17
Elise
“Me and Stephanie? You really are insane.” Andrew looks at me, aghast. Then when he speaks, his voice is patronizing. “You need to go back to the specialist, Elise. Maybe there’s something he can give you.”
It takes all my strength to hold his gaze. I won’t let him get to me. It’s bad enough to put a face to the woman Andrew’s been screwing. To know that I tried to befriend her, to know that she’s now dead after taking an overdose. But with each passing second, much more is becoming clear in my brain. “But it got complicated, didn’t it, because Hollie found out.”
Instead of frowning, blustering his way out of it, he shakes his head. “This is ridiculous, Elise. Yes, I’ve been seeing someone. But we both know that. It isn’t a secret. Hardly surprising when you’re so cold toward me.”
Andrew’s done this before, twisting the truth, making his behavior my responsibility. His audacity is breathtaking.
“I’m not in the habit of sleeping with men who shag around,” I say curtly, trying to keep him focused, adding, “We’re talking about Stephanie, Andrew, not me. She’s the reason Hollie got in contact with you. She found out you were having an affair with Stephanie. She even told Niamh she’d found out something about her father.” I’ve had enough of his way of twisting the truth. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Shaking his head, Andrew’s silent for a moment. “I don’t know how she found out. But there was more to it. I don’t know how she got my number. I suppose Niamh must have given it to her. She came to the surgery.” When he sighs heavily, I frown. It’s a change from his usual heavy-handed, domineering way. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. Now and then, a teenage girl gets a crush. Don’t make one of your facile comments,” he says sharply, so I force myself to stay silent. “It’s a quirk of human nature. Usually girls seeking a father figure. Anyway, Hollie made an appointment to see me. She said she had a lump in one of her breasts. I told her I’d ask a chaperone to come in, but she said she didn’t want anyone else in with us. Said she was shy...” A cynical laugh comes from him. “Let me tell you, there was nothing shy about what she did. After telling me to stay away from her stepmother, she made a hell of a fuss—accused me of touching her inappropriately. She even wrote a letter to the practice manager. Of course, they knew nothing had happened. But even so, it was hugely embarrassing.”
Damaging to his professional image, too. The phrase no smoke without fire comes to mind, because something doesn’t ring true. “So, why do you think she did it? Why did she want to set you up?”
“I didn’t reciprocate her crush,” he says crisply. “You and I both know, Hollie was a mess. She was all over the place. It was probably she who slashed my tires...” He shakes his head. “I have to say I’m quite glad that Niamh is free of her.” He sounds critical, dismissive of Hollie’s suffering, as he glances at the cupboard. “Bloody stupid, throwing away that Scotch.”
For a moment I’m staggered that he can switch from talking about Hollie to his Scotch, without drawing breath. “You’re missing the point, Andrew,” I say acidly. “Maybe she knew about you and Stephanie and she was looking for a way to get back at you.” I shake my head. If I knew Hollie at all, she would have wanted to protect her father. “Frankly, you deserve far worse.” I pause, before breaking our unspoken agreement. “How long had you been seeing each other?”
Picking up his jacket, he walks out. Seconds later, when I hear his car start, I know we’ve crossed a line. But as I sit in the silence of the kitchen, I know life is too short to spend in an atmosphere of intimidation and fear; I’ve wasted enough years without love. Even though Andrew will do his damnedest to force me to stay here, the time has come to do something, not just for Niamh’s sake, but for mine, too.
* * *
The day after Stephanie’s death, I receive another visit from the police. It’s a sunny morning when DS May and Sergeant Collins arrive. I’m taking advantage of the fine weather, pruning back last year’s growth on the roses that ramble along the wall, enjoying a peace that’s long been absent from my life. As DS May walks across the garden toward me, I pull off my gardening gloves.
“I’m sorry for turning up like this.” DS May looks apologetic. “Do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you about Stephanie Hampton.”
“Will it take long?” I glance at my watch. “It’s just that I have an appointment in an hour’s time.”
“If we can run through a couple of things, it would be helpful.” When DS May doesn’t offer to come back another time, my heart sinks.
I nod. “You’d better come in.”
At the back door, I pull off my boots and leave them outside. The kitchen isn’t as tidy as it usually is—un-ironed clothes piled on the table, this morning’s breakfast dishes yet to be cleared. “I’m a bit behind. But do sit down.” I move the pile of washing onto the sofa, stacking the remaining plates and carrying them over to the sink, before joining the two policewomen at the kitchen table.
DS May’s notebook is already open. “Mrs. Hampton did call us. She confirmed what you’d already told us. It must have been shortly before she took an overdose, because by the time we got there, she was unconscious. But as you were one of the last people to see her, I wanted to ask how she seemed to you.”
“Stephanie?” I blink at her. It seems weeks, not days ago, that I saw her. “She was grieving for Hollie and worried about James.”
“Was there anything she said that suggested she was thinking of killing herself?”
I sigh. “She told me that after she’d spoken to you, she was going away. Somewhere far away from here—I think that’s what she said.”
DS May frowns at me. “She didn’t imply anything more sinister?”
“No. At the time, she really didn’t. Of course, now...” I look up at DS May. “It’s easy to interpret her words completely differently. I was on a flight to Rome the day she died. When I got there, I was thinking of her—how she could have got on a flight to anywhere—started a new life, rather than taking an overdose. Then I checked my phone and found a message from Andrew, telling me she’d died.”
“Your husband was her doctor.”
I nod. “Yes. To be honest, he’s doctor to half the village.” Then I look at her more closely, suddenly suspicious. “Why do you ask?”
As DS May’s eyes meet Sergeant Collins’s, I’m uncomfortable. Somehow, they know about Andrew and Stephanie. Folding my arms, I sit back, watching them. “Go on.”
“This is awkward.” DS May looks uncomfortable. “We have information suggesting that your husband and Mrs. Hampton were intimate.”
I feel another layer of dignity stripped away. I shrug, wondering how she knows. “So it would seem.”
“You knew?” She looks surprised.
“I only found out yesterday. After Stephanie had died.” When they look surprised, I add, “Oh, I knew he was having an affair—just not who with. Andrew’s had several affairs. I tolerate them.”
DS May’s face is blank. “Plenty of women turn a blind eye to their husband’s infidelity. But considering Mrs. Hampton had confided in you, you must have been shocked.”
I think back to how she came here, then what Stephanie said, the last time I saw her, just before I walked out of her shop. In the light of what I know now, it makes more sense. “She told me I didn’t know how lucky I was.” I shake my head. “I think she loved James, but he’d screwed things up between them. Maybe she needed someone more solid—like her good old, reliable doctor.” Even I can’t believe I’m defending the woman who was sleeping with my husband.
DS May looks at me oddly. “You were OK with that?”
“Absolutely not. Don’t try to understand my marriage, Detective Sergeant. It really doesn’t bear scrutiny. I’m here for one reason only. My daughter.”
“Why don’t you leave him?” She makes no attempt to hide the genuine curiosity in her eyes. “You’re an independent woman. If you separated, half the proceeds from selling this house would buy you a lovely cottage, even around here. Children are often better off with divorced parents than stuck in the middle of a war zone.”
“This house is not a war zone.” My response is too sharp. “Anyway, Andrew would destroy me.” Watching their faces, I try to explain. “He likes the image. This house.” I gesture around the large proportions of the kitchen. “His daughter, the private school she goes to... The fact that we’re together, when so many marriages flounder. Status is important to Andrew. He’s a doctor. It’s important that his patients believe in him.” It’s about control, too, but I don’t tell them that. I have to bide my time before I reveal the truth about Andrew. From their expressions, I know I’ve painted enough of a picture for them to understand how he is. Then I add carefully, “None of us know how it is to be someone else. I don’t think any of us should judge.” I’m thinking of Stephanie, obviously, but myself, too. Still watching them, I lean back in my chair again. Then I catch sight of the clock. In a hurry, I get to my feet. “I’m sorry, but if there isn’t anything else, I have an appointment I need to get to.”
I wait for them to ask me where I’m going, but they don’t. As they drive away and I tidy the kitchen, then get ready to go out, it seems no coincidence that the blue skies of earlier are clouding over, the sunlight gone. A minute later, rain starts to fall.