‘I don’t understand, I saw her at school just after the bell went.’
He stands up suddenly. Movement to diffuse the bad feelings inside, it helps me too. Sometimes. He walks to the fireplace, back again. Mumbling and muttering as he does. He paces for what feels like for ever then stops, looks at me, as if he’s just remembered somebody else is in the room with him. He comes over, kneels on the floor in front of me, psychologist’s hat inching back on. Solid ground. Knows how to play that role, it’s easier, more comfortable than being on the wrong side of grief.
‘I’m sorry, Milly,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you saying sorry?’
‘You’ve already had so much to deal with.’
Then he breaks down, huge racking sobs, every breath an effort. I start to cry again too, his pain flooding the space around me. I try to tell him it’ll be okay, somehow it’ll be okay. I reach out, place my hand on his head. I think it helps as he stops crying so hard, sits back on his heels and begins to massage each side of his temples, runs his fingers through his hair, two, three times. Big breaths, that’s what he takes now, in through his nose, out through his mouth.
‘What happened?’ I ask him.
‘We think she fell, the police are investigating now.’
‘Fell?’
‘I can’t go over the details, Milly. Please. Not now.’
‘Where’s Saskia?’
In hell, I think his answer would be if he could say it out loud, if he could bring himself to. I smell whisky on his breath when he speaks. He said he couldn’t go over the details but he can’t help it, they’re playing on a loop, a broken record inside his head. Her phone was on the floor next to her, he keeps saying. I told her not to sit up there, one day she’d fall. She never listened though, did she. She never bloody listened. He begins to cry again, covers his face.
‘It’s not your fault, Mike.’
I hear the doorbell ring, voices again. A gentle knock at the door. Valerie comes into the room, says, sorry, but the police want to talk to you, they say you can go home if you like. Mike nods, uses both hands to pull himself up on the sofa, legs not to be trusted. Valerie leaves, says she’ll wait in the hallway.
‘We should go,’ he says.
‘I’m scared, what will I see?’
‘You won’t see anything. There’s a tarpaulin over where she –’
He walks over to the window, leans his hand against the glass, looks into the garden, composes himself. Tries to. He turns to face me, says, we have to go. When we leave the room Valerie and David are waiting outside, they both say how sorry they are and if there’s anything they can do, just to call, no matter what time of day. Mike nods.
The first thing I see in the driveway is two police cars, no ambulance, already gone Mike said. When we get to the front door I don’t want to go in.
‘I’m not sure I can, Mike.’
‘We have to. I’ll be with you the whole time.’
A group of uniformed officers are standing in the entrance hallway. Mike introduces me as his foster daughter. One of them nods, and says Steve’s in the kitchen waiting. The floor, new tiles will be needed. I hold on to Mike as we pass.
‘You’re okay,’ he says, his hand on my back. I ask again where Saskia is.
‘The ambulance crew gave her an injection, something to calm her down, she’s in our bedroom.’
Another officer is seated at the table, stands up as we walk in.
‘You must be Milly. Is it okay if I ask you some questions? I understand this must be a terrible shock for you.’
‘Can I stay with her?’ Mike asks.
‘Of course, it won’t take long, routine stuff really. Please, sit down.’
He opens the notepad in front of him, takes the lid off a biro.
‘Can you tell me the last time you saw Phoebe?’
‘At school, at the end, it would have been about four o’clock.’
‘How did she seem to you?’
‘Normal, I guess. She was on her phone.’
‘Do you know who to?’
‘No, she was reading an email. Seemed excited about something.’
He makes a note in his pad.
‘And did she tell you what she was excited about?’
‘No.’
‘And she said she was going straight home?’
‘I think so, yeah, she said she had some stuff to do.’
‘Was anything else said between the two of you?’
‘Not really no, I had a meeting to go to. I’m helping design the set for our play.’
‘And that’s where you’ve been this evening?’ he asks.
‘Yes, there’s about fifteen of us and one of the teachers, Miss Kemp.’
Another note in his pad.
‘What time did you leave school?’
‘I walked out with my teacher, just after seven, that’s when Mike called me.’
The officer looks at Mike, he nods to confirm what I’ve said is correct, his face looking older by the minute. I can tell it’s over when the officer closes his notebook, the lid back on his biro. The detail of people.
‘I’m sorry for your loss. I think we’re done here,’ he says.
He pauses a few seconds, a polite response to what he sees, awake in his training, he was. As he stands, his chair scrapes across the tiles. Mike flinches, every noise and sensation heightened now.
‘Will you be staying here tonight?’ he asks.
‘Possibly, depending on how my wife is. They gave her an injection.’
‘Would you like me to arrange a clean-up team to come in? It’ll not be a perfect job at this time of day but enough to get you through the night.’
‘If you could, thank you,’ Mike replies.
I shield my eyes as I pass the tarpaulin. Mike tells me to stay in my room until he says otherwise.
‘If Saskia’s awake we’ll move into a hotel tonight, if not, first thing tomorrow.’
Three messages on my phone from Morgan asking if I’m okay and what’s with the police cars at the house. I text her, tell her I’m fine but Phoebe’s not, she’s dead, she fell off the banister. Fuck, she replies instantly, she was well mean but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, accidents are the worst.
Yes, I reply.
The worst.
37