My Sister's Bones(58)

Instead I shake my head.

‘Okay,’ she says, standing up from her seat. ‘I’ll leave you with PC Walker.’

She nods her head and for a moment I think she is going to speak some words of comfort to me. But then she turns and walks towards the door. I am just another case to her, another form to fill in. She has no interest in my life and what I have seen. She will walk out of this room and into another one where some poor bastard will sit and unload his life to her while she neatly ticks her boxes. And I think of the countless men and women I have interviewed over the years, some whose stories stayed with me, others to whom I barely gave a second thought once the dispatch had been written, and I wonder if that is how I looked to them: a woman who had taken a piece of their soul along with their story as she walked away.

The door closes and PC Walker steps towards me.

An hour later I’m sitting in Paul’s car in the train station car park with my rucksack on my knee.

‘I packed everything of yours I could find,’ he says, resting his arms on the steering wheel. ‘I hope it’s okay.’

‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ I say. ‘I didn’t bring that much with me anyway.’

‘You know it’s probably for the best, don’t you?’ he says. ‘And at least Fida didn’t press charges.’

‘Ha,’ I cry as I look out into the late-afternoon gloom. ‘She didn’t press charges. Of course she didn’t because she knows if the police delved deeper they’d find out her husband’s little secret. He’s an abuser, Paul, and she’s covering for him.’

‘Well, whatever she’s doing it’s none of your business now,’ he sighs. ‘It can’t be. You heard what the copper said, if you go back to the house Fida will apply for a restraining order. Which they’ll definitely approve. And then that’s it, your life’s over. You’ll be dragged into court, your reputation will be down the toilet. It’s not worth it.’

‘No,’ I whisper. ‘So it seems I have no choice. Other than to see a shrink.’

‘Well, would that be such a bad thing?’ he says gently. ‘Nip this PTSD in the bud before it gets worse, while you still can. Before you end up like . . . well, you know what I mean.’

‘Before I end up like Sally?’

He puts his head on to the steering wheel and sighs.

‘Will you tell her?’ I ask. ‘About us.’

He lifts his head. His face has drained of colour.

‘Of course I won’t,’ he says. ‘It would destroy her.’

‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘But then I think Sally destroyed herself a long time ago.’

He puts his hand on my arm and strokes it tenderly.

‘I do care about you, Kate,’ he says. ‘I always have. Perhaps in another life we might have –’

‘Don’t,’ I say, easing my arm away. ‘I think we both know that’s crazy talk. The other night was just one of those things. We needed some comfort.’

He smiles and rubs his face with his hands. ‘So where will you go? Back to London?’

‘I’ll go to my flat first but I won’t be hanging around. Too many ghosts there.’

‘You mean Chris?’

I flinch at the sound of his name.

‘You left his Facebook page open on my laptop,’ says Paul. ‘Married, eh? Sounds like a bit of a shit to me.’

‘Sally is very lucky,’ I say as I unclip the seat belt. ‘Having someone like you. I don’t think she realizes it.’

He smiles but I can see it’s painful.

‘You said you won’t be hanging around,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘So where will you go?’

‘I’ll talk to Harry,’ I say. ‘Get him back onside, then I’ll go back to Syria. It’s the only place I can be right now.’

‘Are you insane? Have you seen the news?’

‘I write the news, Paul,’ I reply. ‘It’s my job.’

‘But after all you’ve been through with the little lad in Aleppo, are you sure it’s the right thing to do?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Jesus, girl,’ he says with a wry laugh. ‘You don’t do things by halves, do you? I’m going to miss you.’

He leans over and hugs me tightly and it feels so good that I almost want to stay but I know it’s impossible, not just with the Fida situation but Sally too. It’s best for everyone if I get as far away from here as I can.

‘I’ll miss you too,’ I say as I ease myself out of the embrace. ‘You’ve been a wonderful friend to me these last few days. I really appreciate it.’

‘I told you, it’s no bother,’ he says. ‘Now, you just get yourself better, you hear me?’

‘I’ll try,’ I say. ‘Oh and, Paul, I know you think it’s all in my head, but would you do me a favour and keep an eye on number 44? Just for me.’

‘Of course I will,’ he says, his voice gravelly.

I open the door and step out into the salty air.

‘Bye,’ I say. ‘Take care.’

‘You too,’ he says, wiping his eyes. ‘Now go on or you’ll miss your train.’