Check Mate_The third Posh Hits murder mystery

by Caron Allan

  She looks so grey-faced, so small and old. I want to cry, but I daren’t indulge myself when she needs me, but in any case, it’s all too awful. I feel empty. This is all my fault. I did this to her.

  If she doesn’t…our lives without her…it just doesn’t bear thinking about. We wouldn’t function as a family without Lill’s warmth, kindness and practical good sense to hold us all together…

  The doctor says we’ll know more by the morning. And he says the fact that she’s survived this long is a positive sign.

  Poor Sid. He’s aged twenty years in the last twenty-four hours. And he seems shrunken and even gaunt in his face, despite his size. At first we couldn’t get him to leave her, to go and have a drink or a short rest. He sat with her from seven o’clock yesterday evening when she was brought up to the ward to about a quarter past three this morning without a break. Finally Matt half-dragged him down to the café for a coffee and a sandwich.

  Matt is quiet, grim. He has been a rock, so calm and practical, like his Mum. I know he’s every bit as anxious for her as we are.

  Wednesday September 16th—2.15pm

  Leanne, Matt’s sister will be arriving shortly with their brother and his family who are arriving from the Cayman Islands, they’re coming straight from the airport, flying in to be with Sid, Matt and Leanne at this terrible time.

  I’ve just been sitting here with Lill, prattling on about the cats and the children, desperately hoping that something is getting through. I mean, I know she’s a tough old bird, but you never know, do you, and she looks so frail…And of course it’s all my fault.

  This is a direct result of my ridiculous, idiotic, fucking stupid little visit to Monica’s house last month, the direct cause of Monica renewing her efforts to make our lives a misery because of the past, because of me killing her husband Huw, my many attempts on her life. What was I thinking? I’ve asked myself that so many times since I ran out of her house. I think I must have been mad. I thought I was so bloody clever, going there, getting into her house, I just - didn’t - think.

  I never do think. Whatever I do, it’s always all about me: what I want, what I decide to do, and I never stop to think about my loved ones and the consequences of my actions affecting them. I’m childish and irresponsible and totally, totally self-absorbed, and…

  I had to break off. I was crying—finally—and then Jacqueline came in, and she was trying to comfort me, poor kid. Her, a mere child, doing her best to reassure me, an adult who should know better. She ended up sobbing in my arms and saying, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her, she’s been so good to me!”

  And it’s a sentiment to which I can only say “Amen”, humbly as I realise how much I owe to Lill.

  So I left Jacqueline to dry her tears and to read to Lill from a recipe book. I went to get a hot chocolate for Jacqueline, and just placed it on the bedside locker, gave her a quick smile and left again immediately.

  I spent half an hour locked in the ladies’, trying to compose myself before I went to meet Sid and Matt at the café where they were telling the new arrivals the latest from the doctor.

  I was brought forward and introduced to Matt’s older brother, Clive, a younger and slightly less podgy version of Sid but with an indefinable ‘something’ missing. I couldn’t have said what it was that was different about him—in the end I put it down to the fact that he’s in his late-30s whereas Sid is in his late-50s. I could only say that somehow in my estimation, Clive came up short. Whether it was his salesman smile or his damp and sticky handshake, or his appraising eyes that didn’t quite stare at my boobs, I don’t know. I just didn’t like him. He was clad in an expensive though crumpled suit, apparently he’s something in IT and earns a lot of money according to things Sid’s said in the past.

  His wife was a dreary, colourless soul with limp hair and no waist. She barely spoke, and I suppose it could be taken to be anxiety about her mother-in-law, but who knows? The two teenaged kids hardly lifted their heads form their igadgets, Clearly they didn’t give a stuff about anyone but their ‘friends’ and their ‘likes’.

  For another half an hour I had to sit there whilst Sid and Matt tried to make Clive feel better about his mother even though I was convinced he wasn’t really all that interested. He seemed fidgety and bored. He kept darting looks at the door and looking at his watch. Finally I made the excuse that I had to go and collect Tom and Billy from Madison’s and go home and do a few things, before I go and collect Paddy from school. Even though my excuse was genuine, I felt guilty leaving Sid and Matt on their own with the useless ones on top of all that worry.

  If there is any news, however slight, Matt has promised to ring me at once.

  Needless to say, I carefully looked all around me both at the car park and at Madison’s, just in case Monica was back for a gloat.

  As I tapped on Madison’s door and waited for her to answer, two doors down I saw Leanne arrive home with Clive’s two teenagers who clearly hadn’t bothered to spend any time sitting with Granny. One was texting and not looking where he was going, the other had on headphones and was clearly watching a film of some kind. I could have cheerfully slapped them both. Leanne gave me a little twiddle of the fingertips in greeting. I have to admit, I was grateful she volunteered to host her other brother’s children and they would not be descending upon my home. I already detested the lot of them. So having her close at hand did have its compensations, after all.

  In Madison’s cosy little sitting room, Billy was playing nicely on the floor with some dolls and a teaset whilst Tom was pottering around on all fours with a tennis ball and a patchwork shopping bag. It was lovely to sit in this calm atmosphere. Madison made me a cup of tea and listened whilst I unloaded about Lill, Matt’s brother and the family. Obv I had to be a teensy bit careful what I said. I couldn’t’ let her know I had any idea bout who was behind Lill’s ‘accident’. That would involve far too many questions. And what if, when she realised what kind of monster I am, she didn’t want to be my friend anymore? I don’t think I could bear to see her look at me in disappointment and—worse—disgust.

  But, later when we came home, I kept constantly checking over my shoulder as I bundled the children out of the car and into the house. I was afraid of being watched or followed, but common sense told me the damage had already been done and that we would now all be okay for a while, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  I got some food ready in case anyone felt like eating, then when he got home, Matt babysat whilst I took a nap. We had a quiet meal, played with the kids, bathed them and put them to bed, then he left again to go back to the hospital. Forty-five minutes later, Sid arrived home.

  He was in the hall just putting his keys on the table when I rushed out to meet him.

  “Any news?”

  He shook his head. “She’s just the same.”

  I remember that I felt a wave of exhaustion and misery wash over me, and I thought how much worse it must be for him. I wobbled a bit, thinking I was going to faint, and I felt like the slightest thing would have me sobbing.

  After a second I just blurted it out.

  “I’m so sorry, Sid, it’s all my fault! If I hadn’t gone to Monica’s…I’ve let you all down, I’m just so, so sorry. If there is anything I can ever do to make it up to you…I just…”

  He patted my hand.

  “I know,” he said. Then he turned away and went up the stairs, saying over his shoulder, “I’m going to have a kip, wake me in two hours, will you?”

  I said I would, and I went out into the garden room and sat there in the dark, weeping. Three furry warm bodies snuggled up close to me, as if they too needed comfort.

  I woke Sid. He got up, had a quick shower, half a cup of tea and left again to go to the hospital to sit with Lill. I felt like clinging to him and begging him to forgive me, to tell me this wasn’t all my fault. But his thoughts, as they should be, are all centred on Lill.

  I hoped Matt would come back immediately, I wa
nted news of Lill, obviously, and selfishly wanted comfort and reassurance. I would have gone to the hospital myself but I didn’t want to take all three children with me. They are all fractious and won’t go to sleep—hardly a huge surprise given the emotional turmoil in the house at the moment.

  But when Matt did get home, he looked so ill and exhausted. He had a glass of water then he crashed out on the sofa. Apart from saying ‘no change’, I was none the wiser about Lill’s condition.

  I thought of all the family taking it in turns to sit at Lill’s bedside, holding her hand throughout the night and I felt selfish and cruel for not joining them, especially with Matt and Sid so tired and anxious, but the last thing Matt needs right now is for me to go to the hospital then for one of the children to wake up when he so desperately needs his sleep. Yet I feel I should be doing something more than sitting here fretting.

  Saturday September 19th—12.30pm

  When I awoke this morning it was with the memory of a dream clinging to me, in which I piled up patio furniture to get into a garage to get into a car which I then used to run down Lill and Matt and the children. So by the time I crawled out of bed, I felt even more crap than I would have if I’d stayed up all night.

  Matt was gone. He’d left me a note saying: “Gone to the hospital, back lunchtime, Dad’s in bed, let him sleep as long as poss, he said Mum still the same, love ya M.”

  The ‘love ya’ bit made me break down again, but there was no time to indulge, even if I felt like it. There was a kitchen to tidy and children to see to. I almost began getting them ready for school, but decided to use the calendar to divine what day it was. It turned out to be Saturday, so I put the TV on for them to watch something for the under-fives, even though Paddy pointed out with some indignation that he was now over five—being five and a half—I bribed him with a biscuit and told him I needed his help with the ‘small ones’. If only today were a weekday, I’d have the benefit of Jacqueline here to help me.

  All I felt like doing was collapsing from mental exhaustion but instead I metaphorically rolled up my sleeves and actually did the dishes (ie loaded the dishwasher), wiped down the surfaces, flapped a duster at this and that, shoved some gloop down the loo, then checked freezer and fridge for anything even slightly edible, and made a little list of stuff to do before having a restorative cup of coffee. Felt like a domestic goddess.

  Next it was time for a play in the garden with the smalls before shoving Tom upstairs for a nap and making elevenses for the older two.

  By the time Sid ambled in, Madison had thoughtfully popped in to offer to take Paddy and Billy out for a few hours. I knew she had no experience of grocery shopping with two small people, so I made a mental note to have a double vodka ready for their return—she’ll need it. Still it’s all good practice for when she finally succumbs to Neville’s fatal charm. I predict a baby in the first year.

  The kettle was on when Sid came in. He looked a little better—less grey and gaunt, probably he looked only ten years older rather than the full twenty. We sat at the kitchen table with the pot and some of Lill’s cinnamon and sugar buns that needed using up, he had declined any proper breakfast or lunch, which in itself spoke volumes.

  There was a heavy silence, with just the sound of the kitchen clock banging out the passing minutes like some kind of biblical herald. Sid sat with both hands clasping his cup, peering into its depths.

  I could stand it any longer and burst out, “Sid, I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I never dreamt…”

  He looked at me, through me. He held on tight to his mug. He said nothing. I knew it—he hated me! And I didn’t blame him one little bit. If it wasn’t for me and my selfish actions Lill would be here in this very kitchen, baking her socks off.

  I just gazed at him. If only I could somehow make it all right…

  He put a hand over mine and patted it. His was cold. Then he got up and went to the sink, drank a glass of water and without turning to me, said, “Right I’m off. See you later.”

  And he left.

  Later: 3.15pm

  Matt came home an hour after Sid left. He looked as shattered as when I last saw him. He kissed me and the children, then had a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I expected him to go for a nap but he said he didn’t need it. I was trying to think how to broach my feelings of guilt when the phone rang. He rushed to answer it.

  I’m so relieved. The phone call was from Sid. Lill has just woken up! She knew her name, she knew Sid’s name, she remembered the date of their wedding and the names and dates of birth of all three of their children. The doctors were pleased, Sid told Matt delightedly, and they are confident she has recovered from the concussion and will continue to recover from the other injuries without any significant permanent damage.

  “We’ll be right there,” Matt said, but Sid told him no, to leave it until the evening, as there were more tests to be done, and she needed to rest. Matt hung up the phone and turned to me with such an expression of joy.

  It was as if a dam broke in me. I collapsed onto the floor sobbing. I felt an overwhelming sense of surprise at myself. It was as if I was standing right behind myself, watching all this going on and wondering what was happening. I felt a sense of bewilderment as I wondered where all that emotion had come from.

  Matt was on the floor next to me, wrapping his arms around me and trying to lift me. I just kept saying, “It’s all my fault. My fault.” I sobbed so hard I could hardly speak, my voice ripping from my body in a strange shriek. The children ran in and Matt dropped me to scoop them up, Tom belatedly appearing in the doorway on all fours, and added to the bundle in Matt’s arms. Matt carried them back into the family room where they had been engrossed in the adventures of Thomas and Friends. I heard Paddy saying in his sweet little serious voice, “Why’s Mummy sitting on the floor?” and Matt was saying, “It’s all right, kids. Mummy is feeling a bit poorly, she’ll be all right in a bit. You just sit in here for a minute while I cheer Mummy up.”

  By the time he got back to the kitchen, Tom was right behind him. I couldn’t help but smile. In the end all of them helped Matt to hug me better, and the floodgates were slammed shut on my emotions. Once I was calm and seated at the kitchen table with a hot drink to calm my frazzled nerves, the little ones returned to their TV programme—crisis over. Even Tom went off happily in search of something more interesting.

  Matt looked at me. He said nothing. I sipped my tea. Finally I whispered,

  “Sorry.”

  He leaned forward and took my hand. “What was all that about?”

  I didn’t know where to start. Most of what I said was filler, ums and ohs and gasps and sighs. I think in the end he understood. I finished my tea and added sadly, feeling very stupid now, “I just feel so bad. I thought we were going to lose your mum, and it’s all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, Cress, she’s a madwoman.”

  “Monica?” I asked, then felt stupid. Of course Monica, he’d hardly say that about Lill. He nodded and went on:

  “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself. Think about what happened to you last autumn. Monica is a crazy woman and she doesn’t care who she hurts just so long as she can make her point.”

  I brushed away a few stray tears.

  More tears ensued. I felt cold and miserable. Matt got up and made another hot drink. I heard the sound of the slots of the toaster being pushed down. I went to the cloakroom to wash my face and to give myself some time to try and pull myself together. Thinking, after all this, Monica really will win. Matt and his family will never want to see me again. The children…

  When I returned there was tea and toast on the table. I sat. We looked at one another. Then Matt reached out and took my hands in his.

  “You know I love you, don’t you? And Mum is awake now, so everything is going to be okay. We will all get back to normal, and there will be nothing else to worry about. You’ll see. Trust me. Now I’m just going to give Dad a call, see if there’s any more new
s.”

  Matt came back a few minutes later to find all the toast and tea had been hoovered up by moi. He said, “Dad says Mum’s doing well. She’s had a drink and something to eat, and she’s been chatting to the doctors. He said she seems perfectly fine in herself, so now it’s only the physical injuries they need to deal with. As soon as the swelling goes down in her leg they will be able to put it in plaster, and then she’ll be able to come home. They reckon by next weekend she’ll be home again. I told Dad we’ll look in later.”

  “Is Sid coming home?” I asked.

  “No, why?” Matt looked puzzled.

  “I thought your brother Clive might be with your Mum now? To relieve Sid?”

  “Leanne is there. Dad didn’t say anything about Clive. I rang Clive’s mobile but he didn’t pick up.”

  I thought it was odd. Since they went to their hotel yesterday, nothing seems to have been seen or heard from them. Although, when I’ve had jet-lag before, I remember it made me so tired, I just fell asleep for hours on end at all the wrong times. So they’re probably just catching up on their sleep. Though it’s a shame they couldn’t show a bit more interest in Clive’s mother. Still at least when they did finally check in, it would be to hear the good news about Lill. I wonder if I ought to invite them to dinner at our house, and probably Leanne too. Now that we know Lill is going to be all right, we’ll feel like celebrating.

  Monday September 21st—9.30pm

  It was wonderful to see Lill sitting up in bed and looking pink instead of grey. She was still feeling very weary so we didn’t stay long, and when we said goodbye, we all came home—no need to leave anyone ‘on patrol’ as it were, now that we know she is out of danger. Sid and Matt, and even Leanne (though I still don’t much like her) all look so relieved and reassured. Sid in particular looks like his old self rather than some gaunt and suffering elderly man.