Unspoken (11 page)

I am standing in a corridor and there, up ahead, is Julia. A splash of colour in the white tunnel but with a deep, dark shadow by her side. I turn one way and then the other, searching for a way out. There isn’t one, but then, after all this time, I’m used to feeling like that.

‘Dr Carlyle came to see how you got on. That was kind of him, wasn’t it?’ Julia takes me by the arm and pulls me where I don’t want to go.

Suddenly I am a young woman again, and before I have time to think how that feels, I march off down the corridor like I should have done thirty years ago.

Nadine and Ed Hallet’s house is neat and tidy and lies on the edge of Cambridge. They like it like this. They like the perfect crescent of their street and the way the birch trees are spaced evenly along the pavement. They like the milk float and the corner shop and the newspaper delivery boy. Nadine once said their neighbourhood reminded her of a perfect heartbeat on a patient’s trace; the perfect life. The life that she and Ed had set out to achieve. They’ve got it all, too, except there’s a hole the size of a planet in their lives.

Alex and Flora go some way to filling the gap, and that is why I am determined that my break from Murray will not separate my kids from their adoring uncle and aunt. It would crumple Ed and Nadine if contact wasn’t regularly maintained – although perhaps not so much when Flora draws a pencil line around the fresh white paintwork of their semi-detached so that she doesn’t lose her way.

‘Oh, Flora!’ Nadine scolds, when she sees the wobbly line going all the way from the telephone table in the hallway into the dining room, through the kitchen and back to the hallway. A map of intent, a dose of good sense, Flora is a survivor and would never set forth on an adventure without leaving a trail to find her way home.

‘What’s she done?’ I say, emerging from Nadine’s living room to find her rubbing a wet cloth on the paintwork.

‘Look at this!’

‘Oh dear,’ I say, amazed at how incredibly straight Flora got the line.

‘Silly girl,’ Nadine pouts, hiding a smile, as Flora trails past with a Lego creation.

‘Nadine,’ I say, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Do it this way.’ And I show her the ballet of hand gestures she will need to use if she is to tell my daughter off.

‘I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter.’ Nadine stands up. Is it that she suddenly realises my daughter’s deafness is more important, more tragic than the pencil line on her wall?

‘The final results came yesterday. I’m just a bit tetchy.’

I fold her body against mine. It is conclusive. Nadine and Ed will never be able to have children.

Nadine was my first friend. As Murray’s little sister, she took a fair few knocks and grew up chasing footballs, riding bikes and playing tricks on Murray. Five years younger than her brother, we took delight in letting down Murray’s bicycle tyres, hiding his house key so he got into trouble and putting jelly in his pyjamas. It was all very happy; all very childish – a collage of delicious memories of hanging out with the big boys.

So what I’m saying is that Nadine grew up tough and spunky. She was raised with a coat of varnish, and honestly, with all the tests and trials she’s suffered recently, it was a good job.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I tell her. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She turns her nose up at the tea I made her. ‘Not enough sugar?’ I ask.

‘Too much,’ she says, and watches intently as Flora pulls apart her Lego model. Alex harvests all the pieces for himself. A frantic signing battle then ensues, but Alex turns his head so he can’t see what she’s saying.

‘How’s Mary?’ Nadine asks.

‘Not so good. I’m taking her for the MRI scan results tomorrow. A friend from the village is keeping her company at the moment.’ I sigh. ‘I can’t rely on other people to help with my problems for ever, though.’ I wonder if life will ever return to normal. ‘It’s a relief that Brenna and Gradin are going to school now. It would be hard to cope otherwise.’

I look at my watch. I’d only called in briefly to see Nadine after I’d picked up Alex and Flora from school. The bus would be dropping the teenagers back at Northmire shortly. Besides, I know Nadine’s going to mention Murray soon. She’ll bring him up in conversation any way she can and squeeze glue on to the pair of us. She does it every time I see her.

‘Julia, you look done in.’ Nadine tilts her head and pulls a sympathetic face. She’s right. On the floor, Alex tentatively offers some Lego to Flora. He doesn’t want to give it up but knows he has to.

‘With what happened to your student and Mary being ill,’ Nadine continues, ‘you need a break. And looking after two teenage tearaways is hardly what the doctor ordered, either.’

‘It’s not that easy, is it? Nadine, you know if you want to talk about the test results, I’m a good listener.’

‘Don’t change the subject,’ she chides.

‘
Me
change the subject?’ I stay calm. ‘You’re the one—’

‘How’s my big bro?’ Even though she says it with a grin forming, I know her question digs deep. I am giving up on her brother – probably going to have to fight him in court over the kids, the house, money – and Nadine wants answers. We love each other as much as any two friends could. We have known each other for ever, but she can’t help feeling the loss.

‘Did I tell you about David?’ Instantly I regret mentioning him. But she’s my friend. She knows I’ve been through so much with Murray – she sees people like him every day, with addictions making up the bulk of her work – so surely she understands a little of what I’ve been through? I look at the kids again. Beacons of light. They keep me strong.

‘David,’ she ponders. ‘I don’t think so.’

I have mentioned his name in passing twice already. I know she is humouring me even though her tone is weary. She curls her socked feet on to the pale sofa and, after only a moment’s thought, plucks a chocolate from a box sitting on the table beside her. She hands the box to me and I take a strawberry cream. ‘He’s a doctor and we’ve been out for dinner. I’m going over to his house on Thursday. He’s going to cook.’ I am talking with my mouth full, trying not to make any of it sound too serious. I couldn’t stand it if Nadine and I fell out over this.

‘Have you slept with him?’ Nadine sucks her chocolate slowly, eyeing me through fronds of loose hair. Whatever I say will get straight back to Murray.

‘Nadine!’ I feign shock and get a flash of pain as the pink strawberry filling settles on a tooth. ‘He’s very nice,’ I say. ‘But no, we haven’t slept together. I think one pub dinner is a little premature to be suggesting such things. He’s Mum’s GP, actually.’

‘Ah.’ Nadine curls her head in an arc of understanding. I don’t know if this revelation makes things better or worse.

‘He’s older than me.’ I want her to know that I’ve thought about this.

‘How much older?’

‘A little bit, but he looks good for it.’

‘
Julia
,’ she warns.

I’ve said enough. I know Nadine will tell Murray everything when he finds out I’ve been visiting.

‘Look, we just really hit it off.’ I trust Nadine to drip-feed what she sees fit. ‘I called the out-of-hours surgery number on Christmas Day when I found Mum poorly. David was there nearly every day afterwards checking up on her over the holiday period. It grew from there. He’s been good to me, Nadine. A really decent person.’ I wish I’d not said that. It implies that Murray never was.

‘That’s the medical profession for you,’ she jokes rather too sourly. ‘We’re all such darn fine folk.’ She stretches, and her pale arms poke from her baggy sweater. It’s her day off and she looks like she needs it.

I can’t leave allowing her to think this is a fad, that I’m fickle and have intentionally broken her brother’s heart.

‘Do you think it’s possible to feel such a deep emotional connection with someone that you wonder if you’ve known them all your life?’

‘Bloody hell, Jules. Talk about rebound.’ Nadine takes another chocolate. ‘Christ, he’s that amazing and you haven’t slept with him?’ She’s smiling now but not without a glint of loyalty. What can I expect? They are brother and sister.

There is a sudden chill as the front door opens and closes. Ed is home. Nadine already told me that he has been working twenty-four hours straight out of the last thirty. She greets her husband as he comes into the room, reaching her arms around his neck. I see a flash of Murray in her profile – the long neck, the square jaw, the slightly crooked angle of her nose as she kisses her husband. I busy myself with packing away the Lego.

We have to go, I tell Flora.

Even though I have known Ed for years and years, seeing him makes me think of Grace. I’m considering visiting her family, sending flowers, anything to help ease the shock of finding her. I almost feel party to the crime in some way. So far I’ve convinced myself they wouldn’t want to see me, that I represent every parent’s fear.

‘Hello, Ed,’ I say quietly when Nadine slides off him. Envy sears my heart. I recall Murray and me greeting each other in a similar way. Another day over; stories to tell; a familiar set of arms to fold into. ‘You look done in.’ It’s true. Exhaustion is pasted all over him and the lower half of his face is overcast with stubble.

‘I am,’ he admits, grimacing as Nadine digs her fingers into his shoulder muscles. He has sauce on his shirt.

‘Come on, Alex. Help Flora pack up the toys.’

My son scuffs the coloured blocks across the carpet towards the bucket. He’d rather listen to what Ed has to say about his work, although I fear it won’t be suitable for an eleven-year-old.

‘Are you going to catch whoever hurt that girl?’ Alex can’t resist asking what I daren’t. Leading the Grace Covatta investigation makes Uncle Ed, in Alex’s eyes, the coolest man in history. ‘Did you arrest anyone yet?’

Ed drops on to the sofa. Nadine pours him a Scotch and I glare at her. Then I glare at the drink, and finally I glare at Ed.

‘We’re working on it, mate.’ He swirls the whisky around in the glass ‘Forensics are gathering evidence and piecing it all together. The weather conditions at the time didn’t help.’

‘You mean the snow and wind we had?’ Alex snaps Lego apart and tosses it into the bucket, never once taking his wide eyes off his uncle. ‘Shall I go out into the field and see what I can find?’

Ed leans forward and grabs his nephew by the arm, hauling him on to the sofa beside him. A kind of rugby tackle crossed with a tickle fight ensues, and at the end of it, Ed looks a whole lot better.

‘Tell you what, mate,’ he says, glowing from either whisky or laughing. ‘I’ll make a date and get you down to the station one day after school. You can hang out with some of the team. What do you say?’

‘Yes, please. That would be cool.’

‘Alex, why don’t you go and track down Flora’s coat and those books she left lying around,’ I say. He does as he’s asked without grumbling. ‘He’s a good lad,’ I say to Ed. ‘I don’t want my family mixed up in all this.’

‘Look, I’ll be honest with you, Julia. You’re involved in this whether you like it or not. You found her. You’re her teacher.’ Ed stands. Again I feel guilty, as if without me none of this would have happened. ‘It’s wreaked havoc in the whole community. The pressure for us to make an arrest is enormous.’ He paces the living room, as if the answer is written on the wallpaper. ‘The public are calling the station, desperate for news, worried their own kids are at risk.’ He stops and stares out of the window. ‘
I
am concerned they are at risk.’

When he turns, Ed is a silhouette. Even without taking into consideration the broadcasting vans settled outside the police headquarters, the newspaper headlines or the local television news bulletins, I can see the strain written all over his face. At the very least, he needs to offer the public reassurance that strong leads are being followed. The plain fact is, he can’t.

‘Has Grace said anything yet? Can she give a description?’

He sighs. ‘She’s still suffering major trauma from the incident. She received several very severe blows to the head.’ He glances at the door. There’s no sign of Alex.

‘Was she . . .’ I can’t bring myself to say it.

‘I’m still waiting for results. Early indications from the doctors are that there was no sexual trauma. We’ll know more when she’s able to speak. Plus, the doctors are very concerned about her head injuries. They won’t let us at her.’

I hardly dare ask. ‘Who do you think did this?’ I’m shaking. I think back to my hospital visit, upset that I couldn’t do more for her.

Ed looks away, telling me he’s revealed too much already. ‘Let me do my job, Julia. When there’s any news, you’ll hear about it.’

‘I hope you make a breakthrough soon,’ I say. ‘For her parents’ sake, as much as hers.’

Flora climbs on to my lap at just the right moment. Nadine sees my hands shaking as I cradle my daughter.

‘Julia, are you OK?’ She squats beside me. For now, our differences about Murray fade away.

I nod. ‘No,’ I laugh. I bury my face in Flora’s hair and Alex comes back carrying the things I sent him for.

‘Julia, if you need help coping with this, I can arrange something.’ Nadine speaks earnestly, softly. She means someone to talk to, counselling. ‘With everything else going on in your life, you’re going to need all the support you can get.’

Unintentionally she makes me feel like a failure, incomplete, as if everything I’m involved with falls apart.

‘I’m not bothered about support for me,’ I say, wondering how Grace’s family will ever function again. ‘I just want Ed to find out who did this.’

‘Is this about Grace, Mum?’ Alex is all ears. I hold up a hand to silence him.

‘I just hope he doesn’t strike again.’ Ed stops when I glare at him. ‘Look, I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours and I’m back at the station this evening.When there’s news, I’ll let you know.’ He removes his jacket. He is plainclothes in the CID. His stomach pushes against the buttons of his shirt. ‘You get home and look after Mary. She needs you. And lock the doors.’ Ed kisses my cheek and goes upstairs. He wasn’t joking about security.