Good Me Bad Me(79)

‘It’s not your fault, Mike.’

I hear the doorbell ring, voices again. A gentle knock at the door. Valerie comes into the room, says, sorry, but the police want to talk to you, they say you can go home if you like. Mike nods, uses both hands to pull himself up on the sofa, legs not to be trusted. Valerie leaves, says she’ll wait in the hallway.

‘We should go,’ he says.

‘I’m scared, what will I see?’

‘You won’t see anything. There’s a tarpaulin over where she –’

He walks over to the window, leans his hand against the glass, looks into the garden, composes himself. Tries to. He turns to face me, says, we have to go. When we leave the room Valerie and David are waiting outside, they both say how sorry they are and if there’s anything they can do, just to call, no matter what time of day. Mike nods.

The first thing I see in the driveway is two police cars, no ambulance, already gone Mike said. When we get to the front door I don’t want to go in.

‘I’m not sure I can, Mike.’

‘We have to. I’ll be with you the whole time.’

A group of uniformed officers are standing in the entrance hallway. Mike introduces me as his foster daughter. One of them nods, and says Steve’s in the kitchen waiting. The floor, new tiles will be needed. I hold on to Mike as we pass.

‘You’re okay,’ he says, his hand on my back. I ask again where Saskia is.

‘The ambulance crew gave her an injection, something to calm her down, she’s in our bedroom.’

Another officer is seated at the table, stands up as we walk in.

‘You must be Milly. Is it okay if I ask you some questions? I understand this must be a terrible shock for you.’

‘Can I stay with her?’ Mike asks.

‘Of course, it won’t take long, routine stuff really. Please, sit down.’

He opens the notepad in front of him, takes the lid off a biro.

‘Can you tell me the last time you saw Phoebe?’

‘At school, at the end, it would have been about four o’clock.’

‘How did she seem to you?’

‘Normal, I guess. She was on her phone.’

‘Do you know who to?’

‘No, she was reading an email. Seemed excited about something.’

He makes a note in his pad.

‘And did she tell you what she was excited about?’

‘No.’

‘And she said she was going straight home?’

‘I think so, yeah, she said she had some stuff to do.’

‘Was anything else said between the two of you?’

‘Not really no, I had a meeting to go to. I’m helping design the set for our play.’

‘And that’s where you’ve been this evening?’ he asks.

‘Yes, there’s about fifteen of us and one of the teachers, Miss Kemp.’

Another note in his pad.

‘What time did you leave school?’

‘I walked out with my teacher, just after seven, that’s when Mike called me.’

The officer looks at Mike, he nods to confirm what I’ve said is correct, his face looking older by the minute. I can tell it’s over when the officer closes his notebook, the lid back on his biro. The detail of people.

‘I’m sorry for your loss. I think we’re done here,’ he says.

He pauses a few seconds, a polite response to what he sees, awake in his training, he was. As he stands, his chair scrapes across the tiles. Mike flinches, every noise and sensation heightened now.

‘Will you be staying here tonight?’ he asks.

‘Possibly, depending on how my wife is. They gave her an injection.’

‘Would you like me to arrange a clean-up team to come in? It’ll not be a perfect job at this time of day but enough to get you through the night.’

‘If you could, thank you,’ Mike replies.

I shield my eyes as I pass the tarpaulin. Mike tells me to stay in my room until he says otherwise.

‘If Saskia’s awake we’ll move into a hotel tonight, if not, first thing tomorrow.’

Three messages on my phone from Morgan asking if I’m okay and what’s with the police cars at the house. I text her, tell her I’m fine but Phoebe’s not, she’s dead, she fell off the banister. Fuck, she replies instantly, she was well mean but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, accidents are the worst.

Yes, I reply.

The worst.





37


We’ve been living in a hotel for the past week, Rosie in kennels. The house no longer felt like home, the marble in the hallway needed lifting. Replaced. The area, deep cleaned again. I can’t help imagining how Mike and Saskia would have reacted when they found Phoebe’s body. Saskia. Dropped to her knees I bet, screaming, Mike there by her side. Footsteps. Urgent. He would have run to Phoebe’s body, checked for a pulse, that’s why his hands and his shirt were stained. He’d have crumpled on to the floor, gathered her body into his. Saskia, mute, after the shock set in.

I worry for them both, the spotlight on their grief shines twenty-four seven. Mike, going through the motions, moving more slowly than usual, each step reminds him of what he saw. He’s the keeper of the pills, both Saskia, if she makes it out of bed, and I line up in the mornings. She takes whatever he gives, her hand outstretched for more. She slept all day, Mike told me when I returned from my first day back at school, a sense of structure, normality, enforced on me. I thought I’d be glad to escape but I just want to be with them. Mike feels it too, says it helps when I come back each day.