by C. D. Neill
It was a welcome relief to see Lyn walk into the ward. She greeted him coolly and sat on the chair next to his bed. He noted she was carrying a large carrier bag and the contents looked heavy. His stomach grumbled loudly and he hoped she had brought some treats but instead she took out a can of shaving cream and a razor blade. The stubble he had ignored the day of the accident had now grown to a thick beard but he hadn’t minded, in fact Hammond wondered whether it had added some distinguishing character to his features. The way Lyn looked at him showed him that she didn’t agree.
“You look terrible Wallace. Do you wash?”
Hammond flushed slightly wondering if he smelt.
“I get a bed bath...it’s difficult with my limbs in plaster.”
Lyn sighed heavily and walked to the basin near the end bed. She returned with a pulp kidney dish that she had used as a bowl for warm water. Hammond enjoyed feeling her gentle touch on his face, it made him realise how much he had missed her and wondered how long he had taken her for granted during their marriage. He watched her as she carried out her task with precision. “This brings back memories.” He smiled at her and was relieved to see her smile in return.
“That was years ago.”
He felt reassured that she remembered shaving him during their first year together. It had been an intimate moment between them that had led to hysteria as she had nicked him several times leaving him with cuts all over his face. “What happened to us Lyn?” A wave of regret swept over him as he realised yet again that he had lost her. Lyn didn’t reply until he touched her hand. “There is no point crying over spilt milk Wallace.”
“So that is what we are; spilt milk?”
“Wallace, there is no point going over the past. Our marriage didn’t work. We just have to accept it and move on.”
“Have you?” It was a question he had wanted to ask her for a long time but now he needed to know.
Lyn didn’t respond for several minutes, she busied herself rinsing the razor and dabbing his face with a towel before she looked into his eyes and gave him the answer he dreaded. “Yes, I have.”
“Who is he?”
“Does it matter?” She looked at him unsure whether to give him all the information. Eventually she sat down on the chair and faced him directly. Her voice was firm when she replied.
“His name is Cameron. He is a solicitor. We have been dating for six months now and yes, before you ask, Paul knows. There is nothing more to tell.”
Hammond was hurt. His son had known his mother had found someone else and had given nothing away. He shouldn’t be surprised, Paul was loyal to his mother and always had been but he had wished Paul had warned him.
“I suppose I thought we would sort it out eventually. Silly really, but you were my wife Lyn. That counted for something didn’t it?”
Lyn sighed making it evident she was frustrated by the topic of conversation. She shrugged her shoulders, wondering why he was being so obstinate.
“Wallace, let’s be honest. We didn’t have a marriage, we co-existed. When we met we were young and naive. We married because that was the logical next step.”
Hammond stared with disbelief at the woman with whom he had shared almost three decades of his life.
“We married because we were in love and wanted to spend our lives together. Or have you forgotten that bit?”
Lyn studied his face for several seconds silently, then she leaned forward, resting her hand on his.
“Were we in love? I loved you Wallace, but was I in love? I don’t think I was. I don’t remember feeling the ache from wanting you, the euphoria after you had called, the excitement at the prospect of building a future with you, the thrill of being in love. Did you?”
She waited for him to answer but instead he was mute. He found her words hard to digest, yet he needed her to tell him more. He couldn’t believe she had never spoken to him about the way she had felt before. He swallowed hard, unsure what to say so simply nodded to show he was listening.
“I know you loved me Wallace. I know you were faithful as I was to you. But had we been in love with each other, I don’t think I would have been so resentful that your mind was always occupied with your work. Even when you were in the same room with me, your mind was elsewhere.”
“How do you know you weren’t in love? What would you compare it to? The stuff you read in women’s magazines, the nonsense you watch in chick-flicks? Lyn, this is real life. The thrill, the euphoria you are talking about. That’s not love, it’s infatuation.”
Lyn smiled suddenly as if she couldn’t help herself. Watching her Hammond realised her radiance came from something else other than her finding humour in his words. He felt nausea rising at the back of his throat.
“So, this Cameron guy. You are in love with him, is that what you are saying? How do you know Lyn that it isn’t some middle age crises, an infatuation?”
“Because he makes me want to be the best person I can be. Not for his approval, but because being with him makes me see how life could be if we allow ourselves to relax and accept what life brings.”
“And I didn’t? You achieved all the things you wanted Lyn when we were together. It’s true my mind was often occupied, but you and Paul were my priority. You got your career, you became a mother, what is the best that you can be?”
Lyn met his eyes. “Do you remember lending me your Tolstoy book?”
Hammond nodded, he had been an avid reader of classical literature during his youth, when time had been a luxury he could afford.
“The truth was I didn’t understand much of it. I liked Jackie Collins and David Bowie, you liked the Classics. My simple tastes couldn’t compare to your intellectual and cultured interests. I became a teacher because it was a practical career choice, not because I wanted to be. I wanted to be an air steward, to travel the world. So no, I didn’t get the career I wanted and although I love Paul more than anything, I would have preferred to have had children when I was older, after I had experimented with life first. Wallace, we compromised to fit with each other.”
“I didn’t force you to do any of those things Lyn. You gave the impression of being happy.”
“I was, at first. But then you got the career you wanted and I became second best. It wasn’t enough for me. I suppose I wanted you to be my hero, not a hero to all those victims of crime but me. I needed you Wallace. I needed a friend and a lover and instead I had to share you with complete strangers who could have you looking after them any time of day or night whilst I was left at home raising our son and wishing I could do something else.” Lyn had spoken the last sentences rapidly as if it were flooding out of her mouth before she could stop the words from being heard. Suddenly she paused for breath and her shoulders sank. The silence lingered between them before she lifted her chin proudly and left the side of his bed to empty the bowl of used water.
As she left his bed, she picked up the carrier bag and placed it on his bed closer to him.
“I think this is what you wanted. Lois Dunn asked me to make sure you got it, she said she was meant to visit you but something came up.”
He looked inside the bag and saw the battered edge of the box file Lloyd Harris had given him. He smiled and thanked her with sincere appreciation. Lyn looked at him silently as she watched him struggle to release the file from the bag with one hand. “It is not your fault Wallace, but this illustrates my point exactly.”
He raised his head and sent her a questioning look.
“The only time I have seen you smile since your accident is when you have had something to work on.”
Lyn left him soon after. He had thanked her for her visit rather formally. He knew Lyn wouldn’t visit him at the hospital again. As he listened to the fading sound of her heels clicking down the corridor, he called the nurse and demanded more painkillers, but even as the pills were dispensed, Hammond knew the only cure for the pain in his chest was time.
“We can never solve the so-called world riddle because what see
m riddles to us are merely the contradictions we have ourselves created.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Despite the complaints by the nurses, Hammond was using his hospital bed as an office desk. The box file was emptied of its contents. Photographs and jotted notes were organised in piles using every available space. Each photograph was examined closely first. Some looked like random pictures of various people of different ages. One was of a group of children seated on steps outside a large house. None of the children were smiling but they looked relaxed and comfortable. One girl, the darker of the five, had long plaits that brushed down her upper arms. She looked about fourteen years old and was particularly striking to look at. Another girl with lighter strawberry blonde hair sat beside her squinting in the sun light that shone from behind the photographer causing their shadow to rest on the steps by the children’s feet. Hammond couldn’t tell if the shadow depicted a male or female, the figure was slight and had their arm raised to their face as they held the camera to their eye. Behind the second girl stood a boy, Hammond guessed he was no older than fourteen. He was skinny and dressed in a tee-shirt that was too small for him and pinched him under the arms. He wasn’t looking toward the camera but instead had his head turned slightly as his eyes stayed on the strawberry blonde haired girl seated in front of him. To the right of the boy was a slightly dumpy girl with mousey coloured curly hair. She wore glasses with thick frames that didn’t flatter her. She had her arms crossed across her chest and was frowning. Her long blue skirt brushed the steps and hid her feet. An older boy, possibly late teens, Hammond guessed, was standing apart from the group. He had his head raised slightly and turned to the camera with an arrogant expression. His right hand rested on his hip whilst the other held a burning cigarette. Hammond studied each figure intently and turned the photograph hoping for their names to be written on the back. Instead he read 1987 scribbled in pencil. Hammond leafed through the other photographs until he recognised a single photograph of the girl with the plaits. The picture was in black and white and wasn’t posed, suggesting that the photographer had caught her unawares. The scene suggested they were at a party. She looked slightly older with her hair tied back in a chignon. The person she was talking to was evidently male and broad shouldered but was unidentifiable with their back to the camera. Hammond studied the girl, trying to read her expression. It was neutral, she wasn’t smiling neither did she look sad. It was as if the girl was listening politely. Hammond found another photograph of the same girl, taken at the same time. Only this time the photographer had caught her from a side angle and showed her at full length wearing a long black shoulder-less dress that flattered her figure. She stood next to a long mirror. The mirror’s reflection showed several people standing beside her in formal attire within a large room decorated with chandeliers and flowers. Hammond studied the scene and considered that the room may have been in a hotel. Then he looked again, he thought he saw a mark on the girls shoulder-blade, it was small and not easy to decipher without magnifying the picture. He looked at the back of the photo, but there was no writing.
He placed the photograph back onto the bed and sorted through the other photographs. There was a small picture that surprised him. He recognised Lloyd Harris immediately despite the fact that the picture had been taken at least thirty years previously. The youthful Harris was slimmer with thicker hair but he didn’t look much different than when Hammond had first known him. The younger Lloyd Harris was posing with a tall, elegant woman in a bright yellow dress. Her poise reminded Hammond of a young Sophia Loren. Her lips were wide and full and she was leaning on Harris arm as if they were sharing a private joke. Hammond pondered the identity of the woman in the picture. He hadn’t known Harris’ wife Elisabeth as she had died only a year after he had met Harris but there was no doubt that the woman in the picture was Kathleen’s mother. They were almost identical. Hammond gazed at the picture for several moments before placing the picture on his bedside cabinet. Harris had obviously misplaced the picture in the wrong file, he made a mental note to return the photograph to Lloyd.
Hammond turned his attention onto the jotted notes handwritten in a large untidy scrawl but it was easily decipherable. Hammond skimmed the content and was disappointed to discover the notes referred to a social worker by the name of Raphael Turner who had worked for the Kent County Council’s Child Care Services in the 1980’s. There was no reference to any of the names he hoped to find or to any police business. He tried another page, which detailed an Offstead report on the same Child Care Services written in 1989, the content was equally irrelevant. With frustration, Hammond threw the notes back onto the bed. His ankle was itchy under the plaster and he searched for something scratchy. He found a paperclip in the bottom of the file and unravelled it into a straight tool. He moaned with pleasure as he scratched at the skin under the dressing.
“Sounds dubious.”
Jenny had pulled back the curtain surrounding his bed without warning. He sat up guiltily feeling like a school boy caught sneaking a smoke by the bike sheds. Despite being annoyed by her intrusion, he was also pleased to see her and even more so to discover she had brought his mobile phone with her. He accepted it gratefully from her outstretched hand and wondered how she had got the phone. She explained that Lyn had kept it since the car’s surviving contents had been handed to her for safekeeping but Lyn had since left to return home and had returned the items to Paul to pass to his father.
Hammond was disappointed to hear that Lyn had left, but he wasn’t surprised. He had hoped that Lyn would stay to see him recover fully but he knew it was unreasonable to expect her to do so. That would have been a wife’s duty, not an ex-wife’s. He sighed heavily ignoring Jenny’s raised eyebrow and gestured for her to close the curtain. She did so before plonking herself onto his bed heavily. The sudden movement caused him to cry out in pain as his ankle and rib were disturbed and she held a hand to her mouth with an aghast expression, voicing her regret that she had caused him pain yet a faint smile appeared behind her hand and he enjoyed the humour with her.
“I need to get out of here Jenny, I am going mad.”
Jenny looked at him with genuine sympathy. “I meant to give you a message. DS Dunn called round the house and said that she wanted to visit you at the hospital but she won’t be able to yet.”
“That was all?”
Jenny nodded before helping herself to the grapes that sat sweating in their plastic bag beside his bed. She made an attempt to view the photographs strewn on the bed but was stopped by Hammond. He felt he were being disloyal to Harris by allowing her to see them. He hastily collected the papers and replaced them in the folder.
“It’s a bit unusual for Dunn to come to the house. Did she explain why?”
Jenny tried to answer through a mouthful of grapes. The attempt made her dribble grape juice down her jumper. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and shrugged her ignorance. She left him moments later wondering what had caused Dunn to make a personal visit. He had an inexplicable feeling Dunn had wanted to deliver some bad news personally although he couldn’t imagine what the bad news could be.
Wallace Hammond spent the next four days enduring physiotherapy and looking through the contents of the box file. It had been an exhaustive progress but he was now able to recognise all the children pictured in several of the photographs. The quality and colouring of the photographs suggested they had been taken within the last thirty years. To his surprise there were several photographs of Lloyd Harris which made him realise the inclusion of the first photograph had not been accidental. One picture in particular aroused Hammond’s interest. It showed a middle-aged Harris seated around a table with four men who were toasting the unseen photographer with raised glasses. There was no inscription on the back of the photograph but Hammond presumed the picture had been taken during the 1980’s, he recognised the subdued coloured suits and narrow neck ties they typically wore durin
g that era. He looked closely at each man in the photograph and wondered if they had been police officers whom had been betrayed by Harris. He could imagine their disbelief that he himself had felt during Harris’ confession. The inclusion of the photographs alerted Hammond to the realisation that Harris was involved with this case more directly than he had been led to believe.
Hammond had been in hospital for almost four weeks when he decided he couldn’t stand it anymore. His hand and rib were healing well, his headaches were easing although he suspected the bright lights in the ward were responsible for most of them. It was four days before Christmas when Paul came to visit him bringing a box of chocolate liqueurs and Mary’s homemade cookies. It was at that moment Hammond made up his mind to discharge himself. His mind was sluggish and needed to be revived by a few home comforts. Jenny received this news with what looked like relief. They discussed the practicalities of him returning home. It wouldn’t be easy since he couldn’t manage to do much with a broken rib and a leg in plaster but they both agreed he would recover quicker with his mind occupied.