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Philip Brennan 01 - The Surrogate

Page 39

by Carver, Tania


  As Phil stood inside, holding on to the curved wood of the pew in front, he was struck by how small the coffin looked next to the huge organ pipes behind it. How insignificant.

  The minister was talking about man having but a short time to live, and Phil knew that everyone in the church was well aware that Clayton’s had been shorter than most. Twenty-nine years. He was also aware of the divide between Clayton’s family and his work colleagues. He had been asked to say something as part of the service but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.Too much pain, too much guilt. Had asked Fenwick to do it instead.

  The minister went on to talk of the gift of hope. Phil had looked around the congregation. Clayton’s mother and sisters looked shell-shocked. Even Anni was in tears. He didn’t think there were many there sharing that gift.

  Afterwards, walking out, Fenwick had approached him.

  ‘There’s a reception back at the family home. We’ve been invited.’

  Phil nodded. ‘You go,’ he said.

  ‘I think they’d like it if you were there.’

  ‘You go, Ben.’

  Fenwick nodded. Didn’t move. There was something else he wanted to say. Phil waited.

  ‘You know, it might all come out. About . . . Clayton. At Sophie Gale’s trial.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I mean, I’ll do what I can, but . . .’

  ‘I know you will.’ Phil looked across to the other mourners leaving the church, Clayton’s mother having to be helped. ‘Do what you can, Ben.’

  He walked away.

  He had tried to contact Marina, but couldn’t get through to her. She wasn’t at work and she certainly wasn’t at home. She had been told by her doctor to take some time off. She needed rest if the baby wasn’t to suffer. Their baby, Phil thought. No one knew where she was.

  Tony Scott had survived the attack, but his head injuries had left him in a coma. Phil knew, from questioning the nurses, that Marina had been at his bedside.

  He kept his regular Sunday dinner dates with Don and Eileen.

  The first time was the worst. Eileen made an excellent roast, and the smell of it, the taste of it, was something Phil had always associated with comfort, safety. But not that time. Sitting round the table and dutifully eating, he found he couldn’t smell it, couldn’t taste it. Couldn’t appreciate or savour it.

  Don had been a career policeman. He knew what Phil was going through. Or thought he did. They knew about Clayton, Hester, Croft and the rest of the case. But not about Marina. They didn’t ask him about it, but he knew that if he wanted to talk, they were there to listen. And if he didn’t want to say anything, they were there for that too.

  He put his knife and fork down, pushed his plate away, murmuring apologetically.

  Eileen nodded, said nothing.

  Phil didn’t move. Barely realised he was crying.

  Eileen placed her hand on his. Don was there.

  They sat like that for a long time.

  So now Phil sat alone in his house. Drinking beer, listening to music.

  He looked again at the letter, took another mouthful of beer, draining the bottle. He put the bottle down, picked up the letter. Began to read.

  Dear Phil,

  I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I know what you must think of me. But I had no choice. Sorry. I’ve got things to sort out in my head. Big things. It’s not just you. I thought after Martin Fletcher that things would never get that bad again. I was wrong. Though you were there for me this time. Eventually.

  You know this baby is ours. I know you do. And maybe we should both be there together for it. For him. Or her. I don’t know. And then there’s Tony. I feel guilty over what happened to him. I feel in some way responsible. Whatever was happening between him and me or you and me. I’ve got to honour him too.

  I know this is rambling and my thoughts aren’t articulated very well, but that’s how I feel at the moment. All messed up. I need time to think. Sort things out. I hope you’ll give me that.

  And I hope you know that I love you. Whatever happens, I love you.

  Marina x

  Phil put down the letter, picked up his beer bottle. Empty. He got up, went to the fridge for another one. Marina’s words going through his head all the time. Guy Garvey was singing about it looking like a beautiful day; Phil was a long way from agreeing. The words of the minister at Clayton’s funeral kept coming back to him too. The gift of hope.

  He took another beer out, came back to the living room, sat back down. Started drinking.

  Thought about how a gift could be a curse.

  And then came a ring at the door.

  Phil ignored it.

  It came again, more insistent this time.

  Sighing in irritation, he put his bottle down and went to the door. Opened it.

  And there stood Marina.

  She looked at him, gave a tentative smile.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey yourself.’

  Phil opened the door fully, stepped out of the way. She walked into the hall, went straight to the living room. He followed her.

  He entered the room, saw her standing there. He was unsure what to do, how to talk to her. Then he looked into her eyes. Saw what was there. And there was no uncertainty any more.

  He crossed the room, put his arms round her. Held her as tightly as he could.

  Guy Garvey was still singing about it being a beautiful day.

  This time, Phil had to agree.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Part Two

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Part Three

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

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  Carver, Tania, Philip Brennan 01 - The Surrogate

 

 

 


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