Her Perfect Family(59)
The police officer pauses, but he has no idea what to say by way of protest.
‘It can’t be easy for your wife,’ DI Sanders says finally as she heads for the door.
‘No. And that’s my fault. I do know that.’ Ed sits down and leans forward to put his head in his hands as the inspector leaves.
He checks his watch every five minutes and it’s fifteen before a nurse finally comes into the room to tell him they’re ready for him in the corner office. He tries to find a small smile of thanks but his face muscles aren’t working properly. He presses his hand once more against the hard rectangle of the postcard concealed in his pocket. The hypocrisy. He was going to show it quietly to the inspector, hoping Rachel would not see it, but he will need to hand it over in front of Rachel now. He thinks of his bizarre suspicion, wondering if Rachel might have sent it in anger. A little dig. But this suspicion feels like yet another betrayal she doesn’t deserve.
He honestly doesn’t know what it means or what to think any more. His head hurts. Did Laura really send the postcard to him? If so – why? Still he cannot think of her as anything other than unwell. But what if he’s got this all wrong? What if Laura is now more ill than he realises and he’s allowing his own guilt to cloud his judgement? Ed feels a terrible weight as he pulls himself up to standing and weaves through the door and the centre of the main ward towards the corner office that the nurses use for coffee breaks and admin during the night shift.
Rachel is sitting next to a filing cabinet, drying her eyes. DI Sanders looks up and glances between them, and Ed worries there may be even more to this private meeting than he realised.
But what exactly?
‘Why didn’t you want me with you?’ He says this to Rachel but she won’t look at him. ‘What have you been saying? What’s going on?’
CHAPTER 42
Black
I am watching an ant. It is tracing a line directly along the grout between the floor tiles. Black. Bold. And to me rather beautiful.
I have never minded insects the way others do. Spiders. Woodlice. Ants. When I was a child, we lived in a house that seemed positively infested with spiders. My friends hated them, creating all sorts of scenes. But I was always fascinated by their endeavours. Their secrecy. Slipping in and out of rooms and weaving their magical webs. Works of art, catching the light.
I had a friend who had a large dog that was petrified of woodlice. The dog would cower across the room, sometimes stress-weeing right on the carpet. My friend was mortified and her mother was furious. But I thought it was hilarious. A tiny woodlouse versus a large dog.
As for ants – what little miracles. All they do is work. Busy, busy, busy. I like that. I understand that.
What appeals to me about insects is they have it tough, but they don’t let that stop them. I’m exactly like that. I focus on what I want and I work towards it. Like a spider. Like an ant.
Take this one, now halfway across the room. It’s on its own, which is rare, so it must be some kind of scout. But is it afraid? No. Is it focused? Yes. It probably has a nest of baby ants waiting for it to return with news of a new food source.
This place is clean so it won’t find much, but top marks for trying. I like a trier.
I put my hand up to my head and wish it did not hurt so much. Too much thinking. I am wondering what exactly the police are thinking. How much they really know?
I need to be like that little ant. Keep focused. Keep my thoughts on the road ahead. On the baby ants back in the nest. On the future and the task in hand.
I bet you didn’t know that the worker ants are actually female. That surprised me too. I looked it all up when I was a kid. The queen ant lays the eggs and the male ants die very soon after mating. Then the female worker ants take care of everything.
I remember putting the book down after learning all that and thinking – wow. Realising that you need to look out on the world in an entirely different way.
It’s like my USP now. Knowing all this. Knowledge is power. Once you realise that the females can be in charge and the males had better watch out, you look at everyone differently. You behave differently. You know.
It doesn’t frighten me because I realise that most other people don’t realise all of this. So I have stored the secret away and made myself stronger.
So let me tell you this. I know about the worker ants and the dead male ants and I am not going to let the system beat me.
I am not giving up. I am not letting them win.
I have come this far and I swear on that little ant’s life, I am not giving up now.
CHAPTER 43
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
Matthew checks his watch. He’s spent more than an hour on campus and has drawn a complete blank. Ahead of him is a large, red-brick building with an impressive first-floor terrace. It has smart glass edging the whole area, and he can see a waitress delivering food and drinks. Good. He skipped breakfast and is starving.
It’s well signposted inside and soon he’s sitting at a table, enjoying the view across the parkland that divides the study halls from the student accommodation. It’s an appealing environment and he wonders if Gemma and her friends have ever sat here. Probably. Almost certainly. Seems a prime spot.
The thought chills him. Gemma in the past – carefree and complete with no idea of what lay ahead.