The Woman Next Door(70)

‘What did he want then?’ says Abdul, scrutinizing her over the rim of her cup.

‘He wanted money,’ says Melissa bluntly. No point in pretending otherwise now.

‘And did you give him some? Money?’ Melissa is sure no double entendre was intended by Milner’s open expression, but heat creeps up her cheeks anyway.

‘Yes,’ she says and meets his eye directly. ‘I gave him a hundred pounds and told him to sling his hook. I don’t really want my husband to know I did this. He might not understand. I just wanted to get rid of him, you see.’ She instantly regrets the words and, flustered again, looks down at the table.

‘Did he say where he was going next?’ says Milner, saving her.

‘I’m afraid not. I wish I could help further.’ Please just go …

Milner fixes her with a sympathetic smile. ‘Well, we will need you to pop down to the station to give us a statement to this effect, I’m afraid.’

Melissa keeps her expression impassive as the walls pulse around her. In this moment she understands that, despite everything she has been through, she hasn’t really been tested until now.

Burying her face in her hands, she begins to cry softly. It isn’t very difficult to do.

She can feel the police officers’ gaze sitting heavily upon her and when she raises her head, she attempts a watery laugh of embarrassment.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘It just sort of hit me then that he was here in my house and now he’s dead. God knows I didn’t want him here, but he didn’t deserve this, did he?’ She pauses and hunts for a tissue in her pocket. Dabbing her eyes, she says, ‘I wish I’d helped him more. I just wanted him to go away.’

‘Look,’ says Milner kindly, ‘sometimes these things happen, particularly when people keep the sort of company he did, if you see what I mean.’

Melissa’s heart jolts at these encouraging words but she nods and lowers her eyes.

‘Well …’ With a sigh, Milner gets to his feet. ‘You can come down to the station and give us a statement any time in the next few days,’ he continues and rummages in a pocket for a card, which he deposits on the table. ‘If you think of anything at all, can you give us a call? Any time.’

‘I will,’ she says, relief beginning to trickle through her. ‘I hope you have a good drive back.’

‘We have to go and see his partner first,’ says Abdul. ‘You were first on the route from the motorway, you see.’ She pauses. ‘They have a little girl.’

Melissa swallows. ‘Oh no. That’s … that’s very sad. He never said.’

A few minutes later she closes the door and leans against the hallway wall. The shocks keep coming today, like billiard balls smashing into one another.

Even though she’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t do this again, she stumbles to the kitchen and pulls open the drawer. Greedily sucking on the cigarette by the back door, Melissa tries to rationalize what just took place. What is Kerry going to say to them?

But the police already know Jamie was here. That doesn’t mean they know any more than that, does it? No one can know that, beyond her and Hester.

She thinks about what Milner said.

Sometimes these things happen, particularly when people keep the sort of company he did. This is a good thing. This means there may be any number of suspects in his murder.

It will be all right.

She will go down to the station in the next few days and make a statement, saying exactly what she told the two police officers.

Shuddering, Melissa forces her feet to move towards the fridge. She has to get a grip. She will get on with the cooking. Tonight she will have a lovely meal with Mark and Tilly. It will all be okay.





HESTER


After a lovely session in the park, feeding ducks and playing on the swings, I ask Amber if she is hungry. She nods so vigorously I fear she will hurt her neck but her eagerness makes me chuckle. She is the sweetest little angel. I keep imagining what it would be like if she were mine.

I decide to take her to one of the cafés in the High Street that I usually avoid. It’s always filled with women whose small children climb all over the chairs and beg their mothers to pay them attention as they text on their mobiles and gossip with each other. I do often wonder why some people bother having babies at all when they have so little time for them.

I wish I had more time with Amber. I’m acutely aware of the afternoon ticking by and slipping away. But maybe this could be a regular thing? It doesn’t look as though Kerry can manage as a single parent. I won’t want her to pay me and I doubt she could anyway …

I’m musing on all this as we make our way to the café; Amber’s soft, slightly sticky little paw in mine.

We’re just about to open the door when I hear someone say, ‘Hester? Is that you?’

Oh no.

That Binnie woman from the computer course is standing behind me. Her face is tanned and leathery-looking, as though she’s been somewhere hot. She jabs me with her curious looks and, as she runs a fat tongue over her lips, I have the oddest instinct that I must keep Amber away. I gently nudge the child closer to me.

‘Yes, hello, Binnie,’ I say with a sigh. ‘It is me, obviously.’

She laughs as though I have made a joke.