Clive Witherall, who is in the late stages of an aggressive form of cancer, has denied all knowledge of the dump, and has passed on copies of correspondence between his son and daughter-in-law. A receipt for the cargo, which was erroneously abandoned near a playground by local delivery drivers after they panicked over the smell of the toxic waste, has been handed to police along with a letter hand-written by David Witherall not long before he died, after being hit by a car.
The former magazine editor and mother-of-two, Anna Witherall, has battled mental health problems since childhood when she underwent professional treatment following the loss of her brother, and suffered extreme postnatal depression after the birth of her twin daughters in 2016.
In an interview with this paper, Clive Witherall, who only has months to live, also claimed an investigation would be launched into David’s death, which he believes could have been arranged by those wishing to silence him once it became clear he planned to hand himself in to police.
In a statement yesterday, Mrs Witherall’s former boss Clarissa Marceaux told this newspaper she was shocked by the revelations, and confirmed that Anna Witherall would no longer be employed by the company.
Clive Witherall added: ‘It is with great regret that I accept a degree of responsibility for the actions of my company, TradeSmart. Although I had no knowledge of it at the time, it is only right that I recognise that I failed to prevent this terrible misdemeanour, leading to the tragic loss of innocent lives.
‘I have always said that corporate responsibility stands at the heart of, and has been the driver for, all that we do at TradeSmart. In my years as a businessman I have always strived to hold the highest standards of corporate responsibility, not just through our own behaviours but through our foundation and our sponsorship programme.
‘It is with great personal remorse that I must tell you that in the weeks following the death of my son, David, I received a letter from him, confessing to what had become to him a very heavy burden. In the letter, David revealed that under a degree of pressure from his wife, who I have since learnt had been duping my son from the moment they first met, the pair hired a local firm in Equatorial Guinea to dispose of waste materials, to avoid costs.
‘My son accepted he acted with terrible misjudgement after falling for the charms of his wife, who entered our lives under a veil of deceit – and he was subsequently plagued by the ramifications of his actions in the years leading to his untimely death.’
The lawyer keeps his eyes on the papers he is shuffling on his desk.
‘As for the will, apparently David had a paternity test done in the months before his death and, well, it turns out he isn’t actually the father, so there isn’t any reason to leave anything to the girls, or, of course, to you … But I’m sure you already know that.’
His eyes suddenly flick upwards to meet mine, and I see he is no longer smiling.
‘You have until this evening to clear out of the house, or this piece runs as the splash in tomorrow’s paper.’
CHAPTER 72
Maria
The taxi David has ordered is due to pick me up at the hotel at 1 p.m., exactly as planned. I will be dressed in the demure button-down tunic dress he bought for me at one of the boutiques on the high street, together with a pair of pretty leather sandals, one of a number of parcels I found stashed in my cupboards or under my pillow over the past months. My final transformation into the image of the woman with whom he intends to live out the rest of his life is almost complete.
I have stayed the night in the room Anna booked me into by way of atoning for my untimely dismissal. The strength it must have required to ask me to leave gave me some hope for her future, whatever that may hold. The decision brings me some comfort as I brush out my hair at the dressing table in front of the window overlooking the church on Portland Place: an omen of sorts, I do not doubt, though whether good or bad, I cannot yet be sure.
There is no need to bring anything, David has explained. There will be a suitcase full of clothes waiting for me when we meet at the airport. For a moment I wonder whether if, in the days to come, Anna will wander along the high street and notice the shoes she gave me for my birthday in the window of the charity shop, where I had deposited my belongings on my way from the house.
I stop myself. What a foolish thought; there will be no time for window shopping. Not for her, not after today. Not once she has had her meeting with the lawyer. But it is imperative that I think of Anna as someone with a future. At this point, I cannot allow myself to engage with the alternative.
I leave my hotel room at 8 a.m., giving myself enough time to do what I have to and still get back in time for the driver David has arranged to collect me from reception.
But for now, I duck into my first taxi, the one about which David knows nothing. The one that forms the first stepping stone on the final journey to salvation.
As the car turns in a wide U before sweeping along Portland Place, towards Regent’s Park, I think of those first days in London, having been brought in as much to watch over Anna as to care for her daughters.
‘You’ll be our eyes and ears, Maria. Anna, she’s … volatile.’ Clive had taken me aside one afternoon in the Maldives, talking to me like an old friend. ‘We have our concerns. I know you can be trusted. You’re like family to David and me.’
I had gripped the side of my shorts with my fists to stop my fingers from trembling.
At this time of morning it takes just twenty minutes to reach Hampstead Heath station. As I step out of the taxi, approaching the house on foot, the key I have secretly had duplicated pressed in my pocket, I think of the first time David touched me, in that room just there, the girls asleep upstairs.
Given this is the last time I will ever be here, I allow myself a moment to take it all in: the wisteria creeping up perfectly formed London bricks, the curve of the iron railing that lines the steps. To the random passer-by, this is London at its most picturesque. Few could imagine what secrets lay beyond these perfect windows.
‘Arms dealing, people trafficking, a child brothel, frequented by older men at a very high price.’ This was how Felicity had first described the horrors she was inviting me to help rally against.
The operation by MI6 into TradeSmart’s extensive roll-call of nefarious activities, she explained, had been ongoing for years, but they were finally at a crucial stage. Thanks to an inside man, one of Clive’s closest colleagues, they were near to bringing the whole thing down, but what they needed was someone else on the inside, someone who could get closer to the family without being seen, to keep an eye on things.
‘Inside man? Who, Jeff?’ Another thought struck me. ‘Jorgos?’
Felicity’s eyes remained impassive, holding mine a beat too long.
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that.’
It is 8.45 a.m. as I make my way up the front steps of the house. By now Anna will already be on her way to see Clive’s lawyer, as David has proudly made me aware. Yet still my eyes scan for signs of life within as I climb one tread at a time, stopping for a moment before knocking tentatively at the front door, pushing my fingers through the postbox and checking for any hints that I am not alone.
Only once I am sure it is safe to enter do I slide the key from my pocket and turn it in the lock.
Knowing I have to be as quick as possible, I only allow myself a moment to linger in front of the photo of Stella and Rose, the girls who I raised from birth, the girls whose lives will be destroyed along with their mother’s. Unless …
Breathing deeply, I walk towards the kitchen and pull two notes from my pocket. The first is in my own handwriting. I have deliberated for hours over my wording, but in the end I tell her as much as I know. However you say it, it sounds incredible. How I wish that it was.
Anna.
I know this will be hard for you to accept but David is alive. He and Clive are planning to have you killed, just as Clive did with his own wife, when she started to questio
n the business. They will make it look like suicide and they will tell everyone that you were mad. You must leave the house immediately. You are not safe here. Please, as soon as you have read this letter you must burn it – if you don’t I will be uncovered and I will not be able to finish what we started. So please, burn the letter, take the girls, and run. I have made contact with Harry and together we will make sure of everything else. You can trust us.
Love, Maria
CHAPTER 73
Anna
My body moves on its own, back through McCann’s office; the lawyer is still speaking, his secretary’s pursed face following me towards the door.
I hail a taxi on Queen Square, my arm flying out of its own accord, my voice detached from my body as I say our address for the last time.
As the engine starts, I feel the seat slide under me. My body is unnaturally still, as if cast from stone. In the rear-view mirror I feel the taxi driver’s eyes fixed on me, and when I look up he doesn’t turn away.
There is a click and instinctively my eyes move to the light on the door, which glows red, telling me the doors are already locked.
Suddenly there is a crackle and then the driver’s voice calls over the microphone in the back of the cab.
‘You’re ringing?’
I start at the sound of his voice. Confused, I put my hand tentatively into my pocket and draw my phone out, as if it were a blade. There is a missed call from Sarah, followed by a text.
I’ll take the girls to ballet after nursery then give them supper at mine. See you 6-ish. Sx.
The driver’s voice clicks back over the speakers, ‘You all right, love?’
The moment I push open the front door, I know someone else has been here, though I cannot pinpoint what has changed: a smell; a feeling; a picture frame on the hall table, slightly off set. The letters stand on the kitchen table, two innocuous white envelopes, my name on the front of the first, drawn in looped ink.
The sight of Harry’s writing makes my legs bow, and once again Meg’s words roll through my head.
‘He wouldn’t leave me alone. A month or so after that night we met him in Canary Wharf – you, me and David – I bumped into him. After that, it was like everywhere I went he would suddenly be there. We started talking more. You know, he was really charming and made this joke out of the fact that I must be following him because we always ended up in the same places.’
I can taste the acid rising through my body. Clutching the envelope, I sink to my knees, placing my hands over my ears to blot out the sound of her voice stinging my ears.
‘At first it was just sex. He was fun, you know. I wasn’t in love with him or anything, but he was always up for a laugh and he had this amazing flat and … And then, one day, we’d done a few lines and he tells me he’s a spy.
‘I know, it sounds insane but that’s what he told me. He said he was working as a spy trying to gain access to David in order to find information on his dad.’
This time she slowed her words, making space for me to interrupt. Desperate, it seemed, for an interception that never came.
‘And you know what? It turned out all along he thought he could recruit me to get to David.’
She let out a shrill laugh at the idea, dragging deeply on her cigarette, coughing harshly into fingerless gloves. ‘I mean, who the fuck did he think I was? David was my friend. The idea that he thought he could shag me and then get me to do his dirty work …’
Her eyes furrowed together as she took a deep pull on her cigarette, squeezing the filter so hard that it was almost flat.
She laughed then, the sound making me turn; above us, a pair of green parakeets shot out of a tree, followed by a piercing cry.
But it was Harry’s voice I heard as I looked down on the Heath, pressing against my ear; the sombre cadence of the priest at the funeral service; the deafening sorrow of Stella’s cries as David’s casket was lowered into the ground, drowned out only by Rose’s silence.
Through the swell, I became aware of Meg’s voice, starting again, her hand reaching desperately for mine.
‘I said no. Obviously I said no. I need you to know that. Straight away. I mean, I freaked out. What the fuck? He told me I didn’t have a choice, that he knew I sold David drugs, and if I didn’t do it, he would expose me. He said he had photographs, of me and David, that he would go to the police and the press, tell them I was pushing drugs to the son of this major socialite. The bastard.
‘I was scared, really like freaked out, as you can imagine. I said I’d think about it. I didn’t know what else to say. After that, I went back to Newcastle for a couple of weeks. Trying to sort my head out. It was when we had just moved in together, you remember?’
She didn’t wait for an answer.
‘When I came back, I told him I wouldn’t do it. I mean, I thought he was probably talking shit about the photographs. So I called his bluff.’
Meg slowed suddenly as a man with an ageing Staffordshire Bull Terrier walked past, the dog stepping in time with his owner. The man looked up, aware of the growing silence between us, sitting at either end of the bench, our legs tightly crossed.
Once he’d gone past, Meg turned back to me, her eyes wild with need.
‘Do you mind me telling you this? I know it’s the wrong time, in a way. I know you don’t need anything more, but also I needed you to know, now more than ever. With David gone, I’ve wanted to tell you why … You must have hated me.’
‘I didn’t hate you.’ The words came out without me forming them.
Meg stopped, her shoulders relaxing, eyes closing for a second. ‘Thank you.’
But I hated her now, as she pulled her sleeve across her cheek, drying the tears.
‘I wanted to tell David. I wanted to warn him, but Harry … When I told him I wouldn’t do it, he went mental. He started blackmailing me. One day he turned up at the flat with a picture.’
She stopped again, rolling her fingers under her eyes.
‘The picture was me and David talking – we were just talking, I swear to God, Anna – but it looked like … I don’t know, it looked like we were together, holding hands or something. But he never wanted that.’
There was a note of regret in Meg’s voice and when I looked at her, she looked away, wiping a tear from her face.
‘You and David?’
She shook her head. ‘He never wanted me. It was always you. Once I knew that, I backed off. I never … But yeah, if you want to know the truth, I loved David. I really did. I’m sorry if it hurts to hear that, but he didn’t want me; I could see how much he wanted you, and I would never, ever have hurt him … And then Harry sent me another picture of me handing David a wrap – it might even have been David handing drugs to me – I wasn’t a dealer, for fuck’s sake.’
She shook her head, lifting her thumb to her mouth, chewing the skin, her eyes wet at the corners.
‘But Harry had looked up my parents’ home address. He was going to send them the pictures, tell the police I was dealing to half of bloody London, if I didn’t leave; he was going to tell my work. He had a couple of baggies I’d left at his flat, with my fingerprints on them, obviously, and he said he was going to give them to the police too. The other option was, he’d give me a few quid to leave. I didn’t have a choice.’
She took a final drag of her cigarette before flicking it into the grass, tugging at the stumps of her gloves, one by one.
‘Please say something.’
I was trying not to be sick, pushing away the image writhing in front of my eyes. Harry and Meg? For a moment I told myself she was lying. It was a set-up, another test, like Felicity. And yet.
Finally, my mouth opened and the words slipped out.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were sleeping with him?’
‘I wasn’t. Anna, I told you, Harry was making it up. I would never. I mean, David and I were only ever—’
‘I’m not talking about David. Harry, Meg. Why didn’t you tell me you were sleeping
with Harry? We lived together …’
My voice faded out as I pictured our flat. The nights Harry would be out and I would call him and he was never there. Working away, that’s what he said.
She paused for a moment, bemused. ‘I didn’t want him to get in trouble. I mean, he said it would have made things difficult. I had been an intern at the paper the day he was fired; he was still in the middle of the court-case … He said it could have been misconstrued.’
I snorted a laugh, my body bending forward on the bench, but Meg did not stop. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t think it was worth even talking about … I mean, Jesus, Anna, I’ve just told you some guy was trying to recruit people to spy on your husband and that’s the question you’re asking?’
‘I’m just trying to get my head around it. What you’re saying is very confusing … So you said no?’
I kept my voice controlled, focusing on the smell of smoke rising from the chimney of the park ranger’s house in the distance. Counting the rise and fall of Meg’s breath. Anything to distract from the image forming in my mind.
‘Of course I said no, for God’s sake. That’s what I’m telling you. I said no and I left. I went to Bristol, like I told you, and got a bedsit with the money he gave me, which was enough to tide me over while I did work experience at the local paper and … I sorted my life out. You know? Met my boyfriend, who was working as a local MP, and in the end I got a job working in the PR department for the council. Can you believe that? Talk about selling out, but, you know, it was what it was.’
She took a moment to process the sorry minutes of her life, laid bare, strand by pathetic strand. A moment later she turned back to where I sat, my eyes transfixed by the movements of a large black dog, bounding away from its owner at the bottom of the hill.
Meg turned her body as if to move closer, but stopped herself at the last moment.
The Most Difficult Thing Page 33