What She Left: Enhanced Edition (29 page)

‘My killer good looks? My charming personality? My forensic wit?’

‘It’s what a good listener you are. Has anyone ever told you that before?’

‘Probably. But I expect I wasn’t listening!’

He’d get drunk tonight. I could tell. His answers, the way he was throwing chip scraps to the gulls, even the way he was smoking. And it would be nice – the two of us holed up in a pub in an out-of-the-way town. There was an illicit quality about being here: away from London, from the girls, hidden. We were going to move in together. I could hear the
conversation I’d have with Meg. We’d hug and she’d hang on. ‘I’m not going to lose you, am I?’ she’d texted randomly earlier, when I mentioned Luke had taken me on a surprise weekend away. ‘You’re like a sister to me.’

Luke sparked up another cigarette, gave me one and said: ‘When you said about giving up, you meant after we finish this packet – obviously.’

This is my life
, I thought.
This is where my life is happening
. In a seaside town where the colour of the pebbles makes me wish I could paint, on rickety trains out of Platform 2 in Victoria with conductors who still say, ‘Good evening’, with a man called Luke Stuart Addison who’d admitted when we’d joked about riding the carousel that he’d topped the thirteen-stone mark, which prompted me to instigate an immediate mid-week curry ban. Finally,
finally
, it felt enough. ‘This all feels very grown-up,’ I said. ‘I need wine.’

‘Beer o’clock,’ Luke said.

Walking back to the hotel, I thought:
This is
ours
now, too
. Margate. Even the minimart we’d bought Fanta in. I’d add them to the ‘ours’ we already had: how our ‘treat’ restaurant was Thai House on Balham High Street, how our ideal Thursday was a movie at Clapham Picturehouse, how our favourite music venue was Brixton Academy. I felt on more of an even keel than I had for years: an equilibrium. I typically swerved the corollary (that’s definitely my word of this entry) that Luke had made me happy because none of us needs a man for that, right? But it was inescapable: I was happier since I’d met him.

And now he’s gone to buy cigarettes. Our final,
final
packet. Strange that I once waited for another man in another hotel while
he
went out for cigarettes. I had a vision of that lovely old dear, Queenie, riding the roller coaster at Thorpe Park: hanging on for dear life with her marbly
liver-spotted hands, her wrinkly face flattened with the G-force, her gummy mouth exhaling crackly screams of terror and joy. I hope she makes it there. ‘I translate the world in words,’ I’d told her. So as for my word of this entry? Bugger ‘corollary’, that’s old school, that’s one I’d have picked at eighteen when I pretentiously sought the erudite or many-syllabled. Sometimes the simplest express the most. Like ‘boyfriend’ or ‘trust’ or ‘commitment’. Or even ‘love’.

Yes, that’ll do nicely.
Love.

OMG just read on the Internet that Luke’s been taken in by the police. Can’t believe this; he’s been taken to a station in Southampton. Apparently they could charge him. There’s nothing on the police’s website, no statements, but Twitter’s ablaze with it.

Knew there was something about him. Tried telling Alice once but she wasn’t having any of it – she was always so headstrong when it came to men; she could be blind to their faults. She had a right go at me and accused me of being jealous.

Seriously, I had half a mind to blog about my suspicions that he could have been dodgy, but Jeremy said I needed to be careful what I put on here, and reckoned I could get into trouble if I bandied accusations around but, holy shit,
Luke
?!

You could see it, the way he was around Alice. He had a jealous streak and you wouldn’t have wanted to get on the wrong side of him – he’s built like a barn door. Alice confided in me that he had yelled at her once and I did witness him get lairy in a pub – yes, it was handbags, but he had that edge. He’d only been on the scene
recently, but tried to paint me out to be some peripheral afterthought; she was my best friend not his.

Jesus, I can’t believe this. I went and offered the police a second statement after that newspaper ran the story about the dead flowers, but they hadn’t seemed that interested. The nice police lady heard me out, but when you’re mega upset stuff comes out wrong and then you begin to doubt yourself and that makes you sound doubly implausible. She probably had me pegged as ‘emotional’. Course I’m emotional, wouldn’t anyone be if their best friend had died? It’s like half of
me
has died.

I say ‘died’ rather than ‘was killed’ because that’s where we were at with it. If one of the scumbags she brought to justice wasn’t responsible and she didn’t do it herself, then we’d all come to the conclusion it was a dreadful accident – but why are they now talking to Luke? Jesus, LUKE. The police don’t drag someone in without a reason and he was furious about Alice dumping him; she said he was absolutely gutted when she did the deed, and behaved like a madman. His eyes, she said, were wild. If he genuinely loved her how could he explain Prague? See, Alice and I confided in each other; girls do, best friends do. How much hate must you have to have in your heart to cheat on someone as trusting as Alice?

Nothing’s ever as simple as it seems, Jeremy reckons, but he often talks in riddles and answers real questions with theoretical answers. ‘A man is not dead while his name is spoken,’ he keeps saying, conveniently omitting to mention it’s a Terry Pratchett quote. It’s like he’s hoping I’ll conclude
he
made it up.

He tells me I ought to be careful blogging, that I might inadvertently give a distorted impression, but that TV interview I gave turned out to be a bad move. I didn’t even
look
like myself. Someone posted paraphrased chunks of what I said on to Alice’s Facebook wall and a local paper reporter then recycled extracts of those (not even accurately, but I was beyond caring by that stage because the
clip that went out on telly wasn’t in itself representative of what I’d said) and attributed them to Megan ‘Harker’, which prompted more people to dive headlong on to Facebook and spout off about the comments I’d purportedly given the newspaper.

Thing is, when you lose someone close to you, you get properly paranoid, you get suspicious of everyone. I’ll be honest here, even Jeremy’s beginning to creep me out a bit. The way he refers to his wife, it’s like she’s some inferior species. No way would I let a man speak about me like that and Alice a hundred per cent wouldn’t; she’d have told the chauvinist it was 2012 not the flipping Stone Age.

Then the other night he invited me over to catalogue more ‘submissions’ and meet his wife, except his wife wasn’t there so he opened a bottle of wine, a Chilean red that he described as a punchy little number, and we chatted about the options for me going back to uni. He promised to write me a reference, even though he’s only known me a short while. I’d get a special dispensation, he says, because of Alice. Because I got a bit drunk, I ended up staying over.

Just seen on Twitter that the reason they pulled Luke in was because he was
in
Southampton on the night Alice died. Holy shit, that totally contradicts his earlier story. Some lawyer on Twitter reckons they can keep him in for twenty-four hours without charging him – but that they’ll be going for it with him, the full works, searching his flat and all sorts.

No smoke without fire, that’s what they say.

I best ring Alice’s mum. Just when you think this can’t get any worse for them.

She’s even got her own hashtag. Is that what it comes to, what my best friend’s been reduced to? #alicesalmon

 

Comment left on the above blog post:

 

Megan, I can only apologize if you’ve ever had reason to feel uncomfortable in my company. Fliss and I would very much like you
to come over for supper at the weekend – a perfect opportunity for the two of you to become acquainted. You have my mobile – ring me and we can discuss.

Jeremy ‘Silver Surfer’ Cooke

Where are you, Parker? Hope you’ve got your Bridget Jones pants on … it must be freeeeeezing in the hills. Got a teensy confession … OK, a whopper of a teensy one but you’ll go schiz so not gonna tell you till you call me. Meg, same length of time since the end of the second year again and we’ll be dirty thirty! Might have done something I haven’t for ages, which
might
have involved a tiddly snort. Toot toot, as they say. Don’t hate me, Meg, don’t begrudge me a night out. S’need it.
So
need to get away from it all. I’m trying to not even think about that email of Mum’s. Come down off your hill and call me this instant, Parker Larker!

Topic: Arrest

 

See the boyfriend’s been arrested in the Alice Salmon case. Always reckoned there was something dodge about him.

Posted by ExtremeGamer, 13.20 p.m.

 

Like, reckoned
how
exactly? Pal of his were you, ExtremeGamer, or that another of your crackpot theories?

Posted by Su, 13.26 p.m.

 

Facts speak for themselves. Arrested.

Posted by ExtremeGamer, 13.33 p.m.

 

According to Bookface he was at Liverpool Uni between 2003 and 2006. Must be a bit of a brainbox cos he got a first then was hired by a big building firm on a grad-training scheme.

Posted by Graeme, 13.56 p.m.

 

He did well to get to uni at all – was a shitty school he went to.

Posted by Lex, 14.14 p.m.

 

There was a lad in my sixth form, probably the brainiest kid in the school, but he liked a tear-up on a Friday night with the best of them. Because he was clever don’t mean he don’t talk with his fists.

Posted by Baz the driver, 14.28 p.m.

 

I read a ‘backgrounder’ on him in a newspaper … His parents split up when he was eight. They quoted some psychiatrist who explained repressed emotions over shit like that can manifest themselves decades later as misogyny.

Posted by Fi, 14.41 p.m.

 

Welcome back, Fi! Why’s everything boil down to misogyny in your head? Or is that a misogynistic comment? It couldn’t simply be that one person lost his rag with another and drowned her?

Posted by Tom, 14.46 p.m.

 

Hang on, you’re putting the cart in front of the horse again. People get arrested every day and aren’t charged. It’s the authorities saying we’ve got enough info to make us keen to find out more.

Posted by Jacko, 14.54 p.m.

 

Still convinced she jumped personally.

Posted by The Other Katniss, 14.54 p.m.

 

Yes good point Kat – 2012 is a leap year!!!!

Posted by Smithy, 15.02 p.m.

 

Promising rugger player when he was younger, I heard. Had a trial as a schoolboy for Harlequins then knackered his knee, which put the kibosh on that.

Posted by Phil, 15.20 p.m.

 

More to the point, you seen the pictures of him? Well, HELLO!

Posted by Christi 15.31 p.m.

 

Will he get bail?

Posted by Not so plain jane, 15.49 p.m.

 

Depends. Cops have twenty-four hours to either charge you or release you. They can get an extension but it’s not easy. Was watching a TV show where they did it for ninety-six hours, although they had to get permission from a magistrate.

Posted by ArtConnoisseur, 15.50 p.m.

 

Once again I find myself forced to inform you that I’ll be taking this thread down forthwith. I should remind all contributors that this is a ‘live’ police investigation, therefore commenting about it could be potentially legally prejudicial.

Posted by StudentNet Forum Administrator, 16.26 p.m.

 

But no one’s actually named him if you bothered to read the thread so you’re wrong.

Posted by Barley Mow, 16.26 p.m.