Page 13 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

T he atmosphere at the breakfast table feels different, heavy, and for once it has nothing to do with my mood.

I woke up and, instead of hot, blazing sunshine slicing through the curtains, I saw darkness and gloom.

As I pulled them open, I saw clouds for the first time since my arrival.

The sky is grey and getting darker all the time. The storm is approaching.

‘Do you think we should close for tonight?’ Philip asks. He’s sitting at the round breakfast table in the family kitchen looking down at his iPad. ‘We’ve had three cancellations already.’

Sally is also studying her tablet. ‘According to the weather, the storm is due to hit early afternoon. I suppose we could put a message on social media, if it gets bad. Besides, surely people will use their common sense.’

That makes me laugh. After more than two decades in the police force, I’ve seen firsthand how little common sense the majority of people out there have.

I turn to look out of the window while nibbling on a piece of granary toast. The lake is still.

Despite the heavy clouds, it is difficult to think that in a few hours a wild storm could be raging through the village.

I was looking forward to a morning swim.

I think I might give it a miss. I never understood wild swimmers before.

You never know what’s lurking beneath the waters to get tangled up in, but I’ve been enjoying having this part of the lake all to myself.

‘Are we safe here?’ I ask, turning back to the table. ‘If as much rain falls as forecast, will we flood?’

‘No. The restaurant is raised, so we should be fine unless anything biblical happens. The only thing likely to flood is the cellar, which, I suppose it could be good if some water did get in so then I’d know what needed to be done to make it water-tight before turning it into a wine cellar.’

Carl suddenly lets out a laugh.

‘What’s funny?’ Sally asks.

‘Nothing. I just find it funny how, when I bring my tablet to the table, I get told off, yet it’s perfectly fine for you both to use yours.’

I busy myself with another slice of toast. It would be childish of me to laugh.

‘It’s work-related,’ Philip says.

‘So was mine. I had a maths test.’

Suitably chastised, both parents put down their tablets.

‘How long have you been waiting to say that?’ I ask Carl.

‘The best part of a year,’ he smirks.

‘You’ve raised a smart cookie,’ I say.

‘Too smart, sometimes,’ Philip says. ‘I may have to give you my tax returns, see how smug you are then.’

‘I don’t think so. I’m not putting my fingerprints on your receipts. That would make me an accomplice, wouldn’t it, Mat?’

Philip’s face begins to blush.

‘It certainly would.’

‘He’s learning a lot of bad habits from you since you arrived,’ Sally says.

‘You mean bad habits like the law?’

‘Can we change the subject?’ Philip asks, looking uncomfortable. ‘I know we’re only joking but I get nervous when it comes to all things tax related.’

‘Is that the sign of a guilty conscience, Mat?’ Carl asks me.

‘Fine, Carl, you win. If you want to bring your tablet to the breakfast table in the future, you’re more than welcome to. Now, let’s move on, shall we?’

I smile as both Sally and Carl make fun of Philip who blushes at being made the butt of the joke.

It feels warm and heartening to be around a happy family for a change.

It’s not long, though, until the darkness returns, and I realise I’ll never have that again.

Six months ago, I had a full table at Christmas.

Now, three are dead, my sister hates me, and my best friend is in Africa.

I hear Carl and Sally talking, but I don’t register what they’re saying.

‘Matilda? Matilda!’

‘Sorry?’ I ask, looking up. Carl has gone. When did that happen?

‘Everything all right?’

‘Yes. Fine. I was just… thinking about something. Listen, you don’t happen to know of anyone round here who’s lived here for a long time, do you?’

‘May, one of our cleaners, she was born and bred here,’ Philip says. ‘Why?’

‘I had a visitor yesterday, a police constable. Alison Pemberton.’

‘She came about the attempted break-in the other day. Did she want me?’

‘No. She came to ask me a favour. Apparently, when she was five, her twin sisters went missing. Never seen again. A few months later, her father couldn’t cope and walked out into the lake. His body was never found. She asked if I could help her.’

‘Are you going to?’ Philip asks.

‘I’m not sure. I don’t really think I’m in a position to help anyone at the moment. I can’t even help myself.’

‘It might help you to have something to concentrate on,’ Sally says as she begins to clear the table.

‘Maybe. I just thought I’d feel out the story, see what the local gossip was.’

‘How long ago did all this happen?’ Sally asks.

‘1992.’

‘Talk to May,’ Philip says. ‘She’s in her sixties so she’s bound to remember it.’

‘Poor girl,’ Sally says, wistfully. ‘Imagine living with not knowing what happened for thirty years. It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?

’ She places a hand on Philip’s shoulder.

She’s clearly thinking of when Carl was kidnapped.

He was missing for four years and that was a nightmare that seemed to be without end.

Sally leaves with the dirty dishes to take into the utility room where the dishwasher is, leaving me and Philip to finish our coffees.

‘I didn’t want to mention it with Carl at the table,’ I begin. ‘But have you looked at the CCTV cameras? Any attempts to break in last night?’

‘No. All quiet. Speaking of last night, I had a phone call. I came to tell you about it, but Carl said you’d already gone to bed. Sian Robinson.’

‘Oh?’

‘She’s been ringing and ringing you since you left Sheffield. She’s tried everyone she could think of. Why haven’t you been answering her calls? I thought she was a good friend.’

‘She is. I didn’t bring my phone with me. It’s still at my house in Sheffield. Did you tell her I was here?’

‘Yes. She was relieved to hear you’re safe. She told me to tell you to ring her any time. She’s worried about you.’

I don’t say anything to that. There’s nothing to say.

‘She asked if she can ring me again; to check up on you. I told her that was fine. Look, Mat, I know you feel like you don’t have anyone right now, but you do.

Sian, Scott, Christian. Sian mentioned a Donal, and someone called Odell.

They’re all thinking of you. They’re all worried about you.

That’s a lot of people to have in your corner. You’re not as alone as you think.’

‘And they’re all police officers. Well, apart from Donal and Odell.

I can’t surround myself with police at the moment.

It hurts. I keep thinking about all the people who would still be alive now if I hadn’t joined the force.

Faith. Rory and his fiancée Natasha. They’d have been married now, probably had kids, too.

Ranjeet. He and Kesinka had just had a baby when he was killed.

Chris.’ I heard my voice break when I mentioned Chris’s name.

‘Valerie. My dad. My mum. My nephews. So many people have died because of me. I’m the biggest serial killer never to have been caught. ’

‘You’re being far too hard on yourself.’

‘Too many people have died for me not to be hard on myself.’

‘So, what are you going to do for the rest of your life? I mean, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, you know that, but are you really going to be happy spending every day just going out running and swimming and sitting around here with your thoughts?’

I take a deep breath. ‘I was thinking that, if this storm hits as hard as predicted, I might pop outside and see if the wind will lift me up and transport me to another world.’

‘Take a Woody to be your Tonto.’

‘Toto,’ I correct him.

‘Joking aside,’ Philip says, lowering his voice and learning forward. ‘You wouldn’t do that, would you? Just disappear.’

‘Like Alison’s father and sisters? I don’t know. After James died, I hurt so much that I did think about getting in the car and driving away. Then I thought about what it would do to my mum and dad. That’s what kept me in Sheffield. They’re not here anymore. There’s nobody to think about.’

‘You’ve already run away, though. You’ve come here.’

‘But people have found me. Maybe I didn’t run far enough.’

Philip places a hand on top of mine. It’s a sign of comfort, and Philip is a dear friend, but I want to pull my hand away and I don’t know why.

‘You have more people in your life to miss you than you think. Forget what they do for a job. If you were just a colleague, Sian wouldn’t have been looking high and low for you.

I’m sure Christian and Scott and the others feel the same.

Then there’s Adele in Sierra Leone, and there’s me and Sally.

And Carl loves you to bits. We’d all miss you, and I’m not just saying that because three of my waiting staff have decided not to come in this evening and I need someone to help peel the carrots. ’

That makes me laugh.

‘Half-circle, quarter slices or julienne?’

‘You’re learning,’ he smiles. ‘Fancy a job?’

‘You may regret asking me that question.’