Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(59)

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll be pleased to hear that there’s nothing nasty or untoward showing in your blood after you were exposed to the high levels of carbon monoxide. The tests all came back clear. However, the levels of oestrogen in your blood are very low. Can I ask if you are still having regular periods?’

Erika switched off the car engine and racked her brains to think when she’d had her last period.

‘Six, eight weeks ago?’

‘Right. Have you had sex in the last month?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. I’d recommend a check-up with your doctor. You may well be pre-menopausal, but all signs are showing that you may have started the menopause.’

‘Menopause?’

‘Yes,’ said the nurse, with a kinder tone. ‘You are in the age range. We would expect your oestrogen levels to drop as you advance into your forties. Have you had any other symptoms? Thinning hair, dryness of the skin and the vagina, hot flushes, night sweats, irregular changes in mood… You mentioned irregular periods?’

Erika put a hand to her head and opened the car door a little. Cold air came flooding in.

‘Look, I’m at work. Can I call you back?’

‘There’s no cause for alarm, Erika. I just wanted to inform you of this; everything in your blood shows that you are perfectly healthy. Iron levels good. Unfortunately, the menopause comes to all of us.’

Erika thanked her and put the phone down. The shock of what she had heard hit her hard. She had spent so long working, and focusing on her career, and getting through each day, and now this was full stop, a dead end. Her body would no longer be able to give her children.

She started the engine and drove back to South London. She thought long and hard about her life, and about the evening she’d had with Peterson. She didn’t want to have a child with him, but she’d felt happy with him, and despite the fact that their outing last night had been work-related, she’d enjoyed his company. She tried to call him, but his phone rang out and went to voicemail. Then she tried the station and got Crane, who said that Peterson had headed home for the night. It suddenly felt imperative to Erika that she sort things out with him, to stop this strange limbo – to maybe even rekindle their relationship.

She knocked on Peterson’s front door just before 9 p.m. He lived in a small block of flats in Ladywell, a little way from her flat in Forest Hill. A moment later, he opened the door. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and was carrying a little mixed-race boy, who must have been about six or seven.

‘Hello,’ Erika said, looking confusedly between him and the little boy, who gave her a toothy grin. He was very cute, and wore Spiderman pyjamas.

‘Erika, hi,’ Peterson said. There was a look of shock on his face, but then his eyes narrowed in concern when he saw how pale and upset she was.

‘Daddy, the bath will run over,’ said the little boy. A blonde-haired woman in her late thirties appeared behind them.

‘James, who is it?’ the woman asked, eyeing Erika suspiciously.

‘Why did he just call you “Daddy”?’ asked Erika, holding on to the doorframe.

‘Because he’s my daddy,’ said the little boy.

There was a horrible pause.

‘Fran, can you just take Kyle and turn off the water in the bathroom?’ said Peterson.

Fran glanced nervously at him, and took the little boy in her arms. ‘Is this…?’ she asked.

‘“This”? What do you mean, “this”?’ started Erika.

‘Okay, okay, okay, let’s talk about this outside,’ said Peterson. He ushered her out into the corridor. Erika stared at him.

‘You have a son?’

He nodded.

‘How old is he?’

‘Six. He’ll be seven in April.’

‘How? What?’ She was lost for words.

‘Erika. I only found out two weeks ago.’

‘And that woman, that’s his mother? Who is she?’

‘Fran was my girlfriend; we broke up in 2012, a couple of months before the Olympics.’

‘What have the fucking Olympics got to do with it?’ she shouted.

‘I’m saying that it was a long time ago! We broke up, and she went to work in Germany. She’s a graphic designer, and she found out she was pregnant very late.’

‘She didn’t tell you?’

‘No.’

‘And now she’s in your flat, and you’re running baths for her kid? And you’ve brought me out into the fucking hallway to tell me!’

‘Erika, I didn’t know how you’d react.’

‘This isn’t helping!’ she cried. She stared at him and her eyes began to fill with tears.

‘I’ve been trying to tell you. I tried at work and then I tried to tell you the other night when I came over, and then we went out and it was for work, and then we had coffee, but you had to go.’

‘You should have tried harder, you fucking wimp! And now I have to find out like this, just as I drop by your flat!’

‘Who just drops by these days? What do you expect?’

‘I called your phone, James.’

‘What about my landline?’

‘I don’t know your landline number.’