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On Friday morning science was underway in the chemistry lab when Pat Dunford, having just had a visit from Phil Sweetman wandered into the laboratory.
‘Guys, have you got a minute?’ he called.
The team wandered over and could see immediately that Pat had bad news.
‘I’ve some sad news to report. Derek passed away last night.’
‘Shit,’ said Seth. ‘Poor guy. He did so much for the University.’
‘Yes, it’s so sad with the launch and everything. He didn’t live to see his idea come to fruition in the form of PersCure.’
Hannah looked a bit tearful. Adam and Joe hadn’t known the professor but they wouldn’t be doing their post-doctoral work without his ideas for the project.
‘It was very peaceful,’ said Pat. ‘The last few weeks he was on a lot of pain medication so he just slipped away. I’ve just heard so I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Thanks Pat,’ said Seth and Hannah almost in unison.
‘Will you be going to the funeral?’ asked Hannah.
‘Yes, I’d like to. Right, I’ll get back to what I was doing. I’ll go and tell Nick and see whether Matt and Brett know about it.’
The mood was subdued after that news. Nobody really knew what to say. It was a sad end to the week.
‘I wish I’d had the chance to meet the guy,’ said Adam.
‘Me too,’ added Joe. ‘How old was he? Do you know, Seth?’
‘Not sure, mid-sixties I should think. No age really these days. God, I’ll just be glad when this week is over,’ said Seth. ‘Thankfully I’ve not cocked up my work or that would just about put the lid on it.’
‘Is it nearly beer o’clock?’ asked Adam, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
‘It’s not beer you need, it’s the comfort of a good woman you need this evening!’
‘True,’ said Adam. ‘Just as well Zoe is coming down this weekend then!’
‘So is she a good woman then?’
‘Sometimes she is and sometimes she’s a bad girl if you know what I mean!’
‘You lucky sod,’ said Joe and both men laughed.
**
Maureen’s week had been much less stressful than the previous one. Apart from a few texts and one phone call from Hubert early on in the week apologising profusely for his behaviour she’d had no further communication from him. He’d also told her that he’d started to take some anti-depressants on the advice of his GP to help him through the difficult phase following his cancer diagnosis. Although they would take a while to act fully he felt he’d taken the first step. He was also making an effort to cut down on his drinking as copious amounts of alcohol were also increasing his melancholy.
She had spent all morning in the garden trying to make an improvement to one of the borders after her visit to the National Trust gardens on Saturday. She’d been to the garden centre the day before and splashed out on a trolley full of new plants. The only trouble was that it had turned out to be a bigger job than she imagined as firstly she had to remove some long-established shrubs before she could plant the new ones. Her back was protesting and by mid-afternoon, she felt that she would have to finish the rest another day. She began to wish she’d enlisted some help from a gardener to at least take out the old plants but it was too late for that now. As she stood back to look at her work she was pleased with the results of her efforts. She now had an attractive variation in the height of the plants which gave more interest and depth to the planting.
After a soak in the bath she was dressing in some casual trousers and a shirt when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she ignored the first ring. However, the visitor was persistent and began to hammer on the door when the doorbell remained unanswered.
Maureen ran down the stairs, running her fingers through her hair. Before opening the door she slipped the security chain across it. Tentatively peering through the gap she saw two police officers, a man and a woman.
‘Mrs Welch?’ asked the tall male police officer. ‘I’m PC Martin from Persford Police, here’s my identification.’ He passed his ID through the door and Maureen peered at it. She needed reading glasses for small print but at arm’s length could see the document well enough.
‘Sorry, I’m just cautious now that I’m on my own.’
‘Very wise madam, could we have a word?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Maureen slipped off the chain and let the police into the hallway. The male officer looked hot and his short conventionally styled blond hair showed traces of dampness at the temples.
‘Can we sit down a minute, madam? I’m PC Stefanie Billings.’
‘Please go through,’ Maureen indicated the lounge and the trio sat down. PC Billings was an attractive young woman despite the plain functional uniform. Her light brown hair was fastened up neatly and she had a small mole on her right cheek.
‘We are here because of your husband, Hubert Welch,’ stated PC Martin.
‘I see, well, yes, we are still married but we are separated. We will be divorced very soon.’
‘Have you heard from him recently?’
‘Er, not since the beginning of the week. Monday I think it was.’
Maureen was beginning to feel anxious. There was usually only one reason the police called to see someone. ‘Has something happened to him. Has he been in an accident?’ she asked quickly.
‘I’m very sorry to inform you that your husband has died. We broke into his house this morning,’ continued PC Martin.
‘What? He’s dead? I knew he was ill. He told me he had cancer but he was having treatment, I didn’t think he would have died so soon. God, it must have been more advanced than he thought.’ Maureen put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, I feel dizzy, it’s the shock.’
‘Lie back on the sofa a minute,’ said Stef Billings. ‘Put your legs up. Would you like a glass of water?’
‘Er, yes please,’ moaned Maureen. She felt dreadful and now that she was coming out of the faint she felt clammy all over. Her shirt was sticking to her back and sweat was gathering between her breasts.
The policewoman went out into the hallway and spotted the kitchen. Carefully she opened the cupboards and found a glass. She returned to the lounge where her colleague was flicking through his notebook in silence.
‘Here you are, drink this.’
Maureen sat up slightly to drink the water and rubbed her forehead. ‘Sorry, I’m coming around now. Oh goodness. I can’t believe it.’
Stefanie Billings looked over to her colleague and raised her eyebrow to ask whether she could take over. PC Martin nodded at her.
‘Mrs Welch. There’s something else we need to tell you.’
Maureen looked up.
‘It appears that your husband took his own life.’
‘What? Hubert? Oh, no! He told me he was depressed about his illness but he’d started taking anti-depressants. He’d been to see his GP.’
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Just lie back for a minute or so.’
‘So why did you break in?’
‘Well, he missed a couple of meetings yesterday and he had a really important one this morning and so his secretary, er..’
‘Pamela,’ prompted PC Martin.
‘Pamela went over to his house as she’d been phoning him without receiving any answer and then she phoned us,’ she paused. ‘After she had peeped through the letterbox. Well, it was obvious then.’
‘Obvious? How?’
‘Your husband was hanging from the bannister rail. There was a kitchen chair kicked over next to him.’
‘Oh, God! How awful. Pamela must be in a dreadful state.’
‘Yes, fortunately, a neighbour took her in and she’s at home now. Her doctor has given her something to sedate her.’
‘I just can’t take it all in. I know we were separated but when you’ve spent so long with someone, it’s still a shock.’
‘We are sorry for your loss. But I’m afraid we have one more thing to ask,’ continued PC Martin.
‘Yes?’
‘We will need someone to identify your husband’s body.’
‘Oh, God,’ said Maureen. ‘Hubert has a brother Graham. Does he know yet about Hubert?’
‘We haven’t had chance to contact him yet. Do you have his phone number?’
‘Yes, of course. No, wait, I think I’d better phone him.’
‘If you prefer, madam but if you have his details that would be useful.’
‘I’ll go and fetch my address book,’ said Maureen getting up slowly.
Whilst she was out of the room, PC Billings scanned the room with admiration. There was no doubting this was an impressive house. Tastefully furnished but not ostentatious.
Maureen offered the book opened at the appropriate page to PC Martin who noted down Graham’s address and phone number.
‘I think I’ll offer to accompany Graham at the identification, if that’s OK with you?’
‘That will be fine. There’s no rush.’ He gave her a card. ‘When you are feeling better, give this number a call and we can make arrangements.’
‘Thank you.’
The police rose and Maureen showed them out. Slowly she walked back to the lounge, slumped down on the sofa and wept.
