‘With respect, sir, I don’t see what this has to do with myself and Ms Wyatt.’
‘Is it serious?’ Dailey asked abruptly, his very words making Matt uncomfortable.
‘I don’t know. It’s early days and I haven’t asked her. It’s delicate, as you imagine.’
‘That’s precisely my point. Answer this; would you be bothering with this woman if she wasn’t Jack Randall’s mother?’
His question made Matt pause. Would he? His first reaction was yes; Lucy was attractive and he would find her so regardless of the situation in which he met her – but would he have met her? If she was merely an attractive woman, even one with a similar tragedy in her past, would he feel the same sense of protectiveness, of responsibility towards her?
‘I’m not sure,’ was his honest answer. Dailey steepled his fingers together and leaned over the desk slightly.
‘You see, when that girl’s father didn’t acknowledge me that day, it made me realise something. I had my done my job. That was the extent of my importance to him and that’s as it should be. If you continue to pursue this woman, you will always be the officer who dealt with her son’s murder. Neither of you will ever move on from that.’
Matt didn’t answer. He knew this, Lucy herself knew this; they had spoken of it and yet had still gone to bed together, almost as though their coupling was somehow inevitable. This impromptu relationship counselling from Dailey he didn’t need.
‘I think that’s for me and Ms Wyatt to decide,’ he said, looking directly at Dailey, gaze unwavering. The older man looked as if he would say something further, then thought better of it.
‘Very well, Winston; you can go. But be aware that if any complications arise that effect your performance as a police officer, then we will be having this conversation again. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give any comment to the press.’
Clearly dismissed, Matt nodded and rose to leave, feeling irritated. He had no intention of talking to any press, though Dailey’s mention of Carla made him wonder how long it would be before that particular member of the press felt the need to talk to him.
As it turned out, about three hours. When a call was put through ‘from a female asking to speak to you, sir’ Matt snatched at the phone, hoping it was Lucy returning one of the dozens of calls he had attempted to put through to her during the course of the morning. Instead, Carla’s high-pitched tones greeted his ears.
‘How could you embarrass me like this, Matt?’ Typical that she would see this as a personal affront to herself.
‘I can assure you Carla; you were the last person I was thinking of. Now if you don’t mind, I’m really very busy.’ Actually, he was bogged down with paperwork from a recent case and could have done with a break, but decidedly not this kind. Her voice made his head ache.
‘Well, I do mind. Not only is the entire office talking about it, but the story that was supposed to run – my story – has been knocked off the front page thanks to your little affair with that woman.’
‘Carla,’ he said patiently, although the veins at his temple were beginning to pulse, ‘there has been no affair.’ Not on my part, he thought, unable to resist asking, ‘How is Jacob?’
His jibe had the effect of keeping Carla quiet for a few moments at least, after which she replied in a calmer but distinctly frostier voice.
‘Well, I wish you luck. You’re going to need it; looks like your “local hero” crown has been well and truly tarnished.’
He heard the click of her ending the call, and placed his own receiver down, a hand to his now throbbing forehead. Again he tried Lucy, willing her to pick up.
This time it rang, only for it to cut off after a few rings. Clearly she didn’t want to talk to him either. Matt looked at the clock, then stood and grabbed his jacket. She couldn’t very well ignore him if he was at her front door.
Lucy was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at reruns of last night’s soap operas, picking at the varnish on her nails without being fully aware that she was doing so, so that a little pile of coral flakes lay on the sofa by her knee. When Matt’s number flashed up on her mobile she stared at it for a few seconds before turning it off. Right now, she just didn’t feel up to talking to him. The bubble was well and truly burst, and the despair and rage his presence over the last few days had kept at bay were now threatening to turn themselves loose on her. If she could hold it all off for a little longer, just sit here by herself, she felt she could ward it off.
And she still had to face Ricky. No teenage boy wanted their mother’s love life made public knowledge, or even wanted to imagine their mother had a love life, and the fact it was Matt, who Ricky looked up to, would no doubt make it even worse. Lucy was under no illusions that Ricky may surprise her and be happy for her, maybe even welcome the prospect of having Matt around; they weren’t a normal family.
Lucy glanced over at the framed photograph of Jack on the fireplace and for the first time felt resentment; followed swiftly by a rush of guilt. Nevertheless, she wished that just for a while, she could forget. Could live her life without the shadow of Jack’s murder hanging over her and colouring everything she did and thought and said.
It might have been Ricky all those years ago who had claimed to see Jack’s ghost, but it was Lucy herself, she thought, who continued to be haunted by it.
She got up and pulled her boots on, wondering if a walk would clear her head, but as she stepped outside her door she saw her elderly neighbour, a single man who had never spoken much in the two years since he had moved in, peering at her over the hedge with undisguised interest.
‘Terrible isn’t it?’ he said, sounding as if he didn’t think it was terrible at all. Lucy looked at him blankly, willing him to go away.
‘Don’t leave you alone do they, the media? They’re the reason this country is falling apart, if you ask me.’
Lucy nodded and turned the key in the lock, turning away from him only to see a familiar car pulling up along the front of her drive, blocking her own car in.
Ethan. This was all she needed. She carried on walking, ignoring him as he called to her and walking straight past the car, praying he wasn’t about to make a scene in front of her neighbour, who was continuing to peer over the hedge with a voyeuristic glee.
‘Lucy,’ he called sharply. When she didn’t answer but picked up her pace she heard the engine of his car start up and breathed a sigh of relief that came too early. Rather than roaring off in his decidedly flashy sports car he came purring up beside her, following her down the road. Lucy stopped, exasperated.
‘For God’s sake,’ she hissed, ‘you look like a kerb-crawler. If you’ve come about Matt...’
‘Oh it’s Matt is it now? Damn right I’ve come about that. Lucy, how could you?’
Lucy’s mouth fell open.
‘Excuse me? Exactly what business is this of yours?’ Her neighbour was openly staring now, having come down to his gate to no doubt catch their conversation, and she saw the curtains of the house across the road twitch also. Lucy felt hemmed in, almost panicked.
‘Leave me alone, Ethan. Everyone’s watching.’
‘Just get in then will you? I need to talk to you.’
Lucy hesitated, then saw the curtains twitch again and got into the car, fighting the impulse to fold her arms like a sulky teenager. The interior of Ethan’s car smelled like expensive leather and cheap perfume, a combination that made her feel nauseous again and also wonder if he was up to his old tricks with his new wife. She had smelled similar fragrances before when he had been her husband. The perfume of unfamiliar women, for which he had never had a convincing explanation. She had the urge to just come out and ask him, Are you having an affair, or does your new wife just like smelling like a hooker? And the thought made her smirk. Ethan, now pulling over to park up at the end of the road, looked at her with both annoyance and concern.
‘What the hell is going on with you, Lucy? I came round when I heard about Prince becaus
e I thought you would need to talk, and you fobbed me off, and now you’re sleeping with the man who caught him? Do you know how this looks?’
Lucy eyed him, a chill coming over her as she took in his perfectly pressed suit and handsome features. Not quite as polished as usual, although he looked better than he had on his last visit. Nevertheless there was a slightly wild look in his eyes, one that she recognised from her own reflection. It surprised her.
It sounded an awful accusation, one that she had only really allowed herself to think in those hate-filled days after he had left her for someone else; but she had always thought that Ethan just didn’t care about Jack’s murder as much as she, his mother, had. Of course he had been heartbroken, had grieved, perhaps more fully than she herself, retreating into a cocoon she had never quite come out of until now. Until Matt. But there was something shallow about Ethan, an innate selfishness that protected him from feeling anything too deeply, or so she had always assumed. So that, when the traditional time for grieving was done, Ethan seemed to just go back to normal, as if Jack had never been.
‘You have to let him go,’ he had told her, frustrated when after two years she still walked around as if in a trance, still hadn’t slept with him again. In that respect she couldn’t blame him for being unfaithful, she supposed.
Sex was supposed to be life-affirming, she had read that somewhere. That it was natural to want to hold someone, lose yourself in that physicality, after a brush with death; but Lucy had never felt like that. Had shied away from making love with Ethan after Jack’s death as if doing so would somehow tarnish his memory. He had suggested a vasectomy, thinking that it was the fear of getting pregnant again and having another child that could be taken away from her, but it hadn’t been that so much as the feeling that she was only half alive herself; that having sex with her would be like having sex with a ghost. She would slip through his fingers, as insubstantial as the memories of her son.
In Matt’s arms she had felt fully, vibrantly alive. Almost painfully alive. The thought came to her that Ethan was jealous, but that was ridiculous after all this time and in any case, he couldn’t know how it had been between her and Matt.
‘Lucy!’ He sounded exasperated and she gave herself a mental shake, realising she was staring at him. Yes, he was affected by this, as she was, and she felt a moment’s sympathy for him that was quickly quashed when he went on, ‘Everyone at the hospital has been sniggering about it. Not that they would dare say anything to my face, of course, but I could tell. How could you be so selfish? For God’s sake, Lucy, I understand that you’re lonely, but of all the people! What happened, he came round to offer his condolences and you just couldn’t resist?’ There was a bitter edge to his voice, he was jealous. Lucy stared at him.
‘Are you for real?’ she asked quietly. ‘It’s unfortunate that it got into the papers,’ she ignored his sarcastic grunt at the word unfortunate, ‘but exactly how does this affect you? It’s me everyone’s gossiping about, and we are, in case you’ve forgotten, no longer together.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ he snapped. ‘After what has happened we should be sticking together, presenting a united front, and instead you’re gallivanting around with Supercop.’
‘There is no “we”. I don’t seem to remember you being concerned about a “united front” when you left me. The papers had a field day with that too, remember?’
Indeed, Ethan had been vilified for a few days in the press, had even, she had later been told, received hate mail and a few death threats. It seemed extreme, but Jack’s story had shocked the nation and of course Lucy with her long-suffering stoicness had invited sympathy whereas the suave Ethan had become an unfeeling villain, a heartless husband more interested in chasing pretty nurses than comforting his bereaved wife. Although privately Lucy had agreed with that assessment she had refused to give her side of the story, which had perhaps damned Ethan even more. Now she wondered if he wasn’t enjoying this reversal in their fates.
‘I just can’t believe you would do this, only a week after that bastard walks free. Have you forgotten about Jack already?’ He sounded completely sincere, genuinely affronted, and Lucy felt something snap.
She hit him. Not an overly dramatic and feminine slap that you would see in the movies, but a sharp backhand that sent his head into the headrest of his expensive leather seat. Raising a hand to his mouth, Ethan looked at her in wide-eyed shock.
Lucy was trembling.
‘I’m sorry.’ She scrambled out of the car and backed away from him, then jumped as a voice called her name.
It was Matt. Getting out of a car near her house and waving at her. Even from the distance between them his honed cop sense must have let him know something was up because he immediately jogged up to her, concern etched into his face, taking in her stricken appearance and bristling as he spotted Ethan in the car next to her.
‘What’s happening, are you okay? You’re shaking.’ He grabbed her hands and they were, indeed, shaking. Lucy stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, pushing her trembling hands underneath her armpits. Ethan was getting out of the car, gesturing angrily to his face.
‘She assaulted me.’
Matt just glared at him, then turned to Lucy.
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know. I hit him.’
Matt looked surprised. Ethan for some reason looked faintly smug, though the effect was marred by the swelling of his top lip. It was a little split, and would bruise quite badly, Lucy thought dispassionately, squeezing her hands tighter together as if they were likely to lash out again without her knowledge.
‘We meet again, inspector.’ Ethan sounded more his usual self now that he was confronted with Matt, using the condescending tone he used with anyone he felt inferior to himself – which was most people, Lucy remembered. Matt curled his lip at him in a grimace that was almost a snarl.
‘DI Winston,’ he said pointedly, then turned again to Lucy. ‘Is he bothering you?’
‘He’s just leaving,’ she said. Matt looked at Ethan, waiting for him to do exactly that. Ethan pointed at his cut lip.
‘I said, she assaulted me, aren’t you going to do anything about that? Or does she get special treatment now?’ It was obvious what the now, said with a sneer, was supposed to imply and Lucy for a moment thought Matt would react, seeing a glint of rage in his eyes, but he merely raised a cool eyebrow at the other man.
‘Does your wife know you’re here?’ he asked quietly.
Ethan seemed almost to shrink next to Matt, in spite of his posturing, and after a few moments of ineffectual blustering he got in his car and drove off, Matt watching him until the car turned the corner with a grim expression on his face.
‘What happened?’ he asked Lucy again. She all but fell into his arms, her chest heaving in dry sobs, and he stroked her hair, his lips murmuring into it. She took a deep, ragged breath and stepped back, folding her arms back around herself.
‘I hit him,’ she repeated. Then, ‘I’ve never hit anyone.’
Matt smiled.
‘What do you want me to do, arrest you?’
His comment brought a smile from Lucy and they started walking back to her house. He draped an arm around her with an almost casual affection. Lucy didn’t even bother to see who was watching, she no longer cared but felt suddenly and overwhelmingly tired of it all.
‘I take it that was about us?’
‘Yes. He said –’ her voice caught on the words ‘– I had forgotten Jack.’
They stopped outside her house and Matt looked uncertain, his face closed and guarded at her words.
‘Can I come in?’
In answer she turned and walked up her path and after a pause he followed her, not speaking until they were inside. She stood and faced him in the hallway, unsure now what to do or say.
‘Is that what you think?’ he asked her. ‘Do you feel guilty? Because you shouldn’t let him do that to you, Lucy; it’s not fair. But if I
’m making you feel like that, well, it wasn’t my intention.’ He was rushing his words, obviously flustered and when she didn’t answer he went on, ‘I care about you. The last thing I want to do is make anything worse for you.’
‘I’m not sure it can get worse.’
Lucy looked at the clock. ‘Ricky will be back soon.’
She was dismissing him, and Matt was astute enough to realise it. He nodded at her, looking uncomfortable but resigned, and Lucy hastened to add, ‘I do want to see you again, just not now.’
‘I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’
He turned to go and Lucy wondered if she had hurt his feelings. She laid a hand on his arm and when he faced her again she went up on her toes and brushed her lips lightly across his.
She had meant it to be a comforting gesture, but the stab of desire that went through her body and ended at groin level was anything but. They clung together feverishly before Matt broke the kiss, nearly making her trip as she still leaned towards him. He caught her arms and kissed her swiftly on the forehead in a way that made her think of a blessing.
‘Call me?’ he asked, with a flash of uncertainty in his eyes that made her like him all the more.
‘Yes. Just give me time.’
She watched him go, watched his long strides and the sure swagger of his broad shoulders, a natural arrogance at odds with the tender way he spoke to her. It was an effort not to call him back and throw herself into his arms again, drag him to bed and find an outlet for the swirl of emotion Ethan had left her with. But it was nearly four, and Ricky would be home from school any minute.
Ricky’s face was twisted in an expression of distaste that made him look older than his years as he stared down at the newspaper Mitzi had just handed him, her face flushed with a mixture of both excitement and apprehension. It always seemed to be her showing him these things, as if she had taken on the role of mediator between him and the events now intruding on his life.
This though, this was all his mum’s fault. He had been so worried about her all week, and the whole time she had been sneaking around with that cop. The fact that Ricky had liked and even respected Matt only made the betrayal twist more keenly.
When I Wasn't Watching Page 10