I spun the bath taps, it would be nice to have a relaxing bath while the house was peaceful. The boys had gone out too, all of them. They had a Boxing Day lunch with some mutual friends. They wouldn’t be back until later in the evening, drunk and boisterous no doubt.
I sank deep into the foamy water and forced my shoulders to relax. I closed my eyes and tried to still my mind, tried to ignore the thoughts that were crowding in. The heat suffused my pores, and I sighed and reached a soapy hand out for the chilled glass of wine perched on the edge of the bath. Just then a harsh trilling sounded, and the glass tumbled from my grip. It missed the corner of the bath mat, and landed on the bathroom tiles with a smash. I cursed, as the trilling continued. I shook my head and sank back into the bath. It was no good, the moment was gone. I swore again and reached for my towel.
A sharp pain and I looked down. A large chunk of crystal glass had scored the side of my palm. I gritted my teeth. There was a lot of blood, but thankfully it was only on the fleshy part of my hand, I doubted it was anything serious. I stepped carefully from the bath, and gingerly picked up the pieces of the wine glass, and threw them into the corner bin. The bath mat had pools of red, like spilt wine. I cursed, as I realised that the trilling had stopped. Then I heard the telltale beep of a message. I wrapped my towel around my body and stepped into the bedroom.
Graham’s mobile phone was on top of the chest of drawers. It was blinking, signalling the receipt of the text message. I picked it up and typed in Graham’s birthday, backwards. So, not a text. Instead it was a voice message. My hand was stinging and I pressed it into my body. I pressed the key to ring the voicemail.
‘Graham. It’s Ollie. Listen, I think the police may be on their way to you soon. One of my, um, contacts, shall we say, from the Lodge, gave me a heads up. It seems they think they’ve found some sort of connection between that hit and run accident and that football player who was killed. It was in the paper- Tolley his name was-the football player that is, not the hit and run guy - anyway, it seems the plods have made some extremely tenuous link, just because Tolley knew someone who knows your secretary, Nikki. Christ, you and I both know that Jersey’s so bloody small, everyone knows someone who knows someone else, but these silly buggers have obviously put two and two together to make five. To be honest, I think the plods are under pressure to deliver a quick result, I understand the press are all over them, Tolley being some aspiring young football player or some shit like that, so they’re just jumping on anything. Look, they’ll probably just ask you to go down to the station, ask you a few questions. So, ring me as soon as that happens, and don’t say anything. Just in case.’
I felt myself shaking, I saw blood soaking my towel, but the throbbing in my hand had disappeared, endorphins and adrenaline numbing the pain. My mind raced and blood rushed in my ears, like a brutal, incoming tide. A clock began to tick in my head.
‘Please press one to replay this message, two to save this message, three to delete this message...’
I pressed three, my fingers growing steadier, as my brain tugged and pulled at strands, trying to make sense of them, to bring order...shit, there wasn’t much time.
The door slammed. That bloody door would never be fixed now, I knew that. I put Graham’s mobile phone down and grabbed some toilet paper from the bathroom. I wound it tightly around my hand to stem the bleeding. I put my dressing gown on and scooped up the bath towel with its coppery-red stains and thrust it quickly into the washing basket.
Graham appeared at the doorway. His face was red. ‘Alright,’ he grunted.
My mind kept churning, knitting fronds. Tick tock tick tock.
‘Alright,’ I replied. I nodded towards his wind-burned cheeks and the unkempt wisps of his hair. ‘It must have been very blustery and cold up at the cemetery. You look like you’re freezing.’
The clock was inexorably ticking, it was screaming in my head. Tick tock went the second hand, but it was getting faster. Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
‘Yes, I am a bit, yes, it’s a bit parky out there. I wouldn’t want to be on a boat in those gales, that’s for sure.’
The clock was gaining more speed, its second hand was whizzing in my mind. Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock. I tried to focus on it, to will it to stop its incessant spinning. Round and round, as my mind furiously continued to play with little cat’s cradles of feathery string, desperately trying to form a pattern. I needed clarity, tried to force it from beneath the swirls of fog around the string.
Tick tock tick tock, the clock had got louder too, it was pounding in my head, I could feel the pendulum crashing against the inside of my forehead.
I took a deep breath and willed my mind to calm and then slowly, gradually, I felt my heart begin to slow its hammering at my chest, and I felt the storm in the waters of my brain begin to abate. Images flitted across my inner vision, options...I could get away from here, get away from this house, this island, I could run and not stop running. Perhaps I could make a new life for myself on the mainland, I’d often thought about it. I could change my name, start afresh, I could put all the bad stuff behind me. People did that sometimes, they re-invented themselves, there was that movie once...yes, maybe that’s what I should do. A new life, a new me, I liked the sound of that.
‘Are you okay?’ Graham asked. ‘You look like you’re in a dream.’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ I murmured, as the idea of running began to dissipate. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t just go, it wouldn’t work, I had the boys to think about. And I would never be able to relax, I would be looking over my shoulder every five minutes. No, I didn’t want to live like that.
Tick tock tick tock.
My head started to ache again, then suddenly through the chiming mist, new patterns began to emerge. A shimmering embroidery of thoughts, ideas...solutions. And the throbbing in my head subsided as the mist cleared completely.
‘Yes, right!’ I shouted, and I saw Graham jump.
‘What the –’
‘Sorry, Graham, sorry, I just...er...look, I was just thinking...oh nothing, nothing. Anyway, look, I’ve just had a bath, the water’s still nice and hot. Why don’t you jump in, it’ll warm you up?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, I’ll maybe have a quick shower later. I was just going to sit down, watch a film, maybe.’
‘Oh right.’ Think, Andrea, keep going. ‘Look, I tell you what, I’ll get you a nice big glass of cold wine, while you have a hot bath – you don’t want to catch a chill, do you? Then you can sit down in front of the TV, put your feet up. I’ve got a few bits to do in the kitchen, and the boys are out, so you can have some peace, you can watch what you want with another nice glass of wine in your hand.’
‘Why are you suddenly being so nice?’ Graham’s tone was sharp, tinged with curiosity and a hint of suspicion..
I forced a soft calmness into my voice. ‘Oh, it’s um, well, it’s Christmas, I’m trying to show a bit of Christmas spirit. Look, it’s been really rough lately - for both of us – I just thought we could try and take a step back for a bit. Get on an even keel. So, let’s just try and have a relaxing day, we both need it, don’t you think?’
Graham sighed and his shoulders dropped, sloughing off some of the weary tension he was holding there. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll have a bath, and a drop of wine. And maybe, as you say, in the spirit of things, after that we can try and find a film that we both want to watch.’
‘Okay, yes, good, good, I’d like that,’ I said. Graham began to undress for the bath as the clock continued its circuits.
The police would be here soon.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
***
‘Can you tell us where, um, where it happened, please, Mrs. Halston?’ The man who had spoken was taller than Detective Sergeant Blud. And though Blud was wide enough, this man was broader, too. He looked like he did a lot of weightlifting, I could see muscles straining beneath his shirt. I wondered if he took supplements, steroids p
erhaps, they said that’s what a lot of these gym addicts did...
‘Er, Mrs. Halston, can you tell us? Now, please,’ Blud said, unable to keep the impatience from his voice.
‘Easy, Blud, easy,’ said the other man. He had introduced himself as Detective Inspector Solston, and it hadn’t been so clear from from his title that he was Blud’s superior, it was certainly apparent from his demeanour. He exuded a calm authority that Blud was trying unsuccessfully to emulate. So...they had sent a Detective Inspector round with Blud instead of Police Constable Andrews, they must have felt there was something in the evidence relating to Graham, something more concrete. Time to bring the big guns out.
DI Solston breathed out gently and his face slipped into a mask of disarming concern. ‘Mrs. Halston, I do appreciate that this is not easy, not easy at all. It is likely, Mrs. Halston, that you are in shock and I am going to ask one of my colleagues to look after you. Is it okay, Mrs. Halston, if we go upstairs?’
‘Of course, of course,’ I said and wiped fresh tears from my cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, I’m miles away, I’m just, I ...’
‘There there, Mrs. Halston, I understand. Listen, we’re going to go upstairs now, I’m going to leave you with one of the women from our Support Division, PC Deirdra Jonson, she will have a little chat with you. She’s over there, look, she’s very experienced at, um, this sort of thing.’ Solston put his hand gently on my arm. I could feel its strength. ‘Deirdra,’ he called across the room. ‘Deirdra, would you look after Mrs. Halston, please.’
‘Of course, sir, now, sure Mrs. Halston, why don’t you come over and sit with me.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I just...I just want to show them where to go, it’s my house, I should...’ I led the two policemen up the stairs to the bathroom. I pointed a shaking finger towards the door. ‘Graham...he’s...he’s in there, it’s...I don’t want to go in....’
‘No, that’s okay, Mrs. Halston, sshhh, that’s okay, no-one’s going to make you go in there. Mrs. Halston, are you okay, what’s happened to your hand, it’s bleeding.’
‘Oh, I...I...I cut it...with the glass...it was in his hand when I...when I...found him. I thought if I took it from his hand, I might be able to...to save him.’ I sobbed loudly and Solston put his hand on my arm again.
‘Deirdra,’ he called. ‘Please take Mrs. Halston downstairs, make her a cup of tea. And get her hand checked out. Thank you.’ His voice had changed. Business-like now.
‘There was...there was a note...it...’
‘Okay, Mrs. Halston, leave things to us now, thank you,’ Blud said brusquely. I was surprised he had been a policeman for so long, he was clearly not suited to working with the public. Solston waited until Deirdra had joined me and begun to lead me back downstairs, then turned and nodded to the paramedic who was at the bathroom entrance, and entered the bathroom.
The ambulance had arrived ten minutes before the policemen. I had been on a first aid course years ago, I remembered the course leader saying that the ambulance service in Jersey prided themselves on being able to reach any address in the island in under fifteen minutes. They had taken eight minutes after my phone call. The first paramedic had checked me over quickly, mumbled that I may need to be treated for shock – he hadn’t noticed my bleeding hand – and had then rushed upstairs with the second paramedic to where Graham was. I heard them doing all of the usual checks – ‘can you hear me, hello, can you hear me’- but they were going through the motions, they weren’t stupid, they could see it was too late.
‘Would ye like sugar, Mrs. Halston?’ PC Deirdra Jonson said. She had a thick Irish singsong lilt to her voice. It was homely, reassuring.
I nodded and wiped more tears. My eyes were stinging, raw, and my hand had begun to throb again.
‘I’ll put two in for ye, so I shall then.’ She stirred the cup. The backs of her hands were pale, freckly. She was plain, yet somehow attractive in a motherly way. I had an urge to put my arms around her and snuggle in tightly, I just wanted to be held like a young child. I thought of my mother and how the only time she touched me was with a sharp hand, or a push away.
I could hear the low murmurs of the policemen upstairs. I thought that they would be discussing the note. I knew what it said, I could remember it word for word. The note was handwritten in Graham’s distinctive handwriting, with its funny loops on the ‘l’s and the ‘t’s.
Andrea
I am so sorry. I know they say this is the coward’s way out, but I think it’s the best option. I do not think I would survive in prison and also I wish to spare you from the shame that you do not deserve. I killed two people, Andrea, and I am so ashamed, but I cannot undo it it’s too late. I am a murderer. That cyclist he used to go out with Nikki and then I suspected Nikki was seeing him again and I knocked him over in the car and he died. I had been drinking and I knocked him off his bike and he died. I lost the plot I killed that football player too I just lost it when Nikki finished with me. I know the police will find everything out and they will put me in prison and I can’t face putting you and the boys through the pain and shame of seeing me there and I don’t want you all having to waste your lives visiting me. I know this is hard but I think it is the best way.
I love you Andrea. Tell the boys I love them too. I’m so sorry.
Graham
‘Maybe ye should stay somewhere else tonight,’ PC Deirdra said. ‘Do ye have any family or friends who would...you know, your parents, perhaps...somewhere ye could go?’
I shook my head. ‘No, no, I don’t.’ I shrugged my shoulders. ‘My parents are dead. But, I mean, there’s Anita, maybe...she’s a friend...but the boys...no, no, we’ll be fine here tonight, it’s fine honestly.’
I took the mug of tea, felt its comforting warmth, as PC Deirdra took my other hand, the one with the cut, and placed it in her lap. She gently unwound the toilet paper, and beckoned one of the paramedics over.
I smiled sadly at PC Deirdra. The numbness I felt was clearing, I had begun to think about how life was going to be, how it was going to change for the boys and I. Financially, I was sure things would be fine. I knew that Graham was eligible for ‘Death in Service’ from his audit firm, whereby the insurance company would pay out a multiple of his salary, so I knew that would be a fairly sizeable amount. I also knew that Graham had a bit of cash and a reasonable share portfolio tucked away as well. So...the boys were getting older, maybe I could use some of the money to help them get started, maybe it was time for them to gain some real independence.
The paramedic finished putting a dressing on my hand, then Deirdra gave me another gentle squeeze. ‘Ye okay dear?’ she said, nodding towards my hand.
I smiled back at her and wiped away the last of my tears.
‘Yes, I’m okay. I’m absolutely fine.’
Chapter 15
‘Thank you so much, Deirdra, it was really kind of you to come,’ I said.
‘Sure, now, Andrea, it’s no bother. Now, like I told you, any time ye want to call me, ye don’t hesitate, okay?’ Deirdra gave my shoulder a squeeze and walked away from the church with a little wave.
There was a crunch on the fine gravel that surrounded the church’s imposing entrance and a man reached out and shook my limp hand, muttering his sympathies. I didn’t recognise him, somebody from Graham’s firm perhaps. There were a lot of people milling around outside the church, I could hear snippets of conversation. ‘Such a young bloke too, a real shame’, and ‘a good turnout for the funeral, a popular guy for sure’ and ‘poor woman, tough on the kids too’.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Andrea.’ An American style phrase, it sounded pretentious, out-of-place, and I looked up to see that the words had been uttered my Nikki, Graham’s secretary.
My lips involuntarily curled up in distaste, but I forced them down, and gave a slight nod and a whispered ‘thank you’. Nikki would not see the hate in my eyes, she wouldn’t have that satisfaction, I was wearing sunglasses; large frames and impenetrable jet-black
lenses.
‘Andy, darling, my poor girl, come here,’ Anita said, and squeezed me in a tight bear hug. She was dressed in a long, black dress peppered with a pattern of dark red roses. She managed to look glamorous and garish at the same time. ‘Are you okay, my poor darling?’
Vague memories of the times I had argued with Anita, or felt angry at her for some silly reason, they all melted like summer snow, and then something broke inside me and I began to sob. Anita squeezed me tighter, my face mashing into her ample bosom, I could feel the bridge of my sunglasses cutting into the top of my nose. She patted my head tenderly, as my shoulders shook and the tears streamed, and I felt my arms encircling her, squeezing her back. I didn’t want to move, I just wanted to be held, nobody had ever held me like she did at that moment, not even Graham. We stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, until eventually my racking sobs eased, and the tears began to dry. The top of my nose began to throb.
Anita finally pulled away and we stood looking at each other for an awkward moment. ‘Did you borrow those sunglasses from Jackie Onassis?’ Anita said, and we both laughed. ‘Now look, Andy, I’m not going to bother saying all the bullshit that one usually does at these things. You know I’m there for you whenever you need me, Andy, and all that stuff, I’m not going to say any more. Right, now, I’m just going to see how your boys are doing, and then I’m coming back to yours for a drink.’
The boys weren’t doing too well. They had taken the news very hard, they couldn’t understand why their father had taken his life. He seemed happy enough, it didn’t make sense, how could their Dad do this to them?
Surprisingly, Simon had been the strongest, he had been a rock for his brothers. Daniel was in pieces, he had hardly come out of his bedroom for a week. That morning both Ian and Daniel had said they weren’t sure if they were going to come to the funeral, they didn’t think they could handle it. But I had heard Simon gently cajoling and encouraging them, telling them how important it was that they went to the funeral, they would regret it for the rest of their lives if they didn’t. In the church too, Simon had stood between his brothers, every now and again resting a reassuring hand on their shoulders.
Ghosts in the Morning Page 13