Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (18 page)

I swayed before the window, my head fuzzy. I turned around and tottered back to my seat. I think it had really just sunk in. I was never going to see or hear Evie again.

Memories arose from the murk. My big sister, Evie, on her way to school. She was walking a few feet ahead of me with her friends and ignoring me because she had ‘sent me to Coventry’, for stealing her eye make-up again. Evie half turned and then, on catching sight of my pleading looks, tossed her head and carried on walking. I remembered Evie trying on dress after dress in Chelsea Girl, with me sitting on the floor, chewing gum and giving my qualified opinion. Evie’s boyfriends—few and far between, because, as always, she was so fussy.

I recalled how pleased Mum and Dad were when she passed her exams to become a registered nurse, and I was proud my big sister had chosen a career I could never have had. Evie was bighearted, even if she didn’t always show it. She watched out for me, advised me, often against my will, and had always been there when my latest love affair died an inglorious death. Yes, she was often a pain, but we would never laugh about any of this together again. There was no more me and my big sister.

The policewoman moved next to me and handed over a box of tissues. It was all my fault. I wondered if they all guessed that as I sobbed in to my hands. I cried as she sat helplessly by, not moving or saying anything, just letting me get it all out. When I eventually stopped, save for a few gulps and sniffs, she placed a hand on my wrist and giving it a squeeze asked if I would like anything…another cup of tea, perhaps?

“No thanks. I’m okay now.” I snuffled into my soggy tissues.

“I’m Natalie Soames, by the way, and my colleague here is Detective Inspector Gary Mitchell. He needs to ask you some more questions. I’ll just try ringing Mr Cousins again for you.”

I glanced up at the tall suited officer who had just entered the room. I had seen him but hadn’t really taken any notice of him. We hadn’t spoken as he had been on his phone outside or upstairs.

He took a seat opposite me and began by asking me how I came to find Evie. I explained how she telephoned me and asked me round so we could talk. The policewoman took down notes in her book.

“She asked you to come round? Was there anything in particular she wanted to talk about?” he asked in a low modulated voice.

I shrugged. “Sister stuff.”

He said nothing but waited.

I elaborated. “Evie and I hadn’t been getting on too well, and I think she wanted us to be friends again. At least that’s the impression she gave me.”

“I see. Can you think of any reason why she might have taken her own life?”

“No. She recently got married. As far as I know she was happy. Who wouldn’t be? A new bride and a brand-new expensive house.”

“We haven’t found a suicide note. Maybe there’s one for her husband, which we haven’t yet found. But normally, suicide letters are left in a conspicuous place.”

“Do…do people who take their own life usually leave a note?”

He frowned. “No. Only about twenty-five to thirty-five per cent, actually. It’s strange that she asked you to visit her and then did this.”

I didn’t understand either, but I couldn’t get my mind round to tackling that question at that exact moment. One of the uniformed ambulance men poked his head round the door and indicated he wanted to speak to the inspector. They both glanced at me, and I guessed they were about to remove Evie’s body. The inspector nodded and then stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. Panic flooded through me when I heard a few thuds and scrapes as they carried Evie down the stairs and outside. It all seemed so unbelievable. They were taking our Evie away and I couldn’t stop them.

I heard a car draw up and I moved to the window. I recognised Angela’s Lexus and watched as she helped Mum from her seat. They walked together, Angela’s arm round Mum’s shoulders as they slowly approached the ambulance. Evie was about to be lifted into the waiting vehicle; she had been placed in a body bag on the gurney. Looking at the white bag, it could have contained a long ball-gown or wedding dress just back from the dry-cleaners, and not my sister.

“My mum and younger sister,” I said when the inspector joined me. “I rang them.”

“Just a couple more questions and then we’ll leave you in peace with your family. Do you know if your sister was depressed? Was she taking any medication?”

“No. Why?” I frowned.

“It’s a routine question with suicide. If she had been, it might help explain why she did it.”

I shook my head. “She was a nurse. She was capable of looking after herself. As far as I know, the only stuff she took was a vitamin tonic.”

The policewoman made another entry in her book as he addressed her. “We’ll take another look round the house and see if we can find anything.”

“Why? Do you suspect she was taking something?” I asked.

“Maybe not, but we like to leave no stone unturned.”

***

The three of us sat in the sitting-room, the inevitable tray of tea on a table before us. The police had just left, and the sudden silence between us was palpable.

Mum looked so old, her expression a mixture of stunned devastation and disbelief. I watched from the window as she asked the ambulance men to peel back the zipper on the bag to look at her dead daughter one last time. Her face had crumpled as she bent and kissed Evie’s brow, her eldest child, and then she walked with exaggerated steps into the house.

Angela, for once, looked bewildered as if this had nothing to do with her normally well-ordered life. Eventually, she squared her solid shoulders, found her voice and pulled a small notepad and pen from her bag.

“We need to keep busy, and I’ll start by making a list of what we have to do. Who to contact.” As she said those words, a look of horror crossed her face. “Martyn. Has he been told?”

“The police couldn’t get hold of him. His phone was permanently engaged.” I answered. “I’d completely forgotten with all this and you arriving.” I felt my lip quiver, and hastily, I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat.

We all glanced at each other. “Then we must try again,” Mum said. “In a minute. This moment is for us—a mother and her daughters.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Why, oh why did she do it? What did we do wrong?”

What had
I
done wrong, I thought. “What about Darcy?”

“She has a rehearsal at school. She said she’d get a lift home. I suppose I ought to be thinking of getting back to break the news to her,” Mum said in a wobbly voice. “I don’t know if I can…”

“I’ll come back with you. You shouldn’t do it alone.” Both Angela and I exchanged looks, and with mutual understanding, we knew we would both be there for Mum and Darcy.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes later. We were still sitting in the room, the curtains drawn against the now dark sky when we heard a car draw up. I held Mum’s hand as she looked on the point of collapsing.

There was a sound of voices in the hall and laughter. Then we heard Martyn’s voice call out. “Evie, darling, I’m home!”

The front door slammed, and seconds later, he and Darcy burst into the room, accompanied by a clank of bottles coming from the carrier bag in Martyn’s hand. “Surprise! Guess who’s joining us for dinner.” He looked round at us and did a double take. “Well, this is a day of wonders. All of my favourite girls are here. What’s the occasion?”

Chapter 24

I was initially surprised at the number of people who turned up for Evie’s funeral. But after looking round at the crowd sitting in the church, I realised she must have had a lot of friends and colleagues who respected her. Of course, all her family attended and a handful of school friends with whom she had stayed in touch, but in the main, the numbers were swelled by doctors and nurses.

I had only been to two other funerals in my life: my father’s and grandmother’s. It was the first time I attended a service for someone who should still have been enjoying the first half of their life. The fact that it was my sister added to the wretchedness of the occasion.

The weather had turned bitter, raw and frosty, and the media had been talking of a white Christmas, which was still over five weeks away. The idea of revelries, present-giving and over-eating held little appeal, and the more I considered it, the less I thought I could stomach it at all. The whole idea seemed ludicrous. Besides, if I couldn’t bear it, how would my mum cope?

Jon accompanied me to the service and held my hand throughout. He had been wonderful, telephoning me almost every hour from work and sleeping over whenever he could. If I hadn’t had the comfort of his strong arms around me, I swear I would have given up. I knew he had another visit to the States looming but pushed the thought of him thousands of miles away to the back of my mind.

During the vicar’s address, I couldn’t stop my eyes roving round the church, and they constantly returned to settle on Martyn. Martyn played his role perfectly. His face, normally pale, seemed almost translucent above the stark black of his woollen coat. I wondered if he had lost weight, as his cheekbones were more prominent than ever, his green eyes lacklustre with emptiness. He looked stricken, lost, as he stood next to Mum and Angela.  

According to Mum, he was inexhaustible since Evie’s death. He was on hand to help her through the difficult period, taking compassionate leave from work and making all the funeral arrangements. It was a Martyn I didn’t know: indispensable, stable, and considerate. He zeroed in on everyone and anyone who looked like they needed comfort and seemingly at a cost to his own grieving. He was Martyn, the model widower and imperative son-in-law.

It came as no surprise to me that Mum wanted to pay for everything. Evie was her eldest daughter, after all, and she refused Martyn’s offer to help with the funeral costs, even when he insisted the most expensive coffin be commissioned for his bride of just a few weeks.

The house Evie and Martyn had bought now belonged solely to Martyn, and although I fleetingly wondered if his money had ever come through, I didn’t dwell on it. Evie was dead, and although we never had the opportunity to be real friends again, I had to close that chapter on my life and move on. Hopefully, Martyn would do the same.

***

Jon slipped a glass of red wine into my hand and gave me a gentle smile. “I’ve never known what to do or say at funerals or afterwards back at the house with all the relatives and friends gathered. Are you okay, sweetie?”

I rubbed a hand over my eyes. They felt sore and scratchy, as they had for days. “Yes, thanks. As well as I could be.”

He answered by draping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “It will get better, I promise. I know you feel like shit right now, but…”

“But what?” I muttered into my glass. “If Evie had died of natural causes like a long illness, I could accept it more easily, but doing what she did was just horrible. I should have been there.”

He turned me to face him and gripped me by the shoulders. “Look, you’ve got to understand that’s what suicide does to someone. I’m not going to pretend you’ll stop asking yourself questions, but the truth is you couldn’t have stopped her. Trust me. I know.”

I peered into his eyes and frowned, a huge lump in the back of my throat. “How are you so sure? What makes you such a bloody expert?”

He sighed a bit, twisting his mouth so that his lips were pulled down. “Because my dad took his own life.”

“Oh.” I felt awful pushing him like that. “I’m sorry. That was unthinkable of me.”

Jon sighed, pulled me closer and rubbed his forehead against mine. “It’s okay. He was an alcoholic, and a wife beater. One day he went too far, and my mother landed in hospital with broken ribs and collarbone after knocking her down the stairs. He never forgave himself knowing the drink made him like that. He topped himself before she was discharged. Jumped off the cliffs at Lulworth Cove one night when the tide was out.”

Once again, Jon succeeded in stunning me. Usually so reserved, but wham! He let something like that out and everything changed. I smiled. It was at that moment I knew I really loved him. A fine time to discover it, but nonetheless, it curdled a warm feeling inside my frozen heart.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Well, the truth is, you never know what’s going on in someone’s head, even when you think you know them well.”

“Yes.”

“Evie must have had her reasons. She must have been really troubled about something.”

I thought back to what the police inspector told me. Jon was right.

There was a few days’ delay before Evie’s body was released to us, her family. The autopsy showed she had diazepam or Valium, a benzodiazepine in her bloodstream. I called in to see the inspector for more explanation. He said he asked Martyn if he knew his wife had been taking the drug. He denied it and said she
had
been tense and agitated; the stress of getting married and arguing with me had made her anxious, and she found it hard to sleep. Perhaps she had taken some to get her over a troublesome period. According to the inspector, Martyn knew nothing about it and supposed she could have laid her hands on a few pills, as she worded in a hospital.

The police checked with Evie’s GP, and as there was no record of her being prescribed diazepam, they accepted Martyn’s suggestion. Apart from that, the autopsy was straightforward. The police saw no need to take it further. DNA testing was expensive, and it was a straightforward suicide by the cutting of her wrists