Perfect Intentions: Sometimes justice is above the law (21 page)

“Dean, don’t be like that.” Clare stretched out a hand to Dean’s shoulder

“Oh, just get fucked.”  And grabbing Clare’s hand off of his arm, he shoved her backwards.

Clare, who had been standing on the top step, faltered as she tried to regain her balance, but it was too late and she went crashing to the bottom of the stairs.

“Clare!”

Dean watched as Clare’s body remained prone at the bottom of the stairs. Rushing down to her, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Ambulance please, Coventry House, Manning’s Town.”

After listening carefully for a moment, he answered,

“My name’s Dean Matthews. Can you hurry, please?”

Dean hung up the phone and Clare started to stir.

“Clare? You ok?”

Clare’s eyes opened slowly and tired to focus, then they started to close again.

"No, don’t fall asleep again. Talk to me, talk to me, please…”

Dean,
stayed by Clare’s side until the ambulance arrived twenty minutes later. Dean watched as the paramedics bundled Clare up.

“Could I come, too?”

The ambulance driver looked him up and down.

“Of course you can.”

Dean jumped in the back of the ambulance and held Clare’s hand. Nervously, he looked up at the paramedics.

“Is she going to be ok?”

“Yes, she’ll be fine, it’s a nasty knock, though, so we’re just taking her in to check her out. Did she lose consciousness at all?”

“Yes, she’s been going in and out since it happened.” The paramedic nodded and went back to tending to Clare.

Dean climbed into the back of the ambulance and they departed for the hospital. During the journey Clare regained consciousness. Dean stayed by her side while Clare was checked over and finally left to rest in a hospital bed

She turned to Dean.

“I’m going to be fine; they’re only keeping me in overnight as a precaution. Why don’t you go back home and get some rest?”

“I don’t feel right leaving you. I mean
, it’s my fault you’re here now.”

“Don’t be silly, it was an accident; I know that. Just go home, I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, if you’re sure. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow and come and pick you up.”

“You don’t need to, I’m going to ring a friend—she’ll come and get me.”

Dean looked dejected for a moment and Clare hoped he wasn’t about to lose his temper again. She could do without a scene at the minute. She still felt groggy and all she wanted to do was rest, not pander to his insecurities. Dean got up and grabbed his jacket. Leaning forward, he kissed Clare gently on her forehead.

“Well, at least give me a ring tomorrow so I know you got home safely.”

“I will.” Clare smiled weakly at Dean and he left.

Clare breathed a sigh of relief, and relaxing back into the bed she let herself drift off to sleep.

Dean walked out of the hospital and took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. After trying Mark’s mobile and only getting his answering machine, he left a brief message.

“All right, mate, could you come and pick me up from the hospital?”

On the other side of town Mark had heard his phone ringing and hadn’t answered; he had been in the middle of doing a deal with a new supplier. Once his business had been concluded, he checked his phone, jumped straight into his car and headed for the hospital. Dean was waiting for him outside the front doors. Hurriedly going over to the car, he got in.

“Fucking hell, you took your time.”

“Well, I wasn’t sat by the phone waiting for you to ring, you know. What you here for, anyway?”

“Clare fell down the stairs.”

“
Fell
down the stairs?” Dean picked up on the tone of Mark’s voice and turned to look him in the eye.

“Yes,
fell
down the stairs.”

“What, and you just happened to be there, did you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a lucky coincidence…that you were there to bring her in, I mean.”

“If you’ve got something to say, Mark, say it, or shut the fuck up.”

Mark decided to leave it and turned the car out of the car park. He gave it a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Where do you want to go, then?”

“Pub.”

Once Dean and Mark had found a table inside the Tin Whistle, Dean explained what had happened. Mark had listened in silence only stopping to get more drinks in. As the evening had progressed Dean had become more intoxicated and three hours and a trip to the off-licence later, Mark had watched as Dean staggered off in the direction of home.

Dean had made the decision to walk back past Clare’s apartment block on his way home. As he passed, he decided to stop and roll himself a joint. He still felt tense and wouldn’t be able to sleep properly until he knew Clare was safely back at home.

Crumbling the dope into the paper, he started trying to work out how it had come to this. These thoughts didn’t last long however as his drunken state was making multitasking an impossibility so giving up, he focused his attention solely on the joint After several attempts at rolling, he finally managed to cobble something together and lit it, and drawing deeply on it, he sat down on the wall opposite the apartments. As he felt the stress, alcohol, and dope taking its toll on his body, he decided to pull his legs up and lie back on the wall. One hand held the joint, and the other held a beer can on his chest. Lifting it up, he took another swig. He was starting to get warmer as the alcohol started to have its desired effect, lulling him into an alcohol induced state of unconsciousness. Suddenly, a car turned onto the road.

As the last binds of consciousness loosened their grip, he was vaguely aware of the car slowing to a halt beside him.

Loretta had arrived in time for Clare to wake up. She had been contacted by a doctor at the hospital at Clare’s request and had been asked to pick her up in the morning.  Now she waited while the doctor checked Clare over once more. As the doctor came back through, he approached Loretta.

“Dr. Armstrong, I’m pleased you could come. You were the only person Clare wanted us to contact.”

“Is she ok?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine, although…”

“What?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you were aware or not, but Miss Heathers was pregnant.”

“Was?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say the fall terminated the pregnancy.”

“How does she feel about it?”

“Well, ok from what I can ascertain, although she didn’t have much to say on it. I just thought I’d let you know to avoid upsetting her any further.”

“Thank you, is it ok for me to go and see her now?”

“Of course, go straight through.”

Loretta walked onto the ward and up to Clare’s bed. Clare, seeing her smiled broadly.

“So how are you feeling?”

“Ok, thanks.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re ok. So now what do you want to do about Dean? It was Dean, wasn’t it? The doctor told me a young man accompanied you to the hospital.”

“Yes, it was Dean. We had a bit of an argument last night and I lost my balance on the stairs—it was an accident.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t contact the police?”

“He’s been going through a bad time recently; he came round ‘cause he needed someone to talk to.”

“If you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.”

Clare looked around quickly and then leaned in toward Loretta.

“The fall did have its advantages: all the benefits of an abortion without the guilt. Now I can tell Hannah about the pregnancy; I‘ve been feeling bad about keeping it from her.”

Loretta was unsure what stance to take on such a statement and so smiled at her.

“Shall we go, then?”

Lauren Matthews sat in the kitchen, holding her head in her hands. Alcohol had a lot to answer for. She had been drinking every day since Jon’s death. And now her body was giving away
tell-tale signs. Her face was bloated, her eyes bloodshot. After spending her lifetime up until now addiction free, she still wasn’t aware she had a problem. To those around her, it was becoming more obvious by the day. Alice had seen what was happening to her mother and had tried to warn her, but Lauren couldn’t seem to function without the aid of her trusty bottle of vodka. She’d never witnessed an addiction before and so she continued, blissfully unaware of any connotations. Every day seemed to start the same with the hair of the dog, by lunchtime she was drunk and by midevening ready to sleep.

Getting up gingerly, she moved to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and sat back down again just as carefully. Lauren heard the bathroom door slam and the familiar pounding down the stairs.

“Hi, Mum, how’s your head?”

It was a taunting question, but Lauren didn’t have the strength to deal with the antagonism this morning so let it slide.

“Is your brother getting up today or not?”

Lauren had tried talking to Dean a few times since Jon’s demise, but she just couldn’t get through to him. It seemed that every day he drifted further away. She knew he had no respect for her now, but lately she couldn’t help feeling he didn’t even love her anymore.

“Well, I wouldn’t know—he’s not here.”

“Where is he, then? Mark’s again?”

“I don’t know, Mum, I’m not his bloody keeper.”

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off today, Alice, or is this just another of your teenage charms?”

“Well, what do you want, Mum? If you want our respect you have to behave like you deserve it.”

“Are you really trying to lecture me, Miss Thing? How about you show me the respect that I, as your mother, deserve? I earned that giving birth, looking after you, bathing you,
feeding you, and every other thing you pair of ungrateful bastards demanded. I did all of that on my own, and what do I get in return? Back chatting, strop-throwing, law-breaking wankers.”

Alice stood stock-still. She had never heard her mother use that kind of language, and in such a brutal way, before, and certainly never directed at her. Unable to match her mother’s verbal ferocity, Alice decided the best statement she could make would be to make none. Alice turned on her heel and slammed out of the house.

Knowing she had gone too far, Lauren went to the cupboard, pulled out the half empty vodka bottle, and poured herself a large measure. Sitting back down, she took a long drink before replacing the glass on the table. Cupping her head in her hands once more, she started to sob.

Picking up the bottle and glass, Lauren went through into the living room and switched on the TV, sitting down she held her glass in one hand and the phone in the other waiting for Dean to ring.

By the time Lauren fell asleep the bottle was half empty and the phone was still quiet.

As the front door slammed, Lauren woke. Looking around her she realised night had stolen up as the only light in the room now was the light from the TV. She jumped up from the sofa, fully expecting Dean to walk in.

"Mum?” Alice peered round the corner of the door into the living room. Lauren allowed herself a moment of disappointment before answering.

“Hi, sweetheart. Look, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“I’m sorry, too. Is Dean back yet?”

“I don’t think so, pop up and check his room, would you? I’ll go and see what we’ve got in for tea.”

Lauren heard Alice bolt upstairs and got off the sofa, wandering through into the kitchen. Switching the oven on, she checked the freezer for a pizza and grabbed the salad from the fridge. Throwing the salad in a bowl, she drizzled dressing over it before returning it to the fridge.

Alice came dashing back through into the kitchen.

“Doesn’t look like he’s been back.”

“I’ll try him on his mobile again”

Picking up the phone, Lauren punched in Dean’s mobile number. The phone went straight to voicemail.

“Dean, could you give me a ring when you get this, please? Are you planning on coming back home at any point?”

She hung up the phone and looked at Alice.

“Well, I guess there’s no point in waiting for him. I’ll get the pizza in the oven.”

The foundations for the new county council buildings had already been dug, and the cement mixer was all lined up ready for use the next morning.

One of the bonuses behind the position of the new buildings was that it was in no way overlooked; the premises had been too large to construct in any central location. The nearest building to the site housed some offices, but as office people tended to clock off at five, this certainly wasn’t a cause for concern. Most people in the town had objected being set out on the edge of the town, but for hiding a body it was perfect. The idea had been fantastic, a flash of inspiration, and now the groundwork had been established. The unconscious Dean was dragged from the back of the car. The car had been parked as close as possible to the porta-loos. Once inside, Dean was bound and gagged, making it impossible for him to move or make any noise. Once Dean was secure, the door was locked from the outside with a coin and a sign was hung on the door.

“
Out of Order
.”

As morning broke across the building site, Charlie, the building’s foreman, got out of his truck.

Already in a spectacularly bad mood from the berating he’d received from his wife just five hours earlier, he leant against his vehicle and perused the site. He wasn’t gong to be up to much today, and had decided that the day was going to be a short one. It was Friday morning, and they always had a short day before the weekend; it kept the lads happier about having to work Sunday.

Bloody council. Anyone else and he’d have told them to stick it.

As he saw Stu pull his car into the site, he walked in its direction. As Stu parked the car up and opened his door, Charlie called out.

“We’ll just lay the first layer today—is that all right with you?”

Stu, seeing the black rings beneath his boss’s eyes, grinned.

“Fine by me, mate. Louise been giving you shit again?”

“Yeah, she only wants to go on fucking holiday to the Maldives, of all places.”

“I see, nice and pricey.”

“Tell me about it, I told her that we couldn’t afford it just on my wages, and if she was set on going she could try getting off of her fat arse and getting a job.”

“Oh, aye, and how did that go down?”

“Well, let’s just say I’ve got a lump on me head the size of a tennis ball.”

Stu laughed.

“Come on, then, the others should be here soon, let’s make a start; the sooner we get done, the faster we’ll be down at the pub.”

Loretta watched with mild amusement as the builders clocked off for the day. Briefly she wondered how they got away with it she knew councillors were already getting peeved by how long the build was taking. Oh well, at least her afternoon sessions wouldn’t be marred once again by the sound of heavy drilling along with the occasional shout out of inextricably linked swear words.

Loretta started to think back to Clare. She had been so unfazed by recent events. She had just lost a baby, but you would never know it to look at her. Loretta had spoken to her once since she’d gotten back from the hospital and Clare had told her that Hannah knew all about it now. Loretta was relieved she had another person to confide in. She knew how close Clare was to Hannah, and that pleased her almost as much as it worried her. Clare had a lot of work and study ahead of her, and if she, Loretta, were being honest with herself, she knew that a close friendship was always going to be a hindrance. The time and energy such relationships consumed left precious little left for anything else. She knew from bitter personal experience that closeness to people could cloud judgement; it had been a lesson she’d learnt the hard way many years before. She occasionally wondered what her patients would think if they knew all that had gone on in her life before she’d chosen a life of therapy. She’d done the whole staying with a man for the sake of a misguided sense of love thing. She had been kept at the beck and call of another, never having the freedom to even go to the local shop on her own for fear of offending. Deliberately being beaten about the legs to insure she hadn’t the confidence to wear skirts. Alcohol being the driving force behind all of the attempts at control. She knew that her patients must be aware on some level that she had a history that they could relate to in one way or another. It was what made her so good at what she did, unlike her peers, who, despite their best efforts to hide it, were quoting textbooks for the best part of their sessions. Loretta never condescended or patronised the people who came to her for help. She approached them as friends, and they responded well to her open handed approach to therapy.

She allowed her mind to wander back to Holt. She
missed his company. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to feel anything for any man that she almost hadn’t recognised the feelings. Once again her belief in closeness clouding judgement was proven to be correct, as when she was denied his company and she took a step back she could see it clearly; she felt a real attraction to him. Now all she wanted was for him to find a reason to seek her out again; she certainly wouldn’t be the one doing the running, it went against her pride. She had wasted her time in the past, chasing around after a man who had little more than a passing interest in her wellbeing and she wasn’t about to do it again. Even though she knew that Holt wasn’t that kind of man, deep wounds left scars.

Her secretary finally broke her train of thought.

“Loretta, your next appointment’s here—Mrs Francis.”

“Ok, send her through.”

Loretta cleared her desk and waited for Mrs Francis to knock.