by Kerry Watts
Dan crouched behind the car, startled by Jessie’s sudden appearance at the window. He hadn’t anticipated that, but he didn’t think he’d been seen. Blowing on his hands to keep warm, he glanced at his watch. Ten more minutes, then he would head back to the hostel. Tomorrow he would remember to bring gloves, and maybe a flask of hot coffee.
Eighty-Seven
Darren’s head spun. The post-mortem. Phil and Bridget. Theresa. He’d been stunned into silence by what DI Blake had told him. Claire. He needed to speak to Claire. He wanted to try and understand. Make sense of what was happening around him. He feared he was losing his mind. DI Blake said that Claire was to be examined by the psychiatrist before they took things further. This was such a mess. Not only was he grieving for his son; he had also lost most of his family. His phone buzzed again for the fourth time, or it may have been fifth, Darren didn’t know. He’d ignored every one of the calls. He had to focus. He couldn’t crack the way his dad had. The pain was too much for his dad, and he crumbled. Darren couldn’t do that to Finlay’s memory. He needed Darren to be strong. There was a funeral to arrange. Darren wouldn’t let his boy down.
Darren picked up the toys and clothes that lay scattered on Finlay’s bedroom floor. He hung his little dungarees on a coat hanger and tidied his plastic bricks into their tub. A present from Dianne. Dianne. Darren and Claire owed her so much. He lifted the picture book that lay open and had slipped just under Finlay’s bedside table. He smiled at the brightly coloured elephant Finlay loved so much. The Elephant That couldn’t Trumpet, it was called. Finlay giggled every time Darren pressed the button to make the trumpeting sound. He pressed the button. It was then the tears began to trickle down Darren’s face, pooling on his jaw before dropping onto the elephant’s smiling face. Darren’s legs trembled. The tears wouldn’t stop. The pain in his stomach was like nothing he’d ever felt. He fell to his knees and cried out Finlay’s name over and over until he was hoarse. His gorgeous boy was gone for ever. The sound of his phone buzzing again broke into his grief. He snatched it from his pocket. It was Maggie.
‘Maggie,’ he answered through his tears. ‘It’s Claire. They’ve arrested her.’ He blurted out before she could speak.
‘I don’t understand,’ Maggie began to say, until Darren hung up the call and threw his phone across the room.
Eighty-Eight
Dr Christine Hunter showed her ID to the desk sergeant and pushed her large black glasses further up her nose. Her short, greying bobbed hair framed her pixie features perfectly: Celtic green eyes and small features, with a dimple on her chin that she feared made her look like a child despite her forty-six years of age. She followed the officer then introduced herself to the frail, pale young woman who sat hunched over the table, her thin hair tousled and greasy.
‘Hello, Claire. My name is Dr Hunter. Detective Inspector Blake has asked me to come and have a chat with you this morning. Would that be OK?’
Claire looked up without answering the greeting. That detective had said someone would be coming to speak to her. A doctor.
Dr Hunter unbuttoned her navy raincoat and peeled her arms out before taking her seat. Claire glanced past her to avoid her gaze, nodding only very slightly to acknowledge her. Claire felt defeated; broken even. They thought she killed him, but she couldn’t remember. It was all so blurry.
‘They think I killed him,’ Claire muttered with her head still down. ‘But I don’t remember.’
‘How were you feeling the day you lost your son?’ Christine wasn’t there to establish Claire’s guilt or innocence.
‘What does that mean?’ Claire finally peeled her eyes up from the floor.
‘You’re being treated for post-natal depression. Is that right?’
‘Yes, that’s right. It was hard for me, you know, after Finlay was born. Everything was falling down on me. Crushing me. It was scary and I was tired all the time.’ Claire took a long, slow breath. ‘It wasn’t an easy birth. I lost a lot of blood, they said.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. That must have been very difficult for you and your husband. Darren, isn’t it?’ Dr Hunter paused to check her notes. ‘Can you describe how you felt that day? Or now? How do you feel now? Can you describe that?’
Claire had to think for a moment before answering.
‘Heavy. No – empty.’ She corrected herself. ‘Maybe even cloudy. If that’s even possible.’
‘And that day?’
Claire sighed. ‘Tired.’
‘OK.’ The doctor acknowledged her answer.
‘Finlay wouldn’t stop crying.’ Claire tucked her hair behind her ears.
‘Mm.’ Christine nodded. ‘Were you able to soothe him?’
‘Finlay didn’t like being with me, and Dianne wasn’t there. He liked Dianne.’ A small smile grew on her lips. ‘Dianne loved him.’
‘Dianne is your neighbour, is that right?’ Christine glanced down at her notes again. ‘She’s been very supportive of you, hasn’t she?’
‘Dianne has been so amazing. I couldn’t have managed without her.’
‘You’ve been very lucky. Not everyone has someone like Dianne to rely on.’
Claire’s eyes filled with fresh tears.
‘But that day I picked him up then held him close to my chest and he looked up at me. He really looked at me, and for the first time I saw him. I really saw him. We connected, but now he’s gone. I laid him down and he was still looking at me. I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t have. He was still looking at me, I think. It’s all so blurry. He drifted off to sleep, then I must have fallen asleep again, back in the living room. I didn’t kill him.’
‘Describe what you mean by you saw him,’ Christine encouraged.
‘It was like’ – Claire paused to search for the right word. She glanced around the room – ‘it was like I’d just woken up.’ She frowned. ‘Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?’
Christine shook her head while she made a quick note on her pad. ‘No, not stupid at all. It makes perfect sense. I’ve heard that many times from women suffering from post-natal depression. It’s a very common expression to describe that emotion, and it can take many weeks even after that “waking up” moment to recover more fully.’
Claire shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter now, though, does it?’ she whispered.
The remainder of Christine Hunter’s assessment led her to the conclusion that Claire was suffering from post-natal depression and crushing grief, just as Jessie suspected, but the doctor wouldn’t be drawn on her guilt or otherwise. That wasn’t her job. She was, however, fit and competent to be charged, if DI Blake so wished.
Eighty-Nine
Darren’s garbled statement scared Maggie. He was all she could think about. She slipped her feet into her trainers and grabbed her car keys. With Claire out of the way now, they could be together. The flat was ready for them. The deposit and first month’s rent was paid. She’d only packed the basics in her bag, but would come back for more of her things later. She left a short note for Calum. Perhaps she was a coward, but she couldn’t face him. His breaking heart would be horrible to see. He was so excited about this baby, and Maggie was stealing it from him and giving it to another man. The one she was deeply in love with. In time, she hoped he would understand. Calum was a good man, and he would meet someone else. A woman who could treat him better than she did. Someone who wouldn’t betray him. With his best friend.
In her haste, she pulled her green Mini into the path of an oncoming van, whose driver held his hand on the horn longer than was necessary. She frowned and turned onto the main road, and was soon turning off it again and onto Darren’s street, her tyres skidding on the icy road surface. Her heart leaped to see his car in the driveway. This could be the start of the rest of their lives together. This hadn’t been the plan, exactly, but circumstances had evolved. Faster than she’d anticipated.
Darren’s attention was caught by the skidding tyres on his gravel drive. He was confused to see Maggie striding towards his bac
k door, with a large black sports bag slung over her shoulder. He went out to meet her.
‘Maggie, what a surprise.’ He looked behind her to see if Calum was with her, and saw Dianne Davidson taking some rubbish out, easily within earshot and eyeing Maggie curiously. ‘What are you doing here?’ Even now he was trying to keep up appearances.
‘What do you mean, what am I doing here? Of course I was going to come.’ Maggie paused and stared into the house. ‘Now that Claire’s gone.’
‘OK.’ Darren’s confusion deepened. ‘I don’t know what you think is happening here, but—’
Maggie pushed past him and into the house, making her way to his bedroom. ‘You’re not even packed. You can’t expect me to live here, can you?’ She shook her head at him and stroked her stomach. ‘That wouldn’t be right, not really. You must see that.’ Maggie reached for his hand.
Darren was horrified. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Of course I’ve not been drinking, you idiot. I wouldn’t do anything to risk our baby, would I?’
He stared at her until she reached for him again. Maggie took his hands in hers and leaned in to kiss him. He pushed her away, perplexed by her behaviour.
‘Wait! What are you doing, Maggie?’ He lifted his hands up and tried to move away. ‘I-I can’t leave,’ he stuttered. ‘I can’t just go away with you. Certainly not right now – I have responsibilities. Funerals and court cases and who knows what else. When did I ever agree to this? And this baby could be Calum’s.’
‘I know it’s yours, Darren. I know our child can’t replace Finlay, but—’
Darren couldn’t believe she’d just said that. ‘Maggie, you need to go. Claire needs me, and I need to understand what happened.’
‘Claire needs you?’ Maggie yelled. ‘After everything I’ve done to be with you!’
It was then that Darren’s guilt about betraying his best friend hit him.
‘Calum doesn’t have to know about us. You can still save your marriage,’ he shouted back. ‘You and Calum can have the family I’ve just lost.’
‘But you haven’t lost me,’ Maggie begged. ‘I love you, Darren. I need you. This baby needs you.’
‘Well, I don’t love you!’ Darren roared in her face. ‘I love Claire. Don’t you get it? Are you stupid?’ He tapped her forehead with his finger.
Maggie was stunned. ‘But I don’t understand. You said if it wasn’t for Finlay and Claire we could be together.’
Darren stepped back a little and frowned.
‘When did I say that, Maggie? Hmm? When?’ Darren grabbed hold of her arms and shook her. ‘I never said that, did I?’
Maggie struggled to speak. Every time she opened her mouth nothing would come out. Nothing that made any sense, anyway.
‘Please go.’ Darren released her from his grip and walked towards the back door. He lifted her sports bag and held it out to her. ‘Please go home to Calum. I don’t know if this baby is mine, but please just let Calum be the father. He deserves to be happy.’
Maggie pulled her bag to her chest and moved closer to the door. ‘I was here that day,’ she muttered, keeping her voice low and slow, but Darren’s head snapped up in response.
‘What do you mean, you were here?’ Darren pleaded. ‘When?’
‘After you left me. I went for a run to clear my head.’ Maggie glanced down to the floor and sighed, hoping Darren would take pity on her. ‘What you said hurt me, deeply.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I told you I wanted— No, that’s not true. I needed more.’ She paused and reached out to touch his cheek. ‘I love you. Couldn’t you see that?’
‘Maggie, you knew what we were doing could never go anywhere. Surely you must have realised it. I didn’t have to spell it out for you.’ Darren’s frustration was increasing. ‘We were just—’
‘We were just what?’ Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘A dirty secret, is that it?’
‘Now you’re being crazy!’ Darren blasted.
‘Yes, well, this “dirty secret” was going to tell her – tell her everything.’ Maggie’s heart raced. ‘But Claire was sleeping. I looked in on Finlay because he was crying – he was crying, Darren, and Claire was ignoring him, like she always did.’ Maggie pressed her finger hard into Darren’s chest, forcing him to take a step back.
‘Stop, just stop, don’t talk about her that way. Get out, Maggie.’ Darren knew if Claire had done something to Finlay it was because she wasn’t in her right mind. The things that DI Blake had said made him realise that. He pulled the front door open.
‘I picked him up and held him,’ Maggie continued. ‘I tried to soothe him, Darren.’
‘Stop,’ Darren covered his ears. ‘Stop. I don’t want to hear this. I said, get out.’
‘I didn’t mean— I didn’t know.’
Darren stopped dead, attempting to calm the chaos of his thoughts.
‘What have you done?’ he whispered, closing the door again. He grabbed Maggie and pushed her against the wall. ‘What did you do?’ he screamed, recoiling from her.
‘It was an accident. He wouldn’t stop crying, Darren. All I did was hold him,’ she pleaded. ‘I stopped his suffering. Claire didn’t love him. You must have known that.’ Maggie moved forward and reached out to touch him. ‘But I did it for us. Don’t you understand?’ she smiled. ‘We can be together now.’
The fog of confusion lifted quickly for Darren. Her smile sickened him, but he needed to hear it all, just to be clear.
‘What do you mean, Maggie?’ Darren swallowed hard. ‘You did what for us?’
‘I’m sorry, I know this is all so confusing for you, and I didn’t know someone was going to take him away. I just didn’t see that coming at all.’
Darren grabbed hold of Maggie’s shoulder and shook her.
‘Darren! You’re hurting me, let go!’ Maggie cried out.
‘It was you.’ He pushed her away from him and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘You were going to let Claire take the blame.’
Darren wanted to throw up. Nausea rose in the pit of his stomach and burned into his throat. He could taste the vomit before it struck. He barely made it to the kitchen sink before it burst from his mouth. Maggie followed him and pressed her fingers into his back.
‘But don’t you see? It’s just you and me now, and our baby, of course,’ she explained.
Darren’s confusion and disbelief turned to anger, before morphing into blind rage. He slammed Maggie back into the fridge, hard, sending the bowl of keys toppling to the floor. She was a stranger to him. An evil stranger, who had stolen the two things he loved most in the world.
It was only the echo of Colin Davidson’s shouting that woke him from his daze. Darren looked down at the motionless body at his feet, then at the blood oozing from his knuckles. By the look of the wall, it would seem it had taken most of his anger, but with Maggie slumped at his feet he couldn’t be sure exactly what he’d done.
‘Darren, get back. I need to check if she’s breathing,’ Colin pleaded from behind him.
Darren stepped back and stared from his hands to the floor. As soon as he moved, Colin dropped to his knees, relieved to find a pulse quickly. He grabbed his phone from his pocket to dial for help. He turned to stare at Darren.
‘What the hell have you done?’
Darren couldn’t speak. He glanced from Colin to Dianne, who stood in the doorway, aghast at the sight of Maggie’s slumped body.
‘I can’t do this,’ he muttered. He shoved past Dianne and out onto the drive. He snatched his car keys from his jeans pocket and started the engine before skidding on the gravel in his bid to escape. With no coat, he was freezing, shivering in the cold, but he had to run from what he’d done. What he’d learned. He had no idea where he was going but he couldn’t stay there. Not now that he knew the truth – that it was all his fault his son was dead. Darren would never be able to forgive himself for what had happened.
Before he knew it, Darren was on
the slip road to the M90 heading south.
Ninety
Jessie arrived at the Forth Road Bridge as quickly as her old car would take her. Dianne Davidson’s call had stunned her, even given the roller coaster that was this case. Sure, Darren was struggling with everything that had happened, and Jessie knew grief did strange things to people, but she was shocked he’d launched such a vicious attack on Maggie. According to Colin and Dianne, they had no idea why he would do such a terrible thing to Claire’s best friend, but Jessie figured the couple knew nothing of Maggie and Darren’s illicit relationship. Jessie wondered if he’d been drinking heavily before the assault.
Now this. He must be in great pain to consider this as an option. As Jessie parked at the edge of the blocked-off area, the look on the face of the PC who greeted her was one of pure relief. A member of the public had made a frantic 999 call when they’d seen Darren sitting on the barrier, his legs dangling precariously towards the freezing Firth of Forth beneath. In Gaelic the river is called Abhainn Dubh, meaning black river, and today Jessie could see why. The angry current swirled below them. Heights were not on her list of favourite things, but she edged forward past more officers, who stepped back and nodded to her ID when she lifted it towards them. From their position so far above the choppy body of water, the wind was fierce.
‘Please don’t come any closer,’ Darren called out to her without turning round.