The Things You Didn't See(58)

Holly closed down the computer, feeling ashamed of herself, but still her interest was unsated. So much for The Samphire Master and his miracles. No wonder Maya had changed her mind about the Spa.

She decided to stop by Maya’s room, but when she arrived on the ward, the door was shut, the blind discreetly down, and Lauren approached quickly.

‘Oh, Holly, sad news. I’m afraid we’ve lost her.’

Holly hadn’t expected this – it hit her in the gut. ‘I thought Maya was off the critical list?’

‘She was: we’d classified her as stable. But with head injuries, the prognosis can change quickly. She went into cardiac arrest and we couldn’t save her . . .’ The nurse tailed off and looked back towards the nurses’ station. If an asthma attack caused a mound of paperwork, Lauren must be facing a mountain.

‘Was anyone with her?’

‘Just Daniel. He’s been so good. I heard him on the phone to Cassandra, telling her, and I’ve never heard a man be so comforting. I wish I had that knack. I dreaded phoning the prison to tell Maya’s husband, but he had to be told.’

‘How did Hector take it?’

‘No idea, they wouldn’t let me speak to him directly. They said they’d pass on the message. Can you imagine anything more cold?’

‘Well, this is now a murder case, which changes everything,’ Alfie said.

The newsroom was quieter today, with just a few reporters finishing off features for the Saturday-evening edition of the Daily Post. Alfie was perched on the corner of his desk in his cubicle, his sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos, munching a sausage roll and spraying crumbs all over the table. He grinned, showing where food had caught in his teeth.

‘I don’t think you should be celebrating. A woman has died,’ she said softly. When does a woman’s death cease to be tragic? How many wrinkles, how many years does she need to live before her passing no longer garners any sympathy?

Alfie had the decency to look abashed. ‘I know, it’s tragic. But the public have a right to know what’s going on in their backyard, and if I’m quick I can get this on this evening’s front page. The police have Hawke’s confession, but things could change now Maya’s dead. The stakes are higher.’

‘Alfie, you’ve covered a lot of crime, are you certain Hector isn’t telling the truth?’ Holly asked, genuinely curious. ‘The psychiatrist at the hospital says it is possible for him to have shot her in his sleep. And the police believe it, or he wouldn’t be locked up.’

‘Ah well, now, that’s not exactly true. The police will be waiting to see if the CPS are happy to proceed to trial. Given they have a bang-to-rights confession, they’ll be hoping to close this case – neater stats, less heat from the press, cheaper budget. And he’s got a bail hearing on Monday so he may not be locked up for long. You want my personal opinion? I don’t think it’s the old man. I think The Samphire Man stinks to high heaven, and I’m sick of the way no one else can see it.’

He dusted crumbs from his trousers, a gesture that said he was done. But Holly wasn’t.

‘Alfie, I’m beginning to think you could be right. I’ve found something . . .’

‘Evidence?’

‘Not exactly. And I can’t go to the police with it: I’ve broken my code of ethics to get it.’ What she was doing now was her act of karma, a desire to do the right thing. This was her curse – her senses would forever stop her from doing an uncomplicated job. She would forever feel layers and implications that would at best distract and at worst derail her. And that was why she couldn’t go to the police with this. She needed Alfie to take the information she had no right to have, and do something with it. ‘Alfie, I looked up Maya’s hospital medical records. If I was found out, I’d lose my training position for certain.’

‘Tut tut,’ he said. ‘Naughty girl. Okay, so what did you find?’

‘You were right, Daniel hadn’t cured Maya. A recent scan confirmed her cancer was level three. She’d only just been told.’

‘Level three, in her lymph nodes,’ said Alfie, no longer with any glee. ‘His career would be down the pan with a revelation like that. I owe you one, Holly – you’ve just given me a scoop.’

‘And it’s a perfect motive, isn’t it,’ she said, ‘for murder.’





27

Cassandra

Can I still talk to you, now you’re gone?

Oh, Mum. Can you hear?

You didn’t always hear me when we were in the same room – it was always your voice that dominated. Now you’re dead, mine is the only voice. I imagine you listening and feel closer to you than ever.

Daniel’s back at the hospital, organising everything that needs to be done, whatever that means. Undertakers, I assume, though this is a criminal case so maybe he’s speaking with the police too. I don’t want to be there, with your lifeless body. Your spirit has left its shell, it’s with me now. Dear Mum.

I need to be where there is life and warm love.

I need my child and she needs to be home.

At the Shell garage just before the Orwell Bridge, I pump the car with petrol, then settle into the journey to Norfolk, not to the prison this time but to the coast, though my hands are slick on the steering wheel. My palms are sweating, my heart is palpitating – grief is getting to me. I try to fill myself with your strength. You were always so sure of yourself, and I’d love a dose of your resilience now.