Talk to Me (25 page)

My stomach was churning with fear. Had Peter deliberately killed poor Charlie? The room felt incredibly cold. Wrapping my arms around myself, I tried to stop shaking. I wanted a cardigan but didn’t want to go into my bedroom by myself. Peter must have been in there. I remembered things now, unexplained at the time, my necklace on the floor, Emily’s missing underwear. It all made sense now.

We’d retreated from the kitchen and Emily was weeping copiously, all over Daniel. Shit, it was hard to ignore the way her tiny frame fitted so neatly on his knee, her head just tucked under his chin.

All three of us nearly leapt six feet in the air when the locksmith arrived. It was left to me to answer the door. There was no way Emily was vacating those muscular thighs. Succumbing to my inner bitch, I thought it was a shame she’d stopped screaming. I would have enjoyed giving her a good slap.

A man of few words, Mr Lukic made short work of installing a new lock, even without my constant interruptions.

‘Look, love,’ he said with a sigh eventually, after I’d badgered him solidly for five minutes with questions about the security of the new locks. ‘There are millions of permutations of these keys. No one is going to have a copy.’

‘Are you sure?’

He put down his tools, and looked up at me. ‘Yes, love.’

‘But what about someone picking the lock?’ I asked.

His brow furrowed like corrugated cardboard. ‘That happens in films. Not real life, love. Burglars. Opportunists they are. Easy access – they’ll take that every time.’

It wasn’t a burglar I was worried about. I’d read enough psychological thrillers to know that psychopaths started small, torturing and killing pets before graduating to humans. My stomach twisted. Poor Charlie. What had Peter done to him? How could he? Charlie had been such a sweet little thing. He’d probably walked right up to Peter, weaving in and out of his legs, purring away like he always did. God, I was going to have to tell Charlie’s owner? My eyes welled up. What was I going to tell him?

‘There, love,’ Mr Lukic’s raspy voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘All done.’ Catching sight of my tears, he busied himself putting away his tools. ‘Safest thing. Always put the chain on when you’re in.’

It cost £120 by the time he’d finished, easy money for forty-five and a half minutes work. Nice work if you could get it especially with all those keyless OAPs wandering around in their slippers. Mr Rolling-in-fivers was handing out fresh keys by the time the police finally turned up.

Given that a murder wasn’t actually in progress when we’d dialled 999, the police appeared quite quickly – by South London standards. They called it a ‘Suspicious Incident’ but I think Emily’s hysterics in the background had a lot to do with it. Probably took pity on us – her voice can be a bit high-pitched.

To my disappointment there wasn’t so much as a flash of a blue light to herald their arrival. They ambled in, in their black uniforms. Starsky and Hutch they were not.

PC Carpenter and WPC Cartwright were local veterans, so the contents of our fridge didn’t faze them too much, even though they pronounced that poor Charlie’s throat had been cut. At that news Emily keeled over in a suspiciously neat faint, while my stomach tried to turn itself inside out. Daniel’s face turned even greyer.

Despite his youthful appearance, I swear it must have taken him three days to grow that stubble, PC Carpenter had probably clocked up more fatal stabbings and drive by shootings than he’d had hot dinners. He was a fairly weedy looking specimen, while gravelly voiced WPC Cartwright had probably had more packets of unfiltered Gauloise than hot dinners. Pushing forty, her hard, lined face told you that she’d seen and done everything, although she admitted a feline corpse in a domestic appliance was a new one.

She dutifully declined a cup of tea and plonked herself down on the sofa to take notes, propping up her notebook on her knee. It was left to me to relate the full tale, which when told sounded fairly fantastic.

‘Did you make it clear the emails weren’t welcome?’ asked Cartwright, her hand pausing, glancing up from her closely written notes at Emily.

‘Sort of,’ said Emily wincing.

‘How?’ persisted the police lady.

‘I told him to … stop emailing me.’

Cartwright was nobody’s fool. She just looked intently at Emily.

‘All right, I told him to piss off and leave me alone and that he was a sad loser. OK?’

Cartwright’s pen scribbled away furiously, asking the odd question about the content of the emails. I got the impression that in her vast and unseemly experience, the emails weren’t even mildly offensive. As she explained wearily, there were guys out there beating seven bells out of their wives and girlfriends every night – often killing them.

In the background PC Carpenter poked about the flat, making obvious comments like. ‘So this is the bathroom.’

I could see why he wasn’t a detective.

As I got to the end of the story, PC Cartwright’s back got straighter and her frown of concentration more intense. Coming to the end of the story, I explained how Daniel and I had seen Peter on the tape, and realised that he’d been in the flat, even before we’d come home to find the unmentionable in the fridge.

Cartwright looked sharply from me to Daniel, and then from Daniel to Emily. She shook her head slightly. I think she thought he was running a harem.

‘We’re definitely dealing with a harassment matter. Have you had any further contact with the young man?’ she asked.

Emily shook her head.

Cartwright pinched her lips tightly and hesitated before she spoke again. ‘This could escalate. I would like you to be aware of that. What we can do, if you would like us to, is warn him about his behaviour under Section Two of the Harassment Act.’

‘What does that involve?’ asked Emily, gnawing at her lower lip.

‘He’s officially warned in person by a police officer and a record is made of this on computer. After that warning, if he persists in his behaviour, we have the power to arrest him and it could go to court. In that case your tape would then be evidence. In the meantime, you best hang on to it,’ explained Cartwright, her wrinkled eyes narrowing into something resembling a sympathetic smile.

PC Carpenter returned from his amble around the flat. ‘If you could prove that it was him chucked the brick through the window, you might get him for criminal damage. Did you report it at the time?’

‘Yes,’ I piped up. ‘I’ve got the crime number.’

‘What about your neighbours? Any of them see anything?’

‘Doubtful. The junk shop downstairs is empty at night, the owner lives several doors down and we’ve never even see the people on either side.’

‘Might be worth popping round and asking them,’ observed PC Carpenter.

‘What about the scarf?’ asked Daniel.

Cartwright patiently explained that it was circumstantial evidence and unless we could prove that Peter had taken it from the flat, the police had no grounds to arrest him and seize the scarf for forensic examination.

Talk about unsatisfactory. Basically we had no proof.

‘What about breaking and entering?’ asked Daniel, bewildered that the law didn’t seem to be able to help.

‘I’d like SOCO to come round and see if they can get some fingerprints from the fridge.’ She sighed wearily. ‘Normally they wouldn’t come out for harassment but this … well … I think it warrants it. Don’t touch the fridge again until they’ve seen it.’

‘Socko?’ asked Emily. ‘What’s that?’

‘Scenes of Crime Officers,’ I piped up. Cartwright raised her eyebrows at me. I smiled weakly. ‘Too many crime thrillers. Not first-hand knowledge.’ I almost added, honest. I always had a compulsion around the police to let them know I was a good upright citizen.

‘Carpenter, can you get on to that right away,’ said Cartwright, ignoring us both. ‘Might be a good idea to get them here as soon as.’

‘Will do.’

‘So in the meantime, what next?’ asked Daniel. ‘Two girls living on their own. The locks have been changed, but what if he comes back?’

WPC Cartwright softened slightly at his visible frustration. ‘Look, I understand you’re worried. We can flag this address so that if you call 999 there’s a note on the computer about what’s been going on. If anything happens you’ll be a priority. In the meantime we’ll contact,’ she looked at her notebook, ‘Barney Snowdon, and see if he can give us this Peter’s contact details. If all else fails we’ve got his email address and we can contact the service provider.’

God only knows what Barney would say when he heard the police would be in touch. That was one call I really didn’t want to make.

What a day! From the start it had been one long rollercoaster from worrying about Kate through to finding Peter’s gift, the arrival of the police and more recently the silent whirlwind of the SOCO team.

Hearing Daniel refer to me as ‘my girlfriend’ earlier in the car had been the high point, but now seeing Emily with her arm firmly anchored through his and the uncomfortable look on his face, I was going through the fastest freefall in history. She was in such a state that when she sobbed, ‘Daniel, please stay tonight’, what could he do? There was no way he could leave her, let alone break bad news to her.

Half an hour after Cartwright and Carpenter left, the crime scene guys turned up. They weren’t the Hollywood heart-throbs you see on TV. Trooping in carrying their kits, apart from a brief introduction neither said a word. They were both tall, thin and moustached, reminiscent of John Cleese, except without the funny walk. Once in the kitchen they produced outsized brushes, big fat round ones with black bristles, which they whirled in circular motions around the fridge reminding me of a car wash, except instead of cleaning they were spreading black ash, which later proved bloody hard to get off.

I loitered in the kitchen for as long as I could until, after a pointed look from one of them, I disappeared just as they got to the interesting bit. It looked as if they were about to lift off a couple of prints. Within ten minutes their job was done and the two of them trooped back out again, telling me they’d got a couple of prints and someone would be in touch. Now it was just me, and Emily and Daniel.

In sheer desperation I got out the ironing board to occupy myself. Perhaps my domestic goddess impersonation might impress Daniel.

Of course if Nigella had been doing the ironing, she would have made it look all sexy and come hither, with parted lips as she concentrated on a collar, a gentle toss of her hair as she pressed a sleeve and meaningful glances at the camera through the steam.

I on the other hand looked more like an angry troll taking my frustration out on several pairs of jeans. What with thinking of Daniel and worrying that I still hadn’t heard from Kate, my concentration was shot and my favourite T-shirt ended up with a scorch mark on the sleeve.

Just as I was wondering whether Kate was all right, the phone finally rang and a strong Australian accent informed me that she was a nurse on Kate’s ward.

‘Thank God. How is she?’ I asked anxiously. On the sofa I could see Daniel straighten and turn towards me.

‘I’m afraid she’s lost the baby, but she’s doing well. We’re keeping her in to keep an eye on her because she’s lost a fair amount of blood.’

‘How long for?’

‘Another day or so. It was an incomplete miscarriage, there’s still some tissue left in her uterus, we need to—’

‘Can she have visitors?’ I interrupted. Much as I love my sister, I didn’t necessarily want the full details of her internal bits.

‘Only one at a time at the moment,’ said the nurse, clearly put out that I’d halted her mid medical spiel. ‘She’s very weak and, of course, upset.’

The nurse then reeled off the visiting times and ward number. I looked at my watch. Bill would be landing at about 11.30 their time. Could he get to the hospital for visiting time that afternoon?

‘So how’s Kate?’ asked Daniel, as I was texting the details to Bill once the nurse rang off.

‘In hospital. Doing OKish.’ I didn’t want to reveal all the details in front of Emily as I was sure that she was the last person Kate would want to know intimate details of her private life.

Emily lifting her head from Daniel’s shoulder looked intrigued but before she could ask any questions I announced that I was going to bed.

‘Been quite a day.’

‘Yes,’ said Emily huffily, as if it was entirely my fault.

Daniel looked at me steadily. ‘Night, Olivia. Sleep well.’

‘Good night,’ I said as I slipped into the bathroom. How bizarre? Wishing him a good night. It was the last thing I wanted him to have. Sitting on the loo, I buried my head in my hands in a moment of self-indulgent despair. If ever I wanted someone to lean on, tonight was the night. Just my luck, so close and yet so far. How could I be missing Daniel so badly – it was less than twelve hours since our first kiss?

‘’Lo,’ I answered groggily, when my mobile went some hours later.

‘I know it’s late but it’s me. I’ve seen Kate.’

‘Bill?’

‘Yes, I’ve just left the ward.’

Rousing myself, I switched on my bedside lamp. It was three in the morning. ‘God, what did she say when she saw you?’ How much trouble was I in?

‘Not a lot. She just cried.’

My heart sank. That wasn’t Kate at all, she must be in a bad way. ‘When can I speak to her?’

‘She’s asleep now. But I’m coming back at six for visiting time. I’ll call you then, so you can speak to her. Don’t worry, Olivia, she’s OK, physically. Obviously she’s very upset.’

‘Seriously, Bill. Is she really OK or is she in a state?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Olivia, I’m not going to lie. She’s very emotional, understandably. Very tearful and clingy. But I’ll look after her. I promise.’

‘Thanks, Bill.’ I sniffed.

‘I’ll call later,’ and with that he hung up.

There was no way I could get back to sleep after that. Poor Kate. Always so self-sufficient. Thank God Bill had gone straight out.

I felt so much better knowing that she had someone with her. He would look after her. Despite that reassurance, I still couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed one way and then another, plumping my pillows but it was no good. I had to get up.

Some sixth sense stopped me screaming the house down as something grabbed my calf as I crept through the lounge.

‘What are you doing?’ I whispered, my heart leaping into my mouth, relived to see Daniel.

‘Trying to get some sleep on this very lumpy sofa. Didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘That’s all right then, if you didn’t meant to,’ I said, as he pulled me down next to him, putting an arm round me. ‘Thought you’d be with Emily,’ I said tentatively.

‘What? Sleeping with her?’

‘Not in the physical sense. How d’you get out of it?’ I asked ‘Oo your hands are cold.’

‘So would you be without a blanket.’ He was still fully dressed but had pinched my winter coat from the rack in the hall. ‘Said there was something on TV I wanted to watch. I was going to pretend that I’d fallen asleep here. Don’t suppose you fancy warming me up a bit?’

‘Yes. There’s a spare blanket …’ I teased half-standing.

He pulled me back. ‘Don’t you know body heat is the most effective in preventing hypothermia,’ he murmured in my ear, hot breath teasing my neck as his hands slipped round my waist and up under my top.

‘Hypothermia. It’s summer,’ I replied squirming as his cold hands smoothed their way up my back. They might have been cool but everything else was warming up nicely.

Despite that, I was finding it very difficult to relax. The spine that Daniel was so confidently stroking was remaining resolutely ramrod.

After a while Daniel shifted, pulling me round to face him.

‘Not having second thoughts, are you?’ he asked, looking into my face.

‘No, just scared Emily might come out.’ In response he put an arm around my shoulder and we sat there in the dark with the moon shining in through the window. It was probably at least ten minutes before either of us spoke. Even my brain had slowed to enjoy the quiet closeness. I’d missed this, the easy companionship of being with someone else without having to talk, no gaps to fill, no uncertainties to question.

‘Don’t drop off, sweetheart, you need to go back.’ It was the third time he’d called me that, and yes I was counting. It sent such a shot of sheer joy through me. I muttered sleepily at him, too content to find words.

‘Come on, I can feel you drooping, it’s been quite a day, all in all.’

I sighed. ‘Do I have to? I like it here.’ I would have quite happily stayed there forever, hang the consequences.

‘Yes, you do. Remember you work and live with Emily,’ he said, quoting my words back to me. ‘I was planning on hanging around in the morning, I have to speak to her tomorrow. Knock it all on the head.’

‘You know, Daniel,’ I said hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure that she’s going to be too upset.’

‘Really,’ he asked turning his chin, bumping my head. ‘Sorry that sounds big headed. Do you think she knows?’

I shifted, looking up at him. ‘No, let’s just say I have an inkling your replacement’s already been lined up.’

A chagrined expression crossed his face. I put my hand up to stroke his cheek saying flippantly, ‘It’s OK, I still lo—’ I stopped. His hand trapped mine, an eyebrow quirking. There was a silence. I chickened out. ‘I think that she might have been elsewhere last night. She didn’t exactly seem pleased to see us.’

‘Now you mention it, was it my imagination or was she a bit shifty?’ he observed.

‘Mm, if it wasn’t you she was out at Phantom with last week or Yo! Sushi, I’ve got a good idea who it might have been.’

Now if Daniel had been a girl he would have been straight in there wanting to know all the details, but he seemed to take it as a green light. A slow smile crossed his face, a knowing look in his eyes. All of a sudden he seemed far more interested in trying to spark some life into my erogenous zones. A considerably warmed up hand was making a new foray, slinking up the side of my ribs, dancing on the edge of ticklish and wildly erotic. I couldn’t help it, a small moan escaped. He took complete advantage of my half-dressed state, the palm of his hand spreading, his thumb inching over my nipple. A zing darted downwards; my lips met his, move for move and before I knew it I was sinking back, the warmth of his body spread over me, our mouths fused in a delicious kiss.

I woke up cold and alone – virtue intact. Damn it! I’d returned to my empty bed at about five and, despite every nerve end tingling with frustration, had amazingly dropped straight back to sleep.

The morning got off to a good start when I got my first love text. ‘Gd mrng sweetheart. Sleep well? Xxxxxxx’

My heart did a funny little flip and I lay back on my pillow, a silly grin on my face, counting the kisses on the message. How sweet was that? He was only the other side of the wall.

From there it all went downhill.

It should have been a relief when Kate finally phoned, but she was listless and weepy. I felt so helpless. All I wanted to do was give her a big hug. Never had I felt so far away.

‘Hi, sweetie. How are you?’

‘OK,’ she said wearily. ‘I want to go home but they won’t let me.’

‘How’s Bill?’ I asked warily.

‘Fine,’ she said.

‘Oh,’ I was flummoxed. Pulling teeth would have been easier. ‘Just fine?’

‘Yes,’ she said her voice breaking.

‘Kate, don’t. I thought you’d be mad at me for telling him.’

‘Too late now,’ she said with a sniff, her voice sounding thick as if she had a cold. ‘He knows. Anyway there’s no baby, so he doesn’t need to stick around.’

‘Kate. You know that’s not true. If you’d seen him the night he flew out.’

‘How was he?’ she asked pathetically eager.

‘In a state.’

‘Honest?’ she asked quietly.

‘Yes,’ I said exasperated. This wasn’t like Kate. Normally men fell like ninepins at her feet with her stepping over them with careless abandon. When had things changed? Was Bill really that important to her?

‘For God’s sake, Kate. The poor man dropped everything, hopped straight on a flight and flew twenty-four hours to see you.’

‘You think he really cares?’

Duh! I was trying to be gentle with her, she clearly wasn’t herself. Good job she was so far away, otherwise I would have given her a good shake. ‘Kate! Listen. Of course he bloody does. You can ask Daniel if you don’t believe me. Shall I put him on?’

‘Daniel?’ her voice sounded puzzled. ‘He’s with you?’

‘Erm, yes. Actually I meant he’s here in the flat but now you mention it, I could say “with me”. We’re still working on it.’

‘You and Daniel.’ She brightened up. ‘Yay. About time. You finally dislodged him. I want details but not now. Bill’s going to be here soon.’

There was a pause down the line, followed by a small sob. ‘What am I going to say to him? It was his too.’ She stopped.

‘Kate, it’s not your fault. He’s not going to blame you for having a …’ I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. As if saying it made it more real. Until now, Kate being pregnant had been almost hypothetical.

‘What if it is my fault? I didn’t want a baby and now it’s gone.’ Her voice went up. ‘And now,’ she was crying in earnest, ‘I do.’

My fingers tightened on the phone as I bit my lip at the anguish in her tone.

‘I was going to get rid of … my baby … it … I said that. As if my baby was nothing. How could I? Now I’ve been punished for being so … It was my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have flown back. Air travel can’t be good for pregnancy. What if I never have another chance?’

‘Kate, stop. It wasn’t your fault. These things happen. It’s a cliché, I know, but they do happen, much more often than people realise. There’s some statistic, one in three—’

‘That’s marriages ending in divorce. Not babies,’ wailed Kate.

My shoulders slumped. This conversation was so hard over the phone. I would have done anything to be sitting with her, on the end of her bed, holding her hand.

Trying to distract her, I changed the subject. ‘Do you want me to say anything to the parents?’

‘Noooo!’ she cried. ‘I can’t … No … not Mum. Don’t tell her yet. Wait ’til I’m out of here.’

Finishing the call, I looked at my watch. I was running late but I just didn’t care. Poor Kate. Then again, there was no way I wanted to hang around the flat. After everything that had happened this weekend, work would be a break. Hopefully it would take my mind off everything else.

Last night Daniel had said that he’d wait until I’d left to talk to Emily. No doubt she’d be demob happy and only working minimal hours. Shit. I had to speak to her about that today. It wasn’t her day either.

As predicted, Emily had decided she would be late in.

‘I’m far too shaken up,’ she explained wearily from the bathroom, where she was busy applying her make-up. ‘You can explain why.’ As if it was entirely my fault.