Chapter Seventeen
Tom stared at the clock. He'd only checked it ten minutes previously. It felt longer. Much longer. The sky outside was lightening. Alice liked to sleep with the curtains open, something he'd had to get used to since they'd been together. The window into their bedroom faced the rising sun, but today it was grey and overcast. Almost as if the weather was set to match his mood. Throwing off the duvet, he swung his legs out and came to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window to the horizon. The clouds moved at pace.
He was tired. He should be, having barely slept for most of the night. Saffy's dreams had been restless and her sleep fitful. Three times she'd called out for Alice and he'd gone through to comfort her, and each and every time she asked if her mum was home, and then, after he answered, when would she be? He didn't know the answer to her question. It was one of a number that swirled around in his mind all night, causing not only insomnia but a frustrated anger that failed to dissipate. Tamara's decisions bugged him. Mind you, she wasn't likely to have detained Alice without cause, but she was wrong, at best misguided and at worst… He didn't know the answer to that question either.
Why on earth did they think Alice could have had anything to do with Adrian's death? They knew Alice. The notion was preposterous. Perhaps they didn't know her as well as he did, but certainly they'd spent time with her while she was at Tom's side. Granted, that was in a social setting, and fleeting for the most part, but even so, she wasn't the type. That was his rational mind speaking to him. The irrational side whispered negative comments to him and they were more insidious, challenging. Tamara wasn't one to shoot from the hip. If she did this, then it was for a reason. The familiar churn began again. Was there anything in her behaviour that stood out as abnormal in the last couple of days? Had his emotional connection offset his radar?
Exhaling a deep sigh, he pushed all thoughts aside. All he was doing was succeeding in keeping himself awake and driving himself slightly mad. Rising, he crossed to the window and looked out over the fields. The sky wasn't as cloudy as he first thought, but the morning was certainly grey. Mist clung to the ground, small trees and wild brush poking up from it intermittently, with an orange hue reflecting the morning sun as it crested the horizon. A symbol of hope, perhaps?
Pulling on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, he went through to Saffy's room. The hinges creaked as he pushed open the door, Russell's head came up from where he lay alongside the sleeping child, staring at Tom expectantly. Saffy's breathing was regular and he hoped she would sleep a little longer. Usually she was up before six, heading downstairs to attack her morning routine of YouTube videos, cereal and early morning children's cartoons. The routine varied from day-to-day but the participants were the same. He backed out of the room, followed by the dog who pushed past his shins to be first down the stairs, moving so quickly he nearly lost his footing. At the bottom, he turned to Tom, ears pricked, waiting to see if Tom was following. As Tom reached the bottom tread, Russell took off towards the kitchen. He needed to go out.
Tom followed, reaching the kitchen as a key turning in the lock made him stop. Alice opened the front door and entered, surprised to see him standing there.
"Hey," he said, forcing a smile. He was desperate to press her for details, to hear why they'd pulled her into the station.
"Hi," she said, returning his smile. Hers was dejected. She looked exhausted, worse than when she pulled a double shift at the hospital. He moved towards her, hesitating when he heard the dog bark. Glancing behind him into the kitchen, he looked back at her.
"The dog," he said sheepishly, indicating with his thumb over his shoulder.
She nodded and smiled, loosening her coat and shrugging it off her shoulder. He hurried into the kitchen and opened the door to the garden. Russell took off through it before the gap was wide enough for him.
"Stupid animal," he muttered. Alice hadn't appeared in the kitchen and he went back into the hall searching for her. She was halfway up the stairs. "Alice?"
His voice stopped her in her tracks. She had one hand on the banister, the other she ran through her hair, shaking it loose from the hair band she'd put in place the previous night. However, she didn't look down at him. He reached the foot of the stairs, mounting them to go to her but her tone stopped him.
"I'm tired, Tom." She half-turned to look at him, weariness visibly descending upon her. "I just want to hug my daughter, have a shower and go to bed."
That was understandable. He kept himself composed, but inside he was shouting.
"I'm sure, but—"
"No, Tom!" she said pointedly, holding one hand up, palm facing him. She must have realised how aggressive she sounded because she bit her lower lip, shrugging off the tightness to her upper body and rolling her head across her shoulders. "I'm sure you have a million questions… so much you want to know, but I just want to see Saffy and get some sleep."
She was right. He wanted to hear everything, but the debrief would probably take almost as long as the interview process she'd just experienced. She was fatigued. He could see that. To press her now wouldn't go well, no matter how much he wanted to. He acknowledged her request with a brief nod
