Crash, page 18
The street was quiet at last. I watched the last young girls stagger home carrying their shoes. Latecomers to our hotel, from the airport or the clubs, were tipped from taxis into the street and into the arms of night porters. The occasional police car hid moodily in a side street before pulling out like a snake. Lights were on in Buckingham Palace and I wondered if the Queen was also having a restless night. Just before three there was a pause, a complete silence, and then a solitary bird awoke to his duty to rouse us with the dawn chorus.
I tiptoed back to bed, curled against Dan’s body, and shivered, pulling the quilts over us against the early morning chill. I slipped my hand over his hip and he whispered in his sleep, rolling over towards me. We kissed and moved together, slowly at first with the rhythm of night and then more urgently, as the first sunshine of the day spread its warmth across our naked feet.
TWENTY-FOUR
SUNDAY 28TH SEPTEMBER
I woke to the reassuring sound of breakfast being set out in the room next to our bedroom, hushed voices, the chink of cutlery on plates, a discreet tap on our bedroom door, the satisfying rattle of the departing trolley. I kissed Dan on the side of his mouth, then propped myself on my elbow, watching the expression on his face muddle between sleep and awareness. He opened his eyes, focusing on me.
‘Breakfast,’ I whispered.
We ate in silence, occasionally reading aloud to each other a few lines from the Sunday newspapers. I put down my coffee and studied him. I would happily lose the house, the business, the paraphernalia of wealth, if I could have him but what would he lose?
‘Dan, there’s something I have to tell you,’ I said.
He frowned and folded his newspaper. ‘This sounds ominous. I’m struggling to imagine how there could be anything else for me to find out.’
‘I’ve been stupid, believing we could hide our affair from the world’s biggest surveillance organisation. You know that Oliver has been tracking us… of course he has. But he’s threatening to tell Carl about our affair, if I don’t collude with him in some dodgy business practices.’
Dan’s eyes widened. ‘Am I at risk? What about my wife, the children?’
‘Carl has never physically hurt anyone, at least as far as I know. He enjoys revenge but prefers to manipulate others through fear. The worst that will happen is he’ll use Oliver Thompson to find a way to muddy your reputation at the university or help Sarah find out about us in the most humiliating way possible. That’s bad enough, I know.’
‘When did Thompson threaten you?’
‘At the hospital, on Thursday. I think he’s monitoring our emails but I’m not certain about texts or phone calls. I should have told you sooner but I felt we had to talk about it face to face.’
‘What does he want you to do?’
‘He wants me to hide money, in my bank account. I’ve refused. I believe we’re protected for now, as long as I can prevent him talking to Carl.’
Dan swept back his hair. ‘This is dreadful!’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps you should agree, keep him off our backs for a few days until after your surgery. You can’t manage his threats when you’re ill and I can’t cope with the not knowing, the waiting for something awful to happen.’
‘Then I’d be a criminal too. This is horrible for you, Dan, but his threats might come to nothing. The best thing is for me to speak to Carl, to tell him the truth. If there’s nothing to hide, Oliver loses his control. His only power lies in our fear.’
We walked in the sunshine through Green Park and along Piccadilly, trying to rescue something from our irresponsible weekend. In Piccadilly Arcade I pointed out the tailor who made Carl’s suits and we bought some handmade chocolates from a chocolatier for Fran and Tom. We ended up at Fortnum’s. Lunch was over and afternoon tea had not yet started, so we easily found a table. I ordered cake, a large slice of buttery Victoria sponge. Cancer, like pregnancy, made dieting irrelevant but Dan, who still sat on the side of the well, patted his stomach and declined. When the cake came, Dan shared it with me. Watching him fork large pieces into his mouth, I regretted not ordering two slices.
We couldn’t talk about the uncertainty, the fear, so I chattered about Beatrice and how I would make sure she left for Oxford in the morning.
‘Her cats are on their own, surely she’ll have to go,’ I argued, even though Dan was barely listening.
He changed the subject, pressing the last of the jam and cake crumbs onto his fork.
‘Have you made any progress with finding a school for Tom?’
‘No, but the local authority is sending an application form. I’m not very hopeful. Have you any ideas?’
‘They’re obliged to provide him with an education, even though he’s been in private school. There will be a place available somewhere, or perhaps a pupil referral unit. It just depends how fussy you are and how much the security thing is a serious issue and not just Carl’s obsession.’
‘I can’t see Tom staying in another school,’ I said. ‘I’d get him there every day, but I think he’d just abscond. The sad thing is he had settled at The Mount and was doing quite well. The expulsion has been a huge shock, even though he pretends otherwise. He’s always got away with everything, as I was reminded at the governors’ meeting. I’ve been blinded by my own problems. I should have seen what was happening. We took The Mount for granted. I had no idea how precious that school place was.’
‘We can’t watch our children all the time. If they want to hide something from us they’ll succeed. I haven’t told you before, but Emma had a difficult time with a boy last year. She sent him some explicit photos and he shared them round the school. I only found out months later, long after she’d told her mother. Once my wife reported him, the school dealt with it. Our kids know we trust them and exploit how busy we are. That’s how they hide things.’
I touched Dan’s fingertips over the white tablecloth. ‘You must have felt so powerless.’
‘It’s been made worse because I can’t say anything. I can’t hug her or tell her how sad I am that she thought she couldn’t tell me. I’m not supposed to know… her mother promised. Sometimes I feel like a spare part in my own family.’
‘Dan, I’m surprised, I had no idea you felt like this. I thought you and Sarah were brilliant at communicating.’
He paused before replying, lifting sugar cubes with a pair of silver tongs, and dropping them back into the pot. ‘In a long marriage, change happens in such small steps, you almost don’t notice. I’m so guilty about this affair, I don’t feel able to talk to her about anything at all. I’m afraid of rowing… what might come out. It’s too important that she believes everything is okay.’
I wrapped both my hands around his and he dropped the tongs. ‘Perhaps we’ve both kept secrets for too long?’ I said.
‘I understand how your life has been, Alice, keeping so much hidden. Secrets affect everything, they change every single moment. I’d like to have a go at living honestly.’
I felt my insides drop. ‘Does that mean we have to end? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Not at all. I’m not sure what I mean. The day I found out about your diagnosis, all certainty ended. I’ve felt so inadequate, waiting on the sidelines, unable to help you with Tom and Carl, but Thompson’s threats put me right in the thick of it. If you are planning to be honest with Carl, perhaps I should be honest with Sarah. It would be the responsible thing to do. She would be badly hurt but perhaps less than if Thompson got to her first.’
We stared at each other, both of us trying to fathom what his words meant. Once we told our partners the truth, what would come next? Did we have the strength to face the consequences?
My heart raced, joy and panic fighting for control. ‘Dan, I… this is everything I wanted… everything I’ve hoped for, but don’t rush, wait until I’ve told Carl.’
He looked at his watch. ‘We’d better get back, our train is in an hour. After your surgery I’ll try to be with you as much as I can. For now, that’s the best I can promise.’
TWENTY-FIVE
SUNDAY 28TH SEPTEMBER
We were quiet on the train. I had a feeling low in my stomach that was like the last Sunday night of the school holidays and I imagined Dan was feeling something similar. We spoke in a desultory way about my operation and Dan promised again that he would see me as soon as possible afterwards. We even joked that our next meeting would be on a gynaecological ward. Through the train window, I watched the north London suburbs drift into Midlands towns and fields and wondered about our future. In six months, would we be back to walks and pubs, with occasional hotel rooms, or was there a chance we would be together?
It took a few minutes to recognise my own ringtone and I scrabbled to find my phone in my bag. The voice sounded breathless, frantic. It was Fran.
‘Mum, are you nearly home? Something awful has happened.’
A cold hand gripped the nape of my neck. ‘Tell me, Fran… quickly.’
‘Carl went mad… an ambulance is here and the police. He slashed Beatrice. She’s not badly hurt but he won’t allow her anywhere near him. He’s getting so worked up that the medics need me in the ambulance too. I’m afraid I can’t find Honey. I have to leave right now. I’m so sorry.’
‘Where are they taking him?’
‘I’m not sure. The Royal Infirmary, I think. The police are taking Beatrice to casualty. She needs her arm checked out.’
There was one person Fran hadn’t mentioned. ‘Where’s Tom?’ I asked.
I heard her sharp intake of breath. ‘I’m really sorry, Mum. I slept over at Jack’s last night. Tom said he would be fine with Beatrice. I got back about an hour ago to find this… this chaos. I’ve only just checked his room. Beatrice says he went upstairs when she asked him but it looks as though he didn’t sleep in his bed. I’m so sorry, Mum.’
Fran started to sob in deep shuddering breaths. ‘I was terrified. Carl was standing in the kitchen with a knife, ranting. When I ran up to Tom’s room, I thought I’d find a body.’
‘Have you phoned Tom’s friends?’
‘I haven’t had time. I have to go with the ambulance, right now.’
‘Oh, my poor girl. Keep in touch. I’ll go straight home, unless I hear from you that I’m needed somewhere else. I’m so sorry too. I love you.’ There was nothing else I could do or say, trapped on a slow Sunday train.
Dan looked at me quizzically, but I needed a few minutes to rein in my panic. I leaned back in my seat, pushed my fists against the table between us, swallowing down my nausea.
Dan listened, his heavy eyebrows weighed down by his frown, as I relayed the few details I had.
‘I should never have left them alone with Carl. Fran thinks Tom might have been out all night. When she arrived home, Carl had just attacked Beatrice and Tom was missing. The poor girl thought Carl might have killed him.’
Dan looked puzzled. ‘Where was she… I mean, where had she come back from?’
I banged my open palm on the table. ‘She spent last night with Jack. I trusted her, Dan. I trusted Jack too.’
We stopped in Oakham. The platform was empty but nevertheless, the train waited for ten minutes, making a strange ticking sound that ratcheted up my anxiety.
‘This isn’t Fran’s fault,’ Dan said, maintaining a frustrating calm. ‘Tom has let you down too. Try not to be too hard on her, she’s had a dreadful shock. And what about Beatrice, what about her responsibility?’
I pressed my hands flat onto the table to steady them, my lips turning down and trembling as I spoke. ‘If she’d made even half an attempt to raise her own son, she would have known to check on Tom before she went to bed. And where is Honey? What a mess this is… I should never have left them.’
‘Carl is ill, he’s delusional. No one is to blame here, least of all you.’
‘Of course he’s to blame,’ I snapped, infuriated by Dan’s innocent and quite reasonable comment. ‘Carl’s not an ordinary mental health patient. He’s an addict. He had choices. My son is missing and he’s an addict too.’
I watched Dan struggle, finding himself at the core of my anger. His eyes narrowed, darkened, and then grew soft. I hated him for being so fair and searched for any blame I could direct at him, wanting to provoke him to be angry with me, so that I could feel less anger for myself.
I stared out of the window at the empty car park of Melton Mowbray station, my chin resting on my fist, struggling to control heartbeats that drummed and leaped at random in my chest.
Dan reached for my hand and pulled it towards him. ‘I’m sorry, this is the last thing you need. Talk to me about Tom being an addict. You haven’t said that before. I thought he just used some cannabis, which is fairly typical for his age, isn’t it?’
‘It’s a feeling I have. I hope I’m wrong. He reminds me so much of Carl when we first met, and he was only a few years older than Tom. There’s a determination or neediness about his use. It’s different from the take it or leave it attitude of most kids.’
Dan continued his search for a rational explanation. ‘So why wouldn’t he just stay at home and get stoned? You’ve said before that Carl’s not that thorough about locking up his stuff and Tom knew Fran wasn’t coming back. It doesn’t make sense that he’s run away.’
‘He’s so angry, it would be his way of punishing us all. His school has thrown him out, his father didn’t fight for him and I’m preoccupied with my own health. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Perhaps he took his chance for a night out, sleeping on a friend’s floor. Actually, I’m relieved he’s not there. He knows nothing about what’s happened and didn’t witness his father cut his grandmother. I want to get home. I need to find Honey before he turns up… clear up blood, if there is any.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Dan said. ‘I can text Sarah and say the train is delayed.’
When I refused, his expressive features struggled between disappointment and relief. I had to manage this alone.
Standing in the cool, dark entrance I could almost touch the emptiness and silence. I put down my bag and looked into the rooms that led off the hall, pushing against each door and waiting for it to swing ajar before I took a few steps forward, as if someone might be behind, hiding from me. The kitchen door was open by just a few inches. I stepped forward and saw that the floor was streaked with blood and a knife lay on its side, like a gash, on the granite counter.
‘Honey… Tom?’ I called out, seeing that the door to the boot room and the garden door beyond were both ajar. Then I heard a sound, a click from the gate that led to the woods. I leaned against the table, uncertain whether my shaking legs would support me. A slow claw of fear climbed up my spine. Who was this?
The outside door slammed shut. I grabbed the knife and called out, ‘Don’t come in here!’
‘What the fuck!’ Tom stared at the knife and then at me. ‘Mum, what’s happened? Where is everyone? Put that thing down.’
It was only an inoffensive bread knife, one we both recognised from the kitchen drawer, now rendered harmless by being placed back on the counter.
‘Dad’s been taken to hospital,’ I said, wiping blood from my hands onto my trousers. ‘Fran’s with him but I’ve not heard yet if he’s been admitted. Beatrice had to go to casualty because he slashed her arm.’
Tom glanced at the knife on the counter. ‘With that?’
We both looked at the weapon, now lying at an angle to the sticky, dark red smear left behind on the worktop. Tom stepped over the blood on the floor tiles and walked backwards out of the kitchen. I followed him through the open front door to where he sat outside on the bottom step, his head on his arms. We touched heads and I stretched an arm around his back.
‘Let’s look for Honey,’ I whispered. ‘Fran says she’s missing.’
We found her under the garden shed, in the dug-out hollow where a vixen had raised her cubs in the summer. She smelt my outstretched hand, and crawled out towards me on her belly, whimpering.
‘Look after her,’ I said to Tom. ‘She needs comfort. Wait there and I’ll bring her some food and water.’
When I returned, Tom was sitting upright on the grass cradling the dog, his face flushed and eyes red. He raised his head and looked at me. ‘Mum, you weren’t here.’
I stared hard at my son, fighting my shame. ‘And nor were you,’ I said. ‘Let’s see to Honey and then we’ll talk.’
TWENTY-SIX
SUNDAY 28TH SEPTEMBER
From the kitchen, I heard a taxi. It could only be Fran and I ran out to greet her. She pulled away from my hug and ran up the steps into the hall, almost colliding with Tom, waiting with Honey. Fran slapped him hard, across the back of the head.
‘Ow,’ said Tom, looking at me. ‘Aren’t you going to tell her off?’
‘No, I’m not, you owe her an apology for disappearing last night. It’s time for an explanation. Where were you?’
Tom shrugged. ‘I went out with my mates, since you weren’t here and she wasn’t either. Beatrice had gone to bed. It wasn’t my fault Dad went crazy. Anyway, Oliver brought me home.’
Of course, someone had delivered him. How else could he have appeared like magic through the garden gate? Oliver would have known for sure I’d been away with Dan. How could I have risked so much for one selfish night?
