The Loyal Servant (39 page)

54

Caroline climbed out of the cab and looked up at the house. All the curtains were drawn.

‘Hang on a minute, love. I’ll get the door.’

She ran around the back of the cab and eased open the rear passenger door. She held out her hand, but it was ignored.

‘I’m not an invalid.’

‘Nope – course you’re not.’ Caroline clenched her fists and said nothing as she watched her son struggle out of the car. After some effort he finally made it onto the pavement outside the house. Caroline slammed the taxi door and waited. She followed Dan as he inched slowly up the path. He stopped at the front door and turned to face her.

‘No one’s going to make a fuss, right?’

‘Don’t worry – everyone’s under strict instructions to completely ignore you. Just like they normally do.’

‘Good.’

Dan’s face was even paler than usual. His clothes seemed baggier, even though he’d only been three days in hospital.

Caroline shoved her key in the lock and stepped to one side. Dan grabbed the doorframe and slowly eased himself over the low step as if it was a Grand National hurdle. She followed him in, shrugged out of her jacket and watched helplessly as Dan wrestled his arms out of his, knowing any offer of assistance would be quickly rejected.

‘Come through to the kitchen, Dan. I’ll make you something to eat.’

‘Not hungry,’ he said and finally managed to escape from the confines of his coat.

‘Come and keep me company, then, while I make a cup of tea.’

‘I just wanna go to my room.’

‘Sit with me – just for a while.’

Dan puffed out a weary sigh and dragged himself into the kitchen. He lowered himself slowly onto a chair, rested his elbows on the table and his head on his hands.

‘What about a slice of toast? I bought a fresh jar of Nutella. Just a little slice.’

‘You said no fuss.’

‘You’re right – I’m sorry, habit of a lifetime.’ She filled the kettle and flipped it on.

Dan lifted his chin from his hands. ‘Where’s my mobile?’ He glowered at her. ‘I had it just before… before I…’ He looked away.

‘It’s all right Dan – it’s OK to talk about what happened.’ She crouched down by the side of his chair. ‘You can tell me.’ She put a hand over his. ‘You know you can talk to me about anything? Anything that’s worrying you.’

He pulled his hand away.

‘Have you got my phone?’

Caroline leaned on the tabletop and levered herself up.

‘The doctor told me it’d be best if you didn’t use it for a while.’

‘But people might have been trying to get in touch.’

The kettle boiled. ‘I think that’s the point.’ She collected two clean mugs from the draining board. ‘Do you want a hot drink?’

‘I’m going to my room.’

‘Dan, please.’

He struggled from his chair and Caroline watched him shuffle into the hall. ‘I can’t leave you on your own, Dan.’ She hurried after him.

‘Look, I’m tired. I want to lie down.’

‘There’s pillows and a duvet on the sofa,’ Caroline said. ‘You can rest in the living room.’

Dan hung his head and edged closer to the foot of the stairs.

There was sound from the front door. A light tapping. Through the glass panel, Caroline saw a brightly coloured shape bouncing up and down on. She reached for the handle and slowly pulled the door towards her a few inches.

On the doorstep, dressed in a bright orange hooded cardigan and a short pink skirt, was Kylie. Pregnant Kylie. Caroline peered over the girl’s shoulder and down the path, expecting Kylie’s father to appear. But instead she saw a boy wearing low-crotch baggy jeans and a dark hoodie, the hood pulled down over his head. He was shifting from one foot to the other.

‘Is Dan there, yeah?’ Kylie said.

‘Dan’s not well enough to see anyone today.’ Caroline spoke in a half whisper.

‘We heard he was coming out the hospital today, though.’

Caroline gripped the door. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage already?’

Dan edged towards the door. ‘Let her in,’ he said to his mother.

‘I’m sorry about all that,’ Kylie said to Caroline. ‘I panicked, innit.’ She glanced back at the boy still loitering by the front gate. ‘We got it all sorted now. Me and Chris are gonna have our own little family.’

‘Congratulations,’ Caroline said. ‘I’m very pleased for you both.’

‘Mum, please… let her in.’

Caroline sighed and reluctantly opened the door. ‘You can’t stay long – Dan needs to rest.’ As Kylie stepped over the threshold, Caroline scowled at the boy at the end of her front garden. ‘Are you coming in? Or are you happy to stay there?’

The boy rocked up the path, swinging a large brown paper bag in his hand. As he got closer Caroline noticed his top lip was split, a scab crusting over it. His left eyelid was swollen shut. It was the colour of overripe avocado. Caroline shut the door and followed him into the living room.

Kylie sat next to Dan on top of the duvet on the sofa. Her boyfriend stood by the mantelpiece. The shifting from foot to foot started up again.

‘What they did to you was well out of order.’ Kylie brushed a lock of hair from Dan’s face.

Caroline opened her eyes wide, shocked by the display of unselfconscious intimacy. Dan always pushed her away if she tried to do anything like that.

‘They’re just a bunch of cowards, innit, Chris?’

Chris nodded his head but didn’t say anything. He was staring at Dan. Dan looked slightly embarrassed.

‘Hang on.’ Caroline took a step towards the girl. ‘Are you saying you know who’s responsible for bullying Dan at school?’

Kylie shrugged. A moment later, Chris shrugged too.

‘You’ve got to go to the police. Do you understand how serious bullying is?’

‘Don’t stress.’ Chris spoke for the first time. Even Kylie seemed surprised. ‘I sorted it. Me and my crew.’ He stepped forward and handed Dan the brown paper bag. ‘They won’t be doing no more of that shit now.’

Caroline looked on in horror, wondering what Dan would discover when he opened the bag. He smiled at Chris and shoved his hand in the bag.

‘Cheers, Chris. Fanks, Kylie. ‘Preciate it. I’m starving, innit?’ He pulled out a fist-sized object wrapped in greaseproof paper. He carefully unwrapped the paper and sank his teeth into a cheeseburger oozing tomato ketchup.

55

‘When is the first result expected?’ Caroline hesitated in the doorway of the living room, not sure she wanted to commit herself to the best part of six hours glued to the television screen.

‘Before eleven – it’s likely to be one of the Sunderlands. Safe for Labour.’ Jean spoke without turning her head, her neck brace making all unnecessary movement a luxury. ‘We won’t get any of the interesting results through until one or two in the morning.’

‘Any news on the exit polls?’

‘You could just come in and watch with us.’ Jean gestured to the sofa. Ben was fast asleep at one end, in Pete’s normal position, like a faithful dog waiting for his master to return. Claire sat cross-legged next to him, stroking his hair, one eye on a chemistry textbook.

‘I’m not sure I want to watch William King win,’ Caroline said.

‘Exit polls predict a reduced majority.’ Jean awkwardly shifted her leg on a footstool. The plaster cast that started just above her toes and ran all the way up to the middle of her left thigh was already covered in scrawled messages. Most of them courtesy of Ben and his vast palette of felt tip pens.

‘I think I may run myself a bath,’ Caroline said, glancing at the spread of potato-based snacks ranged across the coffee table. ‘Can I get you any more carbohydrates before I go upstairs?’

‘We’re all fine, love. You go and have a long soak. I’ll let you know if you miss anything.’

When Caroline reached the landing she stopped outside Dan’s door and listened, holding her breath.

‘S’all right. I’m still alive.’

Dan was standing in the doorway of Ben’s room at the other end of the landing.

‘I was just…’ she said.

‘Really, Mum. It’s OK.’ He smiled at her. ‘Ben wanted to borrow the Nintendo. I’ve left it on his toy chest.’ He walked slowly down the hall and opened his door.

‘You don’t have to explain your every move,’ Caroline said and smiled back.

‘And you don’t have to worry so much. I’m fine. Really I am.’

Caroline raised her hands in surrender. ‘Not saying another word about it. I’m planning on monopolising the bathroom for the next two hours. I’ll put everyone’s toothbrush on the hall table. You can use your gran’s bathroom.’

‘Whatever.’ Dan disappeared into his room and quietly closed the door.

Caroline stood staring at the floor, for a moment contemplating just how bad a mother she was. She filled her lungs with air and exhaled slowly and resolved to try harder.

She wandered into the bathroom, stoppered the plughole and turned the hot tap full on. The selection of bubble baths crammed into the corner of the bath didn’t look very promising. Somehow the thought of luxuriating in Ben’s Matey or Sainsbury’s Basics orange and banana didn’t appeal.

She padded into her bedroom and pulled open her underwear drawer – the only place she could safely stash her precious Issey Miyake shower gel without Claire finding it. She shoved a handful of knickers and tights to one side, sure the gel was somewhere underneath.

It wasn’t.

What she found instead sent a strange mix of guilt and nostalgia rushing up from somewhere in the pit of her stomach into her chest.

She plucked out the birthday and Christmas cards and laid them flat on top of the chest of drawers. The CD Martin had given her at Christmas lay at the bottom of the drawer. She’d tried to listen to it once before, on her headphones in the office, but after a minute the squawking violin and honking saxophone had become unbearable. She plucked out the CD and scooped up the cards and marched the whole lot over to the wicker bin in the corner of the room.

She hesitated.

That really would be every last trace of Martin Fox gone forever. She remembered the lengthy apologetic message he’d written inside the Christmas card. She folded it in four and shoved it in a pocket, deciding to safely dispose of it somewhere else. She looked down at the CD, its cover decorated with a swirl of colours, musical notes rising out of the end of a saxophone. Martin’s face used to light up like a small child’s when he tried to describe the wonders of Thelonious Monk or Miles Davis. He must have realised he was wasting his time. It was all just random noise to Caroline. She could feel a swell of tears rising. She sniffed hard.

For God’s sake
.

Maybe she could try to listen to the CD one last time – just while she waited for the bath to fill. She checked the inlay card. Ten tracks in total. Getting through two or three of them would be her tribute to Martin – a final farewell.

She carried the portable stereo into the bathroom, slipped the CD into the top and pressed
play
, bracing herself for the first track. It was pretty much as she remembered it – trumpets squealing like nails down a blackboard.

She checked on her bath. The water level had risen all of two inches. At this rate all the election results would be in before she even got her toes wet.

A percussive ringing, completely out of time with the rest of the track, started up. How could people listen to this stuff? It took her a moment to realise the irrhythmic little blasts were coming from outside the bathroom. She stood on the landing and shouted down the stairs.

‘Claire! Can you get the door?’

There was no sign of movement from the living room. She trundled down the stairs, huffing as she went, and flung open the door. Angela Tate removed her hand from the bell push and waved a large bottle of Jack Daniel’s in Caroline’s face.

‘I thought we could commiserate the election results together.’

‘I wish you’d phoned first – it’s not really convenient – I’m just running a bath.’

‘Cut a woman some slack. I’ve only just been released from police custody.’

‘You were arrested?’

‘Not exactly. I went in voluntarily. I had to do something – the hotel bill was getting out of hand, so I’ve been helping the police with their enquiries.’ She started towards the kitchen. ‘Except I wasn’t exactly helpful.’ She put the whiskey on the kitchen table and looked around the room. ‘Where will I find glasses?’

Caroline reached up and retrieved two tumblers from a shelf. ‘It’ll be just you and me. Mum’s on antibiotics.’

‘How’s Jean coping on crutches?’ Tate pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘Oh fine – but she’s really shaken up, though she’d never admit it.’

‘And how’s Pete?’ She poured them both two generous measures.

‘He’s been transferred from the hospital on Sheppey to Queen Elizabeth’s in Lewisham.’

‘So he’s out of intensive care?’

Caroline nodded. ‘He’s on the mend.’ She joined Tate at the table.

‘And is he coming back here when they discharge him?’ She sipped her whiskey.

Caroline shrugged. ‘We’ve got some stuff to work on.’ She could hear the distant warble of discordant notes drifting from the stereo in the bathroom.
And I’ve still got the last of Martin to expunge
.

‘How are the kids coping?’

‘Claire and Ben really seem to be OK. They’re seeing a counsellor next week – to talk things through. The police don’t hold out much hope of finding out who broke into the chalet.’

‘There’s a surprise.’ Tate topped up her own glass. ‘And how’s Dan?’

‘Dan?’ She let out a long breath. ‘I can’t tell. Better, I think. He won’t say much to me. I can’t even broach the whole gay subject.’

Tate raised her eyebrows.

‘Claire jokes about the big pink elephant in the room.’

‘Is he at least talking to his sister?’

Caroline nodded. ‘And he’s booked in for a course of counselling sessions. Talking therapy.’

Tate smiled. ‘They’ll have their work cut out. I’m not an expert on teenage boys, but I would guess they’re not renowned for their verbosity.’

‘We’ll see how it goes. I’d rather try that first than getting him started on anti-depressants. Which was the other option.’ She took a sip of whiskey. It reminded her of Christmas liqueurs. She sighed. ‘Bloody hell – all my kids are in therapy. I
am
the worst mother in the northern hemisphere.’

‘And apart from that, how are you?’

‘I’ll survive.’

‘That’s the spirit.’

Tate lifted her glass. ‘To justice and the greater good. Whatever the fuck that is.’

‘Cheers.’

‘Talking of justice, given the questions the police asked me, I would guess they’re relying on one or both of us to cave in under interrogation and admit everything.’ She took another sip. ‘They can’t prove anything without actual evidence of the information you passed on to me. And that’s never going to be made public.’

‘So?’

‘So sit tight and say nothing.’

‘But I’ve been captured
in the act
on Ed Wallis’ mobile phone.’

‘Inadmissible.’

‘Really?’

Tate shrugged. ‘Probably. I don’t suppose the image quality is good enough to tell exactly what you were doing. The worst they could get you for is stealing a five-month-old copy of
heat
. Might be certifiable, but it’s not
actually
criminal.’ She knocked back another mouthful. ‘I didn’t mention your name. I stuck to my post room story.’ She stared into her glass. ‘I quite enjoyed watching them get frustrated.’

‘I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.’

‘Well don’t – I reckon you’ll get your old job back in a couple of weeks.’ Tate screwed up her face. ‘Ah yes – that’s a bit of news I should share.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘According to my sources, your boss… Prior?’

Caroline nodded.

‘He’s been moved out of the DfE.’

‘No doubt he’s been promoted.’

‘You could say that. He’s now William King’s assistant chief of staff.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Exactly. On the plus side, at least you won’t have to face him when you finally go back into the office.’

Caroline took another sip of Jack Daniel’s. ‘Actually, I’m not sure I’m going back.’

‘Oh… fair enough. Well just enjoy being on full pay while they drag their heels.’

‘Maybe I could take voluntary redundancy.’

Tate clinked her glass against Caroline’s. ‘Here’s to a fresh start.’

Caroline managed a smile.

‘I do have some good news to impart.’

‘Really?’

‘My sources also tell me the Larsons are being done for tax evasion and some kind of VAT fraud.’

‘That’s very handy for King – just before the election.’

‘Yep – all the evidence Larson had been holding over King wiped out in a single raid. Though I’m pretty sure none of those policemen would have known anything about it.’

‘We know how easily evidence boxes disappear.’

‘We do.’

‘King really did have it all mapped out.’ She shook her head. ‘First he forces Duncan Oakley to resign by threatening to expose Rachael’s part in whatever happened in that swimming pool.’ A reflexive shiver ran across her shoulders. ‘Then he worms his way into Number 10 – God knows how many favours he had to promise to make that happen.’

‘Or how many threats he made.’

‘Then he completely covers his tracks by destroying every last bit of evidence.’ She puffed out a breath. ‘And later tonight he’ll secure a massive election victory. Five more bloody years.’

‘You’re forgetting the other loose ends he had to deal with.’ Tate topped up their glasses, even though Caroline had barely touched hers. ‘Freddie Larson and—’

‘Martin.’ Caroline lifted her glass and put it down again. ‘Oh I hadn’t forgotten. But I would like to.’

They both stared into their glasses.

‘What
is
that noise?’ Tate looked around the room.

‘Oh, it’s just a CD I’m playing upstairs. I should go and switch it off.’

‘I can’t hear music. No – it’s a rushing noise – like flowing water.’

‘Oh bugger.’ Caroline scraped back her chair.

Water was gushing out of the overflow pipe above the kitchen window. ‘I left the bath taps running. I need to get back to the bathroom. Go through to the lounge.’ Caroline rushed into the hall. ‘Drag Claire off the sofa and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be down in a bit.’

The bathroom was as foggy as a Turkish bath. Caroline screwed the water off, pulled out the plug and opened a window. She stood quietly for a moment. The music had stopped. She listened instead to the water gurgling down the plughole. She found it almost soothing.

She heard a voice right next to her and started. She turned to the stereo. Martin’s voice was coming out of the speakers. She hit the pause button. According to the display, the fifth track was still playing. She rewound a few seconds and pressed
play
.

Martin Fox cleared his throat. ‘Hello, Caroline. I do hope that is Caroline, or all my careful planning has come unstuck somewhere along the line.’ He paused.