Our House(59)

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ I said, when he climbed into bed with me. ‘It’s just the police out catching criminals.’

‘How can they catch them in the dark?’ he asked.

I told him about an article I’d read about police helicopters’ thermal imaging cameras. You thought you were safe in your hiding place under the bushes, but you glowed bright white on the screens above.

‘It’s just like your forensic pen. They use special light to see what we can’t see.’

‘They’re cleverer than the baddies,’ Harry said.

‘Much cleverer,’ I agreed.

Ironic though it may sound, as I lay in bed listening to the relentless staccato of those spinning blades I genuinely thought how awful it must be to be a fugitive from the law with all this new twenty-first century technology to contend with. There was nowhere the police couldn’t find you once they were on your tail. I even thought, briefly, Poor guy.

Well, I assumed it was a man.


Bram, Word document

There was one news report – and only one – that I haven’t needed to remember word for word, because I kept a printout. You’ll find it among my paltry last effects in the hotel room.

Parents mourn their ‘special sunbeam’

The funeral of the tragic victim of the Silver Road collision, Ellie Rutherford, took place today at St Luke’s Church, Norwood, with the ten-year-old girl’s mother released from hospital to say farewell to her beloved daughter.

Many mourners wore yellow, Ellie’s favourite colour, and a yellow-and-white floral arrangement was placed on her coffin. Tim Rutherford, who spoke at the service, described his daughter as ‘our special sunbeam’, a child who loved writing stories and singing and who was proud to have been voted class captain for her final year at primary school. ‘Ten years old is old enough for you to be able to see the wonderful adult she would have become,’ he said.

Ellie died a week ago following an incident in September when her mother’s car was run off the road by a speeding vehicle. As relatives and road victim groups called for increased manpower in the police investigation, the girl’s uncle, Justin Rutherford, said, ‘You would think they’d have a suspect in custody by now. The whole family is desperate knowing that this criminal is still on our roads, putting other children’s lives at risk.’

Detective Inspector Gavin Reynolds said, ‘Police work is often a painstaking process of elimination, but we are confident we will find the offending driver and discover exactly what caused this fatal collision. Our thoughts are with Ellie’s family today,’ he added.





Writing this, I can only assume the Rutherfords know my name by now. They certainly will by the time you read this. I can only assume they must be hoping I’ll rot in hell.





31


‘Fi’s Story’ > 01:49:06

There were four of us for the half-term weekend – Alison, Merle, Kirsty and me – each with two children, so we made an easy dozen. When I arrived on the Thursday, the light on the Channel already in silvery decline, Leo and Harry didn’t even bother taking off their coats, but merged yelling into the spill of children and dogs in the wide garden that edged the sands. They would spend most of their time outdoors, though we drew the line at camping: the coastal winds could be biting at night.

I found the women in the sitting room, wine open in front of the fire. Though this was our fifth year, it was the first since the breakdown of my marriage and I could hear the echo in the room of a sworn vow to avoid the subject. Fine with me, I decided. Any horror stories this weekend would be purely Halloween based.

‘Hello, all!’ I displayed my offering: artisan gin from the farmers’ market.

Alison jumped up to hug me hello. ‘Oh my God, that stuff is moonshine, it’ll turn us blind. Glasses, girls!’

‘I’ll do it,’ Merle offered, taking the bottle from me and heading for the kitchen.

‘You’re shaking. Come on the sofa nearest the fire,’ Alison said. ‘We’ve put Daisy in charge of the kids. Eleven is old enough to report a murder, isn’t it?’

I laughed. It was all too easy to settle in the lamplit room, old stone walls shutting out the elements and the gin and tonics Merle distributed smothering any real-world tensions.

‘Please can we not talk about school applications this weekend,’ Kirsty said, a statement not a request. ‘If we do, I’ll spontaneously combust.’

‘Fine with me,’ Alison said. ‘If I had my way, children would stay in primary school for ever and it would never occur to them that we’re not always right about absolutely everything.’

‘That’s the joy of having boys,’ I said. ‘As I understand it, they do believe it for ever.’

‘Oh, and house prices as well,’ Merle said. ‘Can we not talk about that? I’ve reached saturation point.’

Alison’s eyes went very wide. ‘That will be hard, but we can certainly try. First, though, can I just ask if anyone else has heard about the house on Alder Rise Road that’s just broken the three mil ceiling?’

‘Three million? Seriously?’

A familiar frisson of satisfaction sizzled between us: the only thing better than being a millionaire was being a millionaire without having lifted a finger.