Breakneck point, p.19
Breakneck Point, page 19
‘Thanks, Si. She nudges him playfully. ‘And you might just have solved an attempted murder. The detective was really interested in this kid on the bike. From now on, I’ll call you Simon, the super sleuth.’
Sometimes, he wishes Trisha would just shut up. For good.
33
Holt finds me in the hospital cafeteria, grabbing a coffee while the nurses tend to Megan. I haven’t seen him since the TV studios and if he’s still angry with me, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks positively upbeat. He drags the chair from underneath the table and sits down in front of me.
‘I hear Megan’s making good progress.’
‘Yes, she is. Her eyes twitched again this morning. Just for a moment.’
I was reading a book she loved as a child, Guess How Much I Love You. I haven’t read it in years, but I found it in the hospital library and remembered Megan’s joy at the idea of Little Nutbrown Hare measuring his love for Big Nutbrown Hare to the moon and back. Megan told me she loved me all the way to the other side of the Bristol Channel and back which she estimated was much further than the moon. As soon as I started it, her eyelashes quivered. The smallest movement that took my breath away. I stopped reading for a moment, but then continued and it happened again. Megan is on her way back to me.
‘Is there any chance she’ll remember any of it when she wakes up?’
‘The consultant says it’s very unlikely and, you know, I’m not sure I want her to.’
Holt looks at me. We both know that if Megan remembers the attack, it could be key to catching her attacker, but she’s my daughter and I can’t bear the thought that it might play on repeat in her head forever.
‘Yeah, I can see that. Look, I’m sorry I flew off the handle after the TV appeal yesterday. You’re under a lot of stress and it makes people say all sorts of things. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I was just worried that it could have a really negative effect on the case. You know the deal. People want to see victims’ families hurting, not fighting back.’
‘And did it?’
‘Did it what?’
‘Did my threat to go after Megan’s attacker have a negative effect?’
‘Actually, no, it didn’t, not if the number of calls we’ve had is anything to go by, I guess.’
‘Anything useful?’
‘We’re following everything up, but we did get one call in particular. A resident from the housing estate above Three Brethren Woods said they saw an ambulance parked at the end of the street. Apparently, they park there a lot as it’s a quiet spot to have lunch and they’re close to the main road out of Barnston, if they get called up.’
‘Ah yes, a guy I know is going out with one of the paramedics that attended Megan. He mentioned it. I should have told you, I guess, but it didn’t seem relevant.’
‘You’ve got other things on your mind, Ally. Anyway, we’ve just spoken to the paramedics.’
I’m sure I can detect a slight excitement in his voice.
‘And?’
‘And they saw someone. A man on a bike riding towards the trail just a few minutes before Megan was attacked. They didn’t get a good look at him, but he’s showed up on the CCTV outside the Spar. We’re trying to get an ID on him now. Might be nothing, but no one matching his description has come forward to be eliminated.’
‘That’s good news.’
‘I thought you’d like to know. Obviously, I’ll let you know as soon as we have more, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one.’
‘Thanks. I’d appreciate that.’
‘I’ll be in touch.’
He gets up.
‘What do you mean by “they”?’ I ask.
‘Sorry?’
‘You said they saw a man on a bike.’
‘The paramedics. They were parked up in that housing estate on the hill behind the woods having lunch when they saw this guy.’
‘But there was only one of them.’
‘What?’
‘Trisha was with a patient. Her boyfriend told me. The other paramedic, Simon Pascoe, was alone when he got the call.’
* * *
Jackie is in her reclining chair, as usual. As he walks into the living room, she looks up and smiles hopefully. He knows what she’s after.
‘I haven’t had time to get you any sweets,’ he snaps. His conversation with the detectives had put him in a good mood, but a day of Trisha banging on about how good Gary is in the sack meant it hadn’t lasted long. ‘And don’t start blubbering. You’re a grown woman, for goodness’ sake. It’s pathetic.’
She sniffs hard and nods in agreement.
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’
There’s an aroma of juniper in the air.
‘I take it that Arjun fella has been in again, giving you another foot massage.’
‘Yes.’
He picks up one of her teddies. It’s wearing an eye patch and a blue jacket with gold epaulettes and buttons: Nelson, he guesses.
‘Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?’
She looks at him in horror.
‘No, no, Simon. Never.’
‘You’re always going on about him. I reckon you’re seeing him behind my back.’
Jackie searches out several shafts of her hair, wraps them around her forefinger and gives them a sharp tug. They come away easily and she slides the prize into her mouth. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it. The hairball inside her must be enormous.
‘No, no. I would never do anything like that. He’s just nice to me, that’s all.’
His eyes are fixed on Nelson.
‘How nice, though? That’s the question.’
‘It’s not like that. He’s my friend. He keeps me company.’
‘I told you, he’s paid to do that. Do you think he’d come here for free?’
Her fingers re-explore the moonscape that is her scalp, searching out a strand.
‘No,’ she says quietly.
He’s bored of their conversation, bored of her fawning over Arjun.
‘I’ve got work to do. Oh, and I’ve been asked to do extra shifts, so I won’t be around much for the next few weeks.’
‘Can’t someone else do it? They always ask you. Couldn’t they ask Trisha?’
He hasn’t been asked at all. He volunteered to increase his chances of meeting someone suitable. Colin snapped his hand off, of course, telling him how the NHS was lucky to have such a dedicated paramedic.
‘No, I’m the only one who knows what they’re doing.’
He turns to leave.
‘Don’t go, Simon.’ Her eyes shine with tears. ‘Stay with me a little longer. I get so lonely here on my own all day.’
‘Well, maybe you should give your friend Arjun a call then,’ he says, tossing Nelson to one side.
He leaves, but at the top of the stairs he pauses and takes his phone out. He should have done this weeks ago.
‘Bidecombe Carers?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d like to speak to the manager.’
34
The path down to Breakneck Point is so steep I have to tackle it sideways or the incline will convey me all the way down and over the cliff, if I’m not careful. Our bench is stationed at the lowest point of the path, but it is still high above the waves below.
Megan is making such good progress the consultant suggested I go home for a rest. I couldn’t leave her alone – not even now when the news is so positive – but I found myself suddenly yearning to walk along the cliffs where I could give myself up to the cool breeze sweeping in from the Channel, rinsing my hair and clothes of the cloying smell of hospital disinfectant.
I thought about asking Bernadette to come in and watch over Megan. She has been in a few times to see her, but it’s taking its toll on her. She doesn’t stay long and I wonder if this is because she fears the sight of Megan will break her if she lingers, so I called Penny instead. If my friend was still annoyed with me about my television performance, she didn’t show it. Instead, she agreed that the break would do me the power of good. Thirty minutes later she walked into Megan’s room.
I sit down on the bench, its aged and faded wood is rough, but so familiar to my touch. Names, dates, hearts, even the odd penis have been penknifed into it over the years, a biography of lives.
I remember the first time we came here. I lifted Megan up onto it and her legs dangled over the edge. We shielded our eyes from the sun to look out to sea across the Bristol Channel to the Welsh coast, wondering if anyone was sitting on a bench on the other side, looking back at us.
Just in case, hands cupped around our mouths, we shouted hello into the sea breeze and waved like we needed rescuing. We didn’t want the people who lived there to think we were unfriendly.
Then Megan asked me if I’d take her to the land on the other side of the water and I said I would. She swung her legs backwards and forwards with excitement. ‘We could go in a yellow submarine.’
‘Well, I’m not sure where to buy a yellow submarine, but Penny has a blue boat. Perhaps we could ask her to take us.’
Megan clapped.
‘Yes! Let’s.’
Since then, over the years, this old bench has silently charted Megan’s life: who she’s inviting to her ninth birthday party, how her real dad can’t love her because if he did, he’d come and see her, what friends she’ll make at secondary school, the period talk, the sex talk – there is nothing this bench doesn’t know about our lives.
Jobs? Megan was always changing her mind. When she was little, she wanted to run a café and call it The Yellow Submarine, but she told Jay she wanted to be a CSI. She’d be good too. She’s tenacious, like me. Marriage? Never, she said. I take responsibility for that one. Sean and I were enough to kill anyone’s idea of a happy ever after. Babies? Disgusting, she told me not six months ago. I thought the same at her age, but when she was little she planned to have two children and call them Desmond and Molly, two characters from the Beatles song ‘Ob-La-Di, Ob-Lah-Da’. Penny has a lot to answer for. One would have auburn hair like her, the other would be dark like me.
I smile at the memories, but they quickly fade.
Who did this to you, Megan?
There it is. That question. Always there, loitering in the foreground of my mind, seeking my attention.
Whoever he is, he knows Megan personally. I’m sure of it. That’s the only explanation as to why she went to Three Brethren Woods. She went there to meet someone. So, does he go to her school? No, the registers have been checked and revealed nothing more sinister than the usual round of doctors’ and dentists’ appointments. So, is he a friend of mine? Surely, he’s not one of my Tinder disasters. No, that’s not possible. I don’t even use my real name and I’ve always been very careful not to reveal details about myself. None of them knew I had a teenage daughter. So, how does Megan know him? If she didn’t meet him online, where did she meet him?
A voice tramples over my questions. It’s Liam. I haven’t seen him since I came here after Cheryl Black’s death.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I thought I was the only person who came here. How’s Megan?’
‘Getting there. She’s moving her eyes.’
‘That’s great to hear.’
He sits down next to me on the bench.
‘I saw the TV appeal.’
‘Are you going to give me a lecture about compromising the investigation too?’
Liam frowns.
‘No. I’d have done the same. In fact, I’d have gone further. I’d have told the bastard that when I find him, I’ll kill him.’
I look at Liam. I never had him down as the violent type, but his anger over Megan is genuine and I believe him.
‘Thanks. Not sure what Holt would have done if I’d said that. He already thinks I’ve blown the investigation.’
‘And how is the investigation going?’
He’s the first person to have asked me, but he’s an ex-cop. He gets it and it’s a relief to be able to talk freely about it without feeling guilty that I’ve shifted the conversation away from Megan’s prognosis and progress.
‘Honestly? Not great. First, they thought Megan was meeting someone she’d found online, but there’s nothing on her laptop. Now they think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘It happens.’
‘Yes, it does, but it doesn’t explain why she randomly got on a bus and travelled sixteen miles to Barnston to walk along the trail.’
‘Teenagers aren’t the most rational of people.’
‘True, but in my experience, they also don’t exert themselves without reason either. Something’s wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘For a start, her attacker dropped the weapon with a fingerprint on it.’
‘Sounds like a schoolboy error.’
‘Exactly, but the rest of the scene was clean, apparently.’
‘Apparently?’
‘What criminal does something as basic as dropping their weapon, but remembers to get rid of any other forensic evidence? None of it adds up to me.’
‘Bob Holt’s the SIO. I can see why you’re worried.’
‘Yeah, he wants to solve it – of course he does – but I’m not sure that he’s up to the job. I just hope I’m wrong.’
‘Did the TV appeal lead to anything?’
‘Yes, it did. Someone rang in saying they’d seen someone on a bike heading towards the trail which at least gives them something to go on, but that’s it and the only thing I can do about it is make idle threats on TV. To be honest, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to about this. Penny isn’t interested and I try to avoid speaking to Bernadette about anything.’
He looks at me intently.
‘You know I’m always here if you need someone to talk to.’
I sense that if I accept Liam’s offer, he would play a much bigger part in my life which isn’t an unpleasant thought but, for some reason, I can’t bring myself to open up to him, not in the way I suspect he wants me to, so all I offer in return is a non-committal smile and a ‘thanks’.
Besides, the mention of their names has resurrected my uncomfortable conversations with Bernadette and Penny.
‘What is it?’ he asks.
‘Nothing, just Bernadette being Bernadette. She thinks it’s my fault that Megan was attacked because I’m never around.’
‘Jesus. That’s a bit of a quantum leap.’
‘I know and I wouldn’t take much notice normally – you know what she’s like – but Penny then said I needed to leave the investigation to the police and be a mum to Megan. It feels like she blames me too.’ I shift around on the bench to face him. ‘There’s a part of me that can’t help wondering if they may be right.’
He raises a hand to interrupt.
‘Whoa. Hang on a second. That’s rubbish. Teenagers are devious so-and-sos and – for what it’s worth – I think you’re a fantastic mother. I’ve watched you both on Morte Sands for years now. You have an amazing bond with Megan. God, I’d love to have that relationship with my two girls. Since I split with their mum and she took them back up north, I’m not much more than a FaceTime father. Their digital dad.’
I knew Liam had kids; I’ve seen the messy-haired, toothy-grinned photos in the van, but he never talks about them.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
He shrugs it off.
‘It’s OK, we make it work, sort of. Summer’s tough because the Coffee Shack is 24/7, but I try to make up for it in the winter. What I’m trying to say is, there’s nothing wrong with your relationship with Megan. Bernadette and Penny are missing the point and so are you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The reason you want to find out who hurt Megan so badly isn’t because you’re a CSI. It’s precisely because you are her mother.’
When I get back to the cabin, there’s a letter waiting for me on my doormat – delivered by hand. From my doorway, I check the site to see if the person who delivered it is still around, but there’s no one. It’s too official-looking for it to be a get well soon card for Megan and I consider leaving it, but maybe it’s a bill. Despite the catastrophes that happen in life, debts still need to be paid.
But it’s not a bill. It’s from a solicitor’s firm in Barnston, writing on behalf of Sean Parker. The last time I saw his name on a document it was to inform me my divorce had come through, so what the hell does he want with me now?
Bad news is best delivered quickly, so I scan it. Words like ‘court order’ and ‘parental care’ leap out at me until I begin to understand that they form the basis of a demand. Oh God, Sean’s applying for custody of Megan. This is a joke, right? He’s not been in Megan’s life for eight years and even then his idea of fatherhood was to beat her mother, putting the fear of God into her. But it’s no joke. It’s there in black and white. Ludicrous as it sounds, six years of parenting someone else’s daughter means he has a claim. Sean is planning to take Megan away from me.
My hands tremble at the thought of Sean anywhere near Megan. Who the fuck does he think he is? Shortly after I left him, I heard he’d got a job upcountry somewhere and I thought I was rid of him for good. Now, after all these years, he’s waltzed right back into our lives, making demands like he’s entitled to have a say in the life of a girl who isn’t even his blood relative. How dare he? But he has dared because he can. He thinks he has a chance. Just like Bernadette and Penny, Sean thinks I can’t look after my daughter properly. He thinks it’s my fault she was attacked. I can picture him with his mates down the pub. ‘It would never have happened if I’d still been around.’ Well, screw him.
I should call him up, tell him that hell would have to freeze over twice before I let him anywhere near Megan, but I haven’t the energy. The consultant’s confidence in Megan’s recovery allowed me to relax the tiniest amount and just enough to open the sluice gates that have so far contained my exhaustion. I just need a few minutes rest then I can deal with Sean. I can deal with them all.
I lie down on the brown sofa knowing that not even its lumpiness can keep me awake and Sean’s letter slips from my hand.
