him, talked about letting him go. Time might even have speeded up. But it may have just been time playing tricks on him once again.
Or not. Because the day had come. And it was today. No more staring at the curtains. No more sitting in his room with his memorised books, dreaming of living death.
He would be out. He would be free.
They all told him it was a good thing. That it must be what he wanted. And he had agreed with them. Because that was what they wanted to hear. And if they were pleased, he was pleased.
He heard keys in the door. Stood up. Stared straight ahead, at the wall. The door opened and two of them entered. One of them smiling.
‘Going home today, eh?’ the smiling one said.
He wanted to say
Smiler laughed. ‘Won’t know what to do with yourself.’
Knowing a response was expected, he returned the laugh. ‘Bet I will.’
Smiler laughed again.
‘Get your things, then, come on,’ the other one said, yawning.
He knew their names and had even used them sometimes. But he would forget them as soon as he left. Because he wouldn’t need them any more.
He gave one last look round his cell. His home. He took in the curtains, the memorised books and the toiletries. ‘There’s nothing I want here,’ he said.
‘Suit yourself, then.’
He followed them out.
The door clanged shut behind them.
He walked off the wing, down the corridor and towards the gate, trying to think of the future and not the past. Hoping time wouldn’t play tricks any more and that a table would become a table again and not a chair.
Trying not to feel death in his every step.
5
Marina opened her eyes. She tried to focus, but there was too much light in the room, too much brightness. She closed her eyes to block it out, then opened them again, slowly this time.
She saw curtains. Thin, patterned in a style she couldn’t identify. She looked round. She was in a small room. No, not a room, a cubicle. There was a beige wall with a small sink against it. She looked down and realised she was on a hospital stretcher. For a few seconds her consciousness floated adrift from her memory, then the two came crashing together. She jerked upright.
The cottage … the fire …
‘Whoa, hey, it’s OK … ’
She felt hands on her shoulders. Firm, not harsh. Not forcing her down, just holding her in place.
‘Where am I?’
‘Ipswich General. A and E.’
The voice sounded familiar. Warm and friendly. Another thought hit her. ‘Phil, where’s Phil …?’
‘It’s OK,’ said the voice again.
Marina focused, managed to look at the face of the speaker. She made out dark skin and lightened hair, a denim jacket and a T-shirt. Her friend and work colleague, Detective Constable Anni Hepburn.
‘Anni … what—’
‘Just lie back, Marina. Lie back.’
Marina didn’t want to do so, but she trusted her friend. She looked at Anni’s face once more. Her features were taut, drawn. No trace of the usual good humour there.
‘What’s happened? Where’s Phil? Josephina?’
‘Just … just take a minute. Just … relax, yeah?’ Anni didn’t seem to know what to say.
Marina picked up on the unease and tried to sit up once more. Her bones ached and pain cranked through her body. She lay back down again.
‘What’s happened? Tell me … ’
Anni sighed and looked round as if for support. Finding none, she turned back to Marina. ‘You were picked up outside a cottage in Aldeburgh in Suffolk. Last night.’
Marina nodded, her head swimming. ‘We went there for the weekend.’
Anni looked at her. ‘It was in flames … ’
The brightness of the room couldn’t touch the darkness of Anni’s words.
‘Flames … ’ Parts of Marina’s memory returned to her, like garishly coloured jigsaw pieces against a dark matt background. ‘Flames.’
‘You tried to run towards it,’ Anni said. ‘A guy passing by pulled you away. If he hadn’t … ’
Marina closed her eyes, the jigsaw pieces slotting slowly together. ‘The … the rest of them?’ Her breath caught. She tried to resist forming the words in her mouth, but knew they had to emerge sometime. Knew she would have to hear the answers to her questions. ‘Are they …?’
Anni sighed. Marina watched her.
‘I know that look,’ she said, apprehension and fear overriding tiredness, giving her a voice. ‘Phil does it. The one you put on when you’re delivering bad news. Telling someone their son or daughter’s been killed. Doing the death knock. I know … ’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Oh God.’
‘It’s … Are you ready for this, Marina? I mean, you’ve just—’
‘I don’t know, Anni. Am I? Am I ever going to be ready for this?’ Her voice snapping, harsh. She sighed. ‘Sorry. Just … just tell me.’
‘Phil’s … alive.’
Her initial reaction was a huge wave of relief, spreading over her.
‘Alive?’ she said.
Anni swallowed. ‘Yes.’ Another sigh.
‘Can I see him?’
‘Not at the moment. He’s … ’
‘What?’
‘Unconscious.’
‘Oh God.’
‘We’re … still waiting for him to come round.’
Anni’s words hit her like a wrecking ball. She tried to process what she’d heard, but her head was a cyclone, the words spinning round and round.
‘And … and … ’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the name. Josephina. Her daughter.
‘Eileen’s fine,’ said Anni quickly. ‘Not too badly damaged. She was lucky.’ Her voice dropped. Knowing she had to say the words. Not wanting to even hear them herself. ‘Don wasn’t so lucky.’
The cyclone spun all the harder. ‘What? Don … ’
Anni looked straight into Marina’s eyes. Held them. ‘He’s … he’s dead, Marina.’
The cyclone peaked. Picked up Marina’s thoughts, her emotions, spun them. She felt like her head would explode. It was too much to cope with. Too much to process all at once. But there was one question she needed the answer to. The one question she had avoided asking.
‘Josephina … ’ Her voice small, fragile.
Another sigh from Anni. ‘We … we couldn’t find her.’
Marina stared at her friend.
‘Honestly, she wasn’t … There was no trace.’
