by Cara Hunter
‘Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry.’
I don’t know how I get to the bed because my legs have gone, my lungs are iron –
‘They called me – your office – they said you were there, that you collapsed – I told them they must be wrong – you weren’t anywhere near that bloody office –’
‘Your wife fainted, Mr Fawley,’ says the doctor quietly. I hadn’t even registered he was there. I turn and face him.
‘We’ve run some tests, just to be on the safe side, but for the time being everything looks fine.’
I stare at him like a dead man given a last-minute reprieve.
He nods. ‘The baby’s fine. But your wife is going to have to take her own health much more seriously. Especially when it comes to eating properly and taking more rest.’
I grip Alex’s hand. Her fingers are cold.
‘Why on earth did you go in today? You never said anything about it this morning.’
‘They were in a state – Sue rang me – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’
The tears spill over now and her face crumples. ‘And then it happened and I thought – I thought –’
I pull her towards me and wrap my arms about her, stroking her hair. ‘It’s OK. The baby’s fine. You’re fine.’
‘What you need now, Mrs Fawley, is rest,’ says the doctor. ‘And I need a quick word with your husband.’
‘It’s OK,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Just try to relax.’
Out in the corridor, Choudhury turns to face me.
‘What you said in there – there’s nothing wrong, is there? Nothing you’re not telling me?’
He shakes his head. I think he’s trying to look reassuring but it’s not quite working. ‘We’ll need to continue to monitor her blood pressure, but she’s clearly extremely anxious and that’s my principal concern at the moment. She’s going to need complete rest, for at least the next two weeks. And absolutely no stress at all.’
‘I have been trying –’
‘I’m sure you have. But you’ll need to insist. I also spoke to your wife’s GP. I gather she’s received treatment for mental health issues before. Most recently in 2016.’
I look away, take a deep breath. ‘Our son – he committed suicide. It was hard on both of us. Especially Alex.’
‘I see.’ His voice is softer now. ‘And before that?’
‘That was completely different. And it was more anxiety than depression.’
‘What form did that anxiety take, do you remember? I know it was quite some time ago –’
Of course I remember. How could I not bloody remember.
‘Trouble sleeping, one or two panic attacks. Listlessness, that sort of thing.’ I swallow. ‘Some nightmares.’
Waking up terrified and screaming, the sweat pouring from her, her eyes dilated like an addict’s, clinging to me so hard she drew blood –
‘But it was nothing like this. Right now she’s just worried about the baby.’
He’s looking at me. I’m obviously not making myself very clear.
‘That first time – there was a reason.’
* * *
‘Shit, did that come out of the blue or what?’
It’s Quinn. The team are gathered in the incident room.
‘And Challow’s absolutely sure?’ asks Gis. ‘I mean, before we go crashing in like the bloody SAS?’
Gallagher sighs. ‘As sure as he can be. Both Diane and Nadine handled that bag.’
‘So what’s he saying?’ says Somer. ‘That Faith’s mother did that to her? That her own sister was capable of something so – so –’
‘We don’t know they were involved,’ says Gallagher quickly. ‘As at now, it’s just a theory. It’s possible – though admittedly extremely unlikely – that the attacker just happened to find a bag the Applefords had thrown away.’
But no one believes that, she can see it from their faces. Of course they don’t.
‘Well, there’s one thing we do know,’ says Baxter, ‘and that’s Diane Appleford’s whereabouts that morning. We know exactly where she was when her daughter was attacked, and it wasn’t the allotments on the Marston Ferry Road. And what about the bloody van – how the hell did she get hold of that?’
Ev is shaking her head. ‘Never mind why – why on earth she would even –’
‘And Nadine’s only fifteen,’ says Quinn. ‘No way she was driving any sort of vehicle – van, car, SUV, Chieftain tank –’
‘She could have been with someone, though, couldn’t she?’ says Baxter, turning to him. ‘Not her mum – someone else – someone older who did the driving. And she could easily have taken a carrier bag from home.’
Ev’s eyes widen. ‘You really think she could have done that? Jesus.’
Baxter shrugs. ‘How else do we explain it?’
‘I could speak to the school?’ offers Gis. ‘Make sure Nadine was definitely there that morning, like she said?’
‘Yes, do that,’ says Gallagher. ‘But discreetly, please. If this gets out, the whole bloody sky is going to fall in.’
* * *
Adam Fawley
8 April 2018
13.10
I’m trying to do emails, but there’s something about hospitals that numbs my brain. It’s like muscle memory – an involuntary spasm of frozen recollection. All those times we had to take Jake to places like this. When he was self-harming, when we hadn’t been able to stop him. The guarded looks, the careful questions. Has he done this before? Can we speak to your GP? Round and round and round again. All of us paralysed in the face of something we couldn’t explain, couldn’t hope to understand.
I give up even trying to work now and toss the phone on to the chair next to me. On the bed, Alex stirs a little, but doesn’t wake. She looks peaceful – more than she has for weeks. I wonder if that doctor has sedated her. There’s a TV mounted on the wall in front of me, and I reach for the remote and turn it on, cutting the volume right down. It’s the local news. They’re running the reconstruction again, the last sighting of Sasha Blake. Her friends, her father, his new family. I’ve seen it before but I was cooking and distracted. Now, for the first time, I really watch.
* * *
Gislingham puts down the phone and looks up at Gallagher. ‘That was the head of Summertown High. Nadine Appleford was there the morning Faith was attacked.’
‘Thank God for that –’
But Gis hasn’t finished. ‘Trouble is, they can’t be sure what time she arrived. She missed registration, but she was there by 11.15 – that was the first class she had that day. They initially assumed she was off sick – you know, that norovirus thing that’s been doing the rounds.’
‘What time is registration?’
‘Eight fifty. And when we first spoke to her, Diane Appleford said she dropped Nadine off at the school just after 8.00, on her way to work.’
‘So she was there with over half an hour to spare, and yet she still never made it to registration,’ says Gallagher thoughtfully.
She glances round and finds Everett. ‘Remind me, what time was Faith abducted?’
Everett looks up. ‘She left the house at 9.00, so probably about ten or fifteen minutes after that.’
‘And when did that minicab driver pick her up?’
‘Eleven twenty,’ says Gislingham. ‘Give or take. But whoever attacked her was long gone by then. So if Nadine was involved she could easily have got back in time for that class. Whoever was driving the van could have dropped her off.’
Gallagher turns to the map and looks again at the drawing pins marking where Faith lives, where she was abducted, where she was found.
‘So her mother drops her off at school at just after 8.00, where she meets this mystery accomplice and they go back to Rydal Way together to intercept Faith?’
Gis gets up and joins her. He hesitates a moment then points to the sprawling site of Summertown High. ‘Or she could have just gone straight to the allotments from the school. That’s
no more than half a mile.’
Gallagher is still staring at the board. ‘But whichever way you play it, there must have been someone else involved. We just need to find out who it was.’
* * *
Neither of them says much on the drive over. Whichever way they thought this case would go, they never dreamed it would bring them back here, to where it all started.
Somer pulls up outside and they sit there a moment, looking at the house. There’s no sign of life, and she’s half hoping there’s no one in. But she knows that the most that will do is postpone the inevitable.
‘What on earth are we going to say to Faith?’ she says, turning to Everett now. ‘Hasn’t she had enough to cope with, without this? It could break that family apart.’
Ev reaches out and touches her on the shoulder. ‘You’re catastrophizing. And even if the worst does happen, it’s not your fault. And remember, we don’t know Nadine did anything yet. There could be a completely innocent explanation.’
‘Oh, come on, Ev, you don’t really think that.’
Everett shrugs. ‘Until we ask, how do we know? All I do know is we have to do this, and if anyone can help Faith understand that, it’s you.’
They get out of the car and make their way slowly down the path. At the step, Everett turns and glances at Somer, then raises her hand to the bell.
Diane Appleford is clearly surprised to see them. ‘Oh, hello,’ she says. ‘We weren’t expecting you, were we? I’m afraid Faith isn’t here. She’s at that new friend of hers. Jess something.’
Everett can almost hear Somer’s relief. She manages a thin smile. ‘Is Nadine in, Mrs Appleford?’
‘Nadine? Yes, she’s upstairs in her room. Why – do you want to speak to her?’
‘Something’s come up, Mrs Appleford. Could you ask Nadine to come down for a minute?’
A frown flickers across her brows. ‘OK.’
She goes to the foot of the stairs and calls up. ‘Nadine? Are you there?’
They wait, but there’s no sound of movement.
‘Nadine!’ calls Diane, louder. ‘Can you come down, sweetheart?’
Signs of life now; the creak of a bed, a door opening. A moment later Nadine appears at the top of the stairs. She sees them and retreats slightly. And Somer’s heart sinks.
‘What are they doing here?’
‘They just want a word with you, darling. Can you come down?’
She starts down the stairs, slowly, pausing at each step.
‘What’s this about?’ she says as she reaches the bottom.
‘We’ve had some new information in from the forensic lab,’ says Everett. ‘So we need to check a few things, and talk to some people again.’
Nadine seems to relax a little at this. ‘OK, what do you want to know?’
‘It’d be better if you came with us. You and your mum.’
‘I don’t want her to come,’ says Nadine quickly. ‘I’ll do it on my own.’
‘What is all this?’ says Diane, staring at her daughter and then at Everett. ‘You’re worrying me now.’
‘We just need a quick chat with Nadine, Mrs Appleford. It shouldn’t take long.’
What else can she say? Your daughter could be there all night? This is looking really serious?
‘I can go on my own,’ says Nadine, stubborn now. ‘I don’t want Mum there. I’m not a baby.’
‘Look, go and get your coat and we’ll talk about it,’ says Diane. Nadine hesitates, then turns and makes her way back up the stairs.
* * *
Interview with Nadine Appleford, conducted at St Aldate’s Police Station, Oxford
8 April 2018, 6.15 p.m.
In attendance, DI R. Gallagher, DC V. Everett, Ms S. Rogers (designated Appropriate Adult)
RG: For the purposes of the tape, Ms Sally Rogers is attending the interview as Miss Appleford’s Appropriate Adult. Nadine is not under arrest, and has been told she can ask for her mother and a lawyer to be present at any time. At present, Mrs Diane Appleford is observing in the adjacent room. So, Nadine, you must be wondering why you’re here.
NA: [shrugs]
RG: Well, I’ll tell you. We’ve done some more tests on the carrier bag that was used to choke your sister. There was DNA on it.
NA: [silence]
RG: Do you have any idea whose DNA it might be?
NA: [looks away]
How should I know?
RG: You’re absolutely sure about that?
NA: Look, stop hassling me – I told you I don’t know.
RG: I’m afraid I think you do, Nadine. I don’t know how much you know about DNA, but one of the things it can tell you is a person’s gender. It can also show if two people are related to each other. Now we’ve done those extra tests, we know that two of the people who’d previously handled the carrier bag were related. Almost certainly a mother and daughter.
NA: [folds arms]
So?
RG: You don’t know who that mother and daughter might be?
NA: I told you – it’s nothing to do with me. I don’t know why you keep asking me this stuff.
RG: [passes across a sheet of paper]
These are the results, Nadine. And they show – without the slightest possibility of a doubt – who that mother and daughter are. It’s you, Nadine. You and your mum.
NA: No it isn’t – it can’t be. They must’ve got it wrong.
RG: Like I said, I’m afraid there’s no possibility of a mistake. So I’m going to ask you again. What can you tell us about what happened to your sister?
NA: [becoming distressed]
I told you – it wasn’t me.
RG: You can’t explain why that particular bag ended up being used in the attack on your sister?
NA: How should I know? Someone must have found it or something.
RG: You must know that’s extremely unlikely –
NA: I told you – I don’t know –
SR: I think we should move on, Inspector.
RG: Where were you the morning Faith was attacked, Nadine?
NA: At school. I told you.
RG: Do you know anyone who drives a van?
NA: No.
RG: An estate car, a four-by-four, anything like that?
NA: No.
RG: Do you have a good relationship with your sister?
NA: What’s that got to do with it?
RG: There were times I could have scratched my sister’s eyes out, when I was your age. She used to drive me completely mad. You’ve never felt like that?
NA: No.
RG: Even though you’ve had to move schools because of her? Even though you had to leave all your friends behind? That must have been tough.
NA: It wasn’t that bad. And anyway, I’ve got new friends now.
RG: Faith was very upset about the attack, wasn’t she?
NA: Yeah, so?
RG: And since then, the whole thing has been really hard for her.
NA: I suppose so.
RG: I’m sure you never meant that to happen.
NA: I didn’t do it – I told you already. It was nothing to do with me.
[near to tears]
Why do you keep on asking me this shit?
RG: We’ve spoken to your school, and they say you didn’t make it to registration the morning your sister was attacked. They say you were in your Geography class at 11.15, but they don’t know where you were before that. Can you explain that for us?
NA: [silence]
RG: Were you at the allotments, Nadine? Were you involved in what happened to your sister?
NA: [silence]
VE: Why should you take all the blame, Nadine? We know there must have been someone else involved. Someone who was driving the van. Who is it, Nadine? Why are you protecting them?
NA: [to the designated adult]
Can I go home now?
RG: I’m afraid you can’t, Nadine. Not yet. But we can take a break if you want to do that.
SR: I think th
at would be a very good idea.
VE: Interview suspended at 18.35.
* * *
‘It was like watching that TV thing,’ says Quinn. ‘What’s it called? The one where they work out people are lying.’
‘Faking It,’ says Somer.
‘But I’m right, aren’t I?’ says Quinn, turning to her. ‘She might not have been saying anything out loud but her body language was at full volume. If she was bloody Pinocchio her nose would be in sodding Birmingham by now.’
‘That’s as may be,’ says Gislingham heavily, ‘but it ain’t going to tell us who was driving that van, is it?’
* * *
It’s raining in Blackbird Leys. A teeming, insistent, disheartening rain that only makes the surroundings more demoralizing. Everett parks her Mini under a street lamp – she’s no fool – then turns up her collar and runs the last few yards to the Brotherton house. It takes a long time for the door to open.
‘What do you want?’ asks the old man. He’s still wearing the same beige slacks, but there’s a pinny round his waist now, and an oven glove in one hand. ‘Ashley isn’t here.’
‘I’m really sorry to bother you, Mr Brotherton. I just wanted to ask you a quick question. You – not Ashley.’
He gives her a long look. ‘Is that an “official” question?’
Everett flushes a little. Because he’s right: she didn’t tell anyone she was coming. She makes a rueful face. ‘Not quite.’
‘And is answering it going to land Ash in it?’
‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘No, I’m pretty sure not. In fact, it might help.’
He takes a step back. ‘You’d better come in then. You’re going to catch your death out there.’
* * *
The address Somer is looking for has taken some finding, especially in the dark and the rain, but she eventually pulls up outside a modern block just off the Iffley Road. She checks the flat number then splashes down the path to the main door.
She presses the buzzer and the entryphone crackles into life. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Erica Somer. Is that Jess?’
A pause. ‘Who gave you this address?’
‘Faith’s mum. She said Faith was coming over to see you this evening. Is she there?’
The door opens and a couple of girls come out, wrapped up snug in fur-hooded parkas and boots. They’re both laughing. Somer is seriously tempted to dart in behind them before the door closes, but she forces herself not to: she needs Jess and Faith to feel they’re in control.