The Cop, page 6
Anna took a deep breath, sucking the air deep into her lungs. ‘You’re my sister and need my help. What else would I do?’
‘It’s my only way out.’
‘Oh, and one last thing. Make sure you’ve eaten something and have plenty to drink before I get to the house, non-alcoholic. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly.’
‘So it’s happening.’
‘Yes, it seems so.’
Kathy punched the air for a second time, dancing in a tight circle.
‘Sometimes, exceptional circumstances demand extraordinary actions. This is one of those times. Do or die, life or the grave. I just hope I can escape Mike’s clutches, for my sake and the baby’s too. If I can get everything right, there are better times ahead.’
‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed.’
‘And everything else!’
‘I’ll see you on Monday, sis. Stay strong, and you’ll win in the end.’
9
Kathy’s mind drifted into a morbid daydream almost as soon as she put down the phone and wiped away her fingerprints. Mike was watching her every move with prying eyes; listening to her every word with ears that heard everything. He knew all about her plan of escape and all about the pregnancy too. He knew everything he needed to know to stop her in her tracks, condemning her to a life of unbridled misery even worse than before.
Kathy screwed up her face, picturing her husband striding towards her, a glint in his eye, the white tester clutched tightly in one hand, knowing, hateful, radiating destructive intention from every pore as he got nearer. He was forming his hands into tight fists, weapons. Raising one in the air, foaming at the mouth like a rabid beast. And then he hurled the tester to the floor, drew his arm back and punched her hard, bang – right on the point of her chin, splitting her lip with his knuckles. He lurched forwards, grabbing her tightly by the throat as she stumbled backwards, hurling her to the floor and stamping down on her abdomen time and again, murderous, cruel, worse than ever before.
Kathy was weeping now as she pictured the scene, the indisputable horror of it all, too graphic as moving pictures played behind her eyes like a cinematic film she was desperate not to watch. Mike was laughing at her, belly laughing. And laughing at her dead child too, as if it were the greatest joke of his life; the funniest thing he’s ever encountered. How could he? What the hell was wrong with the man, if man was an appropriate description for him. The bastard, the absolute bastard! There was no choice but to escape him. She had to run and keep running, never looking back.
Kathy looked up at the clock, suddenly back in the present, cold but sweating, crying and quivering as the likely ramifications of failure fully sank in. Was it a vision of the future? That’s what she asked herself. It could be, if he caught her, if he discovered her intentions. If she made even the slightest mistake. What to do? What on earth to do? Backing down wasn’t an option. There was no room for the status quo – no place for retreat. Her life had changed forever, for good or bad. It was just a matter of how.
Kathy seriously considered picking up the phone and dialling her sister’s number for the second time, but she quickly decided that she’d asked enough of her. If she were to obtain the last piece of the jigsaw, she was going to have to do it herself. The burden was hers and hers alone. It was her plan, hers to implement, whatever the consequences. She had to get her head down, do exactly what she’d thought through and face the inevitable shitstorm coming her way. Maybe, just maybe, she’d come out on top.
Kathy stood in the open doorway, glancing to the left and right, repeatedly checking the street with quick, darting eyes before finally exiting the house and closing the front door behind her for the first time unsupervised in a little over five years. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? Surely she was doing the right thing. What other choice was there? She had to get it done, one determined step at a time. Life or death, do or die. Just as she’d thought before. Just as was imprinted on her mind, never to be erased. A statement or slogan she’d never forget. It really was as simple as that.
As Kathy hurried down the street, her coat collar raised, woollen hat pulled low to mask as much of her face as possible, she knew it was the biggest gamble of her life. A last throw of the dice. She flinched at the sight and sound of every passing car and every pedestrian going about their day. Every driver and passer- by became her husband in her mind’s eye. Every face distorted and morphed into his. Every sound became an all too familiar threat screaming in her ears to pound her down a little further and undermine her confidence. I’m going to kill you, bitch. And I’m going to kill the brat, too, with a stamp or a punch you can’t hope to avoid. You’re not fooling anyone. I’m coming after you, faster and faster. Run, Kathy, run. You’re not going anywhere. Too slow, bitch. Far too slow. You’re never going to get away, not now, not ever. You can never escape me. We’re destined to be together until your dying day.
Kathy increased her pace, flinching, attempting to focus on her ultimate goal as her anxiety threatened to overwhelm her at the worst possible time. Come on, Kathy, keep going, girl. Don’t listen. It’s not real. It’s only your overactive imagination playing tricks again – the monster man’s looming shadow dragging you down. Just keep walking, one step, then another, then another and repeat. That’s it! You can do it. Stick to the side streets. Keep your head down. Look at the pavement. He’s at work and miles away. It’s not him. It’s not him. He’s somewhere else entirely. Don’t let the bastard win.
It took Kathy a little over ten minutes to walk the approximate one-mile journey to her local health centre on the outskirts of the city she thought of as home. When the modernist 1970s red-brick building finally came into view, she quickly approached the entrance, experiencing feelings of immense relief that left her giddy. Oh, thanks be to God, she’d made it! Just as she’d hoped. Just as she’d pictured in her mind as she’d lay awake at night, planning and scheming, scared to believe her dreams could ever become a reality. And now here was the surgery in front of her. Beckoning, undeniable, ready to welcome her in. It was almost impossible to contemplate.
Kathy pushed open the heavy door and stumbled into the reception with the comparative relief of a marathon runner crossing the finishing line. But her feelings of triumph were short- lived as she glanced around, turning her entire body in small, furtive movements, as opposed to her head. The room was full of waiting patients with their aches, pains and snuffles. One, two, three… oh no, there were eleven people in total, just sitting there watching, or feigning disinterest. She hadn’t considered that possibility. All those prying eyes, staring at her, snooping. There was nowhere to hide. They could see her as clear as day. Maybe he had spies everywhere. People who’d report back. People who’d sell her out without any thought for her safety or the life of her child. He’d said as much. He boasted about his informers, his collection of snitches. Maybe it was true.
Kathy slowly approached the glass reception screen, allowing the wooden counter to support her weight as her head began to swim. Come on, Kathy, hold it together, girl. You’ve got this far. Don’t give up now. Not now, not when you’re so near to achieving your goal.
She had to stay positive. Hope for the best. Maybe this time the cruel intentions of fate would pass her by.
‘Can I help you, madam?’
Say it, Kathy. Just say it. They’ve all seen you now. ‘I’d like to see Dr Jones, please.’
‘Are you one of Doctor Jones’s patients?’
Kathy nodded frantically.
‘Yes, yes I am, it’s u-urgent. Please, I’m not feeling at all well.’ The receptionist stiffened.
‘Name?’
Kathy lowered her head, whispering her name, fearing someone may overhear and give her away.
‘I didn’t quite hear you.’
Kathy repeated herself, craning her head forward, slightly louder this time.
‘Okay, thank you. Why do you need to see the doctor?’
‘Why are you asking so many questions? Why the inquisition? Are you one of his spies? Is that it?’
The receptionist’s mouth fell open as Kathy fought and failed to retain her composure.
‘I only asked why you need to see the doctor. It’s a simple enough question. There was nothing else implied. It’s something I ask everyone.’
Kathy clung to the counter’s edge with frantic fingers, eyes blurring as her blood pressure spiralled, the stars returning to circulate her head. She increased her grip, but her efforts were never going to be enough to prevent her from falling as her legs buckled under her. She hit the floor hard, knees first, followed by her head. She lay there, oblivious to the sudden surge of activity as the receptionist shouted for assistance. A navy-clad practice nurse arrived first, followed a minute later by a doctor, who looked on as the sister checked Kathy’s breathing and pulse, placing her in the recovery position. Both professionals relaxed as Kathy’s colour slowly returned to normal. The minor crisis would soon be over. Resuscitation wasn’t required.
Kathy awoke lying on an examination table in a small, cluttered cream-painted room she hadn’t seen before. The doctor was standing over her and listening to her heartbeat through a stethoscope, the shiny steel end of which felt cold on Kathy’s skin. ‘Ah, it’s good to have you back with us, Mrs Conner. There’s nothing to worry about, nothing whatsoever. You had a panic attack and fainted, that’s all. Now, take your time and sit up for me? I’ve completed my examination; you’re quite safe. Come on, up you get.’
Kathy rolled over onto one side, searching for a non-existent clock. ‘What’s the time?’
Dr Jones glanced at her watch. ‘It’s ten past two.’
‘Oh, thank God. I’ve still got time.’
‘That’s it, Mrs Conner, try to relax. You sit there for a minute or two and get your bearings. I think that’s best. Now tell me, what’s the reason for your visit? I haven’t seen you for what… two years?’
‘I think you’ll find it’s almost three.’
The GP glanced at her computer screen. ‘Really, as long as that?’
Kathy nodded. ‘I believe so. My husband brought me for a smear test. He did most of the talking.’
‘So, what can I do for you today? The receptionist mentioned that you seemed somewhat distressed when you first arrived. Now would be a good time to tell me all about it.’
‘I can’t sleep.’
‘How long have you been having the problem?’
‘It feels like ages.’
‘Days, weeks, months?’
‘Months, definitely months!’
‘Okay, then it’s high time we did something about it. There are a few practical measures I can recommend that should help. It’s just a matter of trial and error until we find what works best for you.’
Kathy averted her eyes to the wall.
‘My husband beats me. He’s violent. I need some sleeping tablets. If I don’t get some sleep soon, I’ll lose my mind.’
Jones paused before responding, mulling over the revelation, weighing it up, attempting to decide if the allegations were credible. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. How long has it been going on?’
‘He punched me in the ribs after the party on our wedding day. I’d smiled at a waiter, apparently. That’s all it took. Everything changed from that moment. Mike became a different person overnight. I thought it was a one-off at first, an aberration, an inexplicable departure from the norm. But then it happened again the very next day. He punched me in the gut because a shirt he wanted to wear wasn’t washed and ironed to his satisfaction. I was walking on eggshells after that, always cautious about what I said or did. I soon came to realise that his prior persona had been a deception, a manipulation created to con me and everyone else around him. It’s something he’s good at. Only I see the monster behind the mask.’
The doctor winced, oblivious to her expression as she made some notes in scribbled, barely decipherable black script.
‘I had no idea.’
‘Why would you? Not even my mother believes me. He hides it well.’
‘Have you talked to the police about all this?’
Kathy snorted. ‘He is the police.’
Jones stopped writing, bouncing the tip of the pen on her knee before speaking again.
‘Ah, yes, Inspector Michael Conner, I’ve met him both professionally and socially. He’s always seemed like such a nice person. Not at all the type of man I’d suspect of being violent towards a partner.’
‘That’s exactly my point, he’s a Machiavellian, cunning, scheming, dripping with insincere charm. He’s lied to everyone, you included. It’s what he does.’
‘I understand what you’re telling me. I get it. You’re claiming he’s not what he seems.’
Kathy held her hands out wide. ‘Claiming, what’s that supposed to mean? Please don’t say you don’t believe me either. That would be too much to bear.’
‘I’m sorry, that was the wrong choice of words.’
‘I’ve told you nothing but the truth. Every single word.’
A flush crept across the doctor’s cheeks.
‘I can refer you to a counsellor if you think that may help. And there are various women’s charities who provide excellent services. I could write a letter if you agree.’
Kathy tensed, her heart pounding as sweat formed on her brow despite the quarter open window.
‘I really haven’t got time for all this. I’ve got to get back to the house. I need to start cooking. If he gets even the slightest clue I’ve been here the consequences could be dire.’
Jones turned to the computer on her desk, staring at the screen. ‘Let’s make another appointment when you’ve got more time to talk. I think that’s advisable in the circumstances.’
Kathy wanted to shout. She wanted to stamp her feet. But instead, she looked the doctor in the eye and said, ‘I need to sleep. I just want the medication. If you want me to beg I’ll go down on bended knee. I need what I came here for.’
‘Have you ever had thoughts of suicide, Mrs Conner?’
Kathy shook her head determinedly. ‘No, absolutely not! I need to sleep, that’s all. Surely that’s not too much to ask?’
The GP reached out, squeezing Kathy’s hand.
‘I’m going to write you a prescription for two weeks’ pills. But I need to see you again before I issue any further medication. They’re a short-term measure, not a long-term fix. Does that sound okay to you?’
Kathy’s relief was almost touchable. ‘Yes, thank you, it’s appreciated.’
Jones wrote the prescription and handed it over. ‘You can collect the tablets in the adjoining building. Royston’s Chemist has moved here from the high street since your last visit. Most patients seem to appreciate the convenience.’
Kathy smiled thinly.
‘Perhaps fate is on my side for once. Didn’t someone once say that fortune favoured the brave?’
‘I believe they did.’
‘Thank you so very much for your help. It’s truly appreciated.’
‘You’re welcome, but no more tablets until we’ve spoken again, yes? As I said, they’re a short-term measure and not a resolution of the problem. Think of them as a sticking plaster rather than a cure.’ Kathy slid off the examination table, supporting her weight on unsteady legs that felt ready to buckle again at any moment. She steadied herself for a few seconds until sure she could trust them.
‘You won’t talk to anyone about what I’ve said, will you?’
‘Not if you don’t want me to. Everything you tell me is confidential.’
‘And you won’t tell my husband, will you? I’d be in serious danger if you did.’
The doctor raised an eyebrow, eyes wide, the expression leaving her face as quickly as it appeared.
‘No, Kathy, I won’t be telling your husband, that’s against the rules. I couldn’t talk to him even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, in case you were wondering. Everything that has been said between us is confidential. I won’t be speaking to anyone else regarding your predicament without your express permission.’
Kathy stared at her, holding her gaze, refusing to look away. ‘What about your staff? Will they keep their mouths shut? Will they say anything to anyone? It might get back to him if they did. That’s how he operates. He has his spies.’
‘It would be more than their job’s worth. You needn’t concern yourself in that regard.’
‘You’ll tell them? You’ll make sure?’
‘You have my word. Your records will be kept private. I take my duty of care extremely seriously. You have nothing to worry about on that score. We can talk about the best way to proceed when I next see you.’
Kathy approached the door, gripping the handle.
‘Thank you, that’s good to know. Time’s getting on, it’s rushing away from me faster than ever before. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Can you hear it, doctor? He’ll be back soon after five. I need to be on my way. I’ll have to start cooking.’
10
Anna Oakes parked in a quiet tree-lined side street, retrieved her bag from the hatchback’s large boot and strode purposefully in the direction of her sister’s home, just as the sun broke through the mottled-grey marble clouds, painting a masterpiece of light and shade that raised her spirits.
Anna checked her watch on approaching the house, relieved to see that she’d timed it perfectly to the minute. It was at least a positive start to what threatened to be a stressful morning.
Anna walked down the fragmented tarmacadam driveway, approaching the front door, glancing towards neighbouring houses on recalling her sister’s cautionary advice. She walked around the side of the semi-detached home to the back of the building, picking up her pace, keeping a keen eye out for the aforementioned neighbour, who – to her relief – didn’t make an appearance.
Anna opened the back door without bothering to knock, stepping into the kitchen to be met by her sister who was in the process of preparing two cups of coffee on the worktop next to the cooker. Kathy looked up and smiled nervously.
