‘Oh my God. It’s going to be horrible for her. Oh my God.’ I clamped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t want this woman to hear my distress.
A young cyclist began to stare. My focal point became his blue eyes, as though he and I were friends, as though his steady attention might provide some stability.
DC Miles voice spoke to me from some faraway place, ‘Are you okay, Mrs Bradley? Are you with anyone right now? I feel it is important you get hold of someone who can support you, is that possible? To call someone? A friend or a family member?’
‘Oh my God. I don’t know. Oh my God. I feel a bit faint. I just can’t believe that I’m stuck here like this.’
The cyclist disappeared into the next carriage.
‘Please focus. I think it is important that you call someone. Can you think of someone to call?’
The electric doors beeped open and the cyclist returned with a plastic glass of water. I wanted to hug him for his kindness. My grateful smile was probably more like a grimace as I took the cup from him. The cool water soothed me.
‘Yes, I’ll call Peter. I’ll call Peter. He’ll know what to do. I’ll call Peter.’
Peter answered straight away in his clipped I’m-an-important-property-consultant tone of voice. ‘Hello. How can I help?’
‘Peter, you’re not going to believe it...’ I stopped to expand my chest as far as it would go to find enough air to talk. There didn’t seem to be enough air.
‘Gemma?’
‘Sorry, I’m finding it difficult to breathe.’
‘What’s happened, Gemma? Is the baby okay?’
‘Yes... It’s not that...’
I tried to recount DC Miles’ information to Peter, but I was barely coherent. He asked me again and again to go back and fill in the gaps before he finally understood what was happening.
The train pulled into the next station. The cyclist lifted his bike out of the carriage. I smiled at him, wishing he could have stayed with me.
‘It’s okay,’ Peter said. ‘I’m at the Surbiton site today so I can get home quickly. I’ll get hold of Harriet and meet her at this interview room place and bring Rosie home.’
‘Mira must’ve accused me of something terrible, I just know it.’
‘Well if she has, then Rosie will put them straight, won’t she?’
‘What if she gets confused and says something she doesn’t mean?’ What if she tells them she can see rage in my eyes? What if she’s the one who senses my notional hand raised and poised to strike? What if she is calling out to them for help?
‘You’re getting ahead of yourself.’
‘Peter, I’m not feeling too good and there’s nowhere to sit.’
‘You’re pregnant, Gemma, you need to find somewhere to sit.’
‘Yes, no, I don’t know. The train is full.’ I slumped down to the floor and rested my head on my knees. ‘I’m okay now. Honestly. I’m okay.’
‘Darling, you’re almost home. Get a cab from the station, promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘We’ll sort this out. I love you. See you at home. I love you,’ he repeated.
‘Love you too,’ I said vaguely, wondering if I said it before or after I had hung up.
* * *
When I returned home forty-five minutes later, Peter and Rosie were not there.
Like a lost old lady who has been told to wait until her relatives rescue her, I sat in silence, with my handbag on my lap, willing them to come clattering through the door, desperate for my phone to ring with news of their imminent arrival.
I didn’t hear the knock, but somehow I was at the door.
I didn’t open it, but somehow it was open.
‘Hello, my name is DC Miles, we spoke on the phone? And this is DC Bennett. Myself and my colleague need to come in if that’s okay.’
The sight of them angered me.
‘Where’s Rosie?’ I barked.
‘Can we come in please?’
‘Where’s Peter?’
I was livid. I looked out, beyond them to the gates, now closing us in.
‘It would be better if you let us in, Mrs Bradley.’
Rather than allowing them entry, I reeled back from them, but the effect was the same, and the two police officers entered my home in their thick black vests.
‘I demand to know where my daughter is.’
‘Rosie is safe. Can we ask you who else is in the house?’ DC Miles said, glancing upstairs furtively.
‘Nobody’s here. Not that it’s any of your business who’s in my own house.’
‘Calm down, Mrs Bradley,’ DC Bennett said.
‘Sorry, but this is not a convenient time I’m afraid,’ I said, feeling anything but sorry. I needed them to leave, right now. I urgently wanted to stop it before it became a reality, because the reality would be too disturbing to live through. But they continued to stand there, in my house.
‘Okay, Mrs Bradley – the time is 17.35 p.m.’ DC Miles looked at her watch and then at her colleague and then at me, speaking factually and unemotionally, as though reading through a shopping list, she continued, ‘Having spoken to your daughter, we are arresting you on suspicion of assault causing actual bodily harm to your daughter. The justification of this arrest is to allow for a prompt and effective investigation and to prevent physical injury to a person. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned anything which you may rely on later in court. Anything that you do say may be recorded and given as evidence in court.’
Shell-shocked and uncomprehending, I tried to process what she had just said but my thoughts flatlined. I held my breath as though letting it out would kill me.
‘Are you serious?’ My knees began to give way.
DC Miles steadied me. ‘Are you okay? Your husband said you’re expecting, is that right?’
‘No, yes, I mean, yes. Nine weeks. Nobody knows at work yet,’ I said, pointlessly.
‘I know this is probably a big shock.’
‘No, no, this can’t be happening. I can’t believe it’s happening,’ I said, shaking my head at her, my eyes wide, my mouth open, a dryness on my tongue.
‘We’re going to need to take you down to the station now,’ DC Bennett said.
DC Miles stepped towards me. ‘Do you think you need a glass of water or something before we go?’
‘I think I do,’ I said through chattering teeth, bizarrely grateful to her, as I had been to the cyclist. A detached, dangling thought entered my mind when I looked at her: I decided that she was too pretty to be a real police officer. Her chocolate-brown fringe was enviably shiny and her curled eyelashes widened her green eyes. She wasn’t real. This was a dream. None of this was real.
‘Which way is the kitchen, Gemma?’
‘Here, this way,’ I said, pointing and letting her lead me to the sink, where I glugged at a mug of water, tasting old tea.
She rubbed at my back. ‘Are you feeling better? Do you think you’re ready for us to go now?’
‘It’s all been a terrible mistake. I never meant to hurt her wrist.’
‘Okay, don’t talk to us about it now because we’ll be interviewing you down at the station and that’ll give you an opportunity for you to give us your side of the story, okay?’
‘Can I have some more?’ I wasn’t ready to go down to a police station. I would never be ready. Was there enough water in the tap to delay me forever?
‘Rosie must’ve explained something wrong,’ I continued.
‘As I say, it’s best you save this for down at the station, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I nodded, like a child.
‘Do you think you’re ready to come with us in the car now?’
‘Okay, I think so,’ I nodded again, looking to this woman as though she would guide me to normality, back to safety again.
The police car was unmarked, a nondescript blue, but once inside, in the backseat, I felt marked. As DC Miles drove me away, I wanted to lie down across the seats to hide away in shame. Would Mira be waiting at her window, nodding in approval as we passed her five-bar gate, tutting at me as we drove away from the cul-de-sac, away from my home, the home that I had chosen to keep my children safe and secure. How ironic. Noah and Rosie, whom I longed for now. They would be utterly confused. I was their sun and their moon. I felt my heart was being yanked out of my chest.