Waves of Guilt, page 17
‘Ah, at last,’ I said answering my mobile. ‘Hello, Mr Elusive!’
‘Sarah, I’m so sorry. It’s been one thing after another today.’
We had spent the late afternoon and evening trying and failing to make contact with each other.
‘Anyway, how was your day in Canterbury?’ continued Craig.
‘Good thanks. I came back here mid-afternoon. I had coffee in Marks and Spencer, lunch in Fenwick and generally indulged myself!’ I joked. ‘It’s so hard being retired.’
‘Stop it. You are making me jealous,’ replied Craig.
‘Well, perhaps in a few years you will be a gentleman of leisure.’
‘I’m planning on getting Clare’s job before I retire,’ quipped Craig.
‘Good luck!’
‘So, any other news? Where are you taking me for a dirty weekend? Brighton?’
‘I’ve not decided. I’ve not spent much time looking yet. I will, it’s just I felt tired when I got back this afternoon, and I have to admit that I nodded off in the chair.’
‘It’s alright for some. Napping whilst I’ve got my nose to the grindstone!’
We carried on in the same vein, and I realised how lucky I was to have someone in my life again. I also told Craig about Katy collecting David’s laptop. It gave me hope that finally, I would have some answers, and Craig seemed genuinely pleased too.
‘So, you don’t mind me handing it over to DS Forbes rather than your brother?’ I asked Craig.
‘No, of course not. Besides, I’d have to take it up to London. If she’s found someone she trusts, then it’s fine by me.’
‘We mustn’t mention this to anyone, though. It’s an old friend of hers, who is doing it on the quiet. It’s not in any way official.’
‘Yes, I understand. As long as you aren’t worried about anything she might find, I mean about the dark web stuff.’
‘I know there might be something upsetting, but quite frankly, I’ve had so many revelations about David, I’m sort of resigned to it now.’
‘OK.’
‘I think it’s part of the moving on process. If I feel I’ve done everything to try to get to the bottom of this, then it will help.’
‘Well, it sounds as though you’ve given it a lot of thought,’ added Craig, ‘and I’m here for you.’
‘Thank you. I know that, and that’s why I feel able to cope with it all.’
In the past, the evenings had dragged, but now even a short conversation with Craig helped to pass the time and dispel my loneliness. It was only a few weeks since we had rekindled our relationship, but it felt so right. At times it felt like the intervening twenty-five years hadn’t happened. However, that feeling brought back the guilt that I was somehow airbrushing my marriage from my life. Despite the difficulties, I didn’t want that to happen. Our marriage had been good on the whole, with more good times than bad, and for that I was thankful.
The light was fading as we ended our chat. I yawned and stretched, wondering whether to go to bed or watch TV. After perusing the on-screen guide, I opted for my bed. The world news was depressing, with so much conflict and tension. As I looked out into the garden and watched some tiny bats, swooping and circling as they caught the evening midges, I realised just how lucky I was to live in such a quiet, safe and pleasant part of the world.
I poured myself some water, checked the doors and downstairs windows were locked and went upstairs to bed. After years of sleeping poorly and broken nights watching television until I fell asleep, I found I was sleeping much better. Although I never slept through in one stretch, I often managed five or six hours unbroken slumber, and consequently, I awoke feeling more refreshed. It was a sure sign of an improvement in my mental health, and I knew that was down to Craig.
As I was undressing, I heard some commotion at the front of the house and rushed into the front bedroom. The incident with my ornamental pot was heightening my awareness of any hint of trouble. Through my net curtains, I saw a group of young people passing on the opposite pavement, clearly inebriated. ‘Great,’ I muttered, as one of them lobbed an empty can into a garden.
I returned to my bedroom and opened my curtains a few inches to allow in the cool night air. Plugging my phone in to charge, I picked up my tablet to read a few chapters of my book before settling down.
**
As was often the case, my dreams were about my time at QexChem. I had returned after redundancy to work on a six-month contract. Yet, a year later, I found myself still there and struggling to find anyone to tell me how long I would be employed. That night, I once again set about trying to find a manager who would tell me how much notice I needed to give before leaving. I even typed out my letter of resignation.
In my dream, I was handing my letter to the secretary of the head of the department, but I then woke up. Had a noise disturbed me? As I returned to the conscious world, I listened carefully. Could I hear anything? A car went past my house at speed, but other than that, nothing.
I looked at the clock and saw it was only just after 2 a.m. This was the first night for a while that I’d been awake whilst it was still dark. Perhaps I’d been too hasty in thinking that I had made strides in my sleeping habits.
I went to the loo, then wandered around the bedrooms upstairs, peeping out of each window. Exactly what I hoped to see, I had no idea. I returned to my bed, but I felt restless. Someone had told me a while ago that it was better to go downstairs, wander around and then go back up to bed. It made the body think it was going to bed afresh and somehow induced sleep. Whether it was true, I had no idea, but I decided to put it to the test.
The curtains across the rear patio window in the lounge were still open, and a sudden movement caught my eye. Presumably, it was a fox as I could hear a scrabbling noise of its claws on the fence.
I filled the kettle to make myself a comforting cup of tea. Whilst the water was boiling, I completed my circuit of the downstairs, finally drawing the front curtains in the lounge. The light from the streetlamp showed that something was wrong. There was a large crack in the outer layer of the double glazing. Someone had thrown a large stone or a brick at my window.
Chapter 36
I awoke with a headache, feeling tired and groggy. I remembered watching the news headlines at 5 a.m., but then I must have dropped off to sleep. For a few moments, I struggled to remember what day it was, but as my thought processes became clearer, I remembered my cracked window and my heart began to race.
Wearily, I dragged myself out of bed and went to have a shower. As the hot water soothed me, I decided to wait until I had surveyed the damage from outside before phoning Craig.
As I waited for the kettle to boil and my toast to brown, I looked out into the garden. The lawn looked like it needed mowing, so that was a job for me later on.
My mobile pinged with a text from Craig. He wished me, ‘Good morning,’ every day along with some endearments. However, that particular morning he tantalised me with some exciting news.
I phoned him back. ‘So, what’s this news then?’ I asked.
‘Ah, well, a week ago I saw a job advert for another science publication. And guess what? They want me to write a couple of short articles to assess my work.’
‘You didn’t tell me!’ I replied.
‘No, well, I wanted to see whether they got back to me. I wasn’t confident as I’ve not been doing science journalism for long.’
‘So I assume you sent them your CV?’
‘Yes, and the standard covering letter with the usual sycophantic drivel about how I’d like to work for them etc.’
‘Well, sycophantic or not, it obviously did the trick. What do they want you to write about?’
‘One is about solar power, and the other is....,’ Craig paused, ‘I can’t remember, I’ll email you their reply later.’
‘I’m pleased for you. Well done.’
Perhaps my voice betrayed my anxiety as Craig was quick to ask me if I was OK.
‘I’m so obvious,’ I replied before telling him what had happened overnight.
‘Shit, Sarah! Have you phoned the police?’
‘Not yet, but I will. I wanted to see whether any other houses had suffered any damage.’
‘God, first it was your plants, but this is much worse. You’ll need an incident number to claim on your insurance.’
‘Yes, I know. Fortunately, it’s not gone through both layers of glass, or I’d have to get someone to board it up.’
‘It’s a pity I wasn’t with you. Were you scared?’
‘Well, it was unnerving. I think it woke me up. I’ve got a vague memory of a noise.’
‘Sorry,’ said Craig. ‘You’ll let me know how you get on? Phone me later?’
‘I will. Promise.’
We said our goodbyes and I reheated my coffee and discarded my piece of toast which was now cold and chewy. I felt depressed, but having Craig to support me was a huge help. Just knowing that he was at the other end of the phone was comforting.
I stretched out on the sofa, drinking my coffee and watching the birds in the garden. A blackbird was digging furiously in a flowerbed and triumphantly pulled out a worm. I smiled. At least someone was having a good day.
Realising I was beginning to doze off to sleep, I dragged myself up from the sofa and just at that moment, my mobile pinged. I expected it to be a message from Craig about his new assignments, but it wasn’t. Geoff had replied.
My heart began to race. I’d almost given up hope of hearing from him. With a trembling finger, I clicked on the message.
Dear Mrs Needham,
Sorry for the late reply. I’ve had a few problems. I had a bad car accident, and I’ve been in hospital for a few days. I’m now back home and catching up with my messages.
Please accept my sincere condolences. I didn’t know David had died. I enjoyed working with him, but I never met him personally. We only communicated by email and phone. He coordinated the information from various people, and I thought it was a good story, but I didn’t manage to get anyone to run it. I’m a freelance journalist. I have to pursue stories which will make money, so I couldn’t spend ages contacting lots of publications.
If there is anything else I can help with, just let me know.
Regards
Geoff
I read through the message again. David had definitely been working on an exposé, but other than that, it didn’t help me much. However, I wanted to discuss it with Craig before I replied.
**
I was cleaning my teeth when I heard the doorbell. Rushing downstairs, I saw Cyril silhouetted through the glass of the outer door.
‘Mrs Needham! Someone has broken your window!’ he exclaimed, offering me a large stone.
‘Yes, I’ve seen it. Oh, that’s the stone, is it?’
‘Well, it was in the middle of your lawn. I don’t know what things are coming to around here. Have you told Bernie?’
‘Not yet, it’s too early.’
‘Well, make sure you tell him. He’ll need to log the incident for his next meeting.’
‘I’ll go down and see him soon.’
I took the stone off Cyril and gradually inched the door closed. Cyril wandered back to his house, shaking his head and muttering to himself. I placed the stone down on the floor in the porch and went to collect my phone and handbag. If Bernie wasn’t in, then I would take a stroll along the seafront before returning home.
As I walked past my car, I noticed that a seagull had liberally spattered it all over the front windscreen. I hesitated. Should I rinse it off now or leave that pleasure for when I returned? The bird mess appeared to be dry and set so I would need to get my gloves and a sponge. It was a job for later. I don’t know what made me glance at the driver’s door, but to my horror, I saw that someone had put a deep scratch all along the side of the car.
‘Shit!’ I cursed. Two acts of vandalism. But had they both been done last night? I’d not used my car the previous day and had been tired when I returned from Canterbury. Would I have noticed a scratch on the paintwork? It would depend on the sunlight. I remembered squinting against the sun as I had walked back from the station without my sunglasses.
Whether or not it had happened on my driveway, I was annoyed with myself for not using my garage. In the winter months, I always garaged my car, but with cars’ dimensions increasing, and garages staying the same size, my car was a tight fit, and I was naturally discouraged from putting it away.
Despondently, I walked down the road, barely noticing another neighbour who greeted me. I was caught up in my thoughts, realising what a dreadful day it was turning out to be.
Chapter 37
By lunchtime, I had spoken to Bernie, the Neighbourhood Watch representative, obtained an incident number from the police and arranged for a firm to come around later in the week to quote for a replacement window pane. I was still annoyed and upset, but at least I felt I had made progress and I had also dug out my house insurance policy, to work out whether it was worth making a claim. Lastly, I was waiting to hear back from a company which did paintwork repairs on cars, which I hoped wouldn’t be so expensive as to necessitate a claim on my car insurance.
I’d also let Craig know about my morning’s achievements, to reassure him that things were in hand. Tranquillity was established once more at 17 Burlam Avenue, and I was enjoying some summer warmth in the shade in my garden, when my phone alerted me to new emails.
After speaking to Craig, I’d replied to Geoff’s message to ask him to elaborate further on his comment that David had been coordinating input from other contributors. I still felt a frisson of anxiety when I saw an email from Geoff, but I was managing to control my nerves a little better now.
Hi Sarah,
I’ve had a look through my notes from the Excelor stuff. David did most of the work himself, but from what I can see, there was one other person who helped him the most. I remember David telling me he was meeting her a couple of times and that she had been really helpful.
It was Laura Summers. Not sure whether you recognise the name?
Regards
Geoff
I stared at the message. Then read it again. Could it be true? Yes, David and Laura had known each other, worked with each other, but Laura had assured me she had refused David’s requests for help. I felt winded. This was such a shock, and I knew I had to speak to Craig immediately.
**
After getting some advice from Craig, I had spent the afternoon tidying up my garden and dead-heading faded blooms. The previous night’s vandalism and the shock of Geoff’s reply had left me feeling drained, and I was stretched out on the sofa when Craig phoned me just after 8 p.m.
‘Oh, hi, Craig,’ I answered. ‘How’s your day been?’
‘Fine, fine, but how are you? You sound very down.’
‘Sorry. I’m just tired. I’m OK, though. It’s nice to hear your voice.’
‘So, how did it go with DS Forbes?’
‘OK. It took a while to contact her, but she phoned me back late afternoon. She took a note of Laura’s name, and I forwarded her the emails from Geoff. Other than that, she didn’t have any news.’
‘Well, you’ve done all you could. You’ve not spoken to Laura, have you?’
‘No of course not,’ I took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to get annoyed. It’s just all a bit much.’
‘It’s OK. I hope you aren’t regretting the email to Geoff. I mean, well, I suggested it.’
‘No, I’m not annoyed with you. It was the obvious thing to do.’
‘Katy asked me whether he had given his full name, but he didn’t. It’s a pity, as we could have looked him up.’
‘Did she suggest emailing him again?’
‘No, she had to rush off. What do you think?’
I could hear Craig sigh. ‘Well, it’s a bit awkward, isn’t it? I mean, if you ask him his full name, it’s fairly obvious why you are asking. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Me neither. I’m trying to think of a reason for asking. Just at the moment, my brain is too tired.’
‘Leave it for a day, eh? There’s no rush.’
‘OK. Well, I think Katy will be contacting Laura, so perhaps she knows his full name.’
‘Yes, good point.’
‘It’s a bit odd, though, don’t you think, that he didn’t give his full name?’
‘Possibly, although it was only an informal email. He answered my question, so perhaps he didn’t feel the need to tell me. He might be worried I’m going to blame him for David’s death.’
Craig remained silent.
‘Which I do, in a way,’ I said. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Let’s leave it for now. To be honest, I’m getting fed up with the whole thing.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ said Craig. ‘It’s been a tiring day with everything you’ve done. We can chat about it again.’
‘Yes, that’s right. I need to switch off from it.’
I detected a hint of hesitancy down the line, but before I could ask, Craig broke the silence.
‘Sarah, whilst you were on the phone to Katy, did you mention your broken window?’
‘No. I didn’t think it was a CID matter. I told you, I’ve got an incident number from the local police.’
‘It’s just I’ve been wondering whether someone is targeting you because of Rory. I mean, they stole Rory’s phone, didn’t they?’
‘Er, yes, that’s what his mother said.’
‘So, if they got his phone, they might have looked at his contacts. Perhaps they saw your name and worked out who you are. Maybe Rory let it slip to someone that you encouraged him to go to the police.’
I was busy processing Craig’s deductions and toying with confessing something to him.
‘Sarah? Are you still there? You’ve gone very quiet.’
‘I’m still here. I’m just thinking.’
‘If your name was stored as a contact they could look you up in the phone book and get your address. Your not ex-directory are you?’
‘No, I’m in the book.’
‘So, what do you reckon?’
