First of all, I would have an extra pair of hands around here to help with Chloe, which I am going to need as my police training ramps up and I eventually qualify, taking up shift work and God knows what else my senior officers are going to make me do in my first year on the beat. It would also be nice for my daughter to have a male influence around the house and somebody else to talk to when she comes home other than just me. She loves Tim and jokes aside; it’s not just because of all the sweets he gives her. He plays games with her long after I have tired of playing the same ones, and he even creates new ones to play with her, which I would never have had the imagination to do. The fact his ex-wife had a daughter when he met her means he is well used to being around children, as well as being around a stressed, sleep-deprived and slightly paranoid mother. In essence, he’s the perfect guy for someone like me.
That’s why I have decided that tonight will be the night when I bring up the idea of him moving in with us when his divorce is complete. He could always say no, which would sting a little, but I have a good feeling he will say yes.
I should have held on to that good feeling and quit while I was ahead.
Little did I know that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
13
HEATHER
PRESENT DAY
As expected, I didn’t sleep a wink again last night. Instead, I stayed awake, staring at the curtains until sunlight began seeping through them to tell me that a new day had dawned.
I wish I could stay here until darkness returns, but that’s not an option. I have to be on shift at the police station in ninety minutes time, and I also have to make sure that Chloe is getting up to go to sixth form.
It’s Monday morning, only thirty-six hours after my daughter called me and told me what happened to Rupert. Needless to say, Sunday was not a pleasant day for either of us. We mostly kept to our rooms, only coming out for food and drink, which neither of us had much of. If there had been a blessing in this trying time, it had been that neither of us had anywhere to be in the hours after Rupert had been buried. As it was, Chloe could lay low for her ‘hangover day’ whilst I could keep my head down on account of my social life being so dull that nobody was hoping to meet up with me on a Sunday.
But now it’s Monday, and we both have places to be and people to see.
The easy thing to do now would be for both of us to neglect our daily duties and have a day to ourselves, calling in sick or whatever we could say to get out of having to leave the house and put our best foot forward. But it’s important now more than ever that we both stick to our typical routine and get on with our lives like everything is normal. While we know it isn’t, we have to make it appear as if today is just another day.
Go to work. Go to college. Come home. Go to bed.
Don’t behave as if you know about the body that was buried in the woods this weekend.
The image of Rupert’s lifeless face hasn’t returned to me as often as I had feared it would do during the last two nights spent tossing and turning in my bedroom, but I know it is there somewhere, creeping in my subconscious, just waiting to make an appearance and knock me off my stride. Maybe I will see it when I’m driving to the station, glancing into my rear-view mirror and spotting Rupert staring at me from the back seat. Perhaps his vision will come to me when I’m halfway through my shift, sitting at my desk processing papers or on my way to make another coffee when I suddenly see him standing there amongst all the other police officers, his face as deathly pale as the white shirts of our uniforms. Or maybe I will go all day without seeing him until I crawl back into bed this evening, thinking that maybe I have been spared the grim memory until I roll over and see him right there beside me, the blood from his wound dripping onto my pure white pillow.
I don’t know when it will happen, but I do know one thing.
I will see visions of Rupert again, whether I want to or not.
The sound of movement in the bedroom beside me lets me know that Chloe is up, and I pull back my duvet and climb out of bed, aware that I should go and check on her before I start getting ready myself.
Knocking on her bedroom door, I open it slowly because I’m not sure what kind of mood I’m going to catch her in. If she got as little sleep as I did, she will be moody, stressed or weary, and none of those things usually lead to a healthy and productive conversation. But to my surprise, Chloe looks okay. She is already dressed, wearing a pair of jeans and a casual blue blouse, which is the kind of thing the relaxed dress code at her sixth form allows. She has also found the time to apply makeup to her face, covering up any bags that might have been under her eyes after a bad night’s sleep, making her look much more radiant than she did the last time I saw her. And now she is rummaging around in her bag, seemingly packing for her day of education ahead.
‘Hey, Mum. Have you
