Page 17 of Worse Than Murder

‘Yes.’ Now I’m suspicious.

‘It’s you I actually came to see. Would it be possible for me to have a chat with you? It’s nothing to do with an investigation or anything. This is entirely personal.’

I take a deep breath. How do I say this without being insulting? ‘No offence, but I don’t know you. I’ve no interest in talking about anything personal to?—’

‘No,’ she interrupts again. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not coming across well, am I? It’s not you I want to talk about. It’s me. I need… I want… sorry. I…’

‘Look, I’ve just been for a long walk with the dogs. It’s baking and I’m sweating. I need a drink. Why don’t you come in and let me freshen up while you find the words you want to use?’

I stand back and allow this nervous woman to enter. As she passes me, I get a whiff of deodorant and desperation.

I go over to the fridge and take out a bottle of water. I untwist the cap and drink half of it in a single gulp. I don’t think I’ve drunk so much water as I have since I’ve been here. I’ve needed it to keep hydrated with all the exercise. My skin is certainly benefitting.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No. I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Well, give me a few minutes and I’ll be right with you. Don’t mind the dogs, they’re very friendly.’

I leave the room but steal a glance at this PC Pemberton over my shoulder as I do so. She has a worried expression firmly etched on her face. One that seems to have been there for a very long time.

* * *

I stand under the piercing hot needles of the shower when my sister’s voice comes back to haunt me. Or to hurt me. I can’t work out which.

‘Ifuckinghate you!’

I agree with her. I fucking hate me, too. I close my eyes tight and try to silence my torment, the pain, the torture, the darkness. It’s no good. I banish my sister’s violent words and then I see my mum, lying in her hospital bed, the doctors turning off the machines, removing the tubes one by one.

‘She’s gone,’ Dr Wilde says, sympathetically.

My mum is dead.

My legs won’t hold me up any longer. I sink to my knees and press my hands against the shower tray. I open my mouth, and I let out a sound from the depths of my soul, a sound filled with agony. I’m crying. Water is mixed with tears, and they disappear down the plughole. I can’t stop. It doesn’t matter what I try to think about– Carl’s kind words, the smiling faces of two happy Labradors, the warmth offered by Sally and Philip, that amazing almond and raspberry frangipane tart– I cannot stop the tears.

* * *

I don’t remember how long I’m in the shower for. By the time I get downstairs, Alison has moved into the main part of the restaurant. She’s sitting at one of the tables, gazing out at the view. The dogs are sprawled out, knackered, beside her. I’d hoped she’d have grown bored of waiting for me and gone home. No such luck.

I clear my throat to signify my presence.

‘I never tire of this view,’ Alison says. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Her voice is heavy, almost as heavy as mine. Another woman with a massive weight on her shoulders. I wonder what baggage she’s carrying, and is it going to end up involving me? I bloody hope not.

‘It is,’ I say.

‘You see everything that’s going on in the world– wars, conflict, climate change, pandemics– you think of the horrors people do to each other, and it’s difficult to believe that such natural beauty exists.’

I pull out a seat at the table and sit opposite this worried-looking PC. I guess her to be in her mid-thirties, but there’s a sadness surrounding her that’s aged her. She has dark circles beneath her eyes. I have a suspicious feeling this conversation is not going to be an easy one.

She looks at me and proffers a faint smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

‘I… erm… I notice the dogs have the same names on their nametags,’ she says, clearly stalling.

‘Yes. The older Woody was bought for Carl before he went missing. While he was in Sweden, the couple gave him a dog for company. He decided to name him Woody, too. When he came home, he brought his new dog with him.’

She smiles. This time, it’s genuine. ‘Doesn’t it get confusing for them?’

‘No. They never leave Carl’s side when he’s home from school. You shout for one dog, but they come as a pair.’