Author: Amanda Robson
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/amanda-robson/page,17,560635-my_darling.html
‘I only came back to tell you I want a divorce.’
His face didn’t move. He crossed his legs. He folded his arms. ‘Just try it,’ he spat.
‘I’ll try what I want. What do you mean?’ I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘If you attempt to leave me your career will be finished. I’ve just been elected to the board of the General Dental Council. You’ll be discredited.’
I went cold inside. The General Dental Council. The regulatory body for dentists. A position of power and influence. But I put my head back and laughed, as convincingly as I could muster.
‘Not if I tell people what you did to me. Beat me up. Locked me in my bedroom.’
I shuddered inside as I thought about what he had done to me. He smiled a snake-like smile. ‘Well, we have actually had a complaint against you already. So telling stories like that might just seem like a pathetic attempt to avoid trouble.’
‘What? Who?’
‘That would be telling.’
My jaw and mind clenched. ‘Why wasn’t I informed about it?’
He leant his head to one side and lifted his right eyebrow a few millimetres. ‘Oh dear. Didn’t you receive the letter? It must have gone missing in the post.’ The fragmented smile he always used when he was being superior. ‘I can forward it to you, but if you’re staying with me, maintaining the status quo, maybe we should forget about it for now?’ There was a pause. ‘What do you think?’
Trembling inside, I nodded my head. I loved my job. My career was everything to me back then. Still is.
109
Alastair
I open the door with my key. You walk into the hallway and kiss me. I step away from you to feast my eyes. Looking good, Emma Stockton – soon to be Emma Brown. Seriously good. Very pleasing to me. Your miniskirt and extravagant blouse really show you off to best advantage. Simple elegance. Shapely legs. Your face is healing well, too. I haven’t done any permanent damage. You no longer look like a boxer who has lost a fight.
‘How was your day?’ I ask.
‘Interesting,’ you reply, hands on hips, head to one side.
‘Interesting how?’ I ask, as you turn and I follow you down the hallway.
‘I had a chat with someone I never used to get on with. It seems we can work together now.’
I frown, not sure who you are talking about. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Well, you know, she has an expertise I think I can tap into.’
My frown deepens. That doesn’t explain anything. ‘Is she a patient?’
You don’t reply, but ask with a seemingly curious smile, ‘What about you? How was your day?’
‘The usual. Swabs and meetings.’
I follow you into the kitchen. I’m pleased to see that the table is laid for supper. A casserole simmering on the hob. The aroma of oregano and basil wafts around the room. A good prequel to the family home that I want us to create. Soon Stephen will be welcome, I will make sure of that. You walk across and stir the food. My stomach rumbles.
‘I know it’s a bore, but I need your help, Alastair. The damn sink is leaking.’
I look across to the open cupboard beneath the sink. Water is leaking from the joint around the pipe, and a wrench lies on some kitchen roll beside it, as if you have abandoned your own attempt to fix it.
‘I’ve been trying to tighten it, but I’m just not strong enough.’
‘I’ll do it. It’s simple.’
I pick up the wrench. It takes me longer than I expected to stop the leak. The joint is really, really stiff. Eventually, after a lot of effort, I manage to twist it and stop the water pouring out. I stand up, wrench in hand, and try to pass it to you.
‘Thanks, darling. Put it just there on the kitchen roll. I’ll tidy up later. It’s time for some wine right now.’
You are pulling a bottle of Chablis from the fridge and opening it. Things are looking up. You never used to allow me here midweek; never mind offering me expensive wine. I smile to myself. Sometimes a firm hand does a woman good. You pour us a large glass each, and hand me mine. We clink glasses.
‘To us.’
‘When are you putting this house on the market?’ I ask.
You smile your Julia Roberts smile. ‘The estate agent is coming to value it in a few days’ time. I’m taking the day out of the surgery.’
My heart jumps in my chest. Things are definitely working out.
110
Emma
I’m taking the day out of the surgery. I have rearranged all my appointments. Paid for Tania and Andrea to go on a computer course.
But it’s not the estate agent, but DS Miranda Jupiter and her sidekick, who are here. In my home. In my elegant drawing room. Her sidekick today is a young man with deep-blue eyes and blond hair. Good-looking. Neat-featured enough to be a member of a boy band. Stylish haircut, every strand blow-dried and aligned. Miranda is brandishing her dark eyes and sultry good looks, running her fingers through her black shiny hair. Straightening her downturned mouth. The boy-band sidekick is sitting watching her.
She crosses her legs. ‘What did you want to see me about?’ she asks.
‘I need to tell you something.’
She almost smiles. Her lips quiver and then straighten. ‘Then maybe you should come to the station and make a statement.’
‘Too dangerous.’ I shake my head. ‘Alastair Brown might see me.’
‘Alastair Brown?’ Taken off-guard, she frowns. ‘Our senior forensic scientist?’
‘Yes.’
‘What has it got to do with him?’ she asks.
‘I’m in a relationship with him.’
She flinches, then shakes her head. ‘That is very serious. I don’t know where this is going, Ms Stockton, but it may have serious ramifications. I need to record this.’ She leans forwards. ‘Do I have your permission?’
I nod my head.
‘Good.’
She reaches for her iPhone and presses record.
‘What would you like to tell us, Ms Stockton?’ she asks.
I stir in my chair and swallow. ‘I have not told the whole truth.’
She does not react. The consummate professional. My words hang heavily in the air between us. The silence pressures me to continue.
Eventually, ‘Go on,’ Miranda says.
I look into her large brown eyes. Keep calm. Stay steady, I tell myself, sitting on my hands to disguise the fact they are shaking. I can play the game as well as she can. ‘I was in a relationship with Tomas Covington.’ A deep breath. ‘I lied about that initially as I was also sleeping with Alastair Brown, and I didn’t want him to know I’d been unfaithful.’
Her face stiffens. ‘I see. So why are you telling us now?’
I lean forwards. ‘Alastair and I had an argument. He was angry with me and he admitted he knew Tomas and I had slept together. Things got very heated. He admitted he killed Tomas. He said he’d kill me too unless I married him, so I said I would. He thinks we’re engaged.’
I stretch my left hand towards her and show her my ring. ‘But he’s a murderer and I’m terrified of him.’
I close my eyes and remember. I see your thunderous face as you walk towards me. I feel your hand rise, and move towards me. I feel your heat. Taste your breath. Then your face contorts to become Colin’s. Do you understand, Alastair, that no one is allowed to treat me like this again?
‘Are you prepared to make a written statement and testify in court?’ DS Miranda Jupiter asks.
‘Yes. As long as he’s locked up before he finds out.’
Miranda taps her fingers on the coffee table. ‘That depends on many other factors.’ She thinks for a moment. ‘There is a lot that doesn’t check out. Why was your and Jade’s DNA on the wrench then?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think the wrench you found in my shed was the murder weapon.’
Miranda’s lips flicker at the edges. She says nothing, pushing me to continue.
‘Alastair was settin
g us both up as the potential killers, to protect himself. Me first, because he was so distressed I’d been unfaithful and he wanted to punish me. Then Jade when he decided he still loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.’
Miranda Jupiter nods and frowns. ‘What about the bedsheets?’
I wince and move my body from side to side, in what I hope looks like embarrassment. ‘Actually, I swapped the sheets.’
‘Why did you do that?’
I look at my feet. ‘We made love in Tomas’ bed but I didn’t like doing it on Jade’s sheets. Tomas liked the smell of me. It turned him on. So I brought my own bedsheets over.’ I looked up at her. ‘Tomas got Jade to buy some similar sheets, gold ones from Debenhams, so that we could do this. I took those home and left mine for Tomas.’
DS Miranda shakes her head. Tears well in my eyes. I look into her chocolate-drop eyes, and pray silently that she has believed me.
‘This information will be treated in confidence for now,’ she assures me. ‘But you need to understand the personal consequences of what you have just told me. I will arrange for you to come to a station in the area later.’ She shakes her head. ‘Alastair will be suspended whilst we investigate these allegations.’ There is a pause. ‘You’ll be arrested and charged for perverting the course of justice. But you’ll be given police bail, pending investigation. Your charge is procedural. As long as what you have said is true, it will all come to nothing.’
‘Thank you for listening.’ I pause. ‘I can assure you Jade is innocent. There’s been a serious miscarriage of justice.’
Miranda Jupiter nods her head and stands up to leave. Her sidekick copies her.
That evening, as soon as you return from work, Alastair, you pull me towards you and hold my body against yours. You bend your head, lean down and kiss me. I force myself to kiss you back. Your kiss becomes urgent. More insistent. I break off and step back.
‘How did it go today?’ you ask, staring into my face.
‘The estate agent didn’t show.’
A frown brushes across your forehead. ‘Oh God. After you’d taken the day off from the surgery, and everything.’ There is a pause. ‘How annoying.’ Your voice sounds forced. Artificial. Are you suspicious that I’m stalling on moving house? Are you thinking of attacking me again?
Memories
After Colin threatened to end my career and told me there had been a complaint against me, I was so frightened of being struck off the dental register when I had fought so hard to train, I tried to appease him for a while.
I tried to be his perfect woman and not annoy him. Perfect home. Perfect cooking. Perfect looks. I never had a minute to myself. I worked hard at my job. I tidied the house. I cooked Ottolenghi recipes that took hours even to find the ingredients for, never mind how long it took to prepare the vegetables, herbs and nuts. I went to the gym to keep my figure toned, took great care of my skin and hair, I even had a routine of pelvic floor exercises.
During that relatively peaceful period, which lasted about six months, he only hit me twice. Once when I dropped a wine glass on the kitchen floor and it smashed.
‘You clumsy woman,’ he said, pulling back his arm and slapping his right palm across my left cheek. It stung like acid.
On the second occasion I put too much milk in his tea. It wasn’t an easy time. I had no freedom. I felt tired and flat. My life, except for my plan to escape, wasn’t worth living. But I was just biding my time.
111
Alastair
First thing in the morning, on the way to the lab, my line manager, Sarah Dickinson, is walking towards me. Everything about Sarah Dickinson is usually enthusiastic. Her wavy hair. Her hammering smile. But today she looks cross.
‘Alastair, I need to see you in my office.’ There is a pause. ‘Now.’
She strides along the corridor, shoulders raised. Even her buttocks appear stiff as I follow her into her office. She closes the door. She sits behind her desk frowning at me. I sit opposite her.
‘You’re suspended.’
‘What …?’ I splutter. ‘Why …? How …?’
She clasps her hands together, in front of her. ‘For non-disclosure of your relationship with a suspect, which precluded you from working on a case.’ There is a pause. ‘In fact, suspension is the least of your problems. You’ll probably be charged with perverting the course of justice.’
I go cold inside. ‘Who told you?’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.’
I sit looking at her. Her face is stone. Expressionless. Her usually friendly eyes are cold and distant. Not the Sarah Dickinson I have known for so long. A new person has stepped out from inside her.
The telephone on her desk rings. She picks up.
‘Hello.’ Frowning. Silence. Looking up at me. ‘That’s fine, I’ll tell him.’
Phone back in its cradle. ‘That was Miranda Jupiter. She wants to talk to you. Clear out your personal belongings and go straight to her office.’
Sarah’s words cut into me like a knife. Clear out your personal belongings. An elastic band tightens in my head. I close my eyes. I imagine I’m walking through a field of lavender. I inhale. Its musky scent rises in my nostrils and soothes me. I open my eyes, look at Sarah and compose myself.
I nod my head. A nod of obedience, of assent. Slowly, slowly, I walk away. Out of Sarah’s office, along the corridor, back to my locker. My hands tremble as I unlock it and take out my coat and bag. I do not have any other possessions. Everything else belongs to the lab. I sign out at the exit. People I know are coming and going. Eyes burning into me as the porter takes my locker keys and my entry pass.
Into the police area, feeling numb, anaesthetised, as if I’m moving through a dream. A life that isn’t real. Before I have come to terms with what is happening, I find myself in an interview room with Miranda Jupiter and a nervous sidekick. A young boy with blond hair, flashing his eyes towards her, watching her every move. Flashing his eyes towards me, weighing me up. I try to look relaxed to flummox them; shoulders low and broad, hands together on my lap. No fidgeting. But I’m feeling hot, feeling cold, feeling sick. I take a deep breath in an attempt to push my nausea away. I smile a wide, stretched smile.
Miranda crosses her legs and smiles back. It is the first time I have ever seen her do that. It is seriously discomfiting. Is she trying to trap me into a confession?
‘Would you mind being interviewed to help us with our enquiry?’ she asks.
‘That’s fine. Of course. That’s what I’m here for. Sarah Dickinson explained.’
Her smile fades. ‘OK then. I’ll start.’ She snaps the recorder on, and tells it our names.
‘Why didn’t you disclose your relationship with a key suspect?’
I look at the floor. I do not know what to say. Silence festers. DS Miranda Jupiter moves on.
‘Where were you the night Tomas Covington died?’ she snaps.
My mind goes blank. I can’t remember.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘It was a long time ago. It wasn’t significant to me at the time.’
The questions twist. The questions turn. I try to remember what you told me you’d said, Emma. I try to be consistent. True to our cause. The questions run on. It feels like forever.
‘Thank you, Mr Brown,’ Miranda says at last, switching the machine off. ‘One final thing – we have a warrant to search your flat and car. Someone is at your property with your mother right now.’
Searching my flat. Police with a warrant. My mother and Stephen will be aghast, terrified. I picture Mother opening the door, her mouth drooping open, lower lip sagging as it does when she is shocked and upset. Police barging into our home and rifling through our possessions as if we were thieves. It shouldn’t be happening to people like Stephen and Mother and me.
‘And I need the keys for your car,’ Miranda continues, stretching her hand out to receive them. ‘And then you can take public transport home.’
This i
s ridiculous. They won’t find anything. I’m clean. I didn’t kill Tomas.
112
Emma
Back home after a long day in the surgery; Botox and fillers in the morning, a difficult wisdom tooth extraction after lunch. Alastair, I’m relieved you are not coming over tonight. You are working late and going back to your own flat, so I’m really looking forward to a light supper and an early night; reading a romantic novel, snuggling up with Casper in bed. Wading through constant deceit is exhausting. I need to be alone to rejuvenate.
I step into the hallway and Casper appears from nowhere, purring like a tractor engine, wrapping his body around my legs, headbutting my calves to get my attention. My stomach twists. The TV is blasting from the drawing room. I open the door. You are here. Again. Midweek. Draped across my sofa watching TV, wearing jeans and a checked shirt, your casual woodcutter look.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
You sit up, face like stone. ‘I’ve been suspended from work. It’s really serious. I think I’m going to lose my job.’
I walk towards you, feigning surprise. ‘Why? What’s happened?’
You push your snarling eyes into mine. ‘My manager knows about our relationship.’ You pause. ‘Did you tell her, Emma?’
‘No. Of course not. I would never betray you. Surely you know that.’ Trying to look as if I’m about to cry. ‘It must have been Jade, or Heather. They both know about us.’
I sit down next to you and wrap my arms around you. ‘How awful. I’m so sorry, Alastair.’
You pull away. I watch your fingers clench. Your jawline tense. ‘And they’re searching my car. Searching my flat,’ you continue. ‘I mean, they won’t find anything. But it’s a shock.’
I smile inside. Not long now.
113
Alastair
After being suspended from work a few days ago, I’m beginning to relax. Watching A Place in the Sun on Channel 4, at your house, Emma. The TV crew are in Spain on the Costa Blanca. Laura Hamilton, the presenter, is particularly bright and breezy, extra chirpy today. What a lovely job floating about showing people houses in front of a TV camera. Becoming a minor celebrity. I lie across your sofa, Emma, daydreaming of sunshine and sandcastles. You have plenty of money. Perhaps we will be able to afford a home in the sun together one day. Maybe being suspended will have its advantages. I can be a house husband now. Look after your life full time. Co-ordinate our move to Marlow.