Dark Fragments: a fast paced psychological thriller

by Rob Sinclair

By that point she was a yard past me but she stopped and turned around.

  ‘Yeah. You?’

  ‘If I could figure out what to do with those damn balls, it might have been better.’

  She laughed. ‘Practice makes perfect.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  She went to walk away.

  ‘I know this sounds ridiculous, but don’t I know you from somewhere?’ I said.

  She frowned.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’ve just seen me in the gym before. I only joined about a month ago, but I’m there all the time.’

  I think at that point she probably started doubting my friendly manner, but a second later her features softened again.

  ‘Actually, yeah, you’re right,’ she said, the look on her face telling me she was now trying to place me. ‘You do look familiar. I thought it was just from the gym, but didn’t you used to work at Gravesham’s? You know, the solicitors?’

  ‘No, but my wife did. Alice. Alice Stephens.’

  I saw the spark of recognition in Cara’s eyes at my dead wife’s name.

  ‘Ah, of course. I’m Cara,’ she said. She extended her hand out to me and I gave it a gentle shake. I looked at her quizzically, making her think that I wasn’t quite there with her yet. ‘Cara Andrews?’ she added. ‘Ah, you probably knew me as Cara Donald. My married name is Andrews.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I said, nodding in a feigned eureka moment, although the mention of a husband made me automatically wary. ‘That’s it. I think we met a few times at work do’s years back.’

  ‘Yeah, we did. I remember now,’ she said, giving a warm smile.

  I wondered whether she was reminiscing fondly about those flirtatious occasions in the same way I was.

  ‘So you’re married now?’ I asked.

  ‘Technically yes,’ she said, giving a less-than-convincing smile and rubbing her neck. It was a response that enhanced my confidence. I didn’t press her on the point but I’d certainly do so another time. ‘What about Alice? Did she move on from Gravesham’s?’

  I hung my head. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Alice died.’

  Cara cupped her mouth in horror. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I never knew that. Look at me, I’ve really put my foot in it this time, haven’t I?’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s not against the law to talk about it. Plus it was a long time ago and you didn’t know. It’s fine.’

  I noticed her glance down at my left hand. It took me a split second to twig what she was looking at. My wedding ring.

  ‘You’re remarried now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ I said, hanging my head. ‘Technically at least,’ I added, echoing her own comment.

  ‘I think I know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Just one of those things.’

  She didn’t push the subject any further. I noticed that she no longer wore a ring on her wedding finger, though I saw a band of white flesh there that suggested its removal was relatively recent.

  ‘Well, it was nice to bump into you,’ I said, not quite sure where to take the conversation next, and aware that if I was too pushy, she’d likely run a mile.

  ‘Yeah. It was,’ she said, seeming a little unsure now that I was breaking the conversation off so abruptly. ‘You too. And I’m sorry about … you know.’

  ‘Yeah … thanks. Maybe I’ll see you around at the gym?’

  ‘Maybe. Hopefully.’

  ‘You can show me what I’m supposed to be doing on those mats, before I injure someone.’

  She laughed. ‘You bet.’

  We exchanged brief goodbyes, then headed our separate ways – me pleasantly impressed with how that first encounter had gone, and Cara with no idea of the life-changing mess she would soon be getting herself into.

  CHAPTER 29

  I had less than a week to get Callum O’Brady two hundred thousand pounds. There was no way that was going to happen; I’d already come to that realisation. What I needed was to keep him off my back. Although I had a plan to do that, I feared it would be easier said than done. Yet despite the predicament, despite all the problems in my life, the following morning I was feeling more upbeat as a result of my encounter with Cara. Her alluring and optimistic manner, and the potential of what was to come if I pursued her, had lifted my spirits.

  It was Saturday and I wanted to see my children. I’d called Gemma several times since I’d last picked the kids up from school. She’d answered more than once, but had quickly fobbed me off with claims of being too busy or unable to talk because she was driving. At the least they were convenient excuses. It was just as likely they were outright lies.

  I was completely in the dark as to where I stood with her. I felt I was at a crossroads with no idea which road to take. Should I try to reconcile with Gemma? Did I want to? If not for her and my benefit then at least for the kids?

  I did love Gemma. She was Chloe’s mother. Harry’s too, I knew deep down. But I wasn’t sure I was in love with her. I hated that cliché; I always thought it was ridiculous. But really that described how I felt about Gemma. In a sexual sense our relationship had been cold for some time, despite whatever attempts I had made to reverse that fact. But I loved her.

  I missed her. I missed the four of us being together.

  That said, I wasn’t about to go grovelling back to her. Pride was one of my many faults. Plus, based on her treatment of me since she’d thrown me out, I believed there was a very real chance she would simply laugh in my face and tell me where to go. And she was the one who had kicked me out. If she wanted me back, shouldn’t she be coming to me?

  That morning I made up my mind: regardless of what was happening between me and Gemma, I would go around to the house. I desperately wanted to see Harry and Chloe. I hated not seeing them every day, talking to them and hearing about their fun-filled days at school and nursery, where the most traumatic things that happened were that someone pulled their hair or splashed water in their face or – the worst crime of them all – took a chip off their lunch plate. I loved hearing about their playground triumphs and woes alike and remembering how simple and happy life should be.

  I drove down my road, turned into the drive of my house and switched off the engine. An awkward sensation coursed through me. This was my home. It had been for years. I’d driven onto the driveway hundreds if not thousands of times before, but this time felt different. This time I felt like an outsider.

  I got out of the car and walked up to the front door. The key for the lock was in my pocket. I could have let myself in, yet I chose to ring the doorbell. I wasn’t sure why.

  When the door was opened, I was completely unprepared for the person who greeted me: Dani.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I said, my tone as sour as the look on my face.

  Before my sister could respond, I spotted Chloe and Harry behind her, standing in the kitchen doorway. They beamed when they saw me and came bounding up.

  I grabbed them both and lifted them up, one on each arm. They giggled in delight and it instantly softened my mood. I put the kids down and they rushed off back into the kitchen, tittering as they went.

  When I looked back at Dani, my brief moment of happiness faded again almost as quickly as it had come.

  ‘So?’ I said.

  ‘I came to see you actually,’ Dani replied, her voice hard.

  ‘You’re not working?’ I said, looking her up and down. She was wearing jeans and a low-cut jumper, a far less formal look than the last time I'd seen her.

  ‘It’s Saturday. Even DIs get a day off every now and then.’

  ‘Where’s Gemma?’ I said.

  ‘She just popped upstairs to the loo, I think,’ Dani said.

  As if on cue I heard the toilet flush upstairs. I shut the door behind me and walked past my sister, not yet sure what to think about her unexpected presence. Whatever the explanation, I didn’t like her being in my house without my knowledge one bit.

  ‘If you w
anted to see me, you could have called,’ I said.

  ‘I could have. But I didn’t.’

  ‘And where’s your car?’

  ‘In for a service. I took the train. Any other questions? Would you like to know what I had for breakfast? Or how long it’s been since I last went to the toilet?’

  I turned and glared at her and noticed Gemma coming up behind. On seeing me she kept her expression neutral.

  ‘Hi,’ was the best I could muster as Gemma walked past me, into the kitchen.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ she said. ‘You could have called first.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t need to call before coming to my own house to see my own wife and children. And anyway, I have been calling you.’

  Gemma just tutted in response. We all moved through into the kitchen, where Chloe and Harry were sitting at the table scribbling diligently in colouring books.

  ‘I can see this isn’t a great time,’ Dani chipped in. ‘Maybe we can talk later, Ben. Yeah?’

  I was about to agree but Gemma beat me to it. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, before turning to me. ‘Dani brought the kids these new colouring books.’

  Dani smiled and shrugged.

  ‘Thanks, Auntie Danielle,’ Harry said on cue.

  ‘You’re welcome here any time,’ Gemma said to my sister. ‘And anyway, as I was saying, I could really do with some help today.’

  ‘Help?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’

  My wife and sister both turned to me and the look they gave me made me feel as though I’d walked in on something I shouldn’t have. It was both surreal and uncomfortable.

  ‘I was just telling Dani that I’d arranged to meet up with the girls for lunch today. She offered to look after Chloe and Harry for a few hours so that I could go.’

  I scoffed at her words. This really was beyond ridiculous.

  ‘Did you not think about asking me?’

  ‘I didn’t know where you were,’ Gemma said, as though it was obvious.

  ‘You might have done if you’d asked me or if you’d answered my calls.’

  ‘It’s not a big deal,’ Gemma said. ‘You weren’t here. Dani was.’

  ‘But why were you here?’ I said to my sister again.

  ‘Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist,’ Gemma butted in. ‘She came to see you. But I asked, on the off chance, whether she could look after the kids, and she was good enough to agree. I was going to have them tag along with me, but I’m sure they’d rather stay here and play.’

  My sister looked at me and shrugged again. ‘It would be nice to spend a bit of time with them,’ she said.

  ‘You’re right. It would. That’s what I’m here for,’ I replied. ‘I wanted to take them out for the day.’

  ‘Look, I’ll stick around,’ Dani said to Gemma. ‘Let Ben and I both look after them. You go out and have a good time.’

  I shook my head at the situation that was unfolding before me. It was just too bizarre. This was my house. My wife. My children. Yet I felt like a complete stranger. An impostor.

  Gemma sighed and took a few moments to mull over the proposition.

  ‘Fine,’ she said eventually. ‘But I need the kids back here by six. We’re going over to stay with Granny and Granddad again tonight.’

  Granny and Granddad. Again. I cringed at Gemma’s words.

  That explained why no-one had been home when I’d gone to the house one night in the week to pick up some clothes. I couldn’t bear to think about Gemma and her parents sitting together and slagging me off for hours on end. And it wasn’t just the Whitely’s effect on Gemma I was worried about. I wouldn’t have put it past Whitely to slip in some criticisms in front of the kids too. He and his wife had always tolerated me and been largely pleasant toward me – at least I’d always felt that they’d respected me as a good father to their only grandkids. But since my last meeting with Whitely I wasn’t so sure anymore. The gloves were off and the situation had changed dramatically. Maybe they would see this as a chance to put the boot in and get rid of me once and for all.

  Poisoning Gemma’s mind against me was one thing, but would they really have the audacity to do that to my children? For my own sake and sanity, I really hoped not.

  ‘That’s great,’ Dani said, a big smile on her face. ‘I’m really looking forward to spending some time with them.’

  I gave her an unimpressed smile. ‘Me too.’

  ‘Thanks, Dani,’ Gemma said, beaming. ‘I really appreciate it.’

  My wife gave me no further acknowledgment; she just walked out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. Dani looked at me and smiled unconvincingly.

  I didn’t like her being there one bit, and I was already wondering exactly what it was she wanted to see me about. For all of her front, her offer to spend time with my children and to help out, I knew that her interest had little to do with her desire to be a good auntie and likely everything to do with her being a detective. And given recent events – Dove, O’Brady – that worried me.

  CHAPTER 30

  ‘Would you say that you respect women?’

  I scoffed at the question. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘But many of your actions suggest otherwise. You cheating on Alice. The way you were with Gemma – and how you pursued Cara so soon after separating. Your treatment of Dani.’

  ‘My treatment of Dani?’

  ‘Were you jealous of your sister?’

  ‘Jealous of what?’

  ‘As a child. Did you feel jealousy or resentment toward her?’

  I thought about the question. I wanted to say no, because I knew where she was going with this – and it was ludicrous, I wanted to claim. But the fact was, this woman had hit on something. And it was something I really didn’t want to think about.

  ‘Yes,’ I said nonetheless.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Dani was so damn perfect. Everyone thought that.’

  ‘What about your parents?’

  ‘Yes, them too.’

  ‘Do you believe your parents loved Dani more than they loved you?’

  I shifted in my seat. I didn’t want it to be the case, but what could I say? It was the way I had always felt.

  ‘Have you heard of the Oedipus complex?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a psychoanalytic theory that at some point children feel sexual desire for the parent of the opposite sex.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ I asked, feeling genuine revulsion at the thoughts that went through my head at her words.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s seen as a very natural part of childhood mental development. It’s a theory, and not everyone agrees with it. Nevertheless, it’s considered important in explaining how humans are socialised, and how children learn to cope and deal with expectation and disappointment. It’s also through the Oedipus complex that all sorts of personality traits can be explained – like resentment toward a parent, or even resentment to all members of a sex.’

  ‘You’re saying I resent all women because I wanted to sleep with my mother?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she said, and her cheeks blushed slightly at my blunt statement. ‘But I am questioning whether your relationship with your mother, and her relationship with Dani, may have had an impact on your attitude toward women in general.’

  I paused for a moment, unsure what to say. More than anything I felt angry at what she was insinuating. Angry that she was breaking down my actions and what was in my mind – who I was – into something so simple and so vulgar.

  ‘I’m not trying to trick you here,’ she said. ‘I’m just trying to understand how your childhood may have had an impact on your actions in adult life.’

  ‘Fine. Yes, I did resent Dani,’ I said. ‘How could I not? My mum and dad adored her; she was the shining star. They loved me too, of course. I had a good upbringing – I said that to you before. But I could never quite live up to their expectations, and I could never quite
emulate the brilliance of my sister.’

  ‘And how did that situation play out when you were children? What was the impact for you?’

  ‘You asked me before whether there was violence in our home. But you asked about the wrong parent. You asked about my dad.’

  ‘And you told me he never hit you. But you’re saying your mother did?’

  ‘No, she wasn’t violent either. Not really. But there was one occasion that always sticks in my mind.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said when I didn’t immediately continue.

  ‘Dani and I were seven, I think. We were messing around, like kids do. I don’t know where the idea came from, but we decided it would be good to start crayoning on the walls. We were inviting some friends over that weekend for a party and we wanted them to know where to go in the house. So we got a couple of crayons each and started drawing big arrows on the walls – directions to the toilet, the kitchen. I mean, we thought it was a good idea. We weren’t setting out to be naughty.’

  ‘And what happened when your parents found out?’

  ‘We’d finished. Dani was somewhere else in the house when Mum saw what we’d done. She completely lost it. She found me in the lounge, crayons by my feet, and she threw herself at me. She grabbed me and hauled me to my feet and slapped me in the face. She was screaming, completely out of control.’

  ‘Were you scared of her?’

  ‘I was petrified. Maybe my memory is clouded now as to exactly what she was like in that moment, but at the time I really thought she might kill me. I didn’t know any different. I’d never seen her act like that before and it wouldn’t have been that difficult for her to throttle me – I was so small. I thought she might reach out and strangle me to death there and then.’

  ‘But she didn’t, of course.’

  ‘No. Dani came to my rescue. She pulled my mum away. Begged her to leave me alone. Dani insisted it was all her idea and that it wasn’t my fault. My mum was snarling and shouting, but with Dani’s pleading she slowly calmed down. We both got punished that day, but Mum never laid a finger on Dani – not that day or any other.’

  ‘Was that a defining moment in your childhood, do you think? In terms of your relationship with your mum and Dani?’