by Allen, Anne
‘I’ve radioed for an ambulance. What happened? We heard Louisa cry out and realised something was wrong.’
Malcolm told him while continuing to cradle Louisa.
John groaned. ‘I never meant for this to happen. I should have refused to let her come in. But she was adamant…’
Malcolm frowned. ‘I bear as much responsibility, if not more, as her father. But it did the trick. We got Edward to confess. Did you get that on tape?’ he asked, looking at Wallace.
‘Yes. Everything’s pretty clear and we’re arresting him on suspicion of the manslaughter of Susan Canning and will be charged. We’ll add the assault of your daughter too.’ He stood up as a policeman asked him what they were to do with the old man.
Malcolm had forgotten about Archie in his concern for Louisa. Now he became aware of a weird noise coming from the bed.
‘What’s going to happen to me? Where have you taken my son? I can’t cope on me own…lost everything…ain’t fair, should have been provided for…’ Archie tossed about on the bed, emitting a thin mewling sound like a baby. Malcolm gritted his teeth, still feeling the urge to hit the man. Archie deserved all that he got. And more. His one consolation was hearing him confess to killing his father.
Malcolm heard Wallace arrange for Social Services to be contacted, asking someone to call round as a matter of urgency. Minutes later an ambulance arrived and Louisa was placed gently on a stretcher and taken on board. Malcolm went with her while John followed in a police car.
For Malcolm the next two hours were the longest in his life. He had never liked hospitals, not since he had watched his mother deteriorate rapidly in those last days of her life. He could not bear the thought of losing Louisa and hated seeing her being wheeled off for scans and various tests. John kept him company but neither seemed willing to talk, taking it in turns to go in search of what passed for coffee in hospitals.
Eventually a doctor came up to announce that were no any signs of serious brain injury, and Louisa was now fully conscious. Malcolm’s body sagged with relief. The doctor added that she was suffering from concussion and would need to spend the night in hospital.
‘Can I see her?’
‘Of course. She’s in a private room as you requested, and you can sit with her as long as you like. But please don’t tire her, she needs to rest. If you’d like to follow me?’
The two men followed the doctor to a room off the main trauma ward. Malcolm’s stomach twisted at the sight of Louisa’s white face bearing a padded dressing on her forehead. As they entered she opened her eyes.
‘Did we do it? Has Edward been arrested?’ she said, looking anxious.
‘Yes we did. Thanks to you, darling. But you shouldn’t have–’
‘It’s okay. I’m glad I was able to help. Just wish I’d been there to see him arrested,’ she said, wincing as she tried to sit up. Malcolm eased her up gently, propping the pillows behind her.
John cleared his throat. ‘Well done, Louisa. Mission accomplished. I just wanted to check you were all right before going back to my digs. I’ll leave you two alone and catch up with you tomorrow.’ He gave Louisa a peck on the cheek, careful to avoid the violet bruise close to her eye. A quick handshake with Malcolm and he left.
‘Well, this seems a bit déjà vu, don’t you think? Only last time it was me in the hospital bed!’ joked Malcolm, holding onto her hand.
She grinned weakly. ‘And then you were the one with the almighty headache! I’ve been told I can go home tomorrow as long as I’m not nauseous or see flashing lights.’
‘That’s good. The doctor said you needed to rest so perhaps I’d better leave you alone. Is there anything I can get you from home or the hospital shop?’
‘I’m all right, thanks. I’ve been given what I need for tonight.’ She yawned. ‘If you don’t mind…’
‘Of course. I’ll ring in the morning to find out what time I can collect you. Sleep well.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek and left.
*
Louisa woke the next morning with a splitting headache. For a moment she wondered where she was and then the memories flooded in. Even the pain could not dampen her pleasure of what she and Malcolm had achieved – with a little help from John and the police, of course. She was grateful she had only spent a short time in that awful room in the flat. It had taken all her self-control not to let the sickly smell force her out again. And that old man! It made her shudder to picture him; little more than a skeleton, with a face covered in liver spots and wrinkles and talking in that weedy voice. It had been instinctive to shield him from Edward’s attack, but not because she felt he had a right to live. He and his son were poor specimens of humanity in her book. But it was clear to her he wasn’t long for this world and she was happy for nature to take its course. As for Edward, he would be going to prison, as he richly deserved.
While the thoughts tumbled around, a knock on the door announced the arrival of a nurse bearing a breakfast tray. Not having eaten for twenty-four hours she was starving and soon tucked into the porridge and toast, washed down with a cup of tea. The nurse returned later to say that the doctor would be around shortly to decide if she was ready to go home. After checking her temperature and blood pressure, she suggested that Louisa try to walk to her bathroom for a shower unaided. This she managed, albeit slowly, and the nurse, looking satisfied, left.
Feeling much better after her shower, Louisa dressed quickly in yesterday’s clothes. Her T-shirt bore a couple of blood stains and she could not wait to get home and change. The top she planned to throw away, not wanting any reminders of what had happened in that room. Provided with a basic toiletry kit, she carefully pulled a comb through her tangled, unwashed hair, wincing at the pain from her wound and the bump the size of an egg. The nurse had said to wait a few days before washing her hair, to allow the wound to heal. She tried to pull her hair over the ugly purple bruise but it still stood out against her pale face. Even her freckles were bleached of colour.
Louisa picked up a glossy magazine from a selection on a side table and settled in the easy chair to read, but nothing registered other than pictures of exotic places. She just wanted to go home and get back to normal. She sighed. Could life ever be normal after what she had experienced the past few months? She turned a page absentmindedly and was transfixed by a familiar sight. It was a photo of La Folie, the focus of an article highlighting spas and retreats. There was also a picture of Paul, leading a yoga class. She squeezed her eyes tight, ignoring the pain. Oh, Paul! I need you, I miss you. Can we find a way to make it work between us? The memory of their kiss caused her pulse to quicken, bringing warmth to her cheeks.
A knock at the door interrupted her reverie.
The doctor came in and smiled broadly as he saw her.
‘Good morning. I’m pleased to see you’re looking much better, more colour in your cheeks. How do you feel?’ he asked, sitting on the bed beside her.
Louisa smiled inwardly. If only he knew where the colour came from! ‘Better, thanks. Still have a headache but managed to have a quick shower.’
‘Good. I’ll give you a prescription for pain killers, but I’d expect you not to need them for much longer.’ He reached for the chart at the end of the bed and glanced through it. ‘All looks fine. I think we can let you go home, unless you’d rather stay and enjoy our hospitality longer?’ he teased.
Louisa grinned. ‘I’m happy to go home, thanks. Will someone let my…my father know?’ She still found it strange to say “my father”. But it felt good.
The doctor stood up, and shook her hand. ‘Yes, we’ll do that now. Look after yourself and try and stay away from people wielding bottles!’ he said, with a wink.
After he left, she turned back to the article on La Folie, and her daydreams.
Once back at home, Louisa went upstairs to change. Feeling cleaner and more like her old self, she made a couple of phone calls. The first to Margaret, to find out how she was and to tell
her of the latest developments.
Margaret’s cough as she answered the phone told her that she was not much better. Not wanting her aunt to worry, she decided not to mention her head wound, focusing instead on Edward’s arrest.
‘Oh, Louisa, that’s wonderful news! I’m so glad. You must be feeling relieved that it’s all over,’ Margaret croaked.
‘Yes, although it’s not over until after the trial. I’ll have to be a witness and I’m not looking forward to that but…’
‘Well, he might plead guilty and save you the trouble. Either way, my dear, I think you can be proud of what you and Malcolm have done. For…for Susan,’ Margaret said, her voice breaking.
There was a pause as the women remembered their lost loved one and Louisa’s eyes welled up. Dabbing them with a tissue, she needed to clear her throat before telling her aunt she hoped she would be better soon and would call again in a few days. She poured herself a glass of water before making the next call.
‘Hi Charlotte, it’s me.’
‘Louisa! Thank goodness, I’ve been so worried about you. Now, tell me everything,’ her friend said, relief in her voice.
Moments later, after hearing what had happened, Charlotte insisted on coming round to see for herself that Louisa was all right.
‘I can be there in an hour; I just need to re-schedule a meeting. Take care, bye.’
Louisa went downstairs to tell Malcolm about Charlotte’s impending visit. He was in the kitchen, checking their food supply.
‘Good,’ he said, looking up from his shopping list. ‘We’re low on a few items and I thought I’d pop round to the grocery store. You’re in no fit state to eat out so I thought I’d include some ready prepared meals to put in the oven. I can manage that,’ he said, smiling. ‘You girls will want to chat without my hovering around so I’ll go once Charlotte arrives. The doctor doesn’t want you to be on your own in case you feel unwell.’
‘Thanks. Shall I double-check what we need?’
Between them they finished the list and then Louisa mentioned she had spoken to her aunt, who was still too unwell to travel.
‘That’s a pity. I’d hoped to meet the lady while I’m here. Your mother always spoke so warmly of her. I gathered they were pretty close,’ Malcolm said, leaning on the kitchen table.
‘Yes, they were. Mum had her here to stay after Charles, her husband, died last year. I think Mum was trying to persuade Margaret to move down to London, but she’s a country girl and wasn’t keen.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps it’s as well she didn’t come after…’ she fell silent, chewing her lips. God, when would she stop wanting to burst into tears? She was so strung out emotionally…
Malcolm gripped her hand and they shared a moment of reflection.
The sound of the doorbell broke the silence and Louisa went to welcome her friend. The look of horror on Charlotte’s face was quickly replaced by a forced smile and a bear hug.
‘You poor thing! Are you sure you shouldn’t be in bed? I don’t want to cause a relapse or something,’ said Charlotte, hovering near the front door.
‘It’s not as bad as it looks. Come and say hi to Malcolm before he disappears.’ She led the way to the kitchen where he was gathering up his list together with a few carrier bags.
‘Hello, Malcolm. You’re not going on my account, are you?’
He chuckled. ‘No, my dear. Just buying supplies. I’ll see you later.’
Louisa put the kettle on for coffee. Smiling, she said, ‘Sorry I can’t offer you calorie free cakes–’
‘No problem,’ said Charlotte, placing a Harrods shopping bag on the table. ‘I thought you might want something to cheer yourself up and brought some goodies from home. Luckily, Mrs Thomas has been baking so…’ she pulled out containers filled with muffins and biscuits and a bottle of Krug champagne. Louisa opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte continued, ‘I realise you can’t drink alcohol at the moment, but it’s for when you can. We’ll just have to make do with coffee now,’ she said, smiling. Louisa hugged her friend, overcome with her generosity and thoughtfulness. After loading up a tray, they went through to the garden, where the sun was shining as if nothing untoward had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Charlotte looked around. ‘I must say, you have a lovely garden. And, from what I’ve seen so far, a beautiful house. And a lot more manageable than mine!’
‘Which is just as well, as not all of us can afford a housekeeper,’ Louisa said, grinning at her friend. While they drank their coffee and nibbled the still-warm muffins, Charlotte asked for more details of what had occurred at the Blakes’ home. She listened intently, nodding or asking questions as Louisa described what Malcolm had told her and what she had heard from the listening device.
‘God! Sounds like something one would watch on television. You know, those gritty detective dramas that are so addictive.’ Charlotte frowned, ‘Not that I’m saying–’
Louisa laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I know what you mean. I find it hard to believe myself that it’s actually happened.’ She touched her face. ‘Until I look in the mirror and know it did.’
Charlotte leaned forward. ‘You…you won’t be scarred, will you?’ Her voice was gentle.
‘No, the doctor said it should heal cleanly. Luckily when the bottle broke on my head, I was only cut by one piece of glass. Although I was told it bled a lot, it wasn’t that deep and the doctor sealed it with some special glue instead of stitches. I’m just glad it missed my eye.’ She shuddered.
Charlotte nodded in agreement. ‘Mm, by the way, have you heard from Paul? Does he know what’s happened?’
‘He’s not rung and I’ve no idea if he knows. I suppose it’s possible that Malcolm’s told him but…’ she shrugged, the mention of Paul reminding her of the article she had read that morning. And the feelings it evoked.
‘I’m sure he’ll get in touch once he knows. Now,’ she said briskly, putting down her mug, ‘I simply must tell you about this group I’ve joined…’
Louisa listened attentively, pleased by the change of subject. It turned out that Charlotte had signed up for a creative writing course, having attended the first session the previous evening.
‘I couldn’t actually use my real name in case someone recognised it, so I’m using a nom de plume which will also be my author name – if and when I write a novel that’s published.’ She paused and Louisa cocked her head in anticipation.
‘So? What is your name?’
‘Louisa Krug.’
They stared at each other before erupting into a fit of giggling.
‘You don’t mind do you? It does have a certain je ne sais quoi, don’t you agree?’
Louisa nodded. ‘I think it’s brilliant – and so you. But won’t it upset the real Krugs?’
Charlotte waved her hands. ‘Oh, that’s not a problem. Daddy’s grandmother was a Krug. That’s why I adore their bubbly!’ She laughed, setting off Louisa again. They were still laughing when Malcolm arrived at the kitchen door.
‘I’m glad to see you girls are enjoying yourselves. And where did that bottle of Krug come from?’
This prompted more giggles and Malcolm, looking bemused, turned back into the kitchen to unpack the groceries.
Eventually calming down, they piled everything onto the tray and returned inside. Malcolm had put away the fresh food in the fridge, leaving various packets and bottles on the side. He grinned as they walked in.
‘Care to share the joke?’ he said.
Charlotte explained about her nom de plume and he whistled.
‘What a great name! You’re bound to be a success with a name like that. And you say you’re related to the Krug family? Well, well. I do have some real classy guests at my little retreat, don’t I?’
Louisa began putting away the remaining items from the shopping when Charlotte, glancing at her watch, groaned.
‘I have to run. There’s an important editorial meeting I simply cannot miss
. Louisa, I’ll ring later, see how you are.’ She gave her a hug before saying to Malcolm, ‘Care to show me out? There’s something I want to ask…’ Leaving the kitchen they headed for the front door and a few moments later, Louisa heard it open and the sound of muted voices. Then the door closed and her father walked into the kitchen.
‘I hope you two weren’t talking about me behind my back,’ Louisa said, mock serious.
‘She was only offering to help if needed. You’ve made a great friend there. Now, what do you fancy for lunch? There’s…’ he reeled off the choices and they started the preparations.
Over lunch in the garden, Malcolm told her that DI Wallace would be round later to take her statement. And that John would be with him.
She nodded, chewing on her salad. Good, now they’ll find out what had happened to the Blakes.
Malcolm put down his knife and fork on the empty plate.
‘Enjoyed that. Now, I need to make a few calls, if you’ll excuse me,’ he said, standing up. He looked down at her. ‘You all right? Not feeling dizzy or nauseous? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’
She grinned at him. ‘I’m absolutely fine, don’t worry about me. And of course I’d say if I wasn’t well, I’m no masochist!’
Looking reassured he carried his own plate into the kitchen, leaving her to finish the last few mouthfuls. She was all right, physically anyway. Her head still ached and the wound was sore and itchy, but she could cope with that. It was the pain in her heart she found hard to deal with. Talking to Margaret had stirred up the barely-buried hurt of losing her mother. And seeing and talking to Charlotte had reminded her of the other person missing from her life. Paul.
chapter 27
‘Good afternoon, Louisa. How are you feeling?’ asked Detective Inspector Wallace, standing on the doorstep, accompanied by his sergeant and John Ferguson.