Lindsay wasn’t one for suspense, or unnecessary dragging out of leads. ‘Well, spit it out, Sewell!’
‘Young Sophie Finch has some interesting emails and pictures she didn’t tell us about, Ma’am.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Karen
Sophie hadn’t bothered with having coffee, more intent on going to get them a treat instead. Karen had about ten minutes before she returned from the shop. She opened her laptop, navigated to emails and clicked on the file named J&K.
A warm sensation spread inside her. Her face flushed. Hundreds of messages immediately filled the screen. She shouldn’t look at them, should really have deleted them long ago. But during the low points, the particularly hard days, they offered comfort. They were difficult to let go of, deleting them meant deleting him. And she wasn’t ready for that. Reading them gave her hope. The recalled memories managed to drag her through her darkest moments. Kept her going.
If she’d gone to him, things might have been very different. She’d have been free. In every sense of the meaning.
But, she hadn’t. He was gone, the memories of what might have been forever kept alive in her imagination. Sometimes, she lived out her fantasies in her daydreams, pretending, like a child with an invisible friend, that he was with her, by her side. They would chat for hours on end, everything perfect: he touched her in just the right way, spoke to her with a kindness; an old-fashioned courteous way, which endeared him to her. He listened; he enjoyed the same things she did.
Then reality washed the daydreams away. She wasn’t ever going to meet him.
He was not coming back.
Or was he?
Manoeuvring the mouse over one of the emails, Karen studied the address.
[email protected].
Could it be? If Sophie was right, then it had to be, didn’t it.
So, the big question was, why? Why go out of his way to contact Sophie? Maybe because Karen had snubbed him, ignored his many attempts at emailing, removed all his contact details, and this was his only way of getting her attention. A bit dramatic. They’d not parted on the best terms; it had been her decision to end it, despite wanting more. How could she leave Mike to start a new life with him when she had such a debilitating condition? He’d asked repeatedly to meet her during the twelve months they’d been in contact, but she’d put him off, stalling his every request. She hadn’t dared take another chance, not after the attack. It was safer to keep this one merely as an internet connection. There was little choice anyway, she couldn’t leave the house to meet him and she wasn’t going to invite him over. She’d never told him her reasons, though, afraid he’d stop communication if he didn’t think there was a real chance of them meeting. And, she might even recover one day, eventually feel it was safe to see him. She’d wanted to keep him around, keep her options open.
Sophie entered the kitchen; the clatter of items tipping from a carrier bag brought her back to the present.
‘I’ve spent the lot, hope that’s okay,’ Sophie called.
‘Sounds like it.’ Karen poked her head around the corner. ‘You weren’t kidding about the chocolate.’
Sophie smiled. ‘In times of crisis, there’s always chocolate and wine.’
It was the most natural smile Karen had witnessed all week.
‘Oh, you’ve bought wine too?’
‘Yep. For tonight. Obviously not for lunch.’
‘I say, why not?’ Karen put on a fake posh accent. ‘Come on, let’s do it. Might make my task a whole lot easier.’ She took the wine, unwrapped the foil and began twisting the cork.
‘Your task?’ Sophie narrowed her eyes to a slit. ‘Sounds ominous.’
‘Oh, it is.’ The cork popped, fizzy liquid bursting from the neck of the bottle. Karen placed her mouth over the end, Sophie laughed; grabbing some glasses, she tilted one up so Karen could quickly pour the wine.
‘Dad would have a fit if he came home and we were drinking.’
‘Let’s hope he’s stuck on the moors then and won’t pop in for lunch.’
‘Ha! Cheers.’
They sat on the stools at the breakfast bar and clinked glasses. A lovely, rare moment. One Karen couldn’t remember happening for a long time. And she was about to ruin it with her revelation. Her deceit laid bare. She could sugarcoat it, leave parts out. Sophie need know only the minimum. If it was him following her, she deserved to know the reason. The only good thing, if it was him, was knowing it could be sorted easily, without police involvement. It was Karen he was trying to gain the attention of; he wasn’t after Sophie. She would stop this herself, all she had to do was contact him again.
That held some comfort.
The trouble with secrets is that they seldom stay that way. It all comes out in the end. You can’t bury your past indefinitely, something always catches you up. Advice she’d imparted many times to the men she’d supervised, yet failed to heed herself. She deserved for Sophie to think badly of her. She deserved to suffer. But she had to try to face up to this, for Sophie’s sake.
Right. Where to begin.
‘I’m sorry, Sophie, for all of this.’ An apology to start.
‘How is this your fault?’
‘Because, I think I am the root of your current situation, the reason your stalker is targeting you.’ Karen took a large gulp of wine.
‘And how do you get to that conclusion?’ Sophie’s intense eyes searched Karen’s.
The clock on the wall beside them ticked loudly, like a steady heartbeat: tick … tick … tick.
A daughter. Not the person who should hear a mother’s secret.
Her daughter. Her only child.
Once spoken aloud, the words were out there. A secret no longer.
Tick … tick … tick.
‘His name is Jay.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
The doorbell prevented further disclosure.
‘I’ll get rid.’ Sophie placed her glass down and jumped up from her stool.
Karen hung her head. She’d spoken his name. A release, of sorts – the green light to continue. Now she had to give Sophie a summary of her indiscretion.
Would Sophie judge her?
She swallowed more wine, the effects already apparent, her head fuzzy.
How do I tell her I wanted to leave her father? She fiddled with her wedding band, twisting it around on her finger until her skin burned. Hurry up, Sophie; get rid of whoever it is, quickly.
The kitchen door opened. Rachel followed Sophie in.
Shit.
She shuffled like an old woman towards Karen, eyes pinned on the wine glasses.
‘Something to celebrate?’
‘Rach.’ She rose from the stool. ‘So good to see you.’
This didn’t look good. Rachel barely responded to Karen’s greeting, refusing to make eye contact.
‘Yeah, well, as you weren’t attempting to come to me, thought I’d best make the effort.’
Karen reached out and hugged her. Rachel’s body stiffened, her arms fell limply over Karen’s shoulders. Karen moved away. ‘Come, sit down.’ She drew out another stool from beneath the breakfast bar. ‘Want a coffee?’
‘No offer of wine for me, then.’ She took the stool, positioning it beside Sophie’s.
‘Um, well … sure. Didn’t you drive, though?’
‘Please, Karen, you know I wouldn’t drink and drive. Or you should know. Being my best friend.’
Karen opened her mouth, but didn’t know how to respond.
Rachel pursed her lips together, gently shaking her head. ‘Don’t worry, Karen, my family liaison officer brought me, she’s waiting in the car, so I can’t stay long.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Karen’s posture relaxed. ‘Right, Sophie, pour Rach a wine please.’
Sophie raised her eyebrows, but did as she was asked.
‘What’s this in aid of then?’ Rachel held the glass up, ‘Drinking to Erin, are we?’ Her tone, cold, matched the look in her eyes: in them pooled
a mixture of detachment and bitterness. Both were to be expected in a way, but came as a shock nonetheless. Was this what Karen had been so anxious to avoid? The reason for her failure to leave the house to visit Rachel? Seeing the result of murder, the hurt and pain left with the living. Watching someone suffer wasn’t easy. It was far easier to avoid all manifestations of it. Run from it, hide yourself away from it.
Karen was an expert.
‘More a case of drowning out reality, an attempt to feel better. Granted, not the best way …’ She lowered her eyes.
‘Only works for short periods.’ Rachel downed the wine in a few mouthfuls. ‘Top me up, love.’ She held her glass up to Sophie, who remained standing, poised as though deciding whether to stay, or take flight.
‘What’s the family liaison officer like, then?’ Karen ignored the fact Rachel had drained the glass Sophie had just refilled.
Rachel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Fan-bloody-tastic.’
Karen shifted her position. She deserved this hostility; she had to ride it out.
‘Does she stay with you all the time?’
‘Nope. I don’t want her hovering over me, fussing. She pops over, gives me updates. Not that there’ve been many. She’s okay, I guess. Let’s me talk, rant, whatever. When I’ve had enough, I tell her so.’
‘I’m glad you have someone, who, you know—’
‘Is there for me? Yep, good job someone is.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Karen dropped her head. Her fingers found the stem of the wine glass, twiddling it, turning it round and round. The two words weren’t nearly enough. She looked back up at Rachel. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve been a crap friend. The agoraphobia … it’s so bad …’
‘Only so many times you can get away with that excuse, Karen.’
Out the corner of her eye, Karen caught the expression on Sophie’s face. Touché.
Rachel always told it straight, had done all through their childhood, their teenage years. If Karen wanted an honest opinion, a truthful appraisal of a situation, Rachel was the one to go to. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t confided in her about Jay. Some things didn’t require honesty, merely understanding.
‘I know, it’s a reason, though. I’m really trying to force myself—’
‘Force yourself?’
‘I know that sounds bad. I mean force myself out of the safety of this house. Regardless of the reason, Rach, it’s still hard …’
‘I’m struggling with that, I have to be honest. After everything we’ve been through, all the years of watching each other’s backs, rushing to each other’s aid when the shit hits the fan. Remember when Phillip Jessop from Year Five dumped you, said you were frigid, and you called me, in floods of tears?’
Karen smiled, ‘Er … how could I forget? I was devastated.’
‘Yeah, and after a ten-minute conversation with me, where you cried and said your life was over, you finally asked “What does frigid mean anyway?”. I think we wet ourselves laughing, we didn’t even know if the term was derogatory or a compliment.’
‘So many examples, Rach.’
‘Yes, there are. But, do you know, there are no examples that are as huge as this. This situation, this shit-hitting-fan moment is the biggest, worst … And I feel like you’ve abandoned me.’
Devastation didn’t come close. She’d let Rachel down. She hadn’t attempted to justify it in her own mind, but now, with Rachel verbalising the words from her head, it hit her properly. Hard.
Where did she go from here? Was their relationship irreparable? The only possible solution to make amends would require leaving the house, visiting Rachel regularly, being there beside her.
Tell her you’ll visit. She needs to hear you’ll visit.
‘I realise how it looks, I am here for you, I would never abandon you.’
‘But you won’t come over, help me with Erin’s room, talk to me, and share memories. In person?’
Where’s my paper bag?
Both sets of eyes were on her. Expectant, hopeful.
‘I want to …’ She had to do better than that. ‘I’ll …’ The words evaporated on her tongue.
‘Thanks for the wine.’ Rachel stood, wobbled, then righted herself.
‘Don’t go yet, Rach.’
‘I’ve said what I came for. Asked for your support. I have to go, Carol’s waiting.’
‘Pop over any time.’ Karen pulled at her hair. What a stupid thing to say.
Rachel’s head whipped round. She made a snorting noise through her nose. ‘Sure. See you, Sophie. You’re welcome at ours … mine … any time. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, and I will, I promise, Rach.’ She moved in to give Rachel a hug. As she did, she widened her eyes at Karen, shaking her head. ‘I’ll see you out.’
Now they both hated her. Perfect. Just as she was about to tell Sophie about Jay. Talk about the final nail in the coffin.
‘Right, well, that was awkward.’ Sophie returned and plonked down on her stool.
‘Life is complicated, Sophie. Grief is a process, it goes through stages, Rach is hurting, lashing out at the moment …’
‘Oh, I know that, I was meaning you made it awkward, not her.’
‘Oh, I see. Thanks.’ Here we go. ‘Again, life is complicated. My condition isn’t something I can choose to have one day and not the next.’
‘Can’t you see how much she needs you? She’s destroyed, Mum. I hate it, seeing her like this.’
‘Don’t you think I do, too? Why does everyone place so much emphasis on me physically being with her? I can support her over the phone, email, text, she can come here.’
‘That’s so selfish.’
‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ Karen slid off the stool and walked towards the lounge.
‘Isn’t that exactly what you were about to do, before the doorbell?’ Sophie followed.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Excellent, so now you’re abandoning me as well as your best friend.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’
‘If you don’t tell me about this Jay, who you think is my stalker, you’re putting me in danger. You can’t just tell me he exists and then refuse to say anything else about him! Not telling me amounts to abandoning me, placing me at his mercy.’
‘That’s a bit dramatic. He isn’t going to hurt you.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’
‘Because all he wants is for you to tell me that he’s following you, to force my hand, make me get back in contact with him again.’
‘Are you telling me that you and Jay had an affair?’ Sophie’s face crumpled.
Karen opened her mouth, but stumbled on her words. ‘Soph—’
‘Don’t Soph me,’ she said, her lips twisted. ‘So, are you two seeing each other behind Dad’s back still?’
‘Still? No, I never actually saw him, not in person, only in photos he sent. Our contact was only ever online, texts, a few phone calls …’ Karen watched Sophie’s face for a clue to her thoughts.
‘Why?’
‘I couldn’t agree to meet him, not after the attack, I didn’t think it would be safe to meet someone else after that.’
‘No, Mum. Not why didn’t you meet him. Why did you do it? Cheat on Dad?’
She’d started this now. To be able to finish it, she’d have to tell Sophie how she’d fallen out of love with her dad, how she’d sought excitement from a dating site.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
‘MAILER-DAEMON’ Failed delivery.
I can’t believe you’re such a bitch. How can you leave me hanging like this? All the months of talking to me, leading me on, making me think we have a future together.
You lying whore. Can’t even be bothered to answer my emails, texts OR calls. Changed your number, have you? Why have you completely cut me out?
Don’t think I can’t find you. We were meant to be together. You’re all I have. You are my future – despite what you did I f
orgave you. I wasn’t meant to fall in love with you, but I did. I love you and I know you love me.
I do know how to put this right, how we can be together. It might take time, but I’ll make the time for you.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Sophie
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mum. Her forty-seven-year-old agoraphobic mother, a cheat. How dare she do this to them? As if she hadn’t pulled the family in opposing directions enough. Now, here she was trying to defend her indiscretion. Saying it wasn’t really cheating, as she never met him. Didn’t sleep with him. Did that make it all right?
They sat on the sofa nearest the window; the curtains drawn. Together, but with enough distance between them so she didn’t have to touch her. Sophie turned her body to the side, an attempt to create a barrier to the words that were about to follow. Perhaps her mum felt more at ease telling her the shameful details while sat on a comfy sofa, but Sophie did not.
‘How long did this … affair, this … thing, go on for?’
‘It wasn’t an affair, Sophie. I told you, we messaged, emailed … it was nothing, really.’
‘What did you write, in these emails and messages? What the weather was like, what you had for tea?’
‘It doesn’t matter what was in them—’
‘It does to me. And I’m damn sure it will to Dad.’
‘Please, Soph.’ She cocked her head on one side.
Bloody hell. All the times she’d done that to Sophie, stuck her head to one side, implied she was lying. And all along, it was her.
She was the liar.
‘Please, what? Don’t tell Dad?’ She chewed on her bottom lip. Her eyes locked on her mother’s.
She didn’t offer an answer.
‘Okay.’ Sophie closed her eyes, shutting out the image of her deceitful mother. ‘I’ll give you a chance to explain. Before I tell him.’
‘Sophie! You don’t understand—’
‘Oh, but I—’
‘NO,’ she shouted, put her hands up in front of Sophie’s face. ‘You don’t. And that’s fine, you shouldn’t have to. None of it’s your fault. It’s mine and your dad’s, an accumulation of laziness, not willing to work on the marriage, putting up with each other’s bad behaviour. Selfishness. No time for each other. It’s many things. Things which can’t be put right overnight.’
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