‘You’re sure you don’t want a holiday?’ she checked.
‘It’s lovely of you. But not right now. You’re right, though, I need to prioritise my family, not my DIY detective work.’
It was a blurring of the truth, though. Mum would take it to mean I was giving up my investigation. I had no intention of doing so.
She helped me carry the steaming mugs into the living room and we handed them out. Neither man mentioned the inordinate amount of time we had spent in the kitchen, or the fact that my face was red and puffy.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ I announced. ‘We should do something special for Beth. She always loves it when we have a girly pamper night – especially when you join in, Jacob.’
He smiled, eyes sad, at the reminder.
‘Did you take the whole afternoon off today?’
He nodded.
‘Well, we could get the stuff together now and go straight to the hospital.’
He seized the olive branch. Mum and Dad swiftly made their excuses and left their teas so that we could get ready.
‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better,’ Mum whispered in my ear as we hugged goodbye. ‘You know you can talk to me any time.’
My heart clenched. ‘I know.’
Dad enveloped me in a hug next.
‘You’ll crack my ribs,’ I laughed.
‘You stay strong, duck. Beth will get better soon.’
‘I know.’
‘And no more drinking.’
‘Okay, okay. Promise.’
Jacob and I stood on the step, waving them off. Wiggins had his nose pressed against my leg, trying to peer round it, as usual. You would have stood on the ground in front of us, my hands on your shoulders to peer over. That was the way we always stood when bidding farewell…
I tilted my head back and blinked rapidly to disperse the threatening tears.
‘You okay?’ checked Jacob.
‘Yeah, fine. Honestly.’
Maybe I would be. If I tried hard enough. So I rushed around, getting things together, then heard a car door slam shut outside. Peering out, I groaned.
‘Great. Flo’s here.’
Jacob rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t call her that. Her name’s Britney—’
‘I know! But Flo suits her more.’
‘Nicknames aren’t really appropriate. She’s only here to do her job.’
And steal my husband.
Still, I slapped a welcoming rictus on my face and went downstairs to greet her. I wasn’t going to give her another opportunity to try to steal my husband, so I’d play nicely for now, because if I kicked off then Jacob would think I was acting crazy again and going back on the peace we had just brokered.
‘Thought I’d pop in, see how you are,’ she said.
‘Oh, you know, all right…’ I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. I brandished the handful of hair accessories. ‘Going to have a pamper night with Beth.’
Flo made all the right polite noises about how lovely that would be. As she did, Jacob slipped from the room.
‘Melanie, I hope you don’t mind, but Jacob has mentioned that you’ve been struggling to deal with everything.’
I silently ‘thanked’ him for that, Beth, my blood pressure rising. ‘I’m fine.’ If I said it enough, it might come true.
‘Well, I wanted to assure you that the investigation is making progress, and there are several promising leads that are being followed up. Don’t give up hope.’
‘I won’t.’ It didn’t sound sincere.
‘It’s also come to our attention that you’re conducting some kind of investigation yourself.’
I froze.
‘I really would urge you to stop. Without realising it, you could jeopardise what we are doing. I know that’s the last thing you would want.’
Unbelievable. The police had done nothing to find your attacker, as far as I could see. The appeal had thrown up absolutely nothing. The only real lead, James Harvey, had come from me. But they expected me to step back so they could let your attacker get away? Not bloody likely!
But if I said all that, it would be obvious I was going to carry on my own investigation.
I stepped into Flo’s personal space. ‘It’s okay, I’ve stopped.’
Confusion flickered. ‘That’s good to hear. It’s for the best. We don’t want any crossed wires.’
What I wanted was to tell her to concentrate on arresting your attacker, Beth, and not to try counselling me and mine. I wanted to give her a good slap and tell her to keep her freakishly small hands the hell off my husband. But I forced down the words and smiled politely.
‘Well, I must get on,’ I said. Then leaned back and yelled, ‘Jacob! Can you come and see Flo, I mean the FLO, out, please?’
Seconds later, he emerged, red-faced, from the kitchen, where he’d clearly been hiding.
Upstairs I watched them chat, her hat under her arm, her round face earnest. Finally she got into her car and drove away.
Five minutes later, Jacob and I grinned at each other sheepishly, then got on our way.
Sixty-Three
Flicking through your iPad, I found your music ‘favourites’ list and pressed play. The hospital room filled with the sounds of Stormzy, whoever he was. Your dad tried to do a robotic dance to it. I could just imagine you rolling your eyes at him and begging him to stop, before joining in yourself.
But you didn’t move.
I smeared a face mask on myself. Your dad gamely joined in and we giggled self-consciously at the sight.
Your turn. I smoothed the sweet-smelling pale pink cream over your face so carefully, terrified of knocking your breathing tube and nasogastric tube. Then popped cucumber slices on your eyes. Pulled them off again quickly. They had made me think of the large pennies Victorians used to place over the eyes of corpses.
The pamper nights we had shared over the years were filled with fun. We’d try to make each other laugh, to crack the face packs. Do silly dances, tickle each other, make funny noises. We’d giggle at how the dried mask made us look like old crones until we washed it off. There would be noise, chatter, singing. Me and your dad tried our very best to replicate it, but it was a hollow copy.
After wiping the mask off your petal-soft skin, I did your hair. Put a braid in across the top. It looked lovely.
‘Which polish do you fancy?’ I asked. Trying to be light and playful. Trying to make it sound like any other fun night in together. Trying to pretend that my gorgeous girl wasn’t lying there, unresponsive.
‘I’ve got Glitterati Fashion Icon, which is the sort of purple-blue one you like. Remember? Or there’s Bedazzle, which has all different kinds of glitter in it. There’s reds, blues—’
‘I can see some silver bits,’ chipped in Jacob.
‘Oh, and I love the name of this one: Eyes Like Angels. It’s white glitter.’
‘Think I’ll have that.’
‘Right, Dad’s volunteered for that one. Oh, no, you said it, so there’s no getting out of it!’ We smiled, acting out our parts. The tears of clowns behind our jolly masks. ‘I think Bedazzle for you, Beth? Hmm? It’s your favourite, after all.’