The Couple at No. 9(91)
‘That bastard Davies is trying to pin everything on me. All his crimes.’
Theo’s stomach plummets. All his crimes? How many have there been? The realization sends a jolt of shock through Theo. ‘You mean he’s confessed? He killed those two people in Beggars Nook in 1980?’
‘Yes. No. Not that. Other stuff.’
The dark night seems to close in on Theo as he sits in his car, the rain slashing against the windows. He shivers. ‘What, exactly?’
‘He’s trying to imply that I’m responsible for your mother’s death.’
Theo feels like he can’t breathe. He pulls at the collar of his top. ‘And?’ he manages.
‘Of course it’s not true. I’ve done nothing wrong. I was at work that day. You know that. I’ve got an alibi.’
The alibi obviously doesn’t hold up, thinks Theo, if they’ve arrested him. He could have pushed his mother in an argument perhaps, then snuck off to work and pretended he’d been there all day.
‘Why would Davies know if you killed Mum or not?’ Something doesn’t add up about this. Did Davies find out somehow and hold it over his dad? Or did Davies help him cover it up? Davies was working for his dad back in 2004 in myriad roles. He’s been introduced as his dad’s legal adviser, accountant and head of security over the years. And now, suddenly, he’s a private detective. Theo has never been able to work out what his actual role is.
‘And now … now they’re questioning me about Cynthia Parsons’s suicide. They think it could be foul play.’ He doesn’t sound sad or remorseful: he sounds furious. ‘But I had nothing to do with that.’
Theo rubs his hand across his face, rage bubbling inside him.
‘Look, get me a lawyer. Ralph Middleton. His number is online. He’s – Wait a fucking minute, I’ve not finished,’ he shrieks to – Theo assumes – someone behind him. ‘Look, son, I’ve got to go. My time’s up. Call him. Please.’
The line goes dead. Theo stares out of the rain-blurred windscreen onto the empty street. An image of his mother’s lovely face appears in his mind, so clear it’s like he saw her only yesterday. Why would his father want to kill her? Was she planning on leaving him? Had she found out about the sexual assault? Or the women in the folder? Or the bodies at Skelton Place? My God, he could have been killing for years. Theo feels as if he wants to throw up. He slams his palm against the steering wheel, a sharp pain searing through him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
And despite the loathing he feels for his dad, Theo can’t help the emotion that sits heavy on his chest, suffocating him until he’s forced to let it out in sobs. He sits there for a while, his forehead resting on the steering wheel of his cold little car, and lets the tears flow. He doesn’t really know who he’s crying for. Definitely not his father, who he hopes will rot in jail. Definitely for his mother, whose young life his dad had stolen, and partly for himself for being robbed of his lovely mum.
He sits back in his seat and wipes away his tears. His mobile is still in his lap and he sees there’s a text from Lorna, sent hours ago, which he’d never noticed as he’d been so busy at the restaurant. He presses the screen and it lights up, illuminating the inside of the car.
It simply says: It’s official. You’re my brother.
53
Saffy
I follow Tom into the cottage, standing on the threshold to shake out my umbrella. It’s cold and damp for June. From behind the hedge a man steps out and I exhale sharply, expecting it to be Davies, somehow released from police custody. But it’s just a pensioner walking past with his dog. When he notices me he tips his cap in greeting and I wave half-heartedly before turning and closing the door.
We’ve just come back from dropping Mum at the airport. She suddenly announced yesterday that she’d booked a flight for today, that she would love to have stayed longer but it’s been two weeks and she had no choice but to return. There was so much left unsaid between us as we hugged goodbye. There never seemed the right time to continue that discussion we had in the car, or for me to reassure her that I love her. After finding out Gran is really Daphne, everything between me and Mum just got buried underneath it. Mum can barely process what she’s feeling about all of that, let alone dredge up our past.
‘Right,’ says Tom, bending down and unclipping Snowy from his lead. ‘Shall we order a takeaway for tea? I could murder fish and chips.’
‘I’m going to miss Mum’s cooking,’ I say wistfully, kicking off my trainers and slipping out of my Puffa. The cottage suddenly seems too big and quiet without her. I hang my coat on the rack by my study. Tom follows suit. We were drenched during the dash into the house from the car.
‘I know. I’m going to miss her too. She’s a force to be reckoned with.’ He heads towards the kitchen.
‘Do you think she’ll be okay?’ I ask, going to the kettle and smiling to myself to see that Mum has moved the toaster into the corner. She never could leave things alone. ‘It must be a shock for her, finding out her mother isn’t actually her mother.’ I glance out of the window at the garden. We’re still waiting for confirmation that the body does belong to the real Rose Grey. DS Barnes said we should get the results tomorrow.
‘It’s the same for you,’ says Tom, gently. ‘You thought Rose was your grandmother all these years.’