Lying Beside You (Cyrus Haven #3)(91)

‘What happens to the annuity payments now?’

‘They will cease,’ says the lawyer. ‘As per the deal.’

‘Another saving,’ I mutter under my breath.

There is a knock on the door. A young man has a message.

‘I have another meeting,’ says Hawkins.

I suspect a signal was involved – a secret text message to arrange the interruption.

Both men get to their feet. Farquharson speaks. ‘We reached very fair and equitable settlements with each family. The trust cannot be blamed for subsequent events.’

‘What happened to the nurses who were involved in the mix-up?’ I ask.

‘One resigned. Two were suspended. And we dismissed the pharmacy technician responsible for putting the wrong medication into the ICU cabinet.’

‘Lilah Hooper and Daniela Linares were re-employed.’

‘They are both good nurses. Diligent. Caring. Given staff shortages in the NHS we couldn’t afford to lose them.’





60


Cyrus


It isn’t difficult to locate the Thompson family. A Google search throws up a local newspaper story about the settlement. It mentions a street name, Inglewood Road, and a suburb, Clifton. After that I simply knocked on doors until someone pointed me to the right house.

I’m at the front gate when I hear a voice.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ says Lenny, stepping from her car.

‘Are you having me followed?’

‘I know how you think.’

‘Daisy Thompson died eight months ago. That’s the sort of trauma that could tip a person over the edge.’

Lenny glances up the path. ‘You should leave this to the task force.’

‘Hoyle didn’t believe me.’

‘You gave him no time.’

‘He’s convinced that Mitchell Coates is Foley’s accomplice.’

‘Or he’s keeping his options open.’

I ring the bell and listen as two pairs of bare feet come thundering towards the door, racing to be first. Hands reach for the latch. Two breathless boys, aged about five, with tea-brown hair and pink cheeks, are blinking at us.

A woman’s voice follows them. ‘Don’t you dare open that door until I get there.’

‘Oops,’ says the taller of the boys, who is wearing a Liverpool FC shirt.

Lenny holds a finger to her lips and motions for him to shut the door.

He does so. A few moments later, it opens again. The mother has pushed the boys behind her, telling them to watch TV.

‘Orla Thompson?’ asks Lenny.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m Detective Superintendent Parvel and this is—’

‘What’s he done now?’ she asks.

‘Pardon?’

‘My husband. What’s he done? Punched someone? Crashed his car? Walked into the wrong house?’

‘Nothing like that,’ says Lenny.

Mrs Thompson is looking at me, as though I’m familiar. She hears a noise behind her. The boys are still listening. She shoos them away and invites us inside, leading us down a long hallway to an open-plan kitchen and dining area, with picture windows overlooking a soggy garden with a plastic swing set and a bird feeder hanging from a tree. The kitchen looks new, with a large island bench and polished steel appliances.

Orla takes a seat. Thin and fair-haired, with sharp cheekbones and a narrow nose, she’s wearing trousers and a white blouse, loose around her neck. The boys are wrestling or chasing each other upstairs. Something falls and breaks. She sighs but doesn’t bother to investigate.

‘They’ll tell me if they’re hurt,’ she explains. ‘Or if they’re hungry, or if they’re bored, but they never tell me they’re dirty, or sleepy, or naughty.’

‘Are they both yours?’ I ask.

‘Oh, God no. Leo is mine. Jamie lives next door. His mum and I take it in turns to give each other a break.’

‘Where is your husband?’ asks Lenny.

‘We’re separated.’

‘When did he move out?’

‘During the summer.’

‘I heard about your daughter,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

Her fingers reach for a small silver crucifix on a chain around her neck. ‘God took her home.’

‘I know this is a very personal question, but was Daisy’s death a factor in the separation?’

Orla nods and lowers her eyes, using her sleeve to wipe at an invisible mark on the benchtop.

‘We looked after Daisy for almost eight years. Twenty-four hours a day. She couldn’t talk or hear and barely ever smiled. She was on a dozen different medications for seizures, body pain, spasms, acid reflux, constipation, you name it. It wore us down. When Leo was born, I worried that he’d grow up resenting us for spending so little time with him, because Daisy took up so much of our attention. I hope he doesn’t hold it against us.’ She sighs and smiles tiredly, before beginning again. ‘I discovered the strangest thing when Daisy died. I learned that all I had in common with my husband was a sick child. Without her, we didn’t have a marriage.’

‘That must have been hard.’

She gives a little shrug of her shoulders.