Silent Truths (2 page)

The blonde looked uneasy.

‘What for?’ Beth finally managed.

The girl’s lucid eyes seemed to be seeing too far into her own. Beth forced herself to hold the gaze. Suddenly her heart felt like a dead weight struggling to stay alive. But she had nothing to fear. She was his wife, she had every right to ask questions.

The girl no longer seemed willing to speak.

Beth wondered what she should say or do now. She had to think fast, but her brain was sluggish and bewildered. Then suddenly she grabbed the girl and began to shake her. ‘What for?’ she seethed. ‘Tell me what for.’

‘Murder,’ the blonde answered.

Beth’s hands were still on the shiny blue raincoat as she stared into the girl’s face. Arrested for murder? Was the girl mad? Dimly she was aware of the noise outside shrinking back to a distant place. Her eyelids blinked up and down as time seemed to halt its journey and transport them to another dimension. There was the odd breath from the girl, whose beautiful ocean eyes watched her closely, whose collar was still bunched in Beth’s fists.

‘I – I’m sorry,’ the blonde stammered. ‘When I came … I presumed … Did no one call? The police? Your husband? Didn’t anyone let you know?’

Beth let her go. Her eyes drifted to the pitted surface of the table where that morning’s mail was still half open. There was no going back from this.

‘Stupid question. We wouldn’t be standing here now if they had,’ the blonde mumbled.

Beth blinked, refocusing her eyes. She turned them back to the blonde. This time she saw her for what she really was – a reporter. Beth’s defences instantly rose. Whatever she said or did now she had to remember she was in the presence of the enemy.

‘Who?’ she said. ‘Who did he kill?’ Her tone was dull, devoid of emotion.

The next day, when the question was quoted, in the newspaper Beth always took, it was made to sound like a presumption of guilt. There were no protestations of, ‘He would never kill anyone, they must have got the wrong man,’ or even, ‘Who is he
supposed
to have killed?’ Simply ‘Who did he kill?’

‘Sophie Long,’ the blonde answered now, looking and sounding so apologetic that she might just as well have added, ‘his mistress’, or ‘his piece on the side’.

‘Who is Sophie Long?’ Beth asked stupidly.

‘You’re shaking,’ the blonde told her. ‘Why don’t you sit down? Let me get you a drink.’

‘
Who
is Sophie Long?’ Beth snapped.

The blonde looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t know exactly,’ she answered.

‘You know her name. You say my husband’s been arrested for her murder. So you must know who she is,’ Beth pointed out savagely.

‘I’m not sure yet. I think she’s someone he was … seeing,’ the blonde answered.

‘Fucking!’ Beth corrected crudely. ‘You mean she’s someone he was fucking.’

The blonde didn’t argue.

Beth looked away. She sensed the crowd outside growing, billowing up around the house like a
marauding army. They were going to smash in through the windows, break open the cracks round the door. They were determined to reach her and she was afraid. She could hear them yelling. ‘Beth! Mrs Ashby! Did you know about your husband’s affair?’ ‘Will you stand by him over this?’ ‘Did you ever meet Sophie Long?’ ‘How long had Colin known her?’

They called him Colin because they knew him.

Maybe she should tell this girl that she didn’t believe it was true. She wanted to say those words, but her tongue was leaden. Nothing she said was going to make a difference now. This was the end. In her mind’s eye she could see him falling into an abyss. She was standing on the edge, her hand outstretched to his as she watched him disappear. She wasn’t able to help – or could she?
Colin! Oh God, Colin!
Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a sob.

All the time the phone kept on ringing. The machine was picking up the calls. Was he trying to get through?

She slumped into a chair.

‘Can I get you something?’ the blonde asked.

Beth looked up. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

‘Lorraine Forbes. My friends call me Laurie.’ She paused awkwardly. ‘I’m really sorry about this,’ she said.

I’ll bet you are
, Beth thought nastily.
It must be terrible being the first on the scene, getting to break the news to the wife, and then managing to force your way into her house. Oh, I can imagine how sorry you are landing this opportunity to make a name for yourself at my expense
. ‘Which paper do you work for?’ she asked.

Laurie told her and Beth’s eyebrows rose. She’d never have put her down for a serious broadsheet; if anything she seemed more of a tabloid trainee who’d somehow managed to get lucky.

The phone was still ringing.

‘I should answer,’ Beth said. ‘It could be him.’ But did she want to speak to him with this girl here?

Laurie Forbes glanced at the phone. ‘Would you like me to take it?’ she offered.

Beth buried her face in her hands.

‘Hello?’ Laurie said into the receiver. ‘No, it’s not Mrs Ashby. Who’s speaking?’ She paused, then said, ‘I’m sorry, she has nothing to say. Please don’t call again,’ and she hung up.

‘There’s some whisky over there, in the pantry,’ Beth said.

Laurie poured them each a double shot, then sat down too.

Beth’s sense of the bizarre heightened. She became fixated on the way the two of them were sitting here, like a couple of foxes under siege from the hunt. But she had to remember that as innocuous as this girl seemed, she was even more dangerous than those outside, by very virtue of the fact that she was here, on the inside.

‘Do you have someone you can call?’ Laurie asked. ‘A mother? Sister? Friend?’

Beth thought of her mother and shuddered. Then her heart jarred on the image of Colin’s mother, whose devastation was going to be a spectacle horrible to behold. The scandal. The horror. However was she, an ex-local magistrate and dedicated churchwarden, going to cope with being the
mother of a killer? She’d be booted out of her bridge club, voted off all those well-meaning, self-serving committees, and daily made to choke on all that galling pride of her son that she’d shoved down everyone’s throats.

As quickly as Beth’s hostility rose, it vanished. She was being too cruel. Colin’s mother, for all her silly pretensions and self-importance, truly loved her son and, despite the unparalleled disgrace, Beth suspected the old woman would stand by him.

‘Has it made the news yet?’ she asked.

‘It’s probably been on Sky,’ Laurie answered.

‘She doesn’t have Sky,’ Beth mumbled.

Laurie didn’t ask who.

Beth’s mind returned to her own mother and father. What would they be doing right now, down there in Southern Spain? Four o’clock here made five o’clock there, so they’d probably be strolling off the golf course, skin all crinkled and bronzed, heading towards the clubhouse. In less than an hour they’d have imbibed enough of the peppery local wine to forget they even had a daughter, never mind to wonder how she was. Why had she always been such an irritant to her mother? She’d given up trying to please her long ago, but the pain of her failure still cut deeper than she’d ever want to admit. It gave her a moment’s malicious pleasure to think of how affronted her mother would be by this scandal. What it might mean for Colin or Beth wouldn’t be a major concern for Joyce Winters, who only ever measured events by how they affected her. Beth could picture her parents an hour or two from now, all cosied up in oblivion, false teeth clacking as they snorted and snored their way
through yet another hourly Sky News airing of their son-in-law’s terrible day. Rather like flying over an earthquake, she thought. Perhaps she should call and break it to them herself. If nothing else it would give her mother an early chance to blame her for Colin’s disgrace.

‘Why am I finding out like this?’ she suddenly cried. ‘Why didn’t anyone call me?’

‘I don’t know,’ Laurie answered. ‘They’re probably trying.’

Beth looked at the phone that had hardly stopped ringing. Was it odd that she hadn’t been more forceful about answering? It seemed so to her, but what did Laurie Forbes think?
What the hell did it matter what Laurie Forbes thought?

Beth looked at her helplessly. ‘Where is he?’ she asked.

‘I think they’re holding him at Notting Hill.’

Beth was confused. ‘Why there?’

‘It’s near where it happened.’

Beth felt agitated and afraid. Her mind wasn’t functioning well. What should she say next? She must get rid of this girl. Maybe then she could breathe.

‘Sophie Long’s flat is in Ladbroke Grove,’ Laurie expanded. ‘It happened there.’

Beth’s eyes closed as images of Colin brutally slashing a female body to shreds began closing in on her. She pressed her hands into her eyes, and saw blood splattering unfamiliar walls, spurting into her husband’s handsome face. ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped.

‘Have some more,’ Laurie said, indicating the whisky.

The reporters were still shouting outside, banging on the door. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing.

‘I should check the machine,’ Beth said dully.

Neither of them moved.

‘Did you know about the affair?’ Laurie asked.

‘Not really. I mean …’ Realizing what was happening, Beth got abruptly to her feet, spilling the whisky. ‘You should go now,’ she said. ‘Thank you for …’ For what? ‘Please go.’

Laurie stood up. ‘You shouldn’t be alone,’ she said, sounding as though she cared.

‘No. But I don’t know you, and I have nothing to say to the press.’
You’re devious and conniving, and I know very well that you want to trick me into saying things you can twist into shameless lies that’ll hurt my husband and degrade me
…

Laurie was just inside the hall. ‘What will you say to the PM, if he calls?’ she asked, turning back.

Considering who Colin was, it was a question the girl had to ask, but Beth didn’t have to answer. ‘Just go,’ she responded.

‘Beth! For God’s sake, are you in there?’ a voice called above the others outside. ‘It’s me, Georgie! Let me in.’

‘Georgie!’ Beth shoved past the blonde and ran down the hall.

‘Wait!’ Laurie shouted, before she could tear the door open.

Beth turned back.

‘I’ll let her in,’ Laurie said. ‘They’ll be all over you otherwise.’

Beth stood aside. A few moments later Laurie Forbes had gone and Beth’s closest friend, Georgie
Cottle, white-faced and trembling, was pulling her into an embrace.

‘Why didn’t you call me?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been trying to get through since I heard. Are you OK? Oh my God, what a stupid question. Of course you’re not. How could you be?’

‘What are you doing here?’ Beth said, squeezing her tight. ‘I didn’t even know you were in London.’ The comfort of holding someone she loved was like finding soft ground in the middle of a long, terrifying plunge to disaster. But it was only temporary, for the reality of why Georgie was there wrenched her brutally back into freefall.

‘I drove up with Bruce this morning,’ Georgie answered. ‘Just thank God I did. I came as soon as we got the call.’

‘What call?’

‘From Colin. Telling us he’d been arrested.’

Beth drew back. ‘He called you and not me?’ she said, baffled.

‘Not me, Bruce,’ Georgie corrected. ‘His lawyer,’ she added, by way of reminder.

Beth’s hand went to her head. It was icy cold. ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I can’t seem to grasp any of this.’

‘You’re in shock,’ Georgie told her.

Beth nodded. ‘I know that, but it’s not helping. Everything’s so disconnected. I don’t feel as though I’m doing or saying any of the right things.’

‘There are no right things in a situation like this,’ Georgie assured her. ‘Have you spoken to him at all?’

Beth shook her head.

‘So who told you?’

‘The reporter who just let you in.’

‘Are you serious?’ Georgie groaned in dismay.

Beth turned away, then started as someone thumped on the door. A sudden anger flared inside her. ‘It’s the damned press,’ she seethed. ‘They’re all over this already, blocking my phone, bombarding my house. If it weren’t for them …’ She shivered with revulsion. ‘They make my skin
crawl. Just go away!
’ she shrieked as another fist threatened to break through the panels.

‘Sssh, it’s OK,’ Georgie soothed. ‘We just need to get you out of here. Let’s go and pack a bag.’

Beth started towards the stairs, then suddenly stopped. ‘I should have known before the press,’ she raged, spinning round. Her eyes were glittering, her fists were clenched at her sides. ‘He didn’t call to warn me. Why didn’t he call to warn me?’

‘Maybe he’s been trying.’

‘But he should have called me
first
! Not Bruce. Not you. I’m his wife, for God’s sake.’

‘Who threw him out a week ago,’ Georgie reminded her gently. ‘Maybe he thought … Well, I don’t know what he thought.’

‘I’m always throwing him out,’ Beth cried hotly. ‘He knows it’s not serious. When has it ever been serious? And when have I ever not taken him back?’

Georgie looked at her bloodless face. There was nothing she could say. All she knew of the current break-up was that Beth had called last week to say she couldn’t take any more. Georgie had lost count of how many times she’d heard Beth utter those words, so this new drama had come as no surprise, and had caused no alarm. The endless parting and
making-up was as much a feature of the Ashby marriage as the wedding bands and shared name. So, sadly, were Colin’s affairs, every one of which broke Beth’s heart. Yet she always forgave him, and still she loved him, though God only knew what was going to happen after today. If he really had killed that girl – and things weren’t looking good – then Georgie just couldn’t see how Beth could forgive that.

She followed Beth up the stairs, watching her long, slender back while trying to imagine how she was feeling inside. Part of her had expected more questions than this, something closer to panic, or hysteria, though Bruce had warned her that shock was likely to cause a temporary rewiring of the brain. So whatever Georgie might consider an appropriate or understandable response would have no bearing on the disjointed, delayed reactions and emotional trauma going on in Beth’s mind. Just these first few minutes were proving Bruce right and, caring for Beth as deeply as she did, Georgie was determined not to judge, only to support.