“Actually going back to work.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I’ve got to do it soon. Work’ll get me back to sanity. So I was thinking of trying a few days commuting.”
“From here?”
“Mm. I don’t think Mum’s up to being back in Harlow quite yet.” (Carole didn’t think she herself would ever be up to being back in Harlow.) “But if I’m away during the days, and she has the security of knowing that I’ll be back in the evenings – well, it could be a good start, weaning her back on to the idea of life getting back to normal.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“And what I wanted to ask you, Carole, is would you mind vaguely keeping an eye on Mum? I don’t necessarily mean going to see her, but, you know, being at the end of a phone if she gets a panic attack or anything like that.”
“I’d be delighted to do that for her. And, if it turns out she does want company, then I’d be happy to oblige.” This was not total altruism. Carole had been thinking that there were further questions she’d like to put to Marie Martin.
“Thanks so much. Then maybe soon we’ll be able to get on with some of our other plans.”
“For the wedding?”
“Yes. And just getting back some kind of social life?” Gaby hesitated for a moment, before she said, “Youknow David wants us all to have dinner together one evening?”
“What?”
“He said he’d mentioned it to you.”
“As a vague idea. He mentioned it just after we’d heard about your father’s death. Sensitive timing was never one of David’s skills.”
“No. Well, he’s mentioned the idea again to Steve.”
“Has he?”
Gaby looked awkward. She was moving on to territory where her professional poise deserted her. “Carole, it would mean a lot to Steve just to feel that you and David could have some kind of workable relationship.”
“The fact that we got divorced, I would have thought, showed just how impossible it is for us to have any kind of workable relationship,” Carole said tartly.
“Yes, I know you find it difficult, but – well, Steve would really appreciate it if you two could get more used to being together again. I mean, not on a permanent basis…”
“There’s not a chance of it being on a permanent basis!” But then Carole moderated her tone. Gaby was after all only trying to please Stephen, to show her love for him. In working to that end, the two women should be on the same side. “Look, Gaby, I’m sure David and I will get much more used to seeing each other again. There won’t be any problems, I promise.”
“And you would maybe accept his invitation to dinner with us?”
Carole could not think of a prospect that she found less appealing. But then again, it wasn’t her comfort she should be thinking about. Her priority should be the happiness of her son and his bride-to-be. “I’m sure that’d be possible at some point.”
“David was going to ring Steve with some possible dates,” said Gaby eagerly.
“Yes, well, there’s time enough for that. The most important thing is getting your life back to normal.”
“You’re right, Carole. Oh, I feel so much better already, just at the thought of getting back to work – of life settling down a bit – with no more traumas.”
Carole hoped it would be as long as possible before Gaby finally heard about the body in the burnt-out car on the Downs. Or, maybe, by the time she did hear, the police would have identified the victim as someone with no connection to the Martin family. To ensure Gaby’s peace of mind, shattering Carole and Jude’s conspiracy theory would be a small price to pay.
At that moment a mobile phone trilled. “Excuse me while I get this,” said Gaby, reaching into her pocket. “It’s probably from work.”
She grinned at the prospect and pressed a button to put the call through. She listened. Whatever she heard had a devastating effect. The colour drained from her face and she snatched the phone away from her ear, as if it was scalding hot. She put it on the table and shuddered, her eyes staring.
“What on earth’s the matter?”
Instinctively, Carole picked up the phone and held it gingerly to her ear.
“Are you still there?” she heard. The voice was rough and male. “I thought you’d hung up on me. Listen, Gaby, my name’s Mick Brewer.”
? The Witness at the Wedding ?
Twenty-Two
Carole’s first thought was that another potential identity for the body in the car on the Downs had been eliminated. Her second thought, after a look at Gaby, was to rush to the bar and buy a large brandy from a slightly bewildered Ted Crisp. He wasn’t used to her ordering brandy, least of all before lunch.
But she’d done the right thing. The alcohol did at least stop Gaby’s trembling, and soon she was able to talk again.
“What did he say to you?”
“Just that his name was Mick Brewer.”
“Did he say how he’d got your number?”
“Yes.” An involuntary shudder ran through Gaby’s body. “He said he’d got it from my address book.”
“How could he have got your address book?”
“There’s only one way.” Gaby looked terrified as she pieced the thought together. “It must have been him, Mick Brewer, who burgled my flat. My address book was there, among the things that had been moved, so he must have looked at it. That means he knows where I live. He must have been following me formonths.” She let out a little gasp of pure fear. “He must know where I am now.”
“No, he doesn’t,” said Carole, more reassuring than she felt. “You’re safe here.”
“But for how long? Anyway, who is he? Who is Mick Brewer?”
“You know who he is. Inspector Pollard asked you about him.”
“Yes. But he didn’t give me any detail. Except that he’d just come out of prison after serving a very long sentence – which I would assume means he committed some violent crime. Do you know anything more than that about him, Carole?”
Her future daughter-in-law was in no state to hear all the details that Gita Millington had unearthed about the murder of Janine Buckley. So Carole ignored the question, as if she’d just had a new and urgent thought. “You must ring Inspector Pollard.”
“What?”
“He was asking you about Michael Brewer, wasn’t he? You must tell him about the call. I’m sure the police can trace where he was ringing from. They might be able to find him. Then you won’t have to worry any more.”
Gaby saw the logic. She quickly rang a number she’d scribbled on the back of a till receipt, and was put straight through to Inspector Pollard. It was clear from her reactions that he took what she was saying very seriously indeed.
When the call was over, Gaby looked ruefully at Carole. “So much for my idea of normality returning, of going back to work. The Inspector wants me in Harlow.”
“And your mother too?”
Gaby nodded. “He says he reckons we’ll be safer there. Though Harlow didn’t turn out to be very safe for Dad, did it?” A sob caught her unawares. “God, this whole thing’s a nightmare, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s a nightmare that’s about to end. By phoning you, Michael Brewer’s broken cover. It won’t take the police long to find him now.”
“I hope to God you’re right, Carole. I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”
