I, Witness

by Niki Mackay

  I smile from ear to ear, almost enjoying myself. ‘I’m sure you do, it’s a beautiful place.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘So Kate won’t be coming into the fold either?’

  He kind of snorts. ‘If you mean “Will she be working here?” I’d say it’s unlikely.’

  ‘She’s quite well educated now, as I understand.’

  ‘I think you probably know that she and my father no longer speak.’

  ‘No happy family reunions since her release then?’ I ask.

  He is silent for a moment, no longer smiling. He holds my gaze. I stare back and smile. He asks, ‘Did you work on the original case?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘But you’re no longer on the force?’

  ‘Nope.’

  He is starting to smile again, a bitchy little twitch at the corner of his mouth. ‘Were you sacked?’

  I smile wider and tell him, ‘I left.’

  ‘Before you were sacked?’

  I shrug. ‘Maybe, guess we’ll never know.’

  His voice is lower, quieter. ‘I get that you probably need all the work you can get, and I get that Kate is probably paying you a load of money, but even you must see this is a pointless endeavour?’

  I don’t say anything.

  He carries on, ‘I have no idea why Kate feels the need to dredge up the past, as if she hasn’t caused us all enough pain.’

  ‘Were you close?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Were you and Kate close?’

  He sighs. ‘I don’t know, we were siblings, we shared a childhood, our time together was inflicted on us.’

  I say, ‘She’s not someone you would have chosen to hang out with?’

  ‘Probably not, no.’

  ‘You liked Naomi though.’ It’s not a question.

  He regards me with open contempt. ‘I did, yes. It’s not a secret that we dated for a while.’

  ‘Kate seems to think you were madly in love with her.’

  He laughs. ‘I was very young. I didn’t know what love was.’

  ‘You were the same age your wife was when she met you, weren’t you?’ I smile. He doesn’t say anything. I ask, ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Naomi?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Something on his jaw slackens just a little. ‘She was very outgoing, very attractive.’

  ‘Sexy?’

  He laughs, trying for affable again. ‘Yes, I guess she was.’

  ‘And Kate was quite a quiet girl before they met?’

  ‘I suppose so. Hardly an angel though – she and Naomi certainly liked to party. She had a much older boyfriend, probably not the only one.’

  ‘You mean Oliver?’

  He nods. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘He was arrogant.’ I nearly laugh out loud at the irony of this man calling someone else arrogant.

  ‘Kate thought Naomi was sleeping with him.’

  I see colour rise on his cheeks and I go on. ‘Why did you break up?’

  ‘We didn’t.’

  ‘So Naomi was still your girlfriend at the time of her death?’ For fuck’s sake, Malone.

  He wipes a hand over his face, visibly paler than when I first came in. ‘I’d hardly say girlfriend, like I said, we were kids.’

  ‘But emotions can run high in younger years.’

  ‘If you say so.’ He glances at a large, ugly watch, probably a few grand’s worth. ‘Is this going anywhere?’

  ‘You told the police that you and Naomi were no longer an item.’

  ‘Did I?’

  I nod, not taking my eyes off him. ‘Yes.’

  His eyes dart around the room. ‘Well, like I said, it had fizzled out.’

  ‘Kate thinks you had an argument with Naomi that evening.’

  ‘Kate thinks lots of things, doesn’t she?’ he snaps, and not waiting for an answer goes on, ‘Silly bitch can’t remember the night in question though, can she?’

  I don’t say anything.

  He continues, ‘She was knocking back the drinks like a lunatic. It never surprised me that she lost time.’

  ‘Yet she says she was normally quite sensible. She said she’d been telling Naomi off, about Oliver. And you.’

  He waves a hand as though to dismiss my words but says, ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Kate says she thinks she might have been depressed, looking back.’

  He makes that snort again. ‘Mental health issues seem abundant in Reynolds women.’ A cruel statement about his own family, along with ‘silly bitch’, and he doesn’t even seem to have noticed.

  I say, ‘But not the boys, eh?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘No mental health problems on your part?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He pulls himself up in his chair, hand waving at his ostentatious surroundings. ‘Look around you!’

  I ignore that. ‘Kate says your wife is nice.’

  ‘She is, yes.’

  ‘Has a lot of accidents.’

  The air in the room seems to change.

  ‘I don’t care for your tone, Ms Attallee.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I make my eyes wide and innocent.

  ‘Our time is up.’ He buzzes and Ashley appears, ready to see me out.

  As I am being ushered through the door I turn to face him. ‘The past has a way of catching up with us, Mr Reynolds, no matter how far away we think we are.’ I hold out a card. He ignores it, and me. I leave it on a shelf by the door.

  I follow Ashley to the elevator and she follows me in. ‘How is he to work for?’ I ask her.

  ‘Oh, great, really great.’

  ‘You look like his wife.’

  Her smile wobbles enough for me to suspect more than a working relationship. She doesn’t say anything else until we’re at the front doors where she waves me off with an overly bright smile.

  30.

  Claudia Reynolds

  I take the diary. It has a pretty, cotton cover with embroidered butterflies on the front. Seeing it again, I realise it is the same as the one Kate wrote in, its picture splashed all over the papers. They must have bought them together, or for each other. I put it under my jumper in the waistband of my trousers and carefully lock the safe behind me. I leave the office and close the door. Bethany is engrossed in Little Princess. I watch her for a moment and feel that familiar swell of love.

  I ask her, ‘Are you okay?’

  She nods, not looking up.

  ‘We’re going to go over to your aunt’s shortly.’

  ‘Oh, good.’

  ‘We’re going to have a sleepover.’

  ‘Yay!’

  ‘It might be for more than one night.’

  She nods, still facing the TV, ‘Okay, Mummy.’

  ‘I’ve packed some of your things – we mustn’t forget Matilda.’ Her rabbit, she’s clutching her now, engrossed in her programme. I tell her, ‘I’m just nipping upstairs.’

  In my own bedroom I empty my sports bag and throw in a few bits. I take the diary out of my waistband and add it. My phone ring. It’s Marcus.

  ‘Claudia?’

  ‘Hello, Marcus.’

  ‘That PI was here.’

  ‘Yes, you said she would be coming.’

  There is a silence. The diary is poking out the side of my bag. I push it in and zip the bag shut. I feel tears wetting my cheeks. There are so many things to say and yet no point in saying them. I think about our wedding day. I was full of hope, and so very desperately in love with the man on the end of the phone.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Claudia.’

  I can barely breathe. ‘Why are you sorry, Marcus?’

  He laughs, it’s a bitter sound. ‘Where do I start?’


  ‘I don’t know.’ I can see his face smiling eagerly at me, full of hope and excitement, saying ‘I do’. I picture him with Bethany, not knowing how to hold her when she was born, standing prone and unsteady, her gurgling in his arms. My heart feeling light, full and happy. I imagine him with Naomi, gawky and young, not grown into himself. Oh God. Why are we this? When did we become this? What could we have done differently?

  ‘I owe you so many apologies, Claudia.’ He sounds hoarse. I wonder if he is crying. I need to get going. I need to get Bethany and our bags and go. But the phone is glued to my ear. My breath is held. I’m waiting, though I don’t know what for.

  ‘I love you, Claudia.’

  I had no idea that he still had the power to break my heart, to untie me, but I am undone.

  ‘I love you too, Marcus.’ And in that second I know it’s true, just as much as I know it’s the last time I will ever tell him.

  When I hang up the phone I feel something new, I feel free. I text Kate to tell her we will be there in half an hour. I load and turn on the dishwasher, my head buzzing, alive, frightened, hopeful, full of love and hate for Marcus. Sadness for the boy he was and who he is now. I am about to call Bethany when I hear the front door click. Oh no, Marcus must have come back. I go out to the hall, but there’s no one there and the door is closed.

  I call to Bethany. She doesn’t answer so I start towards the living room where the Little Princess song is playing. Her episode must be up. Then pain shatters inside my head. I am blinded by it, stung. I drop forwards, balancing on my knees. I can’t work out what’s happening. I open my mouth to call my daughter’s name again and it’s suddenly full of foul-smelling material, dry and scratchy on my tongue. I inhale because I have to, breathing in something pungent and disgusting, then I feel a hand grip the back of my head and a knee in my back. Oh God. I try to say Bethany’s name again but there’s nothing and then everything fades to black.

  31.

  Madison Attallee

  I get off the phone to Kate. She sounded steady. She’s been shopping for Claudia and Bethany’s visit. She says she’s looking forward to it. I’ll meet them at Kate’s later and we’ll try and figure out if there’s anything useful in the pages of Naomi’s journal.

  I get in the car and my phone rings almost immediately. I’m about to ignore it, but it’s Rob. I put him on speaker, start driving and turn down Skid Row.

  ‘Hello, Rob.’

  ‘Madison, how are you?’

  ‘Fine, thank you. Yourself?’

  ‘Yes, good thanks.’ He clears his throat and I can hear phlegm rattle up and down. It’s an annoying habit.

  ‘Is that all, Rob?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  It’s like pulling fucking teeth. I balance the phone on my knees and light a cigarette. Immediate calm.

  ‘Are you smoking?’

  ‘Yep.’

  He sighs. I inhale and exhale loudly, taking a petty pleasure in it.

  He says, ‘Molly and I are planning a holiday.’

  ‘Nice, anywhere good?’

  ‘Just Spain. A friend of mine has a place there.’

  I wonder if the ‘friend’ is the wicked stepmother. She’s probably not wicked, she’s probably really nice. My stomach lurches. I have an itchy feeling behind my eyes.

  ‘Okay, well, thanks for telling me.’

  He quickly adds, ‘We want to go for fourteen days in the summer.’

  ‘Ah, so I’d miss my Saturday?’

  ‘Well, I can’t be scheduling our lives around a few hours with you.’

  ‘Those hours are important to me, Rob. Hopefully for Molly too. It’s all we get.’

  He sighs. ‘Well, right, and we . . . I . . . was thinking, after speaking to Molly, of course, that perhaps she could come to you the Saturday before we leave. She indicated she might like to stay.’

  I nearly lose my grip on the wheel. ‘Rob, are you toying with me?’

  ‘Look, we’d see how it goes, of course, but if all goes well perhaps it would make sense. The reports say you’re sober?’

  ‘As a judge.’

  The thought of waking up with Molly is almost too much to bear. She would be there at the start of the day. It would be how it is for normal mums and daughters one morning every fortnight. A chance to try to be a mum. I make all kinds of deals with a God I don’t believe in in my head. I’ll stay sober, I’ll even go to those fucking meetings if I can just have this . . .

  ‘Fine,’ says Rob. ‘I’ll get the details passed to my lawyer.’ Everything via the law these days.

  ‘Who is she?’ Oh shit, it’s out before I can stop it.

  I can imagine his face, a frown, narrowed eyes but secretly pleased. Oh shit, I’ve given him the satisfaction. I can never keep it in.

  ‘Janet, from the office,’ he says. ‘You’ve met her a few times. She’s nice. Easy going.’ The implication being that I’m not.

  So she had been biding her time. I feel a stab of jealousy, sharp and awkward. I picture her in the park with Molly, tangled in the sheets on my fucking bed. Everywhere I was, everywhere I left an imprint, she’ll be slotting herself in, changing the shape. She gets to spend fourteen days with my fucking daughter and I get to be grateful for the odd night. I manage, ‘I’m pleased for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  There’s nothing left to say after that on either side. I’m not pleased for him. I’m sad for me. Cross that some other chick gets my life, even if I did make a royal mess of it. I know it’s my own fault, the whole thing. If I’d have done things properly, walked away of my own accord, without a bottle in my hand. If only, if only . . . We wouldn’t be together, Rob and I, but I would have been with Molly. No court gives dads custody unless the circumstances are extenuating. Like mine. I try to focus on the good news. I get an overnight. Molly has a father who loves her, and he’s a good dad even if he is a prick generally. She won’t be consigned to a shitty incapable alcoholic mother. Her childhood won’t be the long, lonely stretch that mine was. She even gets a new fucking mum. I feel it deep down in my gut. The kind of raw gnawing rage that nothing other than vodka can relieve. I light another cigarette and drive too fast; I turn up Skid Row loud enough that the windows rattle.

  Turns out our man, Oliver, had a few run-ins with the law as a minor. Emma’s made fast friends with Deanie who deals with a lot of the research at the station and happened to have a little bit of time on her hands yesterday afternoon. The files are sealed so I don’t yet know what the run-ins were for. But I know someone who might.

  I pull in to the Guildhall, which houses the too few social workers who service the borough. Liz Martin comes out when I text, a file under one arm and a packet of Marlboro Gold in her other hand. She waves them at me. ‘Tell me you haven’t given up?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not even considered it.’

  ‘Good, we’re a dying breed.’ She laughs at her bad taste joke and lights up before she’s fully out the door. ‘God that’s good. I keep having these insane days where I start worrying about my health, throw a pack out and “give up”. All it means is a crap morning for everyone in the office and I’m running to a newsagent by lunchtime!’

  ‘Yeah, they’re a difficult one to kick.’

  She laughs. ‘The stress from this place’ll kill me quicker than a bit of nicotine.’

  ‘How is it?’

  ‘Same as ever – too many people needing help, not enough of us to do it properly. They’ve axed half the team, given us a load of new people to look after. Bloody cuts. It’s a living nightmare! How are you now?’

  She hasn’t seen me since I left the force. I shrug. ‘Okay. It’s odd working alone.’

  ‘Yeah, well, at least you don’t have to deal with that prick Malone any more.’

  I laugh. ‘True enough.’

  ‘And you’re
not on the piss either so win-win.’ She’s not one to mince words but the bluntness still makes me flinch. She adds, ‘I got the notes on Molly, sorry, love. It’s a small town, isn’t it?’

  ‘Guess so.’

  ‘I’ve made you a copy of the file you wanted so you can keep it, unofficially mind, so don’t be taking it public.’

  ‘Okay.’

  We head to a stand in the middle of the market place. She queues for coffee and brings two steaming cups to the table, sloshing scalding liquid as she goes. ‘You were in luck, a good pal of mine dealt with the lad back in the late eighties now. The whole family are on file as there was an adoption involved.’

  ‘Oliver was adopted?’

  ‘Looks like it. I haven’t read it in detail.’ She opens it up. ‘Right, so, Amelia Horfield specialised in counselling incest victims.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Yeah, crappy work, but someone’s got to do it. Better than working with the offenders, and she was pretty good by all accounts.’ She coughs. ‘Well, the Horfields had been fostering the boy they adopted for years. They already had a son of their own who was pretty much the same age as the boy they fostered.’ She pauses and blows her nose. ‘In fact it looks like both boys must have still been under one when they initially took him in. No other children. Obviously no problem them getting a child – a therapist and a banker, of all things, married, already parents. Like a dream for us, I would have thought. However, the paperwork suggests it’s a bit more interesting than your average adoption.’

  I take a sip of coffee – Americano, which means too many shots of espresso. Why can’t anywhere just sell filter coffee? I drink it anyway and say to Liz, ‘Go on.’

  She pauses to sip at hot foam. She makes loud slurping noises and coughs again. A rattling smoker’s phlegm-fest. I hear my future.

  I say, ‘You could try injecting, Liz.’

  ‘Ha ha, look, I don’t have time to wait for it to cool – you want the information or not?’

  I laugh. ‘Sorry, go on.’

  ‘Right, so it was a bit of a complicated case.’

  ‘Complicated how?’

  ‘The boy was the son of one of her patients.’

  My head joins the dots. ‘So a produce of incest?’