Henderson Manor

by Emma L. Clapperton

  For once, Patrick was still unsure what was going on. He knew there was something about that picture but he could not place what it was.

  “What did you say her name was?” Lang asked quietly.

  “Deborah. Her name is Deborah Bell.”

  Lang looked up and met Preston’s eyes. “That girl’s name is not Deborah Bell,” he said as he handed the photo to Preston.

  “What?” Patrick asked in confusion.

  Preston took the picture from Lang’s hands and looked down at the faces. His stomach lurched and his face became pale.

  “What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

  Preston couldn’t find his voice; his lips had gone dry. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he finally uttered the words which changed everything.

  “Jim’s right. Her name isn’t Deborah Bell. Her name is Jane. Jane Preston. That’s my daughter.”

  Patrick frowned, was he hearing this right? “Are you sure?”

  “Of course he’s bloody sure. You think he wouldn’t know his own daughter?”

  Preston sat down on his chair. “Why is she going by a different name? And how does she know the ex-boyfriend of Sarah Henderson?”

  The three men fell silent in the office. What now?

  35

  Patrick had called Sam and asked him to attend the station to meet with Preston and Lang. Preston was still very confused about the photograph which pictured his daughter Jane with Sam Leonard, even though Patrick had informed him that Sam had referred to her as Deborah Bell. There had to be some sort of mistake, surely. Preston had sent Lang away to see his doctor since he had been complaining about the persistent headaches and so he was alone in the office when Sam had appeared. Patrick sat down beside Sam, across from Preston and at that moment he had never wanted his colleague by his side more. He and Lang had a strong relationship and even though they could be snappy with each other, they had become the best of friends over the years. Their families had come together through the years for dinner parties and social gatherings and Preston couldn’t imagine what his life in the force would have been like had Lang not been a part of it. Lang had felt the very same way and looked at Preston like a brother. It never did affect their work though; when something needed done it would be done properly and with precision.

  “Paul, Sam is here to explain everything,” Patrick said quietly.

  Patrick had gone outside to meet Sam and had not explained in full why he had been called in. Sam understood that he was to explain why he thought that Sarah’s death was not accidental, however Patrick was now beginning to slowly piece together how this assumption had come to be.

  Preston stood up and shook Sam’s hand.

  “We meet again,” was all he could manage.

  “Has Patrick explained everything about my flat and his house?” Sam asked.

  Preston nodded as they all sat down.

  “So, you think we could be right? You think that Sarah may have been killed intentionally?”

  Preston ignored the question.

  “The photograph that Patrick brought in,” he slid open his drawer and lifted the frame out. “Can you tell me who this is in the picture with you?”

  Sam looked at Patrick and frowned. “Her name is Deborah. She’s my girlfriend.”

  “Deborah you say?”

  Sam nodded, unsure as to where the conversation was headed but with a gut feeling that it was not going in the right direction.

  “Deborah…?”

  “Bell,” Sam drew out the surname slowly.

  Preston turned the frame to face him and looked down at his daughter’s face.

  Patrick had gone into a minor daze and could see how this was going to pan out. He knew that what was about to happen would end Preston, and his career.

  “You see, Sam. The woman in this picture is not called Deborah Bell. Her name is Jane, Jane Preston; my daughter.”

  Sam dipped his head forward slightly and laughed.

  “You can’t be serious? I’m trying to figure out if I’m being haunted by my ex who may have been murdered and you’re pulling tricks like that?”

  Preston remained sullen faced. This was not the kind of joke that would make him laugh, or even crack a smile.

  “No joke, Sam. This is my daughter. Jane.”

  Sam looked at Patrick for support. Patrick shook his head.

  Sam got up quickly from his chair. How could this be happening?

  “Forgive me for being a tad slow on the subject, but you say her name is Jane?”

  Preston nodded again, beginning to understand the potential horror that could be about to tear his family apart.

  “But Deborah and I have been together for close to a year, give or take a few weeks. I would’ve known if she was lying.”

  Preston shook his head. “And did you know that Jane and Sarah Henderson were best friends before she died? She and my other daughter were devastated when they found out what had happened to her.”

  Patrick had been quiet to allow Sam and Preston the time to unravel the mystery of what had been going on. He heard the handle on the office door turn and he spun around slowly on his chair to find Lang peep his head in. Patrick got up and went outside.

  “You’re back quick. Everything ok?”

  “Never mind that, what’s going on?” Lang pushed Patrick aside and went into the office.

  When he sat down and listened to the conversation, he was astounded by the revelations. “Am I hearing this right?” Lang asked.

  Preston was angrier than he had ever been. But he wasn’t sure who he was angry with. He just could not believe what Preston’s daughter had been doing and he was angrier that he hadn’t seen it.

  Sam was slumped on the chair in front of Preston and felt like he had been knocked over by a truck. He had been living a lie for the past year. He had been dating someone who wasn’t real, someone who had lied and betrayed his trust.

  “Why would she pretend to be someone else?” Sam asked.

  Patrick had been quiet for long enough. “Paul, I’m sorry to say this but I think you need to get Jane in for questioning about the death of Sarah Henderson.”

  Preston didn’t want to admit it but Patrick was right. Everything that had been said over the past half hour led them to believe that Jane knew more about Sarah’s death than she had first let on, one way or another.

  “Paul, you know you can’t be the one to deal with this. It’ll have to be me or passed on to another team.” Lang’s voice echoed in Preston’s ears.

  Preston nodded in disbelief. His life had just changed dramatically in the blink of an eye.

  “You just continue to work on the Prowse case and until I can get someone to deal with this, I will take it on. You ok with that?”

  “Aye.”

  Lang led Sam into another room. He walked down the corridor, massaging his temples in rhythm with his walk. He was not prepared to let his health issues get in the way of work now, not after what had just happened. Preston needed him now more than ever and he could not let him down with his own problems. He would tell him when the time was right.

  Sam stood beside the table in an interview room and his mind was going crazy. He felt like he was in one of his plays, like this wasn’t really happening.

  “Sam, we need you to talk to Jane.”

  Sam nodded. “It feels so strange when you say Jane,” his eyes began to fill. “I’ve known her as Deborah the whole time. How could she do this?”

  Lang shook his head. “How do you think it feels for D.S Preston back there? He’s in bits and we need you to help us fix this.”

  Sam felt sick. “How can any of this be fixed?”

  Lang sat down at the table and gestured for Sam to sit down too. The room matched Sam’s mood: cold and gloomy.

  “I am going to need you to phone Jane, arrange to meet her. Try to get the truth out of her.”

  Sam wondered how it could be possible. “I’m not so sure I can do this.”

  Lan
g bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “You don’t have much of a choice, son.”

  36

  I sauntered around the shops on Buchanan Street and for the first time in a long time I actually felt normal. No one knew who I was or what I had done and certainly no one cared. I looked at the people around me, going about their business with loved ones or on their own and I felt safe. I thought about going back home to Sam after my shopping trip (even though I had not actually purchased anything) and it made me smile. I could not stop smiling to be honest. I looked in the shop windows and I looked up at the cloudy, bleak sky over Glasgow. It did not alter my mood that was for sure. I felt my mobile vibrating in my jacket pocket and I took it out to see Sam’s name lighting up the screen. I smiled once again.

  “Hey babe, what’s up?”

  “Can you come back to the flat?”

  Something was wrong. His voice sounded flat. It made my stomach flutter and not in a good way.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I just want to ask you something.”

  He sounded odd. The kind of odd when you know something bad has or is going to happen and you know it is totally out with your control.

  “So, ask away. I’m on a shopping trip babe; you can’t ask a girl to interrupt a shopping trip, can you?” My attempt at humour failed.

  “Just come back to the flat as soon as you can please.”

  The line went dead.

  I began to panic, my skin began to tingle and my heart began to pound. My stomach felt like it was twisting inside to the point where it was going into cramps and I could feel tears begin to sting my eyes.

  That’s it, I thought. He’s had enough and wants to end it.

  I suppose I knew that this day would come eventually; I mean how could I spend the rest of my life with him when I was living my life as a lie? I turned and made my way back down Buchanan Street and turned left onto Argyll Street. As I walked past people in the street, I felt like I was being watched. Every set of eyes I made contact with bore into me like some sort of demon. Then I realised that every set of eyes I looked into were Sarah’s eyes. She was everywhere and in broad daylight. It was like she was there, right in front of me, as alive as I was.

  Of course I knew it was ridiculous but the more I tried to block it out the more I saw her. Then, the low hum of conversations all around me turned to one voice, with one word being said over and over.

  Murderer!

  I tried to be strong. I tried to show that I was not scared of her tormenting. It was then that I saw the other one. Claire Prowse. I did not just see her the way I saw Sarah; I saw Claire the way she was the very last time I saw her, lying on the ground with a stab wound to the neck. She was on every corner, every shop doorway. The street was littered with the vision of her death.

  I put my head down and began to walk faster than my legs could carry me. Without looking up, I found my way back to Sam’s flat and climbed the stairs slowly, slower than usual, to try to compose myself. My time with Sam was about to end and I was not so sure how I would react. I worried about my reaction. I honestly did not know if I would simply allow him to end things and I could go back to being myself, Jane, or if I would react differently. I tried not to think about the latter because it concerned me that my reaction could physically harm Sam. I was sure that I would not be able to carry on living without him. The thought of life without Sam suffocated me.

  I put the key in the door quietly and went inside. The place was silent, eerily silent.

  “Hi!” I called out as cheerfully as I could.

  “I’m in the kitchen.” His voice was what I could only describe as dead, like his feeling for me had become I could only presume.

  I walked into the kitchen and stood in the doorway, my bag swinging by my side and my stomach cramping so much I thought I would vomit right there on the kitchen floor.

  “What’s all the hurry to get me back?” I said, failing to hide the shakiness in my voice.

  Sam’s eyes were red, not from tears but from anger. I had never seen him look so mad. It scared me a little.

  “Why haven’t I met your family yet?”

  What? I thought to myself. What an odd way to initiate a break up. “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, we’ve been together for a long time now. You’ve met what little family I have. Why haven’t I been introduced to yours?” His eyes blazed.

  “I told you, my family aren’t that nice. We have a history and not a good one. I don’t want to spend any time with them and I certainly don’t want you to have to either.”

  Sam shook his head. “So your sister Lisa … you don’t get along with her?”

  The vomit rose so quickly it startled me but I managed to keep it down. How the hell does he know about Lisa?

  “I don’t have a sister called Lisa. Where did you get that from?” I asked. My hands had begun sweating and my stomach was so sore that it was travelling down to my thighs.

  “Don’t lie to me. I know.” He stood up and walked over to me, with a look on his face which made me realise that this was not just a break up. He knew; he knew everything.

  “You know what?”

  He grabbed my chin and jolted my head up so I could look him dead in the eye. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Deborah.”

  I pulled away from him, shocked at his aggression. I was speechless; I never knew he had it in him to be so brutal.

  “Or do you prefer Jane?”

  It was then that whatever strength I had left had disappeared and been replaced by blind fear. I ran out of the flat and didn’t look behind me.

  37

  I found myself staring up at the house where it all began: my other life. The life which I thought I was able to control, the life in which I believed I could create and be happy. It turned out to be something which at first was incredible — I had never felt love like it in my life and to be honest before Sam, I never really believed that such love existed. He made me feel more alive than I had ever felt before. He made my heart beat to the point where I thought I would explode. Truth be told, I would have taken a bullet for that man; I would die for him. When we first came face to face, I could never have imagined getting to this point. In actual fact it was never meant to get this far. Had I just been honest from the very beginning, things may very well have been different.

  Knowing that he had discovered my secret changed things. He looked at me with disgust when he called me Jane. How had he found out? How could he know without me being the one who told him?

  Of course, I figured out that it had to be the psychic. Ironic really, considering I believe them to be the biggest liars ever to have walked the planet. He was the only person I could think of and with everything that had happened in Sam’s flat, it had to be the only explanation. My real name kept ringing in my ear with Sam’s voice behind it. I never thought I would hear him call me Jane.

  As I looked up at Henderson Manor, I wondered if this Patrick would be inside. I found myself knocking on the door and for a split second, bile had risen to my throat as I imagined Sarah answering the door. Of course, she did not.

  My knuckles made contact with the thick wooden door and I heard the sound echo behind it. The early signs of winter were beginning as I looked up at the sky and saw the stars begin to twinkle. It was so cold and I could hear the gravel crunch beneath my feet. I believed it to be possible that if I ever saw Sam again, it would be my last time. I could feel it in the air and in my blood.

  I heard footsteps approaching the front door but I was surprised when it opened to see a female standing inside. She looked at me with uncertainty.

  “Can I help?” She smiled gently.

  I couldn’t speak.

  “Are you looking for someone?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you ok?” She asked.

  I finally managed to find my voice. “I used to be friends with the girl who last lived here.”

  We both stood in silence for a few moments. I
had no idea what I expected her to say. I had no idea who she even was.

  “Why don’t you come in?”

  I stepped over the threshold and averted my eyes from the staircase. Something made me question my own sanity. But then, I was already able to answer my own question. I knew I had lost it, but nothing could stop my irrational behaviour when it came to Sam.

  “It’s always hard to lose someone. Were you both close?”

  Why was she being so nice to a complete stranger? She had no idea who I was and she had just opened her door to me. She seemed so kind.

  “I’m Jane,” I said. My voice cracked.

  “I’m Jodie.” She held out her hand.

  Something caught the corner of my eye and I turned quickly to look.

  “This is Lewis. He’s a little rascal.”

  Shit! What the hell am I doing here, in this house? This isn’t Sarah’s house anymore. This is a family home, the psychic’s family, the psychic who had just wrecked my life.

  “I bet he is,” I said with a smile.

  The baby was strapped into a pram and it was then I realised that she was wearing a coat.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, were you on your way out?”

  “No, actually we’ve just arrived. Long story but we’ve been away for a while.”

  Probably would have been better for her if she had just stayed away. If this Patrick character wanted to go messing up my life, then he would pay for it. I had killed in this house before, and I could certainly do it again if I had too.

  “I should go; you’ve obviously got a lot on your plate. I just miss her, that’s all.”

  Jodie shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You came here for a reason. Stay for a cup of tea at least.”

  38

  Patrick sat behind his desk in the church and wondered how his life had taken such a turn for the worst. Jodie had taken Lewis and left to stay with her parents until he was able to decide what was more important to him: his family or his work in the church. To say the last few years had proven difficult for them would be an understatement.