by Jane Casey
‘Don’t shake your head at me, you bitch. Tell me. Tell me. You told me she was mine. You told me she was a gift from God.’
‘That’s how I think of her. That’s what she is.’ She turned her head a bit. ‘Please, Ollie. Please. She’s always been our child. No one else’s.’
‘The devil was in you.’
‘No.’
‘You know what that means, Eleanor. You need to go into the water.’
‘No. Please, no.’
‘You need to be washed clean. Whiter than snow.’ It was what Bethany had said to me on the phone when she was waiting for a chance to kill herself, it came back to me with a flash of insight. Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.
‘Please no, Ollie. Please.’
The cover was off the baptismal pool.
Wash me.
Whiter than snow.
Chloe, lying on the grass.
They had put her in the water and held her down. Gareth’s special ceremony, to persuade her demons to leave her. Everything Kate had feared, with the outcome she had dreaded.
And now Oliver was planning to teach his wife a lesson the same way.
‘Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light,’ Oliver said. ‘St Paul said that.’
‘Bethany isn’t Satan. Please, you can’t blame her for something I did.’
‘I can do what I want. I am your husband and you owe me respect.’ He brought his leg back and kicked her with stunning force, and I realised one thing: if I didn’t intervene, Oliver Norris was going to kill his wife right there, in front of me and his God.
‘You didn’t think about being her husband when you were sleeping with Kate Emery.’ I stepped through the door and let it swing shut behind me. ‘You’re being a little bit hypocritical, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Oliver spun around to face me, his hands balling to fists. ‘How did you know where I was?’
‘I was looking for Eleanor. Can you step away from her, please?’
He didn’t move; I hadn’t really expected him to. She was lying at his feet, moaning softly.
‘Are you on your own?’
‘You know better than that,’ I said, smiling. If only he knew the truth. ‘But go back a bit. Why would I be looking for you, Mr Norris?’
‘I assumed.’
‘Because you’re feeling guilty. Not about this. And not about having an affair with your neighbour.’
Eleanor made a tiny noise and Oliver glanced down at her swiftly before returning to me.
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘It’s entirely my business. But as I said, that’s not why you feel guilty.’
‘Why, then?’
‘Because you killed Chloe Emery. And you killed William Turner. And you killed Kate Emery.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Norris spat. ‘An invention.’
‘The last time I came here, before Chloe died, you mentioned a special ceremony that was going to take place here. You thought Gareth had been rehearsing for it, remember? And then you and he covered it up and changed the subject. That ceremony was for Chloe, wasn’t it? It was what you’d always wanted Kate to let you try. You’ve been trying to establish the church in this area, working on growing the congregation, trying to ingratiate yourself with the community by donating food to the poor. A miracle would be a big help for publicity. There’s nothing as desperate as the parents of sick children. And there was Chloe, who was perfect because she wasn’t as ill as her mother claimed, was she? Kate had worked to get her diagnosed with all of these worrying ailments and really she wasn’t so badly off. You saw the potential in her. The hope you could sell. A beautiful girl saved by the grace of God and the prayers of the Church of the Modern Apostles.’
‘You’re talking about things you don’t understand.’
‘I understand perfectly well that preying on credulous people is a good way to get rich. But it went wrong, didn’t it? You misjudged it. Bethany and Chloe came home when they thought it was safe but Eleanor brought Chloe to the church, like a lamb to the slaughter. And Chloe drowned.’
He wavered. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘How was it?’
‘Oliver,’ Eleanor said from the floor. ‘Be careful.’
He glanced down at her but he was distracted, thinking about what had happened. ‘It wasn’t my fault. It was Gareth. He – he got carried away.’ He shook his head, baffled. ‘It was so quick. If she’d been holding her breath …’
‘But she wasn’t. She was too scared. She breathed in water instead.’
‘We tried to revive her. I tried.’
It explained the broken ribs. A memory floated up from training: an instructor shouting at us. If you’re not breaking ribs you’re doing it wrong … ‘You didn’t call an ambulance.’
‘She was gone. Dead. It was too late.’
‘Who dumped the body?’
‘I did. Gareth told me to. I – I felt awful. I felt terrible. You can’t understand how distressing it was for all of us. It was an accident, nothing more.’
‘And William Turner?’
He looked shifty. ‘What about him?’
‘Did you know Kate was still alive when he came to see you? Was it all planned or did you have to think it through on the spur of the moment?’
He shook his head. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘I know Bethany told William what had happened here – what happened to Chloe. I think he came to talk to you about it. Maybe he threatened you. You beat him to a pulp and then you dumped him in the river when you went down to see Kate. It was your bad luck that we were there already, but actually it couldn’t have worked out better, could it? Because we saw Turner’s car and found his body and it looked as if he’d been the killer, as if he’d gone into the river and drowned, and that was supposed to be an end to it.’ I laughed. ‘It’s no wonder you thought God was on your side.’
‘I didn’t. I didn’t do any of that.’
‘When I spoke to Kate, she asked me one thing about Chloe’s death. It was something a lot of people want to know when their loved ones are murdered, but the way she asked it was strange, when I thought about it afterwards. She said “Did they hurt her?” not “Did he hurt her?” I thought maybe she wasn’t sure if it was a male killer or a female one, but she meant “they”. She knew what you’d done, you and Gareth. She couldn’t get at Gareth but she could get you to come to her, and that’s exactly what she did.’
He shook his head, but without conviction.
‘You went rushing down to see her. You couldn’t believe that she was alive, when you’d been grieving for her in secret. You probably thought she’d forgive you for Chloe – after all, you’d meant well when you forced her into the water.’ I could see from the look on his face that I was right. ‘You never had any common sense when it came to Kate, did you?’
‘She took everything from me. Everything. She made me break my vows. She made me betray everything that mattered to me.’ Oliver Norris’s chest heaved as he fought back tears. ‘I destroyed everything I cared about. That woman made me. She tempted me and I fell.’
‘Oh please,’ I said. ‘You fancied her and you fucked her.’
‘I was a loyal husband and a good father and that – that whore took everything from me.’
I understood it at last. ‘So that was what Kate did. That was her revenge. You took her daughter and she took yours. An eye for an eye. She told you Bethany wasn’t your daughter and you stabbed her.’
‘She attacked me with the knife. It was self-defence.’
‘Oliver, you weigh twice what Kate did. You took the knife away from her and then you stabbed her, repeatedly. You murdered her because she made you realise you weren’t any of the things you thought you were. Not a good husband. Not a principled servant of the Church. Not a father at all. You’re right. She left you with nothing – because you’d left her with nothing.’
‘She didn’t deserve
to live.’ He started to walk towards me.
I took a step back, and then another, wary. He was bigger than me. Stronger. Not as fast, possibly, if I ran for the door. But if I ran I’d leave Eleanor alone with him.
‘You are on your own, aren’t you?’ Oliver bit his lip. ‘You blundered in here alone.’
‘No, my colleagues know where I am.’
‘You’re bluffing.’ I could smell the tension in his sweat as he got closer; it was rolling off him in an acrid cloud. ‘I can tell.’
Eleanor had tried placating him. I went for defiance. ‘So what? What are you going to do – beat me into silence? That’s not going to work.’ He slapped me, which I hadn’t been expecting. I put the back of my hand to my face, considering whether shutting up might actually be a good idea. It was too late for that. ‘You might as well hand yourself in. It’s over, Oliver. This church, your job, your family – it’s all finished.’
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Not quite.’
Then his hands were on my neck, squeezing hard, and black flowers bloomed in front of my eyes. I stumbled backwards, colliding with a wall, the edges of my vision flashing with white light. I kicked, knowing it was too late, that I didn’t have the coordination or the strength to free myself, and all I could see was Oliver’s face, contorted with effort, glazed in sweat. There was no doubt in his eyes, only the determination that comes from believing you have a God-given right to behave as you like. I was nothing to him but an inconvenience, and that was how I would die. It wasn’t heroic or worthwhile.
It was, I found myself thinking, such a waste.
And then the world fell away from me.
38
I opened my eyes and stared dully at the carpet. It was a shade of red so bright that it actually hurt to look at it.
Or maybe that was just because everything hurt. God, my throat.
I closed my eyes again.
Scuffling sounds nearby.
‘You … you bastard.’
Choking. That sounded unpleasant, I thought. I should find out what was happening.
‘You were sleeping with her. Fucking her. How could you? How could you do that to me? To our family?’
Slowly, infinitely slowly, I put a face to the voice. Eleanor Norris. Which meant she was talking to her husband.
And the last time I’d seen him, he was killing me.
That was worth a look, I thought, knowing that I wasn’t thinking completely clearly. I could only deal with one thought at a time. Well, that would have to do. I leaned on my left elbow and pushed myself up with the other arm.
Eleanor Norris was kneeling on her husband’s back, hauling his head towards her with as much force as she could muster. A loop of black electrical cable from the sound system was pressing into the flesh of his neck, cutting off his air supply very effectively.
‘It was always me, wasn’t it? I was the problem. I was the one who needed to be taught lessons.’ She jerked on the cord and he choked again. ‘I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. Of course you knew better than me. You were my husband, the head of the family. You bastard. If only I’d known. I was never the problem. You were infertile, not me. You were weak, not me. You were unfaithful, not me. You made me feel as if I should be grateful to you for staying with me when I should have left you years ago.’ She punctuated every sentence with another tug on the cord and Oliver was in serious trouble now, his face purple, his lips turning blue. His eyes were bulging out of his head.
‘Eleanor,’ I said, or tried to. ‘Stop.’
‘Were you ever going to tell me the truth?’ She released the pressure for a second, waiting for an answer. Oliver took a couple of shuddering breaths before the cord tightened again. ‘You were going to torture me into telling you about our daughter, but you’ve been lying to me all along.’
‘Eleanor,’ I said again. ‘You have to stop. You’ll kill him.’
‘Were you in love with her? Were you? I don’t know if it’s worse if you were in love or not. If it was just sex, you’re pathetic. You’re pathetic anyway. Pathetic.’
I had managed to sit up but I was weak, trembling all over. ‘Eleanor. Think of Bethany. This isn’t what she’d want.’
‘Oh God, Bethany.’ She let the cord slacken again, her eyes screwed tight. ‘My poor little Bethany. What can I tell her? At least you’re not her real father, I suppose. That’s something. I’ve always felt guilty about sleeping with Morgan, but he’s twice the man you are.’ He jerked, almost dislodging her and she hauled on the cord again. ‘That’s right. Your brother. I let Morgan fuck me and Bethany is his child.’ She hesitated for a second, then added, ‘And he was better in bed than you.’
Oliver groaned; I couldn’t tell if it was anger or pain. I was still struggling to come to terms with what Eleanor had said. Morgan. His own brother.
It almost made me feel sorry for him.
‘I’ve waited years for this,’ Eleanor said. ‘Years for you to see what it’s like to be on the receiving end. This is what it’s like, Ollie. This is justice at long last.’
‘Not like this,’ I said. ‘Eleanor, not this. This is what he would do. You’re better than that – you said so yourself.’
‘This is what he deserves.’
‘This will get you put in prison for years and Bethany needs you. More than ever, she needs you.’
‘She hates me.’
‘You can explain it to her. You can make her understand that you did everything for the best. I’ll talk to her too. It’ll be all right, Eleanor, I promise.’ Unless you kill your husband in front of me, in which case everything will be a lot more complicated.
‘I love him,’ Eleanor Norris said to me as her husband choked under her. ‘I love him so much.’
‘I know.’ And I did.
It was as if anger was all that had been sustaining her. As it ebbed away, Eleanor crumpled. She let go of the cord and slipped off Oliver’s back to sit on the floor beside him. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his stomach heaving as he gasped for air.
I crawled over and put my arm around Eleanor’s shoulders. She turned and hid her battered face against my neck, weeping as if her heart was broken. When she could speak again, it was to say: ‘At least Morgan acted like he’d enjoyed having sex with me.’
The door opened with a noise like an intake of breath and Derwent came through it like an avenging angel. He stopped dead when he saw us, as Pettifer crashed in after him and Una Burt appeared in the doorway behind them.
‘What the fuck happened?’ Derwent demanded.
‘Long story,’ I croaked, wondering what exactly I looked like, given the way he was staring at me. ‘But you could arrest him.’
‘For?’
‘Murder.’
‘And being a bastard,’ Eleanor said. ‘A complete bastard.’
Derwent’s face lit up with amusement for an instant. ‘Not illegal, luckily for me.’
I started laughing, aware that at least some of it was shock, knowing that it could just as easily have been tears.
I sobered up enough at last to explain what Oliver Norris had done, and why, and how, while he sat in handcuffs on the edge of the platform. All the fight seemed to have gone out of him, not that we were taking any chances. Pettifer, who was not a small man, was sitting beside him and Derwent stood in front of him, his head lowered, daring him to try and escape. I had seen him angry before but I’d never seen him look at anyone the way he was glowering at Oliver Norris.
‘And why did his wife attack him?’ Una Burt asked when I got to the end of what Oliver had told me.
‘Because she’s quite angry that he was sleeping with Kate. And,’ I added, being fair, ‘he was strangling me at the time. So I’m glad she did.’
‘You need to get that looked at,’ Burt said, unemotional as ever.
‘I will when the paramedics have finished with Eleanor.’ My neck ached. I didn’t really want to think about it.
‘Do you think she’ll give
evidence against him?’
‘I don’t think you’ll be able to stop her,’ I said. ‘But we need to get a statement from her before she calms down. And we’ll have to arrest her for her part in Chloe’s death. According to Bethany, she was the one who took Chloe from the house to the church. She might not have known what they were planning to do to her, but she was involved.’
‘And so was Gareth Selhurst. I’ve got people out looking for him.’
‘I would really like to talk to him,’ I said quietly. ‘They can try and argue Chloe’s death was an accident but she had bruises on her shoulders. They held her under the water. It should be a murder charge. And the same goes for Eleanor, even if she didn’t do the restraining. It’s joint enterprise. She brought her to the church. She was involved in Chloe’s death. We’ll have to see what she says in interview, but if she says she knew what they intended to do here – and it’s hard to see how she wouldn’t have known what they were planning – she’s not going to get a slap on the wrist for it.’
‘Have you cautioned her?’
‘Not yet.’
‘I’ll do it when the paramedics are finished with her.’ Una looked across at them and sighed. ‘Poor Bethany.’
‘Because her parents are going to prison? I can’t help thinking it’s a good thing for her to have a break from them. A break from all this.’ I gestured at the church. ‘Maybe she can learn to live normally while they’re inside. Work out what she wants out of life. Shed some of the guilt she doesn’t deserve.’
‘Get to know her real father better?’ Una suggested and I shuddered.
‘Not that, no.’
The paramedics – two nice, brisk women – decided that I was fine, if bruised, but that Oliver Norris and his wife needed to go to hospital to be checked out. Deprived of the chance to interview Norris ‘like it was Judgement Day’, Derwent sulked. I found him sitting outside the church on a bench, watching two uniformed officers pack Norris into a van for transport.
‘Cheer up,’ I said, sitting down beside him. ‘He’s still having a worse day than you.’
‘Being arrested for murder?’
‘Finding out his own brother fathered his daughter.’