We All Fall Down

by Cynthia Clark

  ‘Please take a seat,’ he told Bea. ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice.’

  ‘DCI Hawkins.’ Walking towards the table, she pulled a chair back, sitting down, putting her bag on the table right next to her. She paused, not sure how to verbalise what she wanted to say. She wanted to sound forceful but not rude. She needed to tell him that she was fed up with these frequent calls. That while she wanted Ronnie Moss to be prosecuted, she didn’t have this much time to spare. And to please make sure he got all the information he needed from her today and not call her back in. But she couldn’t find the words, or the courage, to explain. ‘What am I here for? These meetings are taking me away from work and this is a busy time of the year.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I completely understand.’ She wondered whether he did, but didn’t dare retort.

  There was another knock and the door swung open. Bea turned around to come face to face with Dr Burns, wearing a fitted green dress.

  ‘You’ve already met Dr Burns,’ the detective said. ‘She will be joining our conversation.’

  The heat crawled up Bea’s body until her face felt as if it were on fire.

  ‘Hello, how are you doing today?’ Dr Burns asked, walking past Bea and pulling out a chair next to DCI Hawkins.

  ‘I…’ The word caught in Bea’s throat and she couldn’t continue the sentence. Swallowing hard, she reached for the jug of water in the centre of the table, pouring some into a glass and drinking it in one gulp. ‘I’m good. Thank you for asking.’

  ‘Thank you for coming, Bea,’ Dr Burns said, a half-smile on her face. ‘Shall we start?’

  Lacking the energy to talk, Bea simply nodded.

  ‘Tell us again what you remember from that morning.’ The corners of Dr Burns’ lips were curled up into a smile. Her head was slightly cocked to one side. Bea knew that she was trying to put her at ease, make her trust her. But she couldn’t. She didn’t like the way Dr Burns was prying into her life, trying to find out her thoughts.

  ‘Haven’t we already gone over this?’ The words came out in a high pitch.

  Dr Burns leaned forward and for a moment Bea thought she was going to touch her. Without even realising, she pulled her arms off the table and crossed them in her lap, her hands clenched tightly together. ‘We are making sure that the story is consistent, that there are no deviations that might give the defence any reason to object to your version. Every detail counts in these cases. It might look like a straightforward one, but we still need to convince a judge.’

  ‘I still can’t understand.’ She knew that she was buying time, but right now it was the only thing Bea could think of. ‘We’ve gone over the story and I don’t believe I’ve changed my version. It almost seems like you want me to say something different than what I have been saying.’

  DCI Hawkins cleared his throat and glanced towards Dr Burns. An expression passed fleetingly over his face. Was it pity? Annoyance? Bea couldn’t place it. ‘We’ve done this many times,’ he started. ‘We always want to have all the information upfront so that there are no surprises. We don’t want you to take the stand and suddenly remember something that might throw the case off track. It’s something we always do as part of our investigation.’

  ‘But you keep asking me the same questions over and over.’ Leaning forward, Bea rested her elbows on the table in front of her. ‘It’s almost like you don’t believe me, like you’re doubting something I’m saying.’

  DCI Hawkins and Dr Burns gave each other a knowing look. There was no subtlety and Bea’s heart started beating fast. Miriam must have spoken. That was the only reason why they kept calling her to the station, asking the same questions.

  ‘How’s Miriam doing?’ The question was out of Bea’s mouth before she could stop herself.

  The detective looked down at his file, shuffled some papers. Dr Burns continued looking right at her and Bea knew she was being scrutinised, every single movement analysed. She set her jaw, not wanting to give anything away, not wanting to break down under the pressure.

  ‘We can’t really discuss Miss Lancing with you,’ Dr Burns finally said.

  Leaning forward in her chair, Bea took a deep breath. ‘Well, I know she’s been feeling better. What I’d really like to know is if you’re questioning her like you’re doing with us? Or does being sick exclude her from this constant to-and-fro?’

  ‘Miss Hinds,’ DCI Hawkins started, ‘I’m not sure why you are being so defensive. We are simply doing our job, making sure we have the full story. The accident happened a long time ago, you were just a child. We are giving you the time to think, to remember the details. That’s why we keep calling you back. That’s why I asked Dr Burns for support.’

  ‘Why don’t we jump backwards a little?’ Dr Burns interjected. ‘Tell us about life with Miriam, living in a house with other children your age.’

  Bea could feel the blood pumping in her head, the rush of adrenalin warning her of danger. She needed to tread carefully, make sure that she didn’t spill any detail that would lead them to think life with Miriam was anything other than perfect. She hated having to protect her, but John was right. Keeping that secret was paramount to their safety.

  ‘It was nice to have others to play with, to talk to. We had all lost our parents so we had something in common.’

  ‘But you had your brother.’ Dr Burns was looking right into Bea’s eyes, not blinking, until Bea felt herself cower. ‘Did he make you feel safe?’

  There was a familiar tingling in her eyes and she looked away, not wanting to show any weakness. She blinked furiously as she felt the threat of tears. She couldn’t break down. Not now. It was humiliating.

  ‘Can you tell us about him? What was he like?’

  Even with her eyes riveted to the table, Bea could feel the other two staring at her, analysing every move, every word. Her hands were trembling and she clasped them even tighter to try and stop the uncontrollable movement.

  ‘I… I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘We know this is hard, but it’s important.’ Dr Burns’ voice was gentle but there was a slight edge to it, a little impatience. ‘The autopsy on Sebastian showed so many bruises, quite a few of which were definitely not caused by the accident. He, and all the rest of you, were painfully underweight. We need to find out what was happening in that house. What was it like to live there? Tell us, did Miriam hit Sebastian? Did she hit any of you?’

  The words echoed in Bea’s head. She looked back at DCI Hawkins and Dr Burns. She could see the detective’s mouth moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. There was a thudding in her ears, the blood pumping so forcibly that it felt as if her head were about to burst.

  ‘Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.’ That was all she could hear. Barely anyone mentioned him these days, and when they did, they trod gently, knowing that she had tried to bury the pain of losing her brother. Gemma had tried to get her to talk about him, but she would clam up every time she mentioned him. She’d never visited his grave, despite Gemma’s regular offers to take her. First it was on his birthday, then the first anniversary of his death. Then Christmas. And every time Bea found an excuse, refused to go. Until at last Gemma stopped asking.

  But now, here she was, being interrogated about the person she loved more than anyone else. The person who she missed every moment. Because although she never discussed him with others, she had kept him alive in her mind. She imagined what he would look like had he been allowed to grow up, what he would be like. She thought that he and Laurence would have become great friends, probably going out together, getting into all sorts of trouble. There would have been women, plenty of them, coming in and out of his apartment. Perhaps, eventually, he would have met the right person, got married, had children.

  He was the last person she thought about every single night, before she drifted off to sleep. ‘Goodnight, Sebi,’ she’d mutter. Sometimes she’d cry for a little while.

  ‘Bea, is everything OK?’ Dr Burns looked c
oncerned but Bea refused to believe she really was. She was probably baiting her, trying to force her to open up, say the things that she knew she couldn’t. Not if she wanted their secret to remain safe.

  ‘You mean if it’s OK for you to continue wasting my time like this?’ The words sounded harsh. But she didn’t care. She had to make sure they stopped asking about the past.

  They looked at each other and the detective raised an eyebrow. Bea searched Dr Burns’ face for signs she was surprised by her sudden outburst, but it was devoid of any expression. Years of practice must have helped her become an expert at this.

  ‘Bea.’ Her voice was gentle. It was almost as if she were speaking to a naughty child, being patient, trying to calm her down. Bea hated how patronising Dr Burns sounded. It made her feel small, a burden, someone who had to be handled with kid gloves. ‘You need to tell us what went on in that house. Do it in memory of your brother.’

  Memories flashed in front of her eyes like photographs being tossed right in front of her. His smiles. His hand squeezing hers. His blue eyes staring at her, the life sucked out of them.

  ‘Bea?’ There was an edge to Dr Burns’ voice. Impatience perhaps. Bea lifted her head and saw the woman looking right at her, her mouth pursed in a thin line. DCI Hawkins was clasping his hands together, turning them round and round. ‘Bea, can you speak to us?’ she persisted.

  ‘Your accusations are unfounded.’ Bea stood up quickly, wincing as a sharp pain travelled down her leg, feeling the pins and needles in her foot. ‘Now, if you don’t need anything else, I need to get back to work.’

  He cleared his throat again. ‘Bea.’ He paused. ‘We recognise how hard this is for you. But you have to understand how concerned we are. It seems that all of you are hiding something, protecting Miriam. We need to know what happened or it might negatively impact the proceedings.’

  Dr Burns reached out and touched the detective’s hand lightly. He looked at her and she nodded. It was a slight movement, almost imperceptible, but he seemed to get it and Bea wondered whether their relationship went beyond a professional one.

  ‘Bea, there’s help that you can get.’ The way she twisted her mouth when she spoke annoyed Bea. It was as if she was trying hard to enunciate too clearly, making sure that Bea understood what she was saying. Again, Bea couldn’t help but feel that Dr Burns was talking to her as if she were a little child. Or someone who was not mentally sound. ‘People who can help you to find closure.’

  Dr Burns paused, but Bea didn’t say anything. She continued standing there, wanting to leave but not sure her leg was strong enough. ‘I can recommend someone, refer you to a colleague who specialises in similar cases.’

  There was a fleeting moment when Bea wanted to ask for that number. Perhaps, she thought, if she spoke with someone, the constant anger against Miriam would go away. Then she could finally forget about the abuse, the constant fear of that past life. But then reality struck again and she knew that she couldn’t.

  ‘There’s no truth in what you’re claiming. I don’t need to speak to anyone.’ She struggled to keep her voice even, make sure that she didn’t allow her anger to get the best of her. ‘And if you don’t believe us, why don’t you go ask Miriam?’ Picking up her bag and coat, she turned and left the room.

  *

  Bea couldn’t go back to work. She was in no state. The fear that had been escalating over the past weeks was finally reaching a climax. She was scared. For her life, her future, that of the others. What were Gemma and Martin going to think when they found out what she had been complicit in? They would cut her out of their lives, not wanting anything to do with her.

  And what about Laurence? He’d sack her. She’d end up unable to pay her rent, have to leave her flat. Would she even be able to find another job? Not if the police decided to press charges against them. Investigate what they had tried to do. The vibration in her hand startled her. She looked down and saw Laurence’s name flash on the phone screen. Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was close to ten. Where had the time gone? Bea hadn’t realised she’d been at the police station for that long. The morning felt like a complete blur.

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with air, expanding her chest, trying to centre herself. There was a part of her that hoped Laurence would hang up, give up on her answering. But she knew that was not realistic. She hadn’t told anyone that she was going out, had figured she’d be back by the time anyone else got to the office.

  ‘Where are you?’ Laurence didn’t even say hello. ‘I’ve been getting calls all morning that nobody was there to open the office.’

  ‘I had to pop out,’ she responded. For some reason she was reluctant to tell him where she’d gone. Didn’t feel like answering his questions. ‘Evangeline has the keys.’

  ‘Well, she’s out today. She booked the day off a while ago. She said she told you.’ There was an edge of annoyance to his voice, one that Bea had rarely heard directed at her. She was usually the one keeping the office running like a well-oiled machine, allowing Laurence to come and go as he needed, to spend his time being the creative soul of the company, meeting clients. She made sure he never had to worry that the office was opened in the morning, that their supplies never ran out, that everyone was doing their work.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot.’ A part of her was irritated that there was nobody else she could count on to make sure that things ran smoothly. But at the same time she was also embarrassed that she’d dropped the ball. That their employees would recognise how careless she had been. ‘Are they still outside?’

  ‘No, Marcia managed to get the front desk to open for them. She said she called you but you didn’t answer so she went to ask someone else.’

  Bea remembered putting her phone on silent before entering the police station. It still was but Laurence’s number was set to still ring. ‘Why didn’t she call you?’

  There was a pause and she could hear Laurence shuffling on the other side of the line. ‘She did. I was in the shower.’

  For some reason the knowledge made Bea feel better. ‘I came in this morning but needed to go out. Something came up and I had to deal with it right away.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ He suddenly sounded concerned. ‘Is this to do with Sophia?’

  ‘No, no, she’s OK. As far as I know.’ Bea stopped for a moment. She was unsure what to say, how much to divulge. What had happened this morning wasn’t something she was willing to discuss with Laurence.

  And then it struck her. If the detective, who had only known her for a short while, had immediately noticed that she was acting strangely, what about the people who’d known her forever? People like Laurence, who saw her every day.

  ‘Are you still there? Did something happen?’ Laurence’s voice was strained. Bea could imagine him pacing up and down the room, the phone clenched tightly in his hand, the other hand repeatedly going through his too-long hair. ‘Please speak to me. I’m getting worried now.’

  It was the last thing Bea wanted and a lump formed in her throat. She was scared that she would break down, that she would show Laurence just how fragile she was at that moment. But she forced herself to be calm. ‘It’s about the driver, the one from the accident,’ she said. ‘I guess it’s affecting me more than I thought. More than it should. It’s bringing back a lot of memories that I had tried to suppress.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’ His voice was kind, soft. It was a side of Laurence that only few people got to experience. A contrast from his normally distant self, focused on work and spending all his free time partying. It was a side that even Bea rarely saw, though she’d known him for almost half her life. ‘Would you like to talk about it? I can meet you wherever if you don’t want to come to the office.’

  Despite everything that had happened this morning, Bea felt a small smile forming. Suddenly she felt loved. That someone would drop everything to come to help her out, make sure that she was OK. It was an emotion that she had thought she’d
never feel again after the accident. She’d thought that once Sebastian was gone, she’d be all alone. Until the Stones had come into her life and dramatically changed it, taking her in, making sure that she was part of the family.

  She looked around her, at the people rushing along the busy street, oblivious of each other, focused only on where they needed to go, what they needed to do. She was overcome by loneliness. She had tried so hard to distance herself from everything that had happened, focus on her physical recovery, that she had never allowed herself to come to terms with the emotional turmoil.

  ‘It’s about Sebastian.’ Her voice was barely a whisper. She racked her brain to remember the last time she’d willingly spoken about him but couldn’t. She rarely dared utter his name out loud.

  She remembered the first time Laurence had asked her about him. She'd still been an intern, trying her best to keep her head down, do the work that was asked of her. She’d needed the experience, the exposure to the business world. He had asked her to bring him some files and she’d been making an effort to carry them all in one trip. Her leg had been throbbing from walking up and down the aisles in the file room, as she’d looked for the ones that she’d needed, climbing on ladders to reach the higher-up shelves. Despite her attempts, she had been unable to hold back from limping.

  Laurence had looked up and quickly stood up from his chair, rushing towards her. ‘Are you OK?’ he’d asked, taking the heavy pile from her hands and putting it on his desk. ‘Here, sit down for a minute.’

  She’d wanted to tell him that she was fine and go and find another place to sit. She’d hated seeming vulnerable, as if she’d needed help. But the pain had been too much for her to handle. She’d needed to take the weight off her leg, even if for a minute. She’d taken a couple of steps and sat in the chair he had already turned round for her.