in my flat,’ Caitlyn said, her eyes still fixed on the doorway.
‘Yes, of course. And Tom Selleck is waiting for me in bed upstairs. Look, sleep it off and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘But—’
‘Goodnight.’
The line went dead.
‘Shit,’ she said to herself. ‘I’ve phoned the police,’ she called out towards the doorway she could barely see.
There was no reply. Caitlyn remained in the armchair staring at the door, wondering if someone was going to enter. The walls seemed to be moving; the door to the hallway was getting further and further away. Eventually, she lifted herself up and used the wall to steady herself. It was closed and the Yale was locked. Maybe she hadn’t heard the door closing.
What did she remember? She was sat having a drink of wine—
‘Don’t tell mum. Mustn’t tell mum.’
—watching a repeat of Blue Planet on Sky when the doorbell rang. After that, nothing but a massive headache. She placed a hand on her forehead. It felt warm and clammy.
Caitlyn stumbled into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Her dizziness increased. She wanted to sleep. She began to remove her clothes; floppy fingers fumbled with her shirt buttons; tired legs kicked out of her trousers. She couldn’t be bothered to change into her pyjamas; she couldn’t find them anyway.
When she stood up, she caught her tired reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She looked a mess: pale, skinny, bad skin and crazy hair.
Caitlyn threw back the duvet and fell into bed. She started to relax straight away as her warm body was engulfed in the cool crisp sheets. She turned over to cocoon herself in the duvet and didn’t notice the blood dripping from her head onto the pillow; didn’t notice as a red stain grew like a flower across the sheets.
Monday March 7, 2011
‘Table for two. Name of Darke.’
Matilda held her husband’s hand firmly while they waited for their table. His large fingers wrapped around hers. His were calloused, weather beaten, the hands of a manual worker, strong and rugged. She felt safe with this tall handsome man gripping her hand. She had no idea why she was suddenly so fixated on James’s hand, but as she looked down, she wanted to memorize every single line and cut, as if she was seeing it for the last time. She also wanted to lick it, take off his jacket and shirt, kiss his firm masculine body, run her tongue …
‘Mr Darke, your table is ready.’
‘Thank goodness. I’m starving,’ Matilda said, her face flushed with embarrassment.
It had been a while since they had dressed up and gone out somewhere posh to eat. Since the renovations on the house, they were living in a glorified caravan at the bottom of the garden. Meals consisted of takeaways, sandwiches, and things that could be cooked in one pan. Tonight was a chance to indulge in expensive food and drink over several courses.
They were shown to their table by the window and given the menus.
‘Are you all right?’ James asked.
‘I’m fine. Why?’
‘You look a bit flushed.’
Matilda smiled and felt herself blushing. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. I’ve been looking forward to this evening all day. I haven’t had lunch.’
‘I have,’ James said as he perused the menu. ‘But only a jacket potato, a bit of salad, tuna mayo, packet of crisps.’
‘Is that all? You’ll be wasting away,’ she mocked.
‘Are we having a starter?’
‘Of course.’ Matilda was almost salivating as she looked at the menu.
Her phone started to ring. They made eye contact. They both knew what this meant.
‘Luckily I hadn’t chosen yet,’ James said.
Matilda mouthed ‘sorry’ before taking her phone out of her inside pocket. She listened to the voice on the other end. All the while her bright face was falling to one of sadness and disappointment. She ended the call and didn’t dare look up at her husband.
‘You have to go,’ James said.
‘I’m afraid so. A body has been found in Heeley.’
‘I’ll drive you.’
‘No. Stay. Have some decent food for a change.’
‘On my own? I’ll look like I’ve been stood up. I’ll drop you off then go for a pizza.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, genuinely meaning it.
‘Don’t be silly. This is the cheapest meal I’ve had out in ages.’
He flashed her his perfect smile which she couldn’t resist returning. Matilda promised herself she would make it up to him.
It was half past eight. Fortunately at this time of night on a week day there was very little traffic around so Matilda arrived at Heeley on the outskirts of the city centre in good time. There was nowhere for James to park, so he stopped in the middle of the road and put the hazards on. Matilda leaned over and kissed him passionately on the lips.
‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Stop apologising. It’s not your fault. Now, go on, I can see Sian’s eyes burning into us.’ He gave the DS a wave through the windscreen. She waved back.
‘Don’t wait up.’
Matilda kissed him again then, reluctantly, got out of the car. She walked over to Sian and they watched James drive away.
‘That reminds me, I need a new hoover,’ Sian said.
‘What?’ Matilda frowned.
‘One with really good suction on it,’ she smiled.
‘Cheeky sod. I’m sure you and Stuart are still passionate.’
Sian rolled her eyes. ‘It depends how well England are playing at rugby.’
Matilda took in the scene surrounding the block of six apartments and blinked at the dazzling blue flashing lights on the police cars. She ducked under the police tape and looked up at the building. Lights seemed to be on in every room. The residents were obviously interested in the attention they were receiving from police. ‘What’s dragged me away from a four-course meal, then?’
‘Flat number one is registered to Caitlyn Brown. Police were called when her mother came running out of the flat screaming at eight o’clock this evening. According to a neighbour, she
