‘Right, so Leonard has been taking money from the trust fund. What has this to do with that woman in there pretending to be my sister? You said she came to you because she was frightened.’
‘That’s right. Let’s call her by her real name, Martha. She told me that Leonard had got her involved with the deception and that it was all to do with the trust fund and your mum’s estate. She didn’t know all the details and, to be honest, I’m not sure how it all fits together. I’ve been trying to find things out, on the quiet, of course, but Leonard’s a crafty devil, not to mention clever.’ I rub my face with my hand. This is a nightmare. I’m trying to work out what purpose would Leonard have in getting Martha to pretend to be Alice. Maybe he was going to pay her off with some of the trust fund monies? Maybe they were going to split the proceeds. If the firm is struggling or Leonard has some personal debts of his own, I mean, he has been divorced three times, who knows what he owes to who? Maybe he’s just desperate for the money. Taking it from the trust fund was a safe bet. Who would know?
‘We can’t speak here’, says Tom. He motions with his eyes towards the glances we are getting from a nearby table.
I lower my voice and lean into him. ‘You have to tell the police.’
‘No, not yet. We haven’t got any proof. I need to know all the details and get it straight in my head before we do anything like that.’
‘You say you’ve got evidence at home?’
‘Yeah, on a memory stick.’
‘Right, wait here. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To get my handbag. It’s in my room and then we’re going to yours to work this all out. Martha’s not going anywhere right now, so we have time.’
‘I’ll come with you. It will be quicker. Besides, I don’t want you wandering around the hospital on your own with a head injury.’
We make our way back to the private ward I’m on, only slowing our pace when we get to the ward corridor, so we don’t arouse suspicion. The nurse on the desk looks up and then returns to her paperwork. Once in my room, I grab my handbag and then Tom and I stroll back out again. Fortunately, the nurse’s station is empty and we slip out without being noticed.
Out on the landing, Tom presses the button to call the lift. As we wait, I look out of the window and, quite by chance, notice the familiar figure of Leonard walking purposefully towards the hospital with Mum at his side.
‘Shit. It’s Mum and Leonard. Looks like they’re heading this way.’
‘We’ll take the stairs,’ says Tom. He grabs my hand and, checking for the exit signs, we push open the double doors that lead to the staircase.
‘I can’t go too fast. Every step jolts my arm.’ I wince as I clomp onto the next step.
‘It’s okay, take your time,’ says Tom, although I can hear the urgency in his voice. It’s only one flight of stairs to the ground floor and once on level ground, I can quicken my pace. Tom feeds his parking card into the machine, pays the charge and then leads me out to his car.
‘What happened to your wing mirror?’ I ask as I get in the passenger’s side. The glass is missing and there’s a big scuff on the casing.
‘Caught it on the bloody barrier coming in,’ he says getting in beside me. ‘I was a bit preoccupied, worrying if you were okay.’
Within a few minutes, we’re pulling out of the car park. I glance up at the window to my room and I see Leonard standing there, looking down at us. Tom puts his foot down and, in a flash, we are gone, yet the weight of Leonard’s stare bears down on me, filling the car with menace.
‘What will Luke say when he finds out you’ve done a runner?’
‘Luke’s gone to his parents. He’s taken the girls with him.’ I rest my head back against the seat, wondering what he told Hannah and reminding myself to call a bit later. The dark clouds look to be settling in for the night and the tops of the trees sway in the strong wind. As we head towards the sea front, the wind feels even stronger, battering the side of the car.
I pull the sun visor down and look at myself in the vanity mirror. ‘Can we stop at a shop, please?’
‘Sure. What do you need?’
‘A clean dressing.’ I pick at the tape, which is currently holding my crepe bandage turban together. Eventually, I pick enough to get a good grip between my finger and thumb and manage to prise it away. Then, rather unceremoniously, I unwind the bandage, allowing it to spool like spaghetti in my lap, until it reveals a rectangular dressing of about two by three inches. The middle of the dressing has a dark-red, dried bloodstain.
‘Are you sure you should be taking that off?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
Tom draws the car up outside a mini convenience store and runs in to get a clean dressing for me. He returns a few minutes later with a complete first-aid kit. He shrugs. ‘Better safe than sorry. I wasn’t sure what you wanted.’
I smile. ‘Thanks. No doubt there’s something in here that will be useful.’