod again, staring blankly ahead of me. Ian’s parents will be devastated. Oh God, what is happening to me?
‘The situation is rather worse than I had hoped,’ Thea continued, her voice sombre. ‘They have named the person they are looking for in connection with his murder.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry, Judith, but I’m afraid it’s you.’
I turn towards her and shake my head slowly from side to side. ‘I didn’t do anything, Thea. I would have remembered if I had. I need to go to the police and tell them.’
Thea nods. ‘If that’s what you want. But I will have to give them the hammer and tell them about the blood. You do realise that, don’t you?’
I thrust the bedclothes away from my legs and jump out of bed. ‘Can I see what they’re saying on the television?’
‘I’m so sorry, we don’t have a television. And the radio will only confirm what I’m telling you.’
I pace backwards and forwards, my hands clasped at the back of my neck. This is madness. I wouldn’t kill anyone, not even Ian. They must have got it wrong.
‘You were very angry yesterday, Judith, and you told the doctor that Ian had no place on this earth. Don’t forget that you wished him dead on more than one occasion.’
I stare at her, horrified. ‘That doesn’t mean that I would have actually killed him!’ I cry.
Thea says nothing and puts her head on one side as if asking a question.
I haven’t got a clue what to do. Not only am I appalled by what’s happened to Ian, I feel guilty about bringing all of this down on Thea and Garrick. What the hell must they think of me? I spin round and face her.
‘I’m so very sorry that this has happened while I’m staying with you. Obviously I’ll get out of here. I can’t get you involved. Please give me the clothes and the hammer. I’m going to have to talk to the police.’
Thea’s brow wrinkles. She looks at me then glances at the full mug of tea, now stone cold. ‘You didn’t drink your tea. Have you slept at all?’
Come A Little Closer Page 14