Diane felt a hand on her elbow gently lead her away, but she resisted, turning back to the car as Emma’s cries broke through the hubbub around her. Miss Rogers’ hand closed more tightly over her arm. ‘Someone is looking after Emma, don’t worry, she’s fine. You’re in no fit state, Diane.’
Her voice was gentle and surprisingly motherly. Anger, even annoyance might have stopped the tears, instead this kind concern made Diane sob even louder. She went where she was led without further resistance, and when she stumbled, the guiding hand kept her from falling. When they stopped, she was pressed into a chair where she immediately leaned forward to rest her face in cupped hands.
She couldn’t stop the tears, her sobs loud and heaving catching on a hiccup before rolling on and on. Somewhere in the background, she heard quiet whispering. She couldn’t hear the words, but she guessed the content. A wad of tissues was pressed into her hand and she took it gratefully, rubbing her eyes, snuffling and gulping, trying to stem the tide of tears. She saw Miss Rogers look to Susan Power for guidance. They were in her office. The noise of the collision had been loud, she’d have dropped everything to rush and help. She would have seen her falling apart. They exchanged glances and shook their heads, obviously unable to decide what to do with her. She could have told them; there was nothing they could do.
‘I’ve called your husband,’ Susan told her. ‘Unfortunately, and I hope you understand my responsibility to the school has to come first, I’ve had to call the police.’ She leaned forward and rested a hand on Diane’s shoulder. ‘Is there anyone else you’d like me to call?’
.
Taking some deep breaths, Diane managed to regain some semblance of control. Raising her face, she wiped her eyes, blew her nose, gave one final, pathetic sob and dabbed at her cheeks with the soggy tissue. ‘No, thank you,’ she said, as more tears fell.
Miss Rogers picked up a rubbish bin and put it beside her before handing her another wad of tissues. ‘Here you go,’ she said gently, ‘try to stop crying, Diane. You’ll make yourself sick.’
She took the tissues, dropped the wet clump into the bin and nodded. Snuffling, she wiped her eyes again, but the tears didn’t stop. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice thick. ‘Everything is my fault.’
Susan poured a glass of water from the bottle she kept on her desk and handed it to her. Diane took a sip, dabbed her eyes some more, took another sip.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. She couldn’t think of another word to say.
A knock on the door startled them, all heads turning as one to look. ‘Come in,’ Susan said, moving to take her seat behind the desk. If it was the police, she wanted to be in a position of authority.
It wasn’t the police, it was Paul, a harassed and furious look on his face. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he said, looking around the room. His expression changed to concern. ‘Emma? Oh God, is she—’
Susan quickly interrupted him. ‘Your daughter is fine, Mr Andrews, perfectly fine. She’s being looked after by one of the other teachers. Please,’ she waved to an empty chair, ‘sit down.’
Instead of sitting, concern switching back to an anger that narrowed his eyes, flattened his lips and clenched his fists, he turned to look at Diane. ‘What have you done now?’ he spat.
Susan Power and Miss Rogers exchanged surreptitious glances and, without a word, Miss Rogers went to stand by Diane.
‘Sit down, Mr Andrews,’ Susan said, and this time her tone of voice made it clear it wasn’t a request.
Diane saw Susan’s eyes assess her and wondered what she was thinking. She knew she looked a mess. The eye make-up and mascara she’d applied earlier would be all over her face, she could see the signs in the damp tissue she clutched. But the manager’s eyes were sympathetic rather than condemnatory and she took heart from that. She knew, too, that the younger teacher had moved closer to offer support. Their kindness was unexpected, she soaked it up.
Paul sat and crossed his arms. ‘Well,’ he said, this time addressing the manager, ‘what has happened?’
Susan didn’t waste words, giving a simple account of the crash and his wife’s subsequent assertion that someone else was to blame.
A knock on the door stopped her explanation mid-flow. ‘Come in,’ she called.
This time it was the police. Two uniformed officers, their bulk filling the doorway, who responded immediately to her beckoning hand and entered the office. Diane, seeing their faces, felt herself shrink. They were the officers who’d stopped her outside Sophie Redmond’s home.
The manager made quick introductions. ‘I’m sorry to have had to call you,’ she said, addressing the two officers with no hint of apology in her tone, ‘especially since the accident was on school grounds but the car that was hit, according to the owner, suffered extensive damage.’ She paused and did look slightly apologetic when she continued. ‘We should, of course, have insisted the cars remain where they were but, to be honest, we needed to get the gate cleared to allow the parents to collect their children and leave.’ She shrugged. ‘The air-bag in Mrs Andrews’ car was deployed so it will need to be taken away.’ This last line was directed at Paul, who nodded curtly.
The manager paused a moment, looking down at her clasped hands before looking briefly at Diane and then at the two officers. ‘Mrs Andrews maintains the crash wasn’t her fault, that she was deliberately distracted by a woman who was standing across the road.’
One of the police officers was taking notes, he looked up. ‘And this woman is?’
Susan looked at him calmly. ‘Unfortunately, nobody saw her.’
‘The driver of the car she crashed into must have,’ the officer said, a frown between his eyes, ‘he would have been closer.’
‘He says he didn’t see anyone,’ she admitted.
The officer looked at his partner who leaned forward and said something to him that made his eyes widen. He looked closely at Diane. ‘As it happens, we’ve made the acquaintance of Mrs Andrews before,’ he said, causing manager’s, teacher’s and husband’s eyes to suddenly look startled.
He continued. ‘She was reported for harassing an elderly lady. Pretending she was looking for her friend.’
Paul looked totally bemused.
All eyes in the room were staring at Diane. She could feel them analysing, assessing, judging. They were waiting for her to say something, give some explanation, and all she felt was gratitude that they didn’t know that other police had chased her through the streets. She blew her nose and took a deep breath. ‘A woman has been following me; stalking me, I guess you could call it,’ she said, avoiding their eyes, ‘I’ve been trying to find out who she is.’
The officer looked at Paul. ‘Were you aware of this?’
Paul rubbed a hand over his face. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’
‘You’ve never seen anyone hanging around?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ he said bluntly and then, slowly, he added, ‘My wife hasn’t been well. I thought she was in recovery, but she did spend a few weeks in a private clinic recently.’
Diane let their words swirl around her. They didn’t believe her; what a surprise. Exhaustion took away any desire to care. Her eyelids drooped, she could easily fall asleep right here in this terribly uncomfortable chair. Drifting away, her eyes snapped open when Paul shouted. ‘For goodness sake, wake up, Diane!’
‘There’s no need to shout, Mr Andrews,’ Susan said firmly. She looked at the two officers. ‘I needed the police to be involved in case the driver of the other car takes any action against the school. I don’t know if you need to keep Mrs Andrews or her husband any longer?’
‘The accident happened on private property, so we’re unlikely to proceed further,’ the officer said. He waited a moment, then looked at Diane, his face softening. ‘I hope you seek the help you need, Mrs Andrews, before you do something that lands you in serious trouble.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Paul said curtly, ‘she’ll be getting help
.’
The officer looked him over. ‘Perhaps a more sympathetic and supportive attitude on your part would help, Mr Andrews.’
Diane saw Susan exchange a glance with Miss Rogers, who gave a quick smile. Paul gave the officer a sharp look. ‘We can leave?’ At the officer’s nod, he looked to the manager. ‘Would you ring for a taxi to take Diane home please, I’ll stay and sort out the car.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ one of the officers said. ‘We could drop Mrs Andrews home and make sure she gets inside okay. Is there somebody who could be with her—’
Diane interrupted him. ‘I don’t need anyone, honestly, but I would like to get home.’ She stood, holding onto the back of the chair for support. ‘I do apologise to all of you for…’ she shrugged, reluctant to put all her crimes into words, ‘…everything, I suppose.’ Feeling herself well up again, she rubbed her eyes and turned for the door. She stopped and looked at her husband, ‘You’ll bring Emma?’
He nodded without saying a word.
Outside the school, the sun was shining, and the car park was empty. It was quiet. Normal. She stumbled, exhausted, as she walked toward the police car – grateful there was nobody to witness her shame. The thought of what Rose Metcalf would say made her cringe. She tried to remember if she were one of the faces that surrounded her earlier, but she couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, if she wasn’t there, she’d soon hear about it.
The police officers didn’t speak as they drove her home. When they pulled into the driveway, one got out and helped her from the car. Seeing her sway alarmingly, he held her arm until she unlocked the door.
‘Thank you,’ she said, turning to hold out her hand. ‘You’ve been kinder than I deserve.’
He tilted his head toward the door to the lounge. ‘I’d prefer it if you were sitting down before I left you, Mrs Andrews. You look done in.’
She smiled at his gallantry and led the way into the family room. ‘I’ll probably fall asleep now,’ she said, flopping onto the sofa.
‘Are you sure there isn’t someone we could call to come and be with you?’ he said, clearly reluctant to leave her in such a state. She shook her head; that she had nobody a final, mortifying blow. ‘Okay, well, is there anything I can do for you before I go?’
All she wanted was for him to go so she could rest and put this whole hideous day behind her. ‘No,’ she said, ‘honestly, I’ll be fine. But I am grateful.’
The officer, having to be satisfied with this, gave a final nod and left.
A moment later, she heard the front door shut. ‘What a mess,’ she muttered and then felt her cheeks flush with mortification. What must Susan Power and Miss Rogers think of her? She’d seen the look of shock on the manager’s face when the police mentioned having had dealings with her. Miss Rogers’s face, she was sure, held a similar look.
And poor Emma. She had a lot of making up to her to do. Ice cream every day for a start. And she’d read her favourite book as often as she wanted. Her eyes welled up again, but she was asleep before the first tear could fall.
Forty-One
She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept but, when she opened her eyes, the light had faded. A few hours, she guessed, because she felt better.
The house was quiet. Paul was later than she’d expected. Poor Emma would be exhausted. Hopefully, she thought, she’d have been able to have a nap somewhere. When she came home, Diane wanted to hold her close. Squinting at her watch, she was surprised to see it was later than she’d thought. Six. She’d slept for around three hours. But where were Paul and Emma?
Getting the car sorted must have taken a long time. He’d be furious. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Furious, and hungry. There wasn’t much to choose from, but she found a couple of frozen chicken breasts in the freezer. Half an hour later, she had a casserole cooking in the oven.
An hour later, she turned the oven down low to keep it warm. Where were they? Her brow furrowed; he hadn’t said anything about going elsewhere, had he? A lot of the conversation was a blur. She smiled weakly, wishing more of it were.
It was another ten minutes before she heard the front door opening. She rushed into the hallway, eager to hug Emma to her, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw he was alone.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked, ‘and where’s Emma?’
He took off his jacket, threw it on the banisters, then opened the drawer of the hall table and dropped the car keys inside before slamming it shut. Every movement was angry, mirroring the expression on his face. ‘She’s fine,’ he said, passing her by and going into the family room. He switched on the TV and sat into the sofa.
Diane stayed in the hallway for a moment, feeling as if her insides had been ripped out. She wanted her daughter. Shaky steps brought her to face him. ‘Where is she?’
He ignored her until she grabbed the remote and switched off the TV. ‘Where is she!’ she screamed. ‘What have you done with her?’
Standing, he grabbed her arm, holding it tight enough to make her wince before snatching the remote from her hand. ‘I told you,’ he said, ‘she’s fine, she’s safe.’ And then, he shook his head and sat. ‘She’s with Emily,’ he said. ‘Happy?’
He said the name as though it should mean something. Frustrated, she shook her head. ‘Who is Emily?’
The TV came on again. Paul switched to the news channel before looking up at her with a look of scorn. ‘Emily. Emma’s teacher. For goodness sake, don’t tell me you can’t remember who she is?’
‘I’ve only ever heard her referred to as Miss Rogers,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm even as she wanted to scream at him. ‘Why has she got Emma?’
‘Because the child has been through enough,’ he said, turning the volume down. ‘I wasn’t sure what kind of state you’d be in when I got home, so she volunteered to keep her for a few days. Emma was quite happy to go with her.’
Diane’s eyes rounded in horror. A few days? ‘No, I’ll go and collect her now. I’m fine, I just hadn’t slept well. It’s better for her to be here with me.’
His look said it all but he didn’t leave it there, his eyes raking her. ‘You really think so?’
It was time she started taking the offensive. ‘You lied to the police, Paul,’ she said, her voice tight, ‘you know everything about this woman I’ve been seeing. It’s part of your plan to get custody of Emma. I know all about it.’
He lifted the remote control. For a moment, she thought he was going to throw it at her but he flung it across the sofa before standing to glare at her. ‘What are you talking about?’ He ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps away, turning to look at her with a slow shake of his head. ‘I thought you were getting better, Diane, I really did. But bloody hell, you sound like you’ve gone absolutely crazy.’
‘You’re lying,’ she said.
‘I’m not listening to any more of this,’ he said, ‘tomorrow, I’ll take a day off work and drive you to the clinic. You’ll have to stay there until they’re sure you’re better this time. Maybe,’ he said, coming back to stand in front of her, ‘if you’d taken the damn pills they prescribed, none of this would have happened.’
‘You’re lying,’ she said again, but there was less conviction in her words. Had she got it all wrong? ‘No, I know you’re lying,’ she insisted. ‘I have her photograph.’ She reached for her handbag and took out her mobile. A few taps brought the woman’s photograph to the screen. ‘See,’ she said, holding it toward him, ‘this is her.’
When he didn’t take the phone from her, she held it in front of his face. ‘Look at her,’ she yelled. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know who she is.’ She watched as his eyes flickered over the picture. She wanted to see recognition, to hear him admit it, and for a moment she thought she had him; for a nanosecond she thought she saw surprise, shock flit across his face but then he just shrugged.
‘You could have taken that anywhere; she could be anyone.’ He jammed his hands into his pockets
and turned away. ‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense, Diane, we’ve all had enough of it.’ He grabbed the remote and sat. Moments later, the room was filled with the sound of shouting and gunfire.
Diane turned the phone around and looked at it. He was right, of course. She knew it was taken from their bedroom, but it could have been taken anywhere. And, at the distance it was taken, the woman’s always very ordinary features looked even more ordinary. In fact, the only thing Diane recognised was her sleek bobbed hair. Tears were close. She was damned if she was going to cry in front of him, give him more reason to think he was right to leave Emma with Miss Rogers. Emily.
She left the room and used the banisters to pull her weary body up the stairs, her feet heavy and unsteady. Emma’s bedroom door was ajar, she pushed it open and went inside. She wouldn’t have her funny pyjamas to wear. Her toothbrush with the dinosaur handle. The soft hairbrush for her silky curls. And yet, because of her, she was better off with strangers and without these things.
She sat on the bed holding one of Emma’s soft toys against her heart. Her eyes stung, her head ached. She’d eaten nothing all day, but the thought of food now made her feel ill. Her heart sank as it dawned on her that she’d left the damn chicken in the oven. She had to go back down.
Kicking off her shoes, she stepped back onto the landing and started her quiet descent, hoping to slip in and out of the kitchen without him noticing. She’d left the door open and, at first, she thought it was the television she heard, then she realised it was Paul speaking. He was on the phone. It wasn’t hard to hear, he was making no attempt to keep his voice down.
Then she heard him say words he hadn’t said to her in a long time. ‘I love you. Remember that. Emma will be fine, don’t worry, I’ll pick her up in a couple of days. It will all be over soon.’
She held a hand to her mouth to prevent the gasp escaping. Stepping back as quietly as she’d arrived, she flew up the stairs on suddenly sure feet. Emily. No wonder he knew her damn name. And, of course, that was why he’d wanted her to go to that particular nursery. She and Emma would get to know one another. She bit her lip. Emma adored her. When it went to a custody hearing, what a united front they would be able to show.
The Housewife: A completely addictive and gripping psychological thriller Page 23