Authors: Lesley Cheetham
‘Don’t talk like that,’ she said, ‘I thought you were starting to believe that Papa is innocent.’
I sighed. ‘Yes, I am. But why would he run away from the police? I’m scared to ask him, in case I don’t like the answer. Then I would lose him all over again.’
I looked into her eyes, Michael’s eyes, eyes that looked like mine. I still couldn’t get used to it.
‘Well whatever happens,’ she said, ‘you’ve got me now, and I’m not letting you go anywhere.’
CHAPTER 37
It was about ten o’clock when we got home. The hall light was on – I hoped Mum was awake and not passed out on the sofa again. I put my key in the door and as I did so I heard the sound of voices. I stood on the doorstep for a moment, preparing myself. I wasn’t in the mood for one of her friends. Mum’s voice was raised and a deep masculine voice murmured in response.
‘Papa,’ shouted Malika, and pushed past me. I was horrified. What was he doing here? I took a deep breath, thankful that I’d stuck to the coke, and went into the room.
Mum was perched on the edge of the sofa, the inevitable glass of wine in her hand. Michael was standing by the window, leaning against the wall. The atmosphere was strained. Malika ran over to him and threw herself into his arms for a big bear hug. I looked away.
‘Hello Jasmine,’ he said.
I turned to Mum.
‘Why is he here? You always said you would kill him if he ever came near you again and he looks pretty much alive to me.’
‘Jasmine!’ she tutted. I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I gazed at the bottle of vodka, just for a second, but I went for the coke instead and took my time adding three large ice cubes to the glass. It was cool to the touch. A little calmer, I headed back to the parental war zone.
‘So what’s going on?’ I asked.
‘You explain,’ said Mum to Michael.
‘I thought it was about time your mother and I had a talk.’
‘It’s a bit late for that isn’t it? Like about fourteen years late?’ The words twisted out of my mouth.
Mum sighed dramatically. ‘Let him speak, for goodness’ sake. I’ve had enough of all this arguing.’
I glared at Mum. Michael cleared his throat.
‘As I was saying, I phoned Caroline and she suggested coming over. It was great getting to know you in Paris, not just for me but
Malika and Sara too. Now that we’re going to be living in the same country I wanted to check with Caroline how she felt about us all staying in touch. I know I’ve behaved terribly in the past and I didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes again.’
I looked at Mum, she was composed, and she didn’t look angry.
‘So, is this alright with you Mum?’ I asked. Malika had been standing over by the window during this exchange. She crossed the room and sat down next to Mum. She leant over and squeezed my arm.
‘If you’d phoned me a week ago Michael, suggesting you came over I would have told you where to go in no uncertain terms. But now that I’ve met
Malika,’ she broke off to pat her on the arm, ‘I can see how well you girls get on and I don’t want to stand in your way. It doesn’t mean your Dad and I are now best friends again, God forbid,’ she added, grimacing at Michael. ‘But if you want to go and stay in Buckinghamshire that’s fine by me and Malika is always welcome here.’
‘She might not be coming to see me,’ I said.
‘Malika’s got herself a boyfriend here.’
‘No I haven’t,’ said
Malika, frowning.
‘Is this true?’ asked Michael.
‘Don’t be shy,’ I said, ‘they don’t stop talking every time they see each other. He’s in Mark’s band. You met him once Mum, remember, he came here when I was in France. Khaled.’
Mum and Michael were staring at one another. A strange silence settled into the room. Michael had gone very pale. ‘Did you say Khaled?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Khaled Hussein. You can’t possibly know him.’
Mum stood up and went out of the room. She came back with a full glass of wine. She wobbled a little as she sat back down on the sofa.
‘You’ll have to tell them Michael, this can’t be allowed to happen.’
‘Papa, what is it?’
Malika asked.
Michael slumped down in the armchair and put his head in his hands.
‘For God’s sake, Michael, just spit it out,’ Mum said. She swivelled on the sofa to make eye contact with Malika. ‘You can’t go out with Khaled, Malika, because he’s your cousin.’
Malika
gasped, speechless.
‘He’s Nora’s child,’ Michael said, his voice sounding grave. ‘The child she was telling you about. That’s why she got in touch with me and asked me to come up to see her. Khaled had got himself into trouble and she needed help. She placed him in foster care because she couldn’t cope with him on her own, but he’s still in touch with her.’
As he spoke, more fragments turned into pieces, clunking loudly as they fell one by one into place.
‘I know why you had to come over,’ I said. ‘Nora knew he was going out with Miriam. She asked for your advice, and then her body was found. You thought Khaled had killed her.’
The four of us looked at one another. It felt like a scene from a play, only I wasn’t quite sure of my lines. Mum picked up the cue.
‘What are you talking about?’
I picked up my bag and extricated the newspaper cutting I’d kept in there since I’d first read it. I handed it over to Michael. His face went white when he recognized himself in the photofit. His eyes scanned the article and he collapsed onto a chair.
‘Did you think I was guilty?’ I bit down hard on my lip. ‘How could you possibly think I was a murderer?’ he asked, his face creased into a picture of disbelief, his eyes boring into me. I looked directly back at him.
‘How would I know otherwise?’ I said quietly.
Malika
spoke in my defence. ‘Papa, I have known you all my life and I couldn’t understand why you would have left the scene of a crime. Then I discovered that you had been in touch with Aunt Nora who had also disappeared…’
‘OK, OK,’ Michael said, ‘I see.’
‘So tell us why you didn’t stay and wait for the police. Was it because you thought Khaled had done it?’
‘I had never met the boy at that point and I had no idea whether he was guilty or not, but your aunt was in a terrible state. She knew Khaled had been going out with Miriam and she was worried that Miriam was so young. She wanted me to have a chat with him. Then when Miriam was killed,’ he paused, running his hands through his hair, ‘Yes I was afraid that Khaled was involved. I hadn’t even met him, remember. I thought that if the police looked into my family they would link me to Nora and find Khaled and I panicked. I couldn’t put Nora through that.’
‘But it would have been wrong, Dad, if he was guilty.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘So how do you know Khaled isn’t guilty?’ asked
Mum.
Michael put his head in his hands. ‘I don’t,’ he said, his words sounding strangled.
‘What I want to know,’ Mum said suddenly, ‘is how did I miss all this? How did I not see Michael on
Crimewatch
, or in the newspapers?’
‘Because you’re always working, Mum,’ I said. ‘You never have time to do anything else. When did you last watch TV? You make it easy for me to keep things secret.’
Michael yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Look, it’s getting late. I need to get off.’
He looked different now that I knew he was innocent; vulnerable, human, a person who could make mistakes.
‘Can’t he stay here Mum?’ The words surprised me as they tumbled out of my mouth.
‘You’ll have to sleep on the sofa,’ she said, ‘
Malika’s in the spare room.’
‘A sofa sounds heavenly right at this minute,’ he said, ‘especially when my oldest daughter has offered it to me.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t get too excited,’ I said, embarrassed, ‘it’s only a sofa.’
We all went to bed after that. I had just snuggled
under my duvet when there was a light tap at the door. Malika came in and lay down next to me on the bed.
‘Are you alright?’ I asked, ‘finding out about Khaled
Imean?’
‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘Who told you about me and Khaled?’
‘Fiona,’ I said.
‘Exactly.
Fiona exaggerates everything and she is jealous. Khaled and I get on really well, just like you and I do. I reckon it must be a family thing. I knew there was something familiar about him. I’m glad he’s my cousin – family is the most important thing to me.’
‘Good job,’ I said, ‘it seems to be getting bigger every day!’
‘I’m going to go and see him tomorrow, tell him I know everything. No wonder he’s in such a state.’
She went to bed after that but I was awake for ages, not sleeping, thoughts going round and round in my head. At about two in the morning I logged onto my computer and deleted all the folders I had compiled
.
I
didn’t need her anymore; I was finally starting to work out who I was.
CHAPTER 38
Michael was up when I went downstairs the next morning. He was finishing a call on his mobile when I went into the room.
‘The police,’ he said, ‘I’m going in to see them this morning. I want to get myself removed from Britain’s most wanted top ten. How about while I make some coffee you log on to this
Crimewatch
site?’ He shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe that. I want to see the evidence for myself.’
I sat down at Mum’s desk and booted up her computer. The aroma of fresh coffee soon wafted into the room, waking me up. Michael put a cup down in front of me.
‘Thanks,’ I said. It felt good, drinking coffee together, just me and him, the rest of the house asleep.
I opened the
Crimewatch
gallery. Michael gasped aloud when he saw his picture.
‘It is me!’ he said, ‘I didn’t quite believe it would be, but…yeah, that’s when I was waiting for the policeman to come, just before I changed my mind. I can’t believe you
recognised me after all this time.’ He shook his head in disbelief.
‘I used to look at your pictures every day. I wanted to
memorise your face in case I ever saw you one day. I didn’t realise it would be quite like this.’
We were both quiet with our thoughts for a moment.
Michael broke the silence. ‘Let’s look at the rest of the case report; I want to read the whole thing.’
I clicked back to the home page. It would probably be old news now and take ages to find. I was shocked when a headline flashed up:
ARREST MADE IN MIRIAM JACKSON CASE
‘Look!’ I said, pointing to the headline. I felt sick. ‘Do you think they’ve arrested Khaled?’
The headline was large and bold:
ARRESTED MAN CONFESSES ALL – TREVOR THOMSON HELD IN MIRIAM CASE
Underneath there was a photo of the man I had last seen storming into Josh’s house. I gasped.
‘What is it?’ asked Michael. He sat down next to me and peered over my shoulder.
‘Read it to me,’ he said.
A man was arrested last night in connection with the disappearance and murder of Miriam Jackson, 13. Trevor Thomson 40, a builder was stopped by police at 11.15pm last night after he was spotted driving erratically on a dual carriageway. Thomson, 40, was breathalysed by police and found to be considerably over the limit. He was taken to the local police station, where he confessed to police that he had abducted and strangled Miriam Jackson on May 25th earlier this year. Thomson allegedly told officers that he had been upset as a result of an argument with his girlfriend and gone to a local bar where he had consumed several drinks before heading back to his car. Passing the station he had come across Miriam and he had offered her a lift home. When she refused, he attacked her and left her in the nearby woodland. Thomson remains in police custody while police continue with their enquiries.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. Khaled didn’t need Sadie to give him an alibi now. Her secret was safe. I was relieved. It was hers to tell after all, if she chose to, and it was none of my business. Sadie was none of my business. I had my own family now. My eyes started prickling.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Michael.
I shook my head. ‘It’s so sad, what happened to her and I feel bad for not trusting you. How could I possibly have thought you were guilty?’
‘Well you did see me on
Crimewatch
. I’m glad you did what you did.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because it brought us together. You wouldn’t have come to stay otherwise, would you?’
I shook my head slowly.
‘There you go. Now how about we finish our breakfast and we can go down to the police station afterwards?’
I looked him square in the face. I hadn’t noticed before how kind his eyes were.
Kind, like my sister’s.
I thought about it. Maybe having a Dad who was wanted on
Crimewatch
was quite cool after all. Especially when he was innocent.
‘You’re on,’ I said, ‘but only if you let me have the last piece of toast.’