Tom was unpacking his suitcase in his new hotel room when Melanie called. There had been nothing more he could do at the hospital and he’d returned home hoping for a shower and change of clothes. The policeman standing outside his front door had at first refused him entry, on the basis the house was now a crime scene but a call was made to Chief Inspector Parkin and he had been allowed to pack one suitcase of clothes and toiletries, all the time accompanied by a watchful officer.
Tom was actually pleased to move a few hundred yards down the road to the cheap hotel, which he occasionally frequented for a beer. The house was full of unpleasant memories of the previous night’s events and Tom didn’t want to stay inside too long. In fact he’d already decided he would have to move house. He didn’t fancy coming home every day to a place which would now always generate bad memories. As he went upstairs, he’d had to navigate past two forensic policemen on their hands and knees, combing the floor for clues. Where his brother had lain was now an outline on the floor and he guessed the kitchen would have a similar one for John Harding but he didn’t plan to check.
Melanie had heard about the shootings on the morning news and had chastised Tom for not calling her earlier. She had arranged for a taxi to take her directly to Brighton and after obtaining the address where he was staying, promised to be with him within a couple of hours. Tom felt enormously relieved that she was on her way. He desperately wanted to see her and have her close to him.
He was worried it might be dangerous for her but she’d laughed off as ridiculous his suggestion that what she should do, was to take the first plane back to the States. He hadn’t really said it from the heart though he hoped he sounded as if he meant it. The last thing he really wanted was for her to leave. If she did, he doubted he would ever see her again. Why would he? He had little to offer her except the risk of being killed. Yet right now he wanted her around him more than ever. With Colin in hospital he needed her support and strength. His was fast draining away.
Then he realized that Melanie Adams was about to visit him and would see his small house and how he lived his normal life. She lives in Malibu on the beach! He actually smiled. The comparison with Brighton was so ridiculous. Surely she would beat an early retreat to home once she saw how and where he lived.
Liz had remained behind at the hospital and promised to call if there was any change in Colin’s condition. Tom found just being at the hospital depressing. The whitewashed walls were drab and in need of a new coat of paint. In places the paint was actually peeling and everywhere there were the definite signs of under investment and cut backs within the NHS. Little was out of place but there was no colour, no vibrancy and in need of something to lift his spirits, instead he found himself getting depressed not just by his brother’s condition but also by the surroundings.
Showered and shaved he’d returned to his home and crossed the road to see if he could do anything for Janet Harding. She had her sister with her who made tea, while Tom struggled to find the words to express his sorrow. She was remarkably resilient and quick to insist that Tom wasn’t to feel in anyway guilty for what happened. As she put it, “it was that damn fool of a husband’s decision not to wait for the police to arrive.” Then she added proudly, “and I wouldn’t have had him any other way.”
Tom drank his tea and reported that Colin was still critical but had a fighting chance. He accepted the offer of a chocolate digestive biscuit, which he dipped in his tea surreptitiously.
“I don’t know what the world’s coming to,” Janet said solemnly. “What with my John and Lord Bancroft killed in one night.”
Tom hadn’t listened to any news since returning from the hospital. He immediately made the Irish connection but was unsure what this news meant. For a moment he regretted ever having gone to Melanie’s aid but he dismissed that thought as pointless hindsight. It also wasn’t true. He was glad he had been able to help her and not just because it turned out she was a beautiful and famous film star. He had done something decent in his life and managed to help another human being. He would always feel good about that. Maybe the deaths were linked but maybe they weren’t. It was for the authorities to determine.
Janet recalled how she and John had met and after about an hour Tom explained he had to leave, as Melanie was due. This news caused several minutes excitement on the part of both Janet and her sister, who seemed almost disbelieving she would shortly be just along the road from them. He made a mental note to have them meet but didn’t make any promises, as he didn’t feel it fair to commit Melanie in her absence.
Back at the hotel again Tom sat in the lounge, which had a view of the hotel reception and through the windows he would also be able to see a taxi arrive. There was a television and he turned on the twenty-four hour news channel to learn more about Bancroft’s death. He was still watching when he heard a car draw up outside. He watched through the window as Melanie stepped onto the pavement and cast her eyes about, before starting up
