The Dead Ex(95)

‘This is your final warning, Mrs Goudman,’ says the judge.

The defence again leaps up to object about the violent bit. ‘No,’ says the judge. ‘Let’s see where this is going.’

David looks pleased. ‘Vicki used to hit me during arguments. It’s one of the reasons our marriage broke up.’

‘He’s lying,’ I want to yell.

‘So it wasn’t because you were having an affair with Tanya, then your secretary?’

He shrugs. ‘That only started because my wife was impossible to live with. I’m not proud of being unfaithful, but there you are. Vicki, however, couldn’t accept it. She would keep ringing me because she said she missed my voice. She even called me at the airport on the night that I went to the retreat. I can prove it with my phone records.’

I put my head in my hands. This bit I can’t deny.

‘Every time she moved, she sent me her address. I’d keep it just in case I needed to contact the police. It was my insurance policy in case she attacked me. Then someone else would know where she was. She used to follow me all the time.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘It really upset my poor Tanya.’

There’s a hushed silence in the court.

The prosecuting barrister is handing him a photograph. ‘Do you recognize this?’

‘Yes. It was taken by a photographer I was having a business meeting with. A woman called Helen Evans who was a work experience student at my company.’

David looks uneasy. Was he having an affair with her? I knew all too well what his ‘business meetings’ usually meant.

‘Can you confirm who this woman in the photo is?’

David frowns. ‘It’s Vicki. Which only goes to prove my point about her stalking me.’ He faces the jury. ‘It’s why I came rushing here as soon as I saw that headline. My ex-wife murdered Tanya out of jealousy. And she should pay for it …’

‘We’re not here to speculate,’ cuts in the judge.

But I can’t help thinking that the damage is done.





56



Helen


The judge calls a brief adjournment.

I nip outside for some fresh air, keeping my head down in case anyone from the office is there. I hadn’t expected the barrister to mention Helen Evans by name. Luckily there’s a hat stall outside. Swiftly buying the cheapest – a dull black that won’t stand out – I yank it down over my forehead. Still, it’s not like I’ve done something wrong.

Apart from not saying I was at the scene of the murder.

Of course, I could have told the court myself that Vicki had killed Tanya. But it would have meant admitting that Mum and I were at the Goudmans’ house too.

Not that it should have worked out that way.

It was at the end of March when Mum declared she had a ‘brilliant idea’.

‘You could ring Vicki Goudman to make an appointment. Tell her you need some aromatherapy for … I don’t know … sleeping better or something like that. I’ll come down with you.’

‘Then what?’

She shrugged. ‘We’ll play it by ear.’

Yes, said Vicki Goudman when I rang. She’d be delighted to see me. In fact she had a cancellation at 9 a.m. for 1 April.

April Fool’s Day.

I had a bad feeling about that. ‘By the way,’ I said. ‘I’m pregnant. Is it still all right to have treatment?’

‘We’ll need to avoid certain oils but we can go through all that during the consultation. Now what’s your name?’

‘Helen Evans.’

I was nervous. Mum was so unpredictable. ‘You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’ I whispered.

‘Course not.’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘What do you think I am? Just want to get a few things off my chest, that’s all. Give her a piece of my mind.’

Mum had dressed up as though we were going to a fancy tea party, with a flowery skirt from Sue Ryder and a velvet sequinned handbag over her shoulder. I’d bought it for her from the market at a reduced price because it was slightly torn, but she paraded around in it like a child in a birthday outfit. Still, maybe that was understandable after years of having to wear prison clothes.

We took the Paddington ‘Riviera Express’ down to Cornwall on the night before the appointment, dozing on and off in our seats as we couldn’t afford a sleeper. Mum had this strange grin on her face when we woke up. ‘I can’t wait for this,’ she said over and over again, rubbing her hands with excitement. The other passengers gave us odd looks. As we reached Penzance, I checked my phone. There was a text from Vicki. It had been sent last night but I hadn’t noticed it.

Sorry but I have to cancel for personal reasons. I’ll be in touch shortly to arrange another appointment.



‘Fuck,’ said Mum loudly when I showed it to her. A woman opposite threw us a disapproving glare. ‘So we’ve come all the way down here for nothing.’

Yet part of me was relieved. Maybe there was another way we could pay Vicki back without Mum needing to see her. It was too dangerous in Mum’s unpredictable state. But as we got off the train at Penzance, Mum nudged me in the ribs. ‘Look. That’s her on the platform over there. It’s our lucky day. Quick. We’ll follow her.’