Blood Tracks (3 page)

“Then he seemed to pull himself together. I could hear he’d stopped crying. He just said, ‘Don’t worry about me – I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything, Tom,’ and hung up. That’s the last time I ever spoke to him.” Tom’s voice trailed off. He looked over at Gina, who was shaking her head vigorously, her lips pursed in protest.

“I’m so sorry, Gina,” Tom said gently.

Gina had been listening to his evidence with mounting anger. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Without thinking, she was suddenly out of her seat, shouting at him. “No way! My dad wasn’t depressed. I would have known if he’d been depressed.”

“Gina, if you wish, you will have a chance to question the witness after I’ve finished,” the coroner said. He started leafing through the papers in front of him.

“Gina, listen to me,” her mother whispered. “It’s true. Tom’s told me all about it. Your dad kept it hidden from us. He didn’t want to worry us. Isn’t that typical of him? Doesn’t that sound just like your dad, to put us before himself?”

“How can you believe that?” Gina hissed. “He couldn’t have kept it from us. He was my dad –
your
husband!”

“I know it’s hard, Gina, but it makes sense. Why else would he have done this? People
can
hide their true feelings. Please don’t go making things more painful than they already are. Come on, love, sit back down.”

Gina looked at her mother’s distressed face and reluctantly took her seat, glaring at Tom as she mumbled to the coroner, “No. I don’t want to question him.”

The coroner gave her an acknowledging nod and, having found what he was looking for within his bundle of papers, he began his questions.

“Now, Mr. Cotter, you’ve just said that the last time you spoke to Martin Wilson was around one p.m. when he was at the warehouse. Are you sure about that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tom Cotter replied without hesitation.

“As Martin Wilson’s mobile was destroyed by the train, the police liaised with his network provider to gain a record of calls he made and received on the day of his death.” The coroner held up the sheet of paper. “Their records show that he made a call to you at around one p.m., as you’ve said. They also confirm that he sent a text to his daughter just before his death and that, earlier that day, he’d received a text from his wife, which I know from Mrs. Wilson’s written statement was to remind him to pick up a fish tank for their son’s birthday. However, this document also shows that he received a call from you, which would have coincided with the time he was picking up his daughter from the running club.”

Gina’s eyes widened. She sat forward in her chair, staring at Tom. He appeared momentarily flustered but then he tutted as if annoyed with himself. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I did phone Marty around that time. I’d completely forgotten. It’s been such a stressful time.”

Gina grimaced in disbelief.

“I phoned to check he was okay,” Tom continued. “I’d been worried about him all day.”

“So this would have been the phone call that he received when he wouldn’t let his daughter into the car?” the coroner quizzed.

“Yes.” Tom shrugged. “I suppose it must have been. Marty wouldn’t have wanted Gina to know that anything was wrong with him. He wouldn’t have wanted her to hear our conversation.”

The coroner nodded in agreement. “Yes, I can see that. Thank you for shedding light on that call, Mr. Cotter. You can stand down now.”

Gina didn’t take her eyes off Tom as he returned to his seat.

The coroner looked over to her mum. “Mrs. Wilson, I know that you have submitted a written statement to the inquest rather than give verbal evidence here today.”

“Yes, sir,” her mum replied meekly.

“I’ve studied your statement and I see from it, as Mr. Cotter says, that you were not aware of your husband’s depression.”

Gina’s mum flushed with shame. “No, sir, I hadn’t realized. Martin didn’t tell me how he was feeling.”

“And it would seem that you have checked your husband’s emails and bank statements in an effort to find an explanation for his depression.”

“Yes, sir,” her mum said quietly. “I checked on the family laptop to see if he’d used it the day he died, but he hadn’t. There were no unusual emails over the weeks before he died and the websites that came up on the history were running sites, West Indies’ cricket scores, gardener’s forums – it was the stuff he always looked at. There was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And your husband’s finances?”

“Well, we’ll never be rich but we’ve never been in any serious debt and I haven’t found any credit card statements that would imply Martin was in trouble.”

“And in the years you’ve known your husband was he ever prone to depression?”

“No, not that I ever saw, but maybe he was hiding it. We’ve been together since we were sixteen but I’ve been thinking about it a lot since that night, and I’ve started to wonder if the death of his mum and dad affected him more than he let on. You see, they both died a couple of years ago, within months of each other, and his brother Joseph, well, he was only twenty-one when he was killed in a car accident. Martin often talked about him. So, of course, he was the only one left on his side of the family. All that loss could have really got to him, couldn’t it?”

The coroner didn’t offer an answer. Instead he said, “Thank you for your input, Mrs. Wilson. We will break for an hour and when we resume I will be ready to sum up and deliver my verdict.”

Gina spoke out, surprised. “But there must be more evidence to look at; more people to question?”

The coroner turned to her, and said gently, “Gina, I’m satisfied that there has been a thorough investigation which has provided me with the evidence I need to conclude this inquest. I will see you back here in an hour.”

Gina refused to sit with her mum and Tom in the court’s cafe. Instead she paced around, chewing at her nails, throwing icy stares at Tom. “How could you have forgotten you made that call?” she asked in a raised voice.

“I’m sorry but, like I said, I forgot because I’ve been stressed out of my mind about your dad’s death, wondering if I could have done more to help him. Thinking that maybe I should have just told your mum about his depression, even though he didn’t want me to. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“But he wasn’t depressed,” Gina retorted.

Her mum shook her head sadly. “Please, Gina, it’s been a shock for us all. I know it’s hard to take in, but it’s not Tom’s fault. He tried to help your dad.”

“Well that phone call definitely didn’t help! Dad looked wound up,” she snapped.

Her mum looked at her disapprovingly, but Tom gave a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Gina. I know you’re angry about losing your dad. I don’t mind if you take it out on me.”

Gina scowled at him and walked to the other side of the room.

On returning to the courtroom the coroner launched into his summing-up. He spoke with authority and a clarity that was unclouded by emotion.

“Due to the lack of witnesses to how Martin Wilson came to be lying on the train tracks that night, I am obliged to draw my conclusion from the evidence presented here today and contained within the statements and reports at my disposal. Given the pathologist’s findings, it seems reasonable to believe that Martin Wilson jumped from the bridge that night. After considering the information I have about the height of the sides of the bridge it would seem improbable that he could have, accidentally, fallen from it.

“As we have heard, Martin Wilson was not under the influence of alcohol or drugs. This fact, coupled with the text sent to his daughter and the evidence given by Tom Cotter regarding Martin Wilson’s state of mind at the time, seem to rule out any suggestion that this was an accidental death. On the basis of these facts it appears beyond reasonable doubt that Martin Wilson must have climbed up on the side of the bridge that night and jumped onto the railway track with the intention of killing himself.”

Gina was stunned, but her mother’s head dropped in resignation.

The coroner continued. “From what I have heard here today, I am in no doubt that Martin Wilson was a good man and a devoted father, but in my duty to document the truth, I must return a verdict of suicide. I offer my deepest condolences to the Wilson family.”

Everyone in the courtroom stood as the coroner went to leave the room but Gina ran up to him, blocking his exit.

“No! Please wait! That’s not what happened. Didn’t you listen to what I said – I knew my dad. He wouldn’t kill himself. He wouldn’t. I wanted this inquest to find out what happened that night. I wanted you to find out the truth! Why haven’t you found out the truth?” she cried.

The coroner turned his intelligent eyes on her. “Gina, I know that this verdict is hard to accept but an inquest can’t make judgements based on your feelings and instincts. I examined the facts very carefully before reaching this conclusion. I hope that one day you will understand that it is better to know the truth, no matter how painful.” He smiled sympathetically and walked past her, but Gina shouted after him.

“Your verdict is wrong and if this inquest won’t find out the truth then I will. I
will!
” She clenched her fists tight, her body trembling with fury.

The funeral took place a week after the inquest. Throughout the day Gina felt like she was suffocating: first in the funeral car that took them to the windswept crematorium, then during the service in the freezing chapel, where Gina listened to the vicar trying to console the inconsolable. The vicar’s sermon spoke of her dad “finding peace and being in a place where the burdens of the world were lifted from his shoulders”. His words were obviously chosen to bring comfort to the family of a suicide victim but they made Gina’s blood boil. She had to fight the impulse to stand up in the pew and shout “Don’t talk about my dad as if he killed himself”.

And when Tom Cotter stood at the lectern to deliver his eulogy, she couldn’t focus on his stories of how wonderful her dad was, all she could feel was bitterness and anger towards Tom for telling everyone that her dad had been depressed.

Gina remained stony-faced as she watched her father’s coffin glide backwards through the green velvet curtains, on its way to be consumed by flames. Her mum gripped her hand so tightly that it went numb. The sound of stifled sobbing filled the chapel, but Gina refused to let herself cry.
This isn’t a proper goodbye for you, Dad,
she thought.
All these people believing that you killed yourself. It’s not right, it’s not fair!

After the service, the gathering in the Social Club seemed to go on for ever.

Are these people ever going to go home?
Gina thought to herself. She looked over to Danny in concern. All day, her brother’s face had remained blank; he hadn’t uttered a word; people were speaking to him as if he was a toddler, not a ten-year-old boy.

She noticed her dad’s workmates being shepherded towards the family by Kylie, Tom’s secretary. Gina liked them all, but Kylie was her favourite. Whenever Gina had visited her dad at work, Kylie always made her feel welcome. She’d often sit in the office in the corner of the warehouse, eating biscuits and listening, wide-eyed, to tales of Kylie’s love life, and all the while Kylie’s decorated nails would carry on tapping the keyboard at the speed of light. Tom would often pop his head round the office door – always dressed smartly, every inch the businessman amongst his workers in their overalls. He’d wink at Gina and slip a ten-pound note into her hand, whispering, “Don’t tell your dad.”

Growing up, Gina used to find any excuse to visit the warehouse, although her mum would warn her that it wasn’t a playground. But Gina loved it in that vast space. She felt like Alice in Wonderland as she entered the warehouse through the tiny door cut into the immense sliding shutters. She loved to stand and fill her lungs with the sweet-smelling clouds of chocolate dust that rose, like magic, from the thousands of sacks of cocoa beans. She loved it when her dad plonked a yellow safety helmet on her head and swamped her in a high-viz jacket. Then, if she was really good, he’d let her sit next to him on the forklift truck, and help pull the levers that raised the bulging jute sacks onto the miles of towering shelves.

Whenever she had wandered down the wide aisles with him, as he checked a shipment, she’d hear one or other of the men singing along to the radio. Often the cavernous space echoed with laughter as rude jokes went flying between the aisles. “Gina, cover your ears,” her dad would say urgently. She couldn’t see how anyone would dislike working there, especially when they went home covered in a layer of chocolate dust every evening. But today there was no singing, no laughter. Her dad’s workmates were barely recognizable with their sombre suits and solemn faces. Even Kylie was dressed demurely.

In turn, each of the seven men kissed her mum’s cheek and told her what a great bloke Martin was, and how much they’d miss him. Then they reached over to ruffle Danny’s hair and kiss the top of Gina’s head. Kylie tottered forward, and despite her best intentions to remain composed, she burst into tears as she hugged the life out of Gina’s mum.

“I still can’t believe it, Clare,” Kylie wailed. “I keep expecting him to come in. Every morning I’m sitting in that office thinking, ‘Martin’s going to come in now’, but he doesn’t!”

Her mum buried her head in Kylie’s leather jacket.

“He was one in a million, Clare. We all loved him. He used to keep the lads in line; make them apologize if they said any of that sexist stuff to me. And he never let them swear around me – which was lovely of him, although, the truth is, I know more swear words than the lot of them – but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? And your Martin was
so
thoughtful.”

The queue of mourners was now growing behind Kylie, as people waited to offer their condolences. Kylie gave Gina’s mum a last squeeze and hugged Danny too, before stepping sideways to Gina. She opened her mouth to launch into another memory, but Gina got in first.

“Kylie, what happened that morning at work? What was Dad like?”

Kylie rocked back and forth on her stilettos.

“Are you sure you want to talk about this
now
, Gina?” she asked, looking uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Gina said emphatically. “I need to know.”

“Well,” Kylie sighed. “He seemed fine when he first came in, but I didn’t get to talk to any of them most of the morning – they were all too busy unloading a shipment – it had arrived earlier than we’d expected. Next time I saw your dad was when he came into the office, after he’d spoken to Tom; Tom was on business in Glasgow overnight, staying in this swish hotel. Anyway Martin said that Tom had told him we could all go home early. He asked me to pass the good news on to the others. Well, you can imagine, the lads were ecstatic. They were out of the place in five minutes flat. Your dad told me to go home, said he’d shut the warehouse, so I got off into town. There was a pair of lovely leather trousers on sale that I was desperate to get my hands on.”

“And how did he seem?”

“To be honest, he seemed a bit stressed, not his usual chatty self. I asked him why we were closing the warehouse early but he didn’t answer, he just told me to go and have a good time.”

“Had Dad seemed depressed to you?”

“Oh God, Gina. You know me; I’m too busy talking
at
people to pick up on stuff like that. Anyway, your dad wasn’t letting on that he was in a bad way, was he? It’s easy to plaster a smile on your face and pretend like everything’s all right. I did it for six months once! There was this fella, he bored me to tears, but he was loaded. He ended up proposing! I tell you, I was tempted. I would have had the life of Riley – but even I have my standards.” She nodded, proud of herself.

Gina searched Kylie’s face. “Kylie, do
you
think he killed himself?”

“Oh, babe,” she answered, her eyes refilling with tears. “We know he did. The facts are the facts, Gina. Don’t go driving yourself crazy trying to change them.” She pulled Gina to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, leaving an imprint of blood-red lipstick, before tottering off towards the door.

Gina suddenly felt overwhelmed by the noise and heat generated by over a hundred mourners. So, when yet another person came to hold her mother’s hand, she took her chance.

“Where are you going?” her mum asked anxiously.

“Just outside. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Gina wove through the heaving room, head down, avoiding eye contact with people. Many she hardly knew, but some of them stopped her, hugged her, planted unwanted kisses; by this stage, it wasn’t just the tea and sandwiches that had been polished off. The bar was doing a brisk trade as people raised their glasses to her dad. And, as more alcohol was consumed, people were becoming less careful with their talk.

One huddle of people didn’t notice Gina was passing.

“The poor kid,” Gina heard someone say. “Did you hear about her outburst at the inquest? She won’t believe that Martin killed himself. What was Clare thinking of? She should never have let Gina get up and give evidence. A coroner’s court is no place for a child.”

Gina stopped in her tracks and listened.

“How’s she ever going to get over this? She’s always been such a daddy’s girl and Martin loved the bones of
her
.”

“It’s bad enough that he killed himself but how could he do that to his own daughter? Leaving her in the car like that, while he went and jumped in front of a train.”

“Well, I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but killing yourself like that is such a selfish way to do it. He could have caused a terrible accident.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

“Don’t know. Probably money troubles – it often is.”

“He must have had a guilty conscience about something. People don’t go killing themselves for no reason.”

“Maybe he was just out of his mind. They say he was depressed, not that you would have known it.”

“Well, you never can tell what’s going on in someone’s head. Depression is a terrible thing, you know. My cousin Alan had it. He killed himself too, and none of us saw it coming.”

Gina wanted to scream; she screwed up her face with anger and started pushing past the guests, fighting her way to the exit. She flung the door open and rushed outside into a corner of the car park, where she remained, huddled up, shielding herself against their voices and the biting wind.

Minutes later Tom appeared, scanning the car park until he spotted her.

“Gina,” he said, crouching down to her. “Your mum’s been asking for you. You’ll freeze out here. Come back inside.”

“No! I’m not going back in there with those people, talking about why my dad would have killed himself,” she spat.

“They should keep their opinions to themselves,” Tom said, annoyed, “but I suppose it’s only human nature to look for an explanation, to try and make some sense of it. You were so brave at the inquest, Gina, telling everyone what happened that night, but I’ve been wondering whether you’ve remembered anything else? It may be something that didn’t seem important at the time; something he did, something he said. Anything to help explain the way he was feeling.”

“Why are you asking me?
You
seem to know far more than I do; telling everyone that my dad was depressed.” She scowled at him.

Tom shook his head sadly. “But he
was
depressed. He hadn’t been well for weeks.”

“What exactly did you say to him on the phone that night? He was so wound up.”

“Well, maybe he didn’t appreciate me checking up on him, because that’s all I was doing. I told him that we’d go out for a drink when I got back. I told him everything was going to be all right.”

Gina eyed him with suspicion.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said imploringly. “Come on, people are starting to leave at last. Your mum and Danny are waiting.”

Gina followed him without resistance. She longed to be back in her room where she could hide away from people who were full of pity and gossip. She squeezed into the back of Tom’s sports car. Her mum insisted on sitting in between her and Danny, clutching their hands. They all sat in exhausted silence.

“The Social Club put on a nice spread, didn’t they?” Tom said to break the quiet. “And it was a magnificent turnout, Clare. A real testament to Martin.”

Her mum nodded silently, biting her lip.

“And the vicar did a nice service, didn’t he?” Tom continued.

“Oh God…the vicar! With everything going on, I forgot to pay him. And I didn’t even ask where I get Martin’s ashes from,” Gina’s mum flapped, tears welling in her eyes. “Where will they be? Do they keep them in the crematorium or at the funeral director’s?”

“Don’t worry about anything,” Tom said calmly. “I’ll drop you off and go back to sort everything out. You all just need to get home and rest.”

Her mum dabbed panda eyes, as the tears mingled with mascara. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Tom.”

“Listen, I’m always here for you. Anytime, day or night,” he replied.

“And thanks so much for volunteering to do the eulogy. It was lovely, really lovely. Wasn’t it, kids?”

“Yeah,” Danny muttered.

Gina remained silent. She felt a prompting squeeze of her hand, but still she didn’t reply.

“Everything you said about him…it really summed him up,” her mum continued.

“Well, I only told the truth. Martin was a lovely man, who thought the world of you and the kids. I doubt I’ll ever meet such a good man again.”

“Could I have a copy of what you said, Tom? It was hard to take it all in. To be honest I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking through today.”

“Of course, Clare. Look, we’re here now,” Tom said, slowing down. “Let’s get inside and I’ll put the kettle on.” He manoeuvred into a space amongst the vans and ageing cars parked along the street.

The family peeled themselves off the back seat and Mum opened the glossy green door of their immaculate terraced house.

Gina noticed her mum stop abruptly as she stepped over the threshold.

“What is it?” Gina asked, following her in. Immediately she saw that the drawers of the sideboard in the hallway were open and their contents strewn on the tiled floor.

Gina rushed past her and into the living room.

“No!” she cried as she saw the mess. The sofas had been turned upside down, their linings slashed, all the trinkets and trophies from the shelves had been dashed to the floor. The family laptop, which normally lived in the far corner of the room, was nowhere to be seen. Their DVDs and CDs had been cleared out and there was a gaping space where their TV should have been.