The Optician's Wife (25 page)

‘I haven’t got anywhere else to go.’

‘I’m sure I could help you find somewhere that you could both start afresh.’

‘No point. My face is everywhere. I’m not ever going to be able to escape what has happened.’

Helen remained silent and looked thoughtful. She knew I was right but didn’t want to admit it. She was a glass is half full kind of person. I didn’t see what there was to be optimistic about. Maybe if she had spent just one day in my shoes she would have been able to understand why I was resigned to returning to Alpha Terrace.

The strange thing about living through a drama like that are the small details that people forget to think about. I’d lost Larry, my two oldest kids, my sister and my niece which was bad enough but on a practical level I’d lost even more. Larry was the breadwinner. Without his income I wondered how Owen and I would cope. It wasn’t very likely that anyone would give me a job.

During their search the police and crime scene investigators had come across the money that we had been hiding in the house. It had been removed and was being used in evidence against Larry, although the prosecution were struggling to link it to Dawn or Mark. In the end I confessed it was money we were saving for our old age but when they asked me where it came from I was not prepared to answer.

The same day I heard that I might be able to return home it was also announced that an inquest date had been set for June 8
^th
. I didn’t really understand what it was for but Helen explained that where there is a death as a result of violence or suspicious circumstances then the coroner opens an inquiry. It didn’t make sense to me, since Larry had already admitted his guilt but the law has its way of doing things.

Small and his band of idiots had been trying to tie Larry to the killings around Cambridge. Someone leaked it to the press from the force that he was being investigated. It was preposterous. The papers hounded me. Somehow they managed to get hold of my mobile phone number. It rang day and night. They were relentless and would not give up.

Things were made worse when my old friend Trisha gave an interview to one of the big national papers talking about my relationship with Larry. I was so hurt and could not believe her betrayal. She must have done it for the money. That was the only reason I could come up with.

She told the reporter that Larry was controlling and I was his submissive little woman. I was made out to be weak. But that’s not me. I’m not like that.

Pictures of our wedding day were added to the article. Trisha had gone so far as to share them with the world. Beneath a picture of Larry and me standing outside the front of the registry office was a sentence in bold back text:

How much did she really know?

I scrunched up the paper and threw it across the room. I’d always known that Trisha loved gossip but I’d never imagined she would have sold me down the river the way she did.

‘Fucking woman,’ I muttered to myself.

The press called Larry a monster and kept digging into our family. Sue-Ann and Robbie were still not talking to me. I learnt from Helen that Sue-Ann had been responsible for alerting the police to Dawn’s disappearance. She said she had seen her father burning Dawn’s belonging in the garden one night and had been concerned ever since. She said she had always been frightened of her father and that he had a vicious temper. Of course, none of that was true. She just wanted to be in the spotlight and have the attention on her. He never laid a hand on her, or any of them. Well, no more than is usual in any family. He was a good father.

Even when it came to light that Dawn had been stealing from us, Dawn was still made out to be an angel who fell victim to an evil man. It wasn’t like that. It never was. But people had a way of twisting the truth so that they could get their conviction or sell more copies of their papers. It disgusted me, but I was powerless to stop it.

I just hoped and prayed that Larry was sheltered from it. Surely he wouldn’t have access to the newspapers in prison, would he? But I worried that other people in the prison knew what was being said. People who were labelled in such a way were likely to have a tough time of it on the inside. I dreaded the thought of Larry being hurt by other inmates or given a rough time by the guards. It made me feel miserable.

Standing in the grotty flat waiting to hear the fate of my home I wondered when everything had gotten so messed up. In so many ways meeting Larry had been like a fairy tale. He’d been my white knight who’d saved me from my horrid life. Then things had started to fall apart. And I knew it all stemmed from Dawn. The day she married that pig everything changed. She always had to ruin everything. Even her death was causing me more grief than it should have. I felt bad about Daisy, of course I did, but it was as a result of Dawn’s behaviour. If she had just toed the line they would probably both still be alive.

I went over to the toaster and dropped some crumpets in. I needed some comfort food and crumpets smothered in butter would just do the trick. I looked in the cupboard to see if there was any jam left but remembered Owen had finished it off the day before. Since being moved into that flat I had become a bit of a recluse. I didn’t want to go outside and face people. Even menial tasks like going to the shop to get milk had become a big deal.

My life was in tatters and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for my boy, my husband and myself. But what I didn’t know then was that things were going to get tougher. The worst was yet to come.

It was raining. I remember that clearly. Pouring down.

The day before I got the go-ahead to move back into the house. Owen and I were nipping around the flat collecting the belongings we’d brought with us and acquired over the past few weeks. I was so glad to be leaving that place, even though I knew going home would not be easy. Not having Larry there would be strange and with Sue-Ann and Robbie still with Aunt Mary the place was going to be very quiet.

My mobile phone went as I shoved some of my clothes roughly into a plastic carrier bag. I couldn’t see it anywhere and searched frantically before spotting it sandwiched between the sofa cushions. I answered quickly, without even looking at the screen.

‘Hello?’ I felt out of breath and irritated that I’d been interrupted.

‘Mrs Miller?’ I recognised that formal tone only too well. Another police officer.

‘Yes.’

‘My name is Detective Sergeant Cirro. We need to talk to you about an urgent matter. Can you please tell me where you are?’

‘I’m in the same bloody flat you lot have been keeping me cooped up in for months.’

‘Right. Thank you. An officer will be with you shortly. Please don’t go anywhere.’

‘What’s this about? I’m meant to be moving out.’

‘An officer will be there to talk to you very soon. Please just wait.’

‘Fine. You’ve got half an hour and if you’re not here by then you can come and find me at Alpha Terrace.’ I hung up. I doubted it was anything urgent at all. They always liked to make themselves sound more important than they were.

‘Owen?’ I called out. He was in the bedroom where he was meant to be packing his stuff.

‘Yes Mum?’

‘We’ve got to wait here for a bit longer. Bloody police want to come and talk to me again. As if they haven’t taken up enough of my time.’

Owen appeared in the doorway looking nervous.

‘Nothing to worry about, little man. Probably something to do with this flat before we leave. Go play on the Gameboy in our room for a bit, OK. I’ll bring you some chocolate biscuits.’

I was looking forward to having a bedroom to myself again. Sharing with my young son had not been much fun, especially since he’d started having such vivid nightmares. Owen would wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, screaming that Aunt Dawn was in the corner of the room and was coming to get him. He told me her ghost wouldn’t leave him alone. I hushed him and told him it was just a bad dream but it didn’t stop it happening frequently. Despite not believing it myself I tried to reassure him that his aunt was in heaven having a lovely time with Daisy. He didn’t believe it any more than I did, but what was I supposed to say? The effort of keeping up appearances and trying to be strong for each other left us both feeling exhausted. That and the lack of sleep took its toll. I hoped that once we were back in our own beds his nightmares would stop.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. I told Owen to stay in the bedroom while I spoke to police.

‘Come in.’ I made no attempt to hide my irritation.

‘Thank you.’ There were two of them, a young-looking policeman who I guessed was Cirro, stepped inside, the raindrops on his coat brushing on to my sleeve as he passed. The second officer made awkward eye contact with me and then kept his eyes on the floor for the rest of the visit.

‘Sit down, then. Let’s get this over with. I’ve got stuff to do.’ I pointed at the sofa and stood with my arms folded. I didn’t have a bra on underneath my jumper and felt self-conscious that they would be able to tell.

‘Thank you.’ Cirro sat down, brushing the rain off the top of his balding head. He was probably not much older than me.

‘What’s this about then?’ I looked at the officers shifting awkwardly in their seats. Neither of them could look at me.

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’ Cirro stood up again, realising I wasn’t going to sit down. He didn’t want to be on a different level to me. ‘In the early hours of this morning officers at the prison discovered the body of your husband. I am very sorry.’ He bowed his head and folded his hands in front of him.

‘What are you talking about?’ my words caught in my throat. ‘Larry’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s fit as an ox. There must be some mistake–’

‘No Mrs Miller,’ Cirro cut in, ‘I’m afraid it appears that he committed suicide.’

‘No.’ My legs felt like jelly and the world started to spin. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I am very sorry.’

Cirro guided me over to the couch and sat me down.

‘I am so sorry,’ he said again.

‘How?’ the word came out in a half whisper.

‘It appears he hanged himself using his bed sheet.’

I stared blankly at Cirro. He had a kind face, unlike Small, but I could see there was no real pity in his eyes.

‘You did this.’ My bottom lip quivered. Cirro looked at me perplexed. ‘You and your colleagues. You did this to him. He would never have done it if…’ My words trailed off.

Cirro sat stiffly on the couch next to me.

‘Is there anyone I can call?’

‘Like who?’ I sobbed. ‘Who is going to shed a tear apart from me?’ My hands shook and snot ran down my face. ‘I want to see him.’

‘Once the coroner has had a chance to view the body I am sure that can be arranged.’

‘Why didn’t anyone stop him? It’s a prison, for fuck’s sake. The people you lock up should be safe.’

‘I am sorry to say that occasionally these things happen.’

‘That’s your best answer,’ I slid away from him putting space between us on the couch. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Sorry?’

‘When did they find him?’ I looked at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s nearly midday. You said early this morning. What time?’

‘I don’t know exactly.’ Cirro looked embarrassed.

‘Get out.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Are you deaf? I said get out. You’ve broken the news and done your job now you can get back to celebrating with your mates.’

‘Mrs Miller, I can assure you no one is pleased about this.’

‘And I’m the Queen of fucking Sheba. Get out.’ I pointed a shaking finger to the door.

‘Very well. Someone will be in touch soon.’ Cirro stood and I noticed the damp mark he’d left behind on the couch.

‘Get. Out.’ I was able to say it one final time before the tears erupted again.

When the police had left and closed the door behind them Owen poked his head around the doorframe.

‘Can we go home now Mum?’ he asked. I wiped my sore eyes with the palms of my hands and looked up at him. ‘What’s wrong?’ his voice was so squeaky he sounded like a girl.

‘Come here.’ I patted the damp spot on the sofa next to me. ‘I need to tell you something.’

Owen had pulled the sleeves of his cotton top down and was holding them bunched over his hands. ‘What’s wrong Mum?’ He didn’t move and I could see the fear written across his face.

‘I need to talk to you. Please come and sit next to your old mum.’ I wanted him close to me. The physical distance between us was making me feel even worse that I could have imagined. ‘Please?’ I did my best to stop my voice from breaking.

Owen nodded and slowly crossed the room still holding tightly on to his cuffs.

‘It’s Dad.’ I said as he perched down next to me slipping my arm around his shoulder and hugging him close to me. His skinny little body felt so frail as if it might break any moment. ‘He died.’

Ten minutes later I was in the car with Owen next to me in the passenger side. We were on our way to Mary’s house. I had to break the news to the others. I didn’t want them seeing it on the news or hearing it from anyone else. As I drove through the town in the rain my mind was on autopilot. I don’t remember actually driving the car at all. I just remember a blur of grey and raindrops pelting the windscreen. Owen sat completely still next to me not saying a word. Every now and then I would remember he was there and glance at him just to make sure he was still breathing. He looked so pale.

When we pulled up outside Mary’s house I felt a coldness flooding my veins. I stopped the car and the two of us sat still, neither making a move to open our doors.

‘If you want to wait in the car…’ I didn’t know what to suggest or what would be best. Owen turned his head up and looked at me. There were tracks where tears had been falling silently down his cheeks. I brushed them away using my thumb and tried to smile. ‘We will be OK.’ It was too soon to know if I really believed that myself but I had to say something.

‘I don’t want you and Sue-Ann to argue.’ His voice was so quiet.