Authors: Rachel Abbott
With that, he hung up.
The weather had turned cloudy, and there was more of a cool breeze today, but Leo welcomed it as she made her way into the village. She didn’t like hot, sticky weather. She hoped she had made the right decision leaving Ellie with Tom earlier, but she had needed to get away. She hadn’t bothered mentioning the fact that one of the files opened on her computer was the information about their father. It felt like it would be adding fuel to the fire and it wasn’t that important. Tom’s arrival hadn’t been brilliant timing, but now she was grateful to have a few hours alone.
The funny thing about Tom was that his outward persona didn’t quite fit with the idea of him being a detective in the serious crime division. He was so relaxed and easy - not her idea of how a high-ranking policeman would be at all. But then last night she’d asked him in one of their rare serious moments how he dealt with some of the lowlife that he must come across regularly, and she saw something. Nothing happened that she could put her finger on - he didn’t tighten his lips or narrow his eyes. But his face changed in the subtlest of ways - it was as if his cheekbones had become more prominent, and his eyes turned cold. It was enough for her to know for sure that she would never want to be questioned by this man for a crime - whether she was guilty or innocent. It also made him more intriguing.
As a result of her self-enforced eviction Leo wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself, until she remembered that the wine bar opened early to serve breakfast. Maybe she could set up her office there for an hour or so. She had calls to make and meetings to set up for next week. A few of her clients were going on family holidays this week, and she had a dreadful suspicion that on their return they might be in need of urgent appointments. Unhappy relationships and holidays were not often a good match.
Ordering an almond croissant and the ubiquitous cappuccino, she settled down in the corner away from other customers so that she wouldn’t disturb them by speaking on the telephone. Not that it seemed to bother anybody else, as at least fifty per cent of people were doing something with their mobiles; texting, checking emails or tweeting no doubt.
This week hadn’t turned out in any way as Leo might have expected. Ellie was working too many hours and they’d had precious little time together, but when they
were
together, Ellie was prickly and distracted. Even without this morning’s scene, it had been an uncomfortable few days. And then there was the accident. Just the thought that the driver could be someone from the village had been enough to upset everyone, but now that they knew that Abbie had been abducted, there was a whole new layer of suspicion added. It felt somehow like the hours before an electric storm; the air around them was heavy and crackling with tension.
Leo was worried about the fact that in her conversations with Tom she had failed to mention what she’d discovered about Gary - that he had been out late on Friday and then lied about it. But she couldn’t say anything until she had spoken to Ellie about where she’d been that night, and God knows how she could raise that subject again. She didn’t believe that there could be any link, but what if there was? If she mentioned Gary, would it make everything collapse around her family like a house of cards? And she had the feeling that Penny had said something that should have meant more than it did. But she couldn’t catch the thought. It was like trying to remember a word or a name - it was literally there, in her head for a fleeting second, and then disappeared before it solidified.
She rested her chin on cupped hands. This was getting her nowhere. She was starting to miss the solitary silence of her own home. She loved her apartment, but it had taken so much hard work to be able to afford to live there. Even with an established practice as a life coach she’d had to spend a couple of years working in a bar at night to cover the mortgage. Situated in a renovated old warehouse, it was wonderfully spacious with high ceilings and bare brickwork. She had lived there for months with nothing much more than a mattress on the floor and a hanging rail for her clothes. But it had been worth it.
Much as she wanted to go home, though, she was starting to feel a compulsion to stay until those around her were at peace again. Whether she would be able to help with the process or not, she didn’t think she could just walk away.
The scene with Ellie this morning had left her feeling drained and empty. Since when had her sister become a glass half-empty person? That had always been Leo’s role.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook and pen. Maybe some cathartic writing would help her to make sense of it.
A Single Step : the blog of Leo Harris
Listening to a different tune
Many years ago I saw a short film sequence of a little girl. She was wearing a pretty dress as she skipped down a narrow cobbled lane. The people around smiled fondly as she passed. The grainy, black and white image did nothing to detract from the happy scene, and the light summery music gave a feeling of well-being. The audience’s attention was focused entirely on the child.
Then the identical film was shown again, but this time with sinister music playing. There was a gasp from the audience. For the first time, every person in the room noticed an unsmiling man standing at the mouth of a dark alley, smoking a cigarette and watching the girl.
In spite of already knowing the ending, there was a sigh of relief when the child was reunited with her mother.
Same film. Different music.
For some people, life is like that. They filter out the positive and focus on the negative. They make assumptions about what somebody else is thinking, and believe only in the worst possible outcome.
They are listening to a sinister tune.
Is this you? If so, change the music, and focus on the positive. Listen to a happy tune, and see if the man skulking in the doorway disappears from view.
“Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.” William James
Leo put her pen down. She would re-read it before she typed it into her blog, but she was pleased with what she’d written. Perhaps she would show it to Ellie. Then again, perhaps not.
Realising that she had already eaten two almond croissants and would feel forced to eat a third if she continued to sit here, Leo packed up her temporary office and reluctantly made her way out of the wine bar.
Thoughts of her years of working long nights serving drinks to largely ungrateful customers had brought one person to mind. Mimi. Somebody needed to drop off her cardigan, and Pat had been conspicuous by his absence this week, so it provided Leo with the perfect excuse to call round. The fact was that she felt a bit sorry for Mimi. It didn’t seem quite right that everybody was oh-so sympathetic to Patrick, and treated her like a pariah. Pat was the one who was married and who had cheated on his wife. He was responsible for his own marriage, and Mimi shouldn’t be shouldering all the burden of guilt. Perhaps if she took her some flowers to congratulate her on the pregnancy, she could offer the girl a sympathetic ear. She had precious little hope that Mimi would be interested in a life-coaching session, but at least the cardigan provided a reasonable excuse for her visit.
Clutching her newly acquired bunch of summer flowers, Leo made her way through the labyrinth of short streets that made up the recently developed estate on the far side of the village. She realised that she didn’t know Mimi and Pat’s address, but Pat had mentioned a cut through path from the village that came out opposite their house, and she knew that it was the farthest street from the main road. It was obvious that the planners had tried to make the roads interesting, because instead of straight lines that were easy to navigate, the roads twisted and turned. Leo was glad she wasn’t driving. She would never have found it.
She was unsure of the reception she would get. There was no doubt that Mimi was a difficult character, and she clung to Pat like chewing gum on the sole of a shoe. Unfortunately it felt as if Pat was constantly trying to scrape her off - which couldn’t in all fairness do much for the girl’s self-esteem. Her comment on Saturday night about everybody treating her as if she were a mistake was spot on.
When Leo finally found what she assumed was Mimi’s street, she could see that the brand new houses were compact - probably starter homes, and possibly only had one double bedroom and a bathroom upstairs. They were arranged into small terraces of six properties, with a side access at the end of each block to a rear passageway.
Each house had an identical white front door - a popular design that Leo had never understood, almost as if a very narrow front door had been built into a larger frame. As she stared at the doors wondering where to begin she noticed some movement in the parking bay across the road. It was Mimi, unloading her shopping. Leo’s timing had been perfect. She walked across the road.
‘Mimi - hi,’ Leo shouted. ‘Here, let me help you with those bags. They look heavy. Grab these - they’re for you,’ she added, handing Mimi the flowers and picking up the largest of the carrier bags.
‘I was just coming round to see you - to see how you are and how you’re getting on, and I’ve brought your cardigan back.’
Mimi looked surprised by Leo’s appearance and for some strange reason, slightly nervous. Leo knew she could appear cold and aloof, but she hoped she hadn’t frightened the woman.
‘I hope you don’t mind me popping round on the off chance. I know what it’s like to be relatively new to an area, and I wondered if you fancied a bit of company for half an hour.’
Mimi pulled the flowers towards her face and sniffed. She shot Leo a wary glance.
‘These are very nice. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. Which way with the bags?’
Mimi indicated the second house from the left, then walked ahead of Leo to unlock the front door, which led straight into a small sitting room, with an open tread wooden staircase going up one side. A large beige Dralon sofa was squeezed hard into one corner and up against the back wall, and a wildly patterned carpet in shades of orange and brown covered the floor. A television sat on a table covered with a cream coloured cloth in another corner, and under the stairs was an old style computer desk, with separate monitor and keyboard areas and space to hold the processor. A laptop was trying its best to find a comfortable spot there.
The house had a musty smell, as if no windows were ever opened. There was a vague hint of tinned tomato soup or baked beans, overlaid with stale air.
It appeared that the central area of the room had to be kept fairly clear, as this was the route through to the kitchen at the back of the house, and Leo dodged round a wooden rocking chair to follow Mimi. She couldn’t help noticing that there were no pictures on the walls but ceramic figurines adorned every possible surface.
Leo realised that if Mimi was a barmaid it was quite an achievement to be able to afford this place. She remembered well the pittance that she’d been paid, and some of the hovels that she had put up with. Considerably worse than this, even if it did need a bit of tlc.
The kitchen ran along the back of the house – a long thin room with a small space at one end to squeeze in a table and two chairs.
Mimi dumped the flowers on the worktop. She couldn’t quite meet Leo’s eyes.
‘I know it’s not much, but it will do until Patrick’s divorce comes through. It’s only a rental - so there’s not much we can do to improve things.’
‘Mimi, you don’t have to make excuses to me you know. I lived in a squat for a while when I first left home.’
Mimi looked at her, as if to decide whether this was bull or it was real.
‘Do you want coffee?’ she finally asked.
‘Actually, do you have any tea? I’ve drunk so much coffee this morning already that I’ll get the jitters if I have any more.’
There was silence while Mimi made the tea. Leo pretended to look with great interest at the view out of the back window, which revealed a tiny square of slightly overgrown lawn leading to the passageway that ran behind the row of houses, and a flat and uninteresting field beyond. Mimi was obviously not going to break the silence, and Leo wondered if she was shy.
‘Great to have a house that isn’t overlooked from the back,’ Leo remarked, trying to start a conversation.
‘It’s okay. We don’t use the garden much. Do you want to sit down? We could go in the lounge if you like, or stay here?’
‘Here’s fine. I’m a kitchen person - well, not in the sense of being able to cook, but I like
being
in kitchens.’
Leo sat down and smiled encouragingly at Mimi, who still seemed a bit unsure of herself. She sat down opposite Leo, clutching the mug of tea between her two hands.
‘What have you done with Patrick today, then? I often wonder how teachers amuse themselves in the long holidays. Max is kept busy with the twins, of course - but what about Pat?’
‘He’s had to go to a meeting at school.’
‘In the holidays? That’s a bit mean isn’t it?’ Leo suddenly had a thought. ‘I bet it’s to do with Abbie Campbell - you know, the girl who was knocked over on Friday night. I presume you’ve heard that they’re now saying she was abducted?’
‘I don’t know anything about it. Patrick’s not said much, and I don’t watch the news. It’s too depressing. I expect it’s all become a bit exaggerated though, as things seem to in this village.’
‘I’m not sure you’d feel like that if she was your daughter,’ Leo said. ‘Her parents must be going through hell, although Ellie does say that there are some signs of recovery. It takes time, though, and it could be weeks before she’s able to tell the police what happened.’
Mimi appeared to have nothing to add to this conversation thread. It was like pulling teeth. She wasn’t exactly hostile, but she was obviously not comfortable. There was a level of anxiety there, and Leo didn’t seem to be able to break down the barrier.
‘How did you end up in Little Melham, Mimi? Not an obvious place to choose, I wouldn’t have thought. You’re not from round here, are you?’