Her Perfect Family(66)

Sally’s face in the summer house when he arrived – the bomb squad checking the doll in the kitchen . . .

‘Do you want tea while you wait?’ Mrs Lewis says at last.

‘No. But thank you.’

‘That would be very nice,’ the PC contradicts. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

Mrs Lewis picks up her phone while Matthew and the PC both stare at the evidence bag on the desk, Matthew wishing he could just grab it and rip open the letter.

Desperate to know what it says.





CHAPTER 47


THE FATHER – BEFORE

There were several things about Laura that both puzzled and delighted Ed in the early days of their relationship. Long, long before he had any idea that their story was to end so badly.

They moved in together within just a couple of months. A few friends raised their eyebrows, but Ed had no doubts at all. They were almost ridiculously happy, they were spending nearly all their time together, so why not live together? It was an hour commute to the school in Wells where she taught music but Laura loved driving; she was only working three days per week and insisted she didn’t mind. She played classical favourites at full volume and told him that she liked the space; the time to herself.

Sometimes he worried that she had made too many compromises, agreeing to be the one to move for starters, but it was all very spontaneous. And also a question of practicality. Laura had a tiny studio flat with very limited cooking facilities on the outskirts of Wells. The first couple of weekends he went to stay with her, but mostly they ate out because her oven and hotplate was broken and the landlord was ignoring all her pleas to fix it. They each confided that they actually loved both to shop and to cook, so Laura offered to visit him instead. She fell instantly in love with his much larger kitchen . . . and more significantly his range cooker. So very quickly they switched to spending nearly all their early weekends at Ed’s flat. Then, while pouring wine as she ladled stock into a risotto one night, he just blurted it out. Why don’t you just stay? Move in, I mean. Forget the rows with your stupid landlord. She just smiled. I thought you’d never ask.

And yes – in those early months, she was this extraordinary puzzle – constantly surprising him. He discovered very quickly that she rose ridiculously early, 6 a.m. every single day, to do her exercise routine before music practice. He had imagined weekends would be different as she relaxed into their relationship, that she would look forward to a lie-in with him at weekends . . . but no.

He would wake groggy and slightly disorientated, an image of sex from the night before bringing a smile to his face even before he opened his eyes. He would reach out across the bed, hoping for a repeat, only to find her gone. A glance at the clock would bring an involuntary groan. Seven a.m. and he was already alone. He would then tiptoe to the loo as a pretence to see what she was up to, and every morning would be the same. He would find her on her exercise mat, her strawberry-blonde hair piled into a messy, high bun.

Laura said the early rising was part nature and partly due to her short stint in the army. The discipline. That was a shock too – the whole military thing, but she said it was perfect, just a limited spell and mainly for the music. Financial independence from her parents after uni and a chance to play in some huge concerts. She’d loved it.

I played for your Queen once.

You didn’t?

I bloody did.

But didn’t you have to go on military tours? What if there had been a war?

Ed associated the army with violence. Killing. And Laura was the least violent person he’d ever met.

But what if they’d sent you into battle? That’s the contract, isn’t it?

Chill, Ed. I played fabulous concerts, I had access to the best gyms and I worked in financial admin. It was a breeze.

Sometimes he would just stand and stare at her a while, wondering at the contradictions. Her extraordinary energy. The differences between them. He liked to laze about on a weekend morning. She wanted to get out and about as early as possible.

Come on. Let’s go for a walk. Get brunch.

Don’t you ever feel groggy? Tired in the morning? Never? What is the matter with you, Laura?

My brain doesn’t ever let me keep still, Ed. It’s always buzzing. Too noisy. Music is the only thing that makes it quieten down. When I’m not playing music, I can’t bear it. Come on. Let’s go out . . . please.

Later, when everything went so terribly for them in Canada, he would look back on those conversations and wonder if he should have heard an alarm bell ringing. Ask her what she really meant about her brain buzzing all the time. Was it a factor? Was it some small missed signal for the trauma that was to come?

But at the time he just felt they had different biological clocks. An owl and a lark. Also – it was rather good for him to get out and about more than he would have chosen. Laura was the champion of finding quirky places to visit – forever checking out composers and singers and dragging him to see their homes.

He lost count of the number of times he was positioned outside a property to be told that a special piece of music had been written within its walls.

Something that will last forever. Isn’t that amazing, Ed?

He wished that he could say it was; he wished that he could match that wonder in her eyes. But Ed was more practical by nature; a man who liked to see evidence. To feel a connection with wonder, he needed to see flints and golden coins and actual treasure dug up and displayed in shiny cabinets. Alongside Laura, he very often felt prosaic, despite his supposed creative career. I write for a living, he liked to tell people. He did not add that it was marketing and advertising copy.