When my phone call ended I dragged myself out of Una Burt’s office. I missed being in at the kill. It would be interesting to know what Eleanor was saying in interview. It was funny how she had capitulated as soon as I accused her of being involved. Oliver, she had said, be careful. And then she had admitted it all. But it had to be a relief to her to tell the truth. Dishonesty came hard to her, blooming all over her skin. The strain of keeping secrets from her husband must have been intolerable.
Well, it wouldn’t be my job to untangle the whole story, I thought, knowing that I would need to do it anyway, that I would have to chase down every niggle and every doubt until I was sure we had understood what had happened, and how, and why. I would do it even if it was on my own time. I would do it because I had to, because I needed to know the truth.
What else did I have to do?
What else was I, if I didn’t have that?
Suddenly going home seemed like the best idea anyone had ever had and I looked for Derwent to see if his offer still stood. He was on the other side of the room, his head close to Liv’s as the two of them peered at something on her computer screen. I strolled across, stretching as I went.
‘What are you looking at?’
I wasn’t expecting the reaction I got. Derwent jumped up in a hurry, knocking his chair so it rolled back in my direction. I caught it without looking, my attention on the screen. It was a Facebook page, I registered, before Liv turned her monitor off.
‘What’s going on?’ I looked from Liv to Derwent and back again. She was red-faced. They were both silent, and it was the kind of silence that falls after something has been broken irretrievably. ‘What is it? Just tell me.’
‘Nothing,’ Liv said.
‘It’s not nothing.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Derwent had recovered himself. He dropped an arm around my shoulders and started drawing me towards the door. ‘Ready to go?’
‘No, I’m not, actually.’ I pushed his arm away and turned back to Liv. ‘What was that on your screen?’
A look passed between Liv and Derwent – She saw too much/there’s nothing we can do – and then Liv reached out, very slowly, and switched her monitor back on.
‘I was just checking Facebook and this popped up.’ She swallowed. ‘You know how if you’re friends with someone you see pictures and posts that they’re tagged in.’
I nodded.
‘I’ve got a friend who I used to work with when I first started in the job. She moved back to Manchester a few years ago and now she works on a murder investigation team there.’
‘And?’
‘She was out yesterday … to celebrate two of her colleagues on the team … um, getting engaged.’ Liv’s voice faltered and faded away to silence. She scrolled down and pointed at the screen, and I stepped closer to look.
It was a photograph of a couple. The man was looking at the camera, while the woman was staring up at him adoringly. He was dark-haired, with blue eyes and a heavy beard. The beard was new but I recognised him all the same; I’d have known him anywhere. His smile lit up the photograph. The woman was petite, fair-haired, pretty – and nothing like me. She had one hand on her fiancé’s arm, showing off the large ring that glinted on the third finger of her left hand.
The other hand was draped across the top of her small but noticeable bump: four months along, if I had to guess.
My ex-boyfriend, Rob, who had disappeared without so much as a backward glance, and found a new job, a new girlfriend and a new life in short order.
‘Wow. Well, of course he would marry her,’ I said. ‘He’d do the right thing. Glad to see he looks so happy about it.’
‘Maeve,’ Liv said, her face stricken. ‘Maeve, I didn’t know.’
‘How could you know?’ I tried to smile, and knew it was a failure. ‘It’s fine. It’s a long time since he left.’
They both knew it had been a long time and they both knew I’d been waiting, like the fool I was, for him to come back.
‘You’re better off.’ Derwent’s voice was rough.
I could do this. I could hold it together. I could cope.
I turned around and stepped blindly in Derwent’s direction, and felt his arms go around me.
He held on to me so tightly it was as if he was trying to stop my heart from breaking by holding it together.
The shock was so huge, the damage so absolute, that I didn’t manage to speak again until Derwent had driven most of the way to my flat.
‘I never thought I was good enough for him.’ I stared out of the window, not seeing anything we passed. ‘I didn’t know he wanted children. I didn’t know anything.’
‘You don’t know it was what he wanted. Accidents happen.’
‘He looked happy.’
‘Anyone can look happy in one photograph.’
I looked at Derwent, curious. ‘Do you think I want him to be miserable?’
‘I don’t know. I, personally, wouldn’t mind if he was crying himself to sleep at night.’
‘She looks nothing like me.’ I felt as if I was disintegrating very slowly, losing tiny traces of myself with every movement, until eventually there would be nothing left at all. ‘Maybe I was never his type. Maybe we would never have gone the distance anyway, even if things hadn’t gone wrong.’
‘Don’t try to take the blame for this. He cheated on you and he ran away. He found someone else, knocked her up and he’s getting married and you haven’t had as much as a word from him to say sorry, let alone to let you know he’s moved on.’
‘Maybe he thought it would upset me,’ I said.
‘Maybe he was too scared. If only he’d known you’d find an excuse for him, whatever he did.’ Derwent frowned at me. ‘Where’s the fight, Maeve? Where’s the anger?’
‘I don’t know.’ I felt so tired, weary in body and soul. ‘I hate myself for thinking it would all work out some day. I really believed it, too.’
‘That’s how you are. You want to make everything right. You want to believe in happy endings.’
‘There’s no such thing,’ I said softly. ‘There’s just life.’
He shook his head but he didn’t say whatever he was thinking, and I was glad, on the whole.
‘I’ll be all right,’ I said.
‘You’ll be fine.’ But when he looked at me, his eyes were doubtful.
‘It was safe – waiting for Rob to come back. It was the easy option. Now that I know he’s not coming back, I can move on. I’m free.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘You could at least try to sound like you mean it.’
‘Sorry. I’m doing my best here.’ Another glance. ‘I haven’t even said I told you so yet.’
‘Keep that up,’ I said. ‘Keep not saying that.’
‘You deserve better than him anyway.’
He stopped the car near my flat, on some convenient double-yellow lines. ‘Do you want me to come in?’
‘No. Why would I want that?’
‘If you wanted some company? A friend, I mean?’ He was floundering, I was touched to see. This didn’t come naturally to him and I appreciated the effort he was making.
‘No. It’s OK. I need to be on my own for a bit.’ I looked up at the building and then back at him. ‘There is one thing you could do for me. But it’s a big favour.’
‘What?’ The wariness was turned up to eleven.
‘I was wondering if you’d rented your flat out yet.’
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Not yet.’
‘I know someone who’s looking. She’s very reliable. Responsible job, good references, highly organised. Clean. Tidy.’