After Anna (38 page)

‘Well,’ Julia said. ‘You know how it is. Good days, bad days. This one wasn’t that great, but here I am. Safe and sound.’

She was aware she was babbling and it was the drug that was really talking, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything, except maybe Anna, and she’d be ok.
Everything
would be ok.

‘Yes,’ Wynne said. ‘Safe and sound. Anyway, Mrs Crowne, I think the doctors are ready to take you. They have some work to do, I understand. As do I, but we can talk later, when you’re more – more relaxed. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here.’

‘Ok,’ Julia said. ‘We’ll talk later.’

Then the trolley began to move again and she was in a large, clean room. A nurse adjusted the needle in her arm, then she was moved onto a table, for some X-rays, then back to her trolley and into another large, clean room. And then a smiling, mid-fifties woman (
she looks a bit like Edna
, Julia thought) told her she would be ok and they were going to take a look at her hand and her hip, and then another face appeared above her and a voice somewhere else said
this is the anaesthetist
and then she was slipping away, slipping away, slipping away …

xi.

When she woke the first thing she thought was that her mouth was dry and she would love a tall, cold glass of chocolate milk, which was an odd thing to want since she hadn’t had chocolate milk since she was a child, if she had even had it then.

But that was what she wanted, and she wanted it a
lot
.

The next thing she thought was
what the hell happened to my body?
She
throbbed from a point somewhere at the top of her back all the way down to her right leg and her hand felt like someone was digging knives into it from all sides. And then she remembered how she had smashed her own hand to get out of the priest’s hole and how Edna – Edna, that evil, evil bitch – had hit her with a hammer and slashed her with a knife, a Japanese kitchen knife that was very sharp, before Gill had come and saved her and Edna had disappeared.

She heard the door open and then there were rapid footsteps and a girl’s voice.

‘Mummy!’ Anna said. ‘I brought you these flowers!’

She thrust a handful of carnations at Julia, then started to climb onto the bed.

‘Careful,’ Brian warned. ‘Mummy’s a little delicate at the moment.’ He picked her up and settled her on his knee. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘The nurses said you were awake.’ He was grey, his skin slack and pallid, and his eyes were nervous with shock. ‘I heard about … ’ he paused and Julia realized he was about to say Mum but couldn’t bring himself to pronounce the word, ‘Edna.’ He looked at the floor. His shoulders were slumped, his back bent, his stomach pressed against his shirt. He was broken, Julia saw, badly broken. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Julia said. ‘Could I have a kiss from my little girl?’

Anna hopped off Brian’s lap and leaned over the bed. The sensation of her warm, soft lips on Julia’s cheek was the most intense, most restoring thing she had ever felt.

‘Give me a minute with her,’ she asked him.

‘Of course.’ Brian stood up. His tone was wheedling and high, begging forgiveness. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’

Julia was about to say no, there wasn’t, when she realized there was something he could get for her.

‘If you could find some chocolate milk,’ she said. ‘That would be great.’

He was back half an hour later with Gill and a Tesco carrier bag. He took out a gallon of chocolate milk.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ll pour you a glass. Then we need to talk. Anna can go with Gill, if that’s ok.’

‘It’s fine.’ Julia kissed Anna then took a long drink from the glass of chocolate milk. It was everything she had hoped it would be.

‘So,’ she said, when Anna and Gill had left the room. ‘It’s been a busy few days.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Brian said. ‘I want you to know that I’ll never forgive myself for this.’

‘You didn’t do it.’

‘I was there, Julia, in the house while she had you locked up in the same place she’d kept Anna … ’ he held his head in his hands, shaking it from side to side, ‘my own mother. She kidnapped Anna. I … I just can’t believe it.’

Was this the moment to tell him she had also killed her mother and her husband? Julia decided not to. It would come out eventually, but she didn’t think now was the right time for Brian to find out that his mother had murdered his father.

‘Brian,’ Julia said. ‘I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. But I want you to know that I don’t blame you. You couldn’t have done anything to stop it, no one could. Edna’s … she’s insane, Brian.’

‘I know. I know.’ He had tears in his eyes and Julia saw how hard this was going to be for him. Brian had his flaws, but he also had some qualities; sadly, resilience was not among them. He was going to be meeting with therapists for a long time to come. Even then, she wasn’t sure he would ever get over it.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help you with this, I promise. But right now I can’t be your best friend. I’m in too much pain. But I’ll be there for you. Anna, too. We’ll get through this.’

The look he gave her said
I hope so but I don’t believe it for a second.

‘Ok,’ he said. ‘Ok.’

‘Would you mind getting the doctor?’ Julia said. ‘I need some more pain relief.’

‘Sure,’ he said, and got to his feet. His movements were slow and cramped, Julia saw, like the movements of an old man. ‘I’ll go and find someone.’

When she had been given more morphine – the nurse informed her that she had a button she could press, but only a certain number of times a day – the doctor, a bearded man called Dr Scala, but who insisted she call him Rick – gave his report.

‘It’s quite a long list, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘It looks like your back will heal quite well. The cut was not too deep, apart from in one or two places. We’ll see how it does, but you may get away with minimal scarring, and there’s always the possibility of some cosmetic surgery if it becomes a problem. As for the hip, there’s a chipped bone, which the surgeon removed, but other than that the damage was fairly limited. It should recover pretty well, especially with some physio. The real concern is your hand, which is going to require a lot of care.’

Ironic
, she thought.
That was the one I did to myself. What Edna did turns out to be pretty minor. But then that’s life, isn’t it? The worst injuries are always self-inflicted, even if you do them for the best of reasons.

‘There are a lot of bones in the hand,’ Dr Scala – Rick – said. ‘And they work together in quite a delicate balance. If one is broken then it will cause pain in the others, so we have to make sure that it heals before we allow the hand too much motion. In your case, there are multiple bones broken in multiple ways. It’s quite a mess in there.’

‘I had no choice,’ Julia explained. ‘It was the only thing—’

He put a hand on her bicep. ‘You have no need to apologize,’ he said. ‘You did the right thing. Frankly, I’m amazed you could do it. It must have been painful beyond belief.’

‘So what happens?’ Julia asked. ‘Will my hand be ok?’

Dr Scala stuck out his bottom lip and bobbed his head from side to side.

‘OK is probably the right description,’ he said. ‘If you had plans to try out as a concert pianist they might be over. But your hand will work, more or less. We’ll set the bones and do some physio and keep a close eye on how it develops, and hopefully, in time, you’ll be able to do most of the things that you would normally have done.’ He gave her a wry grin. ‘I’m guessing you’ll have really bad arthritis when you’re older, though.’

Before she could answer there was a knock on the door. It opened part way and DI Wynne stuck her head into the room.

‘Hello,’ she said. She was holding a box of chocolates. ‘Not the best quality, I’m afraid, but it’s all they had at the petrol station.’

‘Come in,’ Julia said. ‘We were nearly finished.’

Dr Scala told her about the medication and the schedule for physiotherapy and about how she had to take responsibility for her recovery and then he waved a little goodbye and left them. DI Wynne took his place next to the bed.

‘So,’ Wynne said. She raised one eyebrow, as though to say
well, well, you lead quite the life
. ‘There’s a lot we need to talk about.’

‘Did you talk to Brian?’

‘I did. And I don’t think he had anything to do with this.’

‘Neither do I. He looked terrible.’ Julia shook her head. ‘I feel bad for him.’

Wynne folded her arms. ‘I also interviewed Mrs Crowther. She shared some of what you had told her.’

‘Oh?’ Julia wasn’t exactly sure what she had told Gill – Mrs Crowther – as the time she spent waiting for the ambulance had passed in something of a blur.

‘She said you mentioned something about Edna Crowne being responsible for more deaths? Specifically, those of her mother and husband?’

‘That’s what Edna said,’ Julia replied. ‘But that was it. She didn’t give many details. She could have been lying. To scare me, maybe. I wouldn’t put anything beyond her.’

‘We’ll have to look into it, but given what she did to you it seems perfectly possible. We’ll have to try and find out more. Perhaps Mr Crowne remembers something from that time which could help.’

‘Brian doesn’t know yet,’ Julia said. ‘I don’t think now is a good time to tell him.’

Wynne nodded slowly. ‘He’s going to find out sooner or later,’ she said. ‘And we really will need to talk to him. But leave it in our hands. We have some experience of these situations, believe it or not. It’s not the first time a relative has had to deal with learning their son or daughter or parent is a murderer.’ For a second her gaze was unfocused, lost somewhere in the middle distance, and Julia wondered how she did what she did, how she coped with being brought face to face with the worst the world had to offer.

‘How about Edna?’ Julia said. ‘Can’t you ask her?’

‘We will,’ Wynne said. She hesitated and glanced at the ceiling. Julia recognized the gesture; it was what she did when she had bad news. ‘We haven’t found her yet. When we got to the house her car was gone. She’ll show up, though. She can’t have gone far.’

‘I hope so,’ Julia said. ‘I damn well hope so. I don’t like the thought of her out there.’

‘No,’ Wynne agreed. ‘Neither do I.’ She stood up. ‘Anyway. You get some rest. It’s going to be a busy few days. I suspect the press will be interested in you again.’ She smiled. ‘Although the coverage may be a little more favourable this time.’

‘You know what?’ Julia said. ‘I can’t bring myself to care.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Wynne said. ‘We’ll be in touch. Take care, Mrs Crowne.’

18

A Month Later

Julia closed the front door and followed Anna into the living room.

Anna had spent the day with Brian. It was the first time since Edna’s disappearance – now a full month ago and still no sign of her – that Anna had been alone with her father. He had seen her with Julia present most weekends, but up to that point he had not felt able to take care of her on his own. As a result, Julia had full custody; Brian had willingly agreed.

Julia was not surprised.

He had taken the news about Edna’s murderous past badly. He had lost weight – she wasn’t sure how much, but enough that his clothes now hung on him like drapes – his hair had thinned and was greying, and his eyes were flat and lifeless. It was as though he had done a decade’s ageing in a few weeks. She knew he was seeing at least one therapist, and suspected there were others, but it wasn’t something she discussed with him. Simon did: his brother had been over twice and they spoke on Skype daily. At least some good had come of this, which was small comfort when Julia tallied up the problems it had caused.

Like sleep. She could fall asleep; she managed that quite easily, lying next to Anna in what had once been her and Brian’s marital bed, but she could not stay asleep. At some point during the night she would awaken and lie there, her heart racing, listening to the creaks and groans of the house and wondering whether there was someone there, someone in the house coming for them, Edna maybe, a vengeful, monstrous Edna, her eyes blazing fire, her hands hooked around a hammer.

She tried to keep calm, but when she could no longer bear it, she would grab the tyre lever she kept by the bed, switch on the lights and search the house, but there was never anyone there.

Until there is someone
, she would think,
until Edna comes back.

And then she would lie there until dawn, nearly falling asleep ten, twenty times, but being woken every time by a squall of rain on the window or the sound of a car in the street outside.

Then there were the panic attacks. Suddenly, without warning, maybe when driving or shopping or watching television with Anna, she would feel her senses become more alert and her heart would speed up and her head would start to whirl with thoughts she had no control over; thoughts which were not specific concerns or worries but just the awful, terrible knowledge that everything was wrong and there was no way she could cope with it, with life, with anything.

It was all-encompassing; a sense of total mental breakdown and it was accompanied by a feeling of dizziness so intense that she would come close to blacking out. She would have to stop whatever she was doing and find something to hold onto; if she was driving she would have to pull over and wait for it to pass.

The doctor told her it was the body’s flight or fight response malfunctioning, a massive and inappropriately timed release of adrenaline, which, given her recent history was understandable. It would pass, he reassured her.

She hoped so.

Physically, she was doing ok. Her hip and back were still painful, but healing well. Her hand was a problem. She’d had three operations to repair it and, from what she could tell, it was now more metal than bone. It throbbed at night, but she could live with the pain, and it wasn’t as though it kept her awake.