Page 13

CHAPTER 13

MATTHEW – D AY T WO

Matthew did a terrible thing when he fell in love with Sally.

He’s sitting on Amelie’s bed as he thinks of this. Amelie’s double bed with its pink-striped duvet and fairy lights around the headboard. They bought the double bed only recently. Amelie’s idea. More room for a friend for sleepovers. More room for a snuggle at story time. But in truth it was all about more room for the growing jungle of soft toys that Amelie so loves.

Matthew looks across to the cork board with pictures of Amelie in her ballet outfits. Big smile. Big frothy pink tutu. You have to turn your feet out like this, Daddy. It’s hard. You can’t point them forwards.

He closes his eyes.

His mind drifts and he thinks again of the terrible thing he did when he fell in love with Sally. Back when he was new to PI work, struggling to adjust after leaving the force.

He’d turned down counselling over the boy’s death on the railway line. He couldn’t see how talking would change anything. He’d been exonerated of any blame and praised for his courage in trying to get the boy off the live rail. But that hadn’t changed how he felt.

Deep down, Matthew has always blamed himself, just as the mother at the inquest did. Why didn’t he remember there was a railway line? Anticipate what the child might do in his blind panic?

When he fell in love with Sally, so fast and so unexpectedly, he experienced his own mad panic. He discovered that she’d come out of a bad marriage; that her ex had cheated on her. He also found out that she’d lost a baby in the traumatic mix of the separation and still longed very much to be a mother.

It all felt too much.

He didn’t feel he deserved to become a parent himself, so he decided he was not the man to make Sally happy. That she deserved better.

And so Matthew did something stupid. And terrible. And cowardly.

He broke up with her by text.

Matthew squeezes his eyes tighter at the shame of it, smoothing his hand across Amelie’s duvet and lying down on the bed. It was Sally’s friend Beth who called out his terrible behaviour. Beth who had booked him in the first place to try to find their estranged friend Carol. Beth who then mistakenly assumed he was a man with commitment phobia. She stormed round to his office, fuming on Sally’s behalf.

Matthew remembers so vividly how hard he tried to make Beth leave. He didn’t want to tell her the truth about the boy who stole the cigarettes. He remembers reaching out to keep his hand on the middle drawer of the desk. The drawer in which he still kept a file of all the newspaper cuttings from what happened.

He held the wooden handle to the drawer tighter and tighter but there was this terrible stand-off. Beth simply refused to leave so in the end he gave in. Opened the bloody drawer and threw the file of cuttings across the desk. He told Beth about the pledge he’d made. He was not cut out to be any kind of family man. Not deserving of that particular kind of happiness.

Beth’s face was completely white as she read the cuttings. And then she began pacing the room, gabbling that he must go to Sally and tell her. And that if he didn’t do that, she would tell Sally herself. They all say it wasn’t your fault. The inquest. The inquiry. They said you were very brave, that you risked your own safety. You need to talk to Sally about this. She’ll understand. She’ll sympathise. Help you ...

‘The boy was twelve, Beth.’

Matthew suddenly hears through the wall the water running in the en suite bathroom next door to Amelie’s bedroom. He hadn’t realised it could be heard this clearly through the wall. Amelie’s never mentioned it. Maybe she likes the comfort of hearing them padding about in their bathroom late at night. Early in the morning?

He urged Sally to take a shower in the hope it might comfort her. The warmth of the water.

He thinks of her in the shower and thinks of her face that night after Beth called at his office. It was quite late when he finally found Sally in the garden of this very house. The row of thatched cottages she’d bought on such a whim after she lost her job. He really didn’t want to tell her what he’d done – the boy’s death – but he couldn’t bear the thought of it coming from Beth either.

Sally was sitting at a garden table, drinking red wine in the dark. Just the distant light from the kitchen and moonlight catching her bracelet as she lifted her glass.

She warned him that she was on her third. She sounded angry and told him to leave her alone, but seeing her eyes, he felt even more ashamed of how badly he’d handled it all.

Over the next few hours, after he had told her everything, Matthew knew his life would never be the same. And that fear was perhaps always going to be a part of it. Somehow, he unpicked all his promises and pledges and slowly slid into this whole new and dangerous space where he dared to let himself believe what Sally was saying.

You are allowed to be happy, Matthew. You can’t punish yourself your whole life for something that was not your fault. That’s ridiculous.

He was in this weird state for a long time after that – flipping between exhilaration and blind fear.

Matthew turns again to the ballet pictures. Sally has been obsessing about Amelie’s new ballet shoes. Something about sewing on fresh ribbons ...

A long and terrible sigh leaves his body. He feels so tired. A zombie-like state as if his brain cannot send instructions to his limbs fast enough. Slowly he lifts his head to take in the row of toys on the shelf above Amelie’s desk. Pink Bear, so named for obvious reasons. Bought on a zoo trip, he can’t remember where. Penny – a favourite doll with curly auburn hair.

I wish my hair was curly like yours, Daddy. Will you ask Mummy if I can use the tongs? She won’t let me use her tongs . I’ll be careful, I promise.

He glances to the side, to all the cushions on the bed, and realises Sally must still have Bunny, the pink rabbit, with her. He pictures Amelie in her white pyjamas with pink hearts, knees pulled up and hugging the bunny to her chest, chattering away before a bedtime story.

Thinking of her is unbearable and yet paradoxically all he wants to do. He needs to be thinking of her every second to keep the connection. To hold on to all the details of her. The strange freckle on her earlobe that Amelie says is the sign she’s old enough to get her ears pierced.

It’s to show the person where to put the hole, Daddy.

No way. You’re too young for pierced ears. Not yet.

He needs to think of her constantly, however much it hurts. To be sending out his love and his determination like a beam in all directions to find her. Speak to her. We’re coming, Amelie.

Matthew takes out his phone from his pocket. He wants to call Mel to see if there’s any news, but he sees the time. Just past 5 a.m. If there’s no good news soon, he’s going to have to talk to Sally about the press conference.

He’s suddenly aware of a new silence. The soft noise from the shower next door has gone. He waits until Sally appears in the doorway. His stomach flips.

‘What is it?’ She’s trying to read his face. Sally can always read his face. ‘Is there bad news?’

‘No, no. There’s no news. But there is something I need to tell you. Talk to you about.’

Sally looks wary and sits on the bed.

He doesn’t want to say it. He thinks again of her out there in the garden on her third glass of wine all those years ago. Hurting. Why is he always hurting her when he loves her?

‘Mel wants to hold a press conference today. And she thinks it would get better coverage if ...’ He breaks off, taking in Sally’s exhausted face.

‘Go on.’

‘She would like one of us to be at the press conference.’

Sally frowns. ‘What? In front of cameras?’

‘Yes. There will be cameras there.’

‘So do you feel up to that?’

Matthew closes his eyes and lets out a huff of air. Of course, she thinks it will be him . That he wouldn’t ask her. Shouldn’t ask her.

‘They don’t want it to be me. Just in case Dawn Meadows is somehow involved. They think it would make things worse.’ He watches her eyes widen, the awful truth sinking in.

‘They want me ?’ Sally stands up. She starts casting her head about just as she did in the car park. ‘No, no, no. I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.’

‘It’s OK. It’s OK. I told them it would be too much for you. Sit down again. Don’t worry. I’ll ring Mel.’

‘So why did you ask? Why did you even ask me?’ Sally starts pacing. Matthew is terrified this will trigger another bad episode. Emotional overload. Like in the car park. But Sally keeps pacing and frowning and finally turns to stare right at him.

‘So are you saying it would help? Do they think it would really help? Is that why you asked?’

Matthew can hardly bear this.

‘Would it help? Tell me the truth.’

‘You don’t have to do it, Sally—’

‘Be straight with me. Please .’

‘Yes. It will probably get more coverage if you’re there.’ He hates himself for saying it. Wishes he could row back and unsay all of it.

Slowly Sally sits back down, tears now wetting her cheeks, the bunny up to her nose. ‘Then I don’t have any choice, do I?’ Her eyes are wide and she looks bewildered. As if imagining what it will be like. All the photographers. TV cameras. She glances away to Amelie’s books on the shelf opposite and then back at Matthew.

‘So you’re really saying that you need me to do this. Is that what you’re saying?’