Behind Closed Doors (35 page)

‘I never stopped loving you,’ he told her, ‘even when I was going through my middle-aged meltdown and thought the answers to my crisis, or whatever it was, were out there somewhere away from you all. I can hardly believe I did it now. It doesn’t make any sense to me . . . I mean, the contract was one thing, it was an opportunity I’d have been crazy to turn down, but there was no need . . . I didn’t have to do it the way I did. I wish I could tell you what got into me, what madness tricked me into thinking the way I did back then, but I can’t. I only know that it was short-lived, because I saw early on that I’d made a monumental cock-up of everything. The trouble was, by then the damage had been done. You were as mad as hell, justifiably, and I couldn’t think of a single good reason why you should forgive me. Nor could you, and it was pretty obvious that you didn’t even want to try.’

He took a breath and let it go slowly. Probably he was hoping she’d say something, but the right words weren’t within her reach.

‘And so we find ourselves where we are now,’ he continued, ‘still all wrapped up in each other’s lives, mainly because of the kids, but for me it’s also because you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, that I’ve ever even slept with apart from Brigitte, and what an unholy mess I’ve made of that. Being with her made me realise just how wrong my life was without you, but then I could see I was hurting her, and the worse I felt about that the deeper in I seemed to get.’ He shook his head, clearly exhausted and exasperated with himself. ‘I’ve managed to sort it now,’ he said. ‘More or less, anyway. She says she wants to give us another chance if you’re interested, but I’ve told her that even if you aren’t, it still can’t happen for me and her.’ His eyes followed a gull as it swooped off the cliff edge and caught an air current. ‘You can stop me now if you like,’ he told her, ‘I mean before I say the wrong thing, which is presuming I haven’t already and I’m really not sure about that.’

Unable not to smile, she watched the breeze tousling his hair as unsteady and difficult emotions coasted through her heart. It was impossible to imagine her life without him, nor did she really want to try, but at the same time life had moved on. ‘I won’t lie to you,’ she said softly, ‘my feelings have changed towards you, which isn’t to say I’ve stopped caring about you, because I don’t think that will ever happen. You’re the father of my children, my first love, my best friend. You hold some pretty special places in my world, and I want you to stay in every one of them, but I don’t see how we’re going to make things work when . . .’

‘. . . you’ve stopped trusting me,’ he came in quickly. ‘I understand that, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to convince you to believe in me again. The trouble is, all I’ve been able to come up with are promises, and only time will prove that I can keep them. I know I can, but I realise you might find it hard to take my word for it.’

‘I know you mean it,’ she responded, ‘and I believe you’ll do everything you can to prove that we can find the trust again. What I was going to say was, I don’t see how we can make things work when you have to be in London, or Cairo, or Singapore . . . To be honest, I can hardly keep track of where you are these days. I rely on the children to tell me, and sometimes even they don’t know.’

‘It’s true, it’s been crazyville since I took the contract with the US government, but it’s all changing. My lawyers are in the process of negotiation even as we speak, and I’ll probably have to go to Washington sometime in the next few weeks to finalise things, because they’re buying me out.’

She blinked in surprise. ‘Is that what you want?’ she asked warily. ‘You spent a lot of years building up that business.’

‘It’s what I want,’ he assured her. ‘And the offer’s more than fair.’

Sensing he really did mean it, she said, ‘So what will you do once it’s gone through?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but I thought now might be a good time for us both to start considering our options. With the kids growing up fast . . .’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘To be honest, I haven’t thought any of this through, and for all I know you don’t want to make any changes in your life. You always used to be open to change, but I realise that sometimes dreams can only be dreams, or can go in different directions . . .’

Starting to feel slightly overwhelmed, she said, ‘So what are your dreams these days? What options will you consider?’

‘I could run Dad’s business. It’s what he always wanted . . .’

‘But is it what you want?’

His eyes came to hers. ‘What I want is to be with my family again,’ he said softly.

She had to look away. ‘I . . . It’s not . . .’ she began.

‘Why don’t we leave it there for now?’ he came in hastily, as though sensing she was about to turn him down. ‘I realise I’ve given you a lot to think about, and if it is serious with this other bloke . . . Well, if it is, then I guess none of this is sounding very attractive.’

She only wished she knew what to say.

‘Can we at least agree to talk again when you’ve had some time to consider things?’ he asked.

Knowing how challenging the next few days and weeks were likely to be, she readily seized the delay and said, ‘Yes, why don’t we do that?’

SOPHIE’S BODY WAS
brought back to Kesterly the following Monday, a day before she’d been due to return to school, two days after the post-mortem results showed that her death had been caused by multiple blows to the head.

Not one, which could have been brought about by a fall.

Multiple, which meant someone had deliberately and repeatedly attacked her. Though Andee felt sure it had happened in the heat of the moment, hitting the child more than once and so hard that the impact had ended her life could only have been the act of someone so enraged, so out of control that they had, in that moment at least, not cared whether Sophie lived or died.

Did Gavin have that sort of temper?

Did Heidi?

She’d seen no sign of it in either of them, but she knew that didn’t mean anything.

‘I’ve just been talking to the CPS,’ Gould was telling her on the phone as she drove up Blackberry Hill towards the Kesterly Infirmary, ‘and I thought you’d be interested to know that the Monroes are now admitting, thanks to the PM, that it wasn’t an accident. However, they’re both claiming to have done it.’

Andee frowned deeply.

‘She’s saying she used a rolling pin,’ Gould continued, ‘he’s saying he had a wooden hammer.’

Either way, the brutality of it was unthinkable, unbearable. It never failed to shock, even frighten her the way lives, futures, entire worlds could be destroyed in just a few short moments. ‘Where’s the weapon now?’ she asked.

‘Apparently it was burned.’

Of course it was burned
.

‘I believe her,’ Andee stated. ‘A rolling pin is something you’d find in a kitchen, which is where forensics have confirmed it happened. What would a wooden hammer be doing there?’

‘He could have just finished a spot of DIY. Or maybe he went somewhere to get it, in which case we’d be looking at a premeditated act.’

She couldn’t see it, but maybe that was because she didn’t want to. ‘It’s not up to me to defend him,’ she said, ‘but frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t even in the room when it happened. I think, in her drunken state, Sophie either physically threatened the baby, or maybe actually hit him, and Heidi, being as stressed as she was, completely lost it.’

‘And by the time the father rushed in to break it up it was already too late?’

Yes, that was what she thought, but of course she couldn’t know for certain. ‘Gavin Monroe loved his daughter,’ she said, ‘I’m in no doubt about that. Doing what he did, covering up the crime, taking her to France, has completely broken him. Now he’s trying to take the blame so his wife can get back to their son sooner rather than later. He’s telling himself she’s a better parent than he is.’

‘You’re getting no argument from me,’ he responded, ‘but it’s for the briefs to sort out from here. We need to discuss other things.’

‘You got my email?’

‘I did. It’s not a conversation for the phone. I know you’re still on compassionate leave, but can you come in?’

‘Maybe later, but I have to tell you, my mind is made up.’

‘So is mine. Where are you now?’

‘Just driving into the infirmary.’

His voice darkened as he said, ‘You’re going to the mortuary?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Is anyone with you?’

‘I don’t need to have my hand held.’

‘Andee, I’m not sure this is a good idea. You’ve seen bodies after they’ve been in the water.’

‘It’s something I have to do.’

‘Then call me when you leave.’

After promising she would she clicked off the line before shutting down her phone completely.

A few minutes later she was inside the morgue, feeling strangely distanced from herself, as though she’d stepped into another world – an in-between world – as Omar, a technician she’d met before, led her through to the chill inner chamber. The metal storage containers were lined up like file cabinets along one wall, and the faint scent of something flowery lingered in the air. Presumably someone had been here recently for a viewing; it was rare, if not unheard of, for medical professionals to wear perfume.

After sliding open the shelf of a temporary resting place, Omar gently lowered the shroud covering Sophie’s face and looked to Andee for guidance.

Andee’s throat was dry. She was finding it difficult to move any closer. Sophie had been identified from the computer and mobile phone they’d found with her; surely that was warning enough that she ought not to be doing this.

Yet how could she not?

There was no one else for this girl.

‘Can I stay with her for a few minutes?’ she asked, still not looking at Sophie yet.

After Omar had gone she remained at a small distance from the body, feeling as though she was about to walk into a space where there would be no ground to support her, or substance to hold on to. It was a place of no return for those who were already in it, a place of unworldly feeling for those who stepped near. Her eyes slowly closed as a gulf seemed to open inside her. Her breath seemed to have lost its rise and fall, her mind was like an empty sea.

As she finally moved in closer she allowed her eyes to alight with a butterfly’s gentleness on the tragic devastation of Sophie’s once beautiful features. The clench of shock in her heart was a physical pain. Apart from the purple hair there was no way to tell it was Sophie, and yet, as she continued to look, she was able to see past the damaged eyelids to the violet-blue eyes that were probably no more. She could imagine them twinkling and crying, watching with surprise and awe. Emerging through the decayed layers of flesh was the perfect smoothness of her cheeks before they had started to come apart. Her luscious lips were ragged, yet her eyebrows were as immaculately plucked as they’d have been the day she died. There were no signs of the fatal injuries, but the blows had been to the back of the head. Noticing the way her purpled hair had been combed neatly to one side, nothing like the spiky madness displayed in the photo-booth strip, made Andee feel sadder than ever. Whether someone in France had arranged it that way, or a technician here, it hardly mattered. What did, was that someone, albeit a stranger, had cared enough to bother.

She spoke silently in her mind, as though Sophie could hear her thoughts.
You might be wondering who I am, this strange lady standing over you, staring into your face as though I’m expecting you to be who you once were. It would be wonderful if that could happen, but I know it can’t. My name’s Andee. I wonder if you have any idea how much I hoped we wouldn’t meet like this. I wanted to find you so badly . . .

She paused, breathing softly as so many words came pouring into her heart she hardly knew which ones to choose first.

I went to the campsite this morning. There aren’t many people there now, just a few staff, but you’ll never guess what I found. More flowers than you can begin to imagine, and they were all for you. People had left them outside the bungalow, along with candles and teddy bears. Do you remember your rag doll? The one your mummy gave you? We’ve kept her for you – and your book. I had to read it, I’m afraid, but I’m not sorry, because it helped me get to know the real you, and gave me an understanding of how very hard things have been for you since your mummy went. It’s difficult enough being a teenager, isn’t it, but with all you had to put up with . . . You know, you’ve been making me think a lot about my sister. Her name’s Penny and she was your age the last time I saw her. I don’t know where she is now, no one does . . . She . . . She . . .

Suddenly torturous sobs were tearing through her body, annihilating everything else. She sank helplessly to her knees, her hands trailing down the side of the casket.
Penny, Penny, Penny. Why did you go? Why did you never come back? How could you not have understood how much we loved you?

She couldn’t think any more, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even breathe. The grief was too painful, too consuming. It was as though she was drowning in it, being swept away by its relentless force. She was trying to pull herself free, but she was only going down deeper. Down and down, past the bottom into the blackest, cruellest despair.

Penny, I’m sorry. I never meant the things I said. I should have listened, tried to understand . . . I loved you so much, but I took you for granted, treated you badly, like you didn’t mean anything, but you did . . . I miss you every day. You’re always in my mind. Have you ever forgiven me for being so mean? I don’t blame you if you haven’t. I’ve never forgiven myself. Oh Penny, how could you have left us that way? It broke Daddy’s heart. He never recovered, and Mummy’s never been the same either. We loved you so much . . .

It was a while before she realised there was a hand on her arm, that someone was gently easing her to her feet and sitting her down. Her chest was still heaving; she couldn’t see through her tears or hear past the cacophony of guilt, grief, longing and despair.