Joanne Blackmore?’ the Duty Sergeant says. He is a tall, thin man with a long nose and a prominent Adam’s apple that juts over the collar of his shirt.
‘Yes.’
A clear plastic bag containing my purse, mobile phone and jewellery is pushed towards me, along with some kind of iPad and a stylus.
‘Sign where indicated, please.’
I pick up the stylus. It quivers across the screen as I write my signature.
‘Mrs Joanne Blackmore,’ the Duty Sergeant says as he takes it from me, ‘I’m going to release you on police bail for the officers to carry out further enquiries. You must return to this police station at 2 p.m. on the first of March unless you are informed in writing that the date or time has been changed or the bail cancelled. If you don’t turn up to answer your bail you’ll commit a further offence which could result in you being fined, imprisoned or both. Do you understand? If so,’ – he hands me the tablet again – ‘sign here.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For offering to sleep on the sofa tonight.’
Max shrugs. ‘I couldn’t let you two stay here alone, could I?’
We are sitting side by side on the sofa. The television is off, the curtains are closed and the house is silent, save the occasional crackle from the baby monitor on the windowsill whenever Elise coughs or grunts in her sleep as she turns over. Naija told me she stopped using one for her boys when they turned one but I’m not ready to give up ours yet. I used to think that I’d be a chilled, laid-back parent, but when you’ve lost one child, that innocence is gone for ever. You can never truly relax. Not when you know how fragile life is, how a strong heartbeat can stop, almost overnight.
My fingers twitch against the rough wool of my work skirt. Work. It feels like a hundred years ago since I was sitting at my desk, answering emails from students, keeping one eye on the clock so I wasn’t a second late to collect Elise from nursery. But it was only four hours ago. I still can’t process what’s happened. I tried to talk to Max about it on the way home but he shushed me, telling me to wait until we’d got Elise home and in bed. I want to get a glass of wine so I can dull the sharp edges of my nerves but I’m worried that Max will judge me if I do.
‘You do believe me, don’t you? That the drugs weren’t mine.’
He crosses his arms over his chest and tips his head back, resting it on the top of the sofa.
‘Yes,’ he says to the ceiling. ‘That’s why I came to collect you.’
We both fall silent again. I can tell Max doesn’t want to discuss what happened but I have to. It’s the only way I can make sense of it.
‘I checked all the windows when you were getting Elise ready for bed. They were all locked.’
Max doesn’t respond. Instead he continues to stare at the ceiling.
‘So if all the doors and windows were locked while I was at work how did Paula get in?’
Max shakes his head wearily. ‘I don’t know, Jo.’
‘Aren’t you worried?’ I can hear the tight whine in my voice but his lack of reaction is niggling at me. He’s an investigative journalist. Why isn’t he ringing round all his contacts to find out who Paula is? Why isn’t he trying to protect us from anything else happening?
‘It’s because you don’t believe me, isn’t it? You think they’re my drugs?’
‘No, Jo.’ He turns to look at me. ‘I don’t think they’re your drugs.’
‘But you lost it when I told you about Dad’s muscle relaxants. Why aren’t you freaking out about this?’
‘Because one of us needs to stay rational. We can’t both lose our shit.’
‘I’m losing my shit? Max, someone broke into our house and planted drugs in our toilet. Possibly the same woman who threatened Elise! Of course I’m losing my shit. I’m scared! What’s she going to do next?’
‘Jesus!’ Max lurches forward and rests his face in his hands and inhales deeply through his nose. His shoulders and upper arms shake as he tries to steady his breathing.
‘Look.’ He sits back again but his hands remain on his knees as though he is readying himself to jump to his feet at any second. ‘The police are dealing with it, OK? I gave them a list of all the cases I’ve covered recently and all the people who might hold a grudge against me. They’re going to look into it.’
‘Shouldn’t they give us police protection while they do that?’
‘Not if they don’t think we’re in any immediate danger.’
‘But we are in danger! Paula knows where we live. She was on the corner of Brecknock the other day.’
‘Christ!’ His eyes widen with shock. ‘Was Elise with you?’
‘She was with Naija. I talked to Paula alone but I … I did something stupid.’
Max goes very still. ‘Go on.’
‘I …’ I rub my palms back and forth on my skirt. ‘I pushed her.’
‘What?’
‘I pushed Paula. She was standing too close to me and I panicked. We were on the corner, next to the bus stop, and there was a small crowd of people waiting. They saw me do it. One of them got their mobile out. I think he was going to ring the police.’
‘Jesus Christ, Jo,’ Max wipes a hand down the side of his face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’
‘I was going to. But then I forgot to collect Elise at nursery and—’
‘I came round the next day. You could have told me then.’
‘I was going to but …’
But why? Because I didn’t think he’d take me seriously? Because I thought he’d have a go at me? Because I didn’t think he’d care?
‘I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, Max. I should have, I’m sorry.’
He takes a deep breath, rests his head against the top of the sofa again, then exhales slowly.
‘You’re pissed off with me, aren’t you?’ I say.
‘No.’ He closes his eyes. ‘I’m … fuck … this is all so fucked up.’ He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at me. ‘Paula was waiting for me outside work yesterday.’
‘What?’ I stare at him in horror. ‘What did she say?’
‘The same thing she said to you, I imagine. That I had something of hers and she wanted it back.’
‘Did
