Jessica
I wake up with a crick in my neck. Note to self: sleeping in the bath is not recommended. I take a few moments to surface before I realise what disturbed me. Someone is banging on the door.
‘One moment!’ I clamber out and drop my phone in the process. ‘Bugger.’ That’s probably done for the already spiderwebbed screen – and just when I thought I was getting a handle on Emma. I release the door catch. It’s the sort that can be undone from the outside in case I’m in here slitting my wrists, but I gather they’re not that worried about me yet because no one has broken in.
I find Drew on the other side.
‘Drew!’ I burrow into him as he gives me a tight hug. He’s looking a bit rough, beard untrimmed. I’m always teasing him: why have a beard if you still have to use a razor to shape it each day? But it shows that he’s been as good as his word, coming straight here as soon as he could.
‘They wouldn’t let me in at first,’ he explains.
‘What?’
‘It’s 9.30. I’m sorry I’m late.’
I frame his face in my hands. ‘I was out like a light. I didn’t finish reading until about four when my phone went “phut!” I hadn’t noticed the time.’
‘Phut? That’s a technical term, is it?’ He cups my chin tenderly. ‘You look like hell.’
‘Oh God, really?’ I go back into the bathroom. I didn’t take my makeup off last night and my face is indeed grim, mascara halfway down my cheeks. I’m wearing a borrowed white knee-length nightshirt that makes me resemble a mental patient escaped from a Victorian asylum. ‘Don’t look for a moment.’
He smiles and carries on watching as I wash my face. ‘I know what you really look like, Jess. You don’t have to hide.’
Oh, but I do. ‘It’s not hiding; it’s called salvaging my pride.’
He holds out a bag. ‘Will these help? I’ve packed some of your clothes.’
‘You are an angel.’ I grab the bag and shut the door.
‘Spoilsport.’
‘You’ll survive the deprivation.’
I come out feeling several degrees more human.
‘There you are.’ Drew kisses me and I know he means more than just acknowledging my return. He is saying I look like I’m back to my old self. ‘Feeling OK now? You sound OK. I was expecting you to be in more of a state.’
‘Yes, much better.’ I shudder at the memories. ‘God, it was so embarrassing. I had a complete collapse in front of Lizzy and Michael.’
‘You said you saw something?’
‘Let’s not talk about it. I haven’t seen anything odd since – unless you count your face.’
‘Hey, you.’ He tweaks my nose.
‘Charles thinks it was the pills playing tricks.’ It’s a relief to find something to blame. Can I find them responsible for my shitty choices too?
Drew sits on my bed, head resting against the padded headboard. I snuggle beside him. ‘Well, if he gets you off those, then maybe last night wasn’t such a bad thing?’
‘Maybe.’ I play with the cords on his hoodie. I don’t want to admit that I’m itching for my usual morning dose of Ritalin. Some people can’t move without a shot of caffeine; I can’t get my brain in gear without my tablet. But I’m going to have to learn how to live without. I can’t go around seeing things that aren’t there.
‘So you fell asleep in your bath nest?’
‘I’d be lying if I said it was comfortable but it was what I needed at the time. Oh, and I read something really interesting before my phone gave out.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve been reading Emma’s diary – I took photos of it. The real one is with the police.’
‘Jess, you have to be the nosiest person ever.’
‘And your point is? Do you want to know what I found out or not?’
‘Go on then. You’re going to tell me anyway.’ He closes his eyes, pretending he is listening only on sufferance.
‘I think Jacob was Kaitlin’s real dad. Emma told Michael that Jacob wasn’t the father, but there’s one entry where she seems to admit that he is, though she never mentions his name directly. Who else could it be though – she’s hardly having a fling with two blokes at once, is she?’ I’m the only slut doing that. ‘It’s weird – it’s like she already hated Jacob long before they split up.’ I’m getting into the story now. ‘They’re living in this cottage in the woods, right? And she pretends she’s all save-the-whale for him but she really isn’t. She gets very sneery then very angry about his lifestyle. It doesn’t make sense. I can understand pretending to be something a man wants if you’re already head-over-heels in love, but not when you despise him. So, do you know what I think?’ I get up on my knees.
‘What, Jess?’ Drew is smiling at my eager expression.
‘I think she was like a spy or something, living a double life.’
‘A spy?’ Drew quirks a brow. ‘The name’s… What was her surname?’
‘She took Michael’s.’
‘The name’s Harrison, Emma Harrison. Nope, it doesn’t work.’
‘I’m being serious.’
‘People don’t go having children as part of spy cover. That is very uncool. James Bond with a nappy bag: see? Not happening.’
‘But what if someone did? What then? Wouldn’t that mean you’d never want to see the father again once your mission was over, because you weren’t who you said you were when you were with him?’
‘Jess, I know you think you know her because you’re reading her diary, but people just don’t do that kind of thing. It’s illegal.’
‘No, look, I’m not bullshitting you. I already knew that she was a police officer – that’s how she met Michael – at one of his Hendon gigs.’
‘She was in the police? I didn’t know that.’
Things are falling into place in my head, like I’ve just fed in the right ten pence to start the coin waterfall tumbling into the slot. Jackpot. ‘That’s the answer! It’s been staring me in the face all the time. The photo in the frame that Jacob took – that was Emma at her graduation, or passing-out parade, or whatever they call it when they qualify for the Metropolitan Police. She’s in uniform.’
‘Jessica, no one would sanction an undercover policewoman having a child with a target.’
‘I’m not saying anyone did. There’ve been cases when officers go against the regulations, dating people to get under the surface of an organisation. If it’s a woman doing the romancing, well, stuff happens – you get knocked up because you have food poisoning, not because you do it deliberately.’
‘Why go through with it?’
‘Because she was Catholic – she was in a moral fix but thought it better to go through with the pregnancy.’ I take a breath, reviewing what I think I’ve discovered. ‘It’s all so bizarre, isn’t it – the lengths the undercover police went to then? Do you remember how, back in the Noughties, they were in a panic about animal extremists and sent people in to monitor groups?’
Drew nods. ‘Yes, I remember. It’s all a bit close to home. I went on some marches myself but steered clear of the loony brigade.’
‘Of course you did, you guerrilla gardener, you.’ I pat his cheek. ‘They seem oddly innocent, compared to today’s terrorists.’
‘Not if you were a scientist and had a bomb sent to you through the post.’
‘True. So, back to my boss. What if Jacob hadn’t suspected Emma was the Fuzz and the first time he realises it is when he sees that photo? Just imagine: it would be like everything he thought about her – their relationship, the child – was all make-believe. What would he want to do then? He’s going to be so angry. She’s left him off the birth certificate so he’d find it next to impossible to trace Kaitlin – Michael would prefer to punch him than tell him anything – and maybe it was always Emma that Jacob wanted rather than the kid? But the real bummer is that he can’t hurt Emma because she’s dead, so he kills himself as a kind of desperate revenge, hoping to take Michael down with him if he can stage it right.’
‘I don’t know, Jessica, it all sounds… way out there.’
‘Read the diary. You’ll see what I mean. Michael needs to tell the police who Emma really was. It’ll go a long way to clearing him. And, he’s got to come clean as to what happened to Kaitlin. Where the heck is she, by the way? God, poor Jacob.’
Drew pulls me back to rest beside him before I shoot off across the room like a ball in a pinball machine. ‘But the detectives have the diary, you said. They’re not going to be so slow at reading it. Maybe they already know?’
I’m pretty buzzed by my new theory. It explains so much about the odd dynamic between Jacob and Emma. But how can I confirm it? I suppose I can ask Michael right out but he’s always been very secretive about his wife and I’m guessing that won’t go well. What I really want to do is get hold of the diary and read it right from the beginning, not try to squint my way through the poor photos I took.
‘Jessica, your pulse is a little elevated,’ says Charles as he takes a set of morning vitals. ‘I suggest you stay on bedrest for twenty-four hours and we’ll reassess tomorrow.’
‘I’ll make sure she rests at home.’ Drew has stood his ground and refused Charles’ polite attempts to have him evicted from the room.
‘Mr Payne, I don’t think you understand how serious Jessica’s condition was last night.’
‘Don’t tell me what I understand, Doctor.’ Drew is so sexy when he’s stern. I’ve not seen him like this before. ‘Is there anything you are going to do for her that I can’t?’
‘Care for a patient like Jessica,’ says Charles pompously, ‘takes more than a single person. Her body has become used to the tablets. Coming off them, she’ll have mood swings, restlessness, cravings, she might even try to find a new source for her tablets.’
‘She is actually right here,’ I mutter.
‘My parents are willing to help,’ counters Drew. ‘I live over the family workplace so they are on hand all day.’
‘I suppose you mean your firm of funeral directors?’ Charles looks amused.
‘What’s so funny about that?’
‘Nothing funny at all. It’s just that someone… it doesn’t matter.’
‘He and Michael don’t get along,’ I slip in, understanding where Charles is coming from on this. ‘He’s got some funny ideas about Drew.’
Charles continues to address Drew. He would be much less of an old fart if he actually joined the twenty-first-century gender-equality movement. ‘I’ll need to see Jessica to continue her cognitive behavioural therapy.’
‘Not at the weekend though,’ points out Drew.
‘True.’ Charles walks to the window. He shoves a hand through his hair, an artfully swept-back pepper-and-salt cut to make him look as much like George Clooney as he can. Dream on, Charles. ‘Michael won’t be happy when he was all ready to get out the cheque book for her, but I think Jessica might actually do better with you. I noticed she doesn’t sleep well here.’ So my bath nest has not gone unremarked by the staff. ‘OK, Jessica, if you’re happy with that, I’m content for you to go home with Mr Payne here. But you have to keep off the tablets – no sneaking them behind his back to give yourself a little lift. Like with an alcohol addiction, you have to stop completely. No falling off the wagon.’
‘Are you saying I’m addicted to the amphetamines, Charles?’
‘Of course. Didn’t you realise?’
‘But you gave them to me.’
‘And you took them as instructed?’
Got me there. ‘Not exactly.’
‘And you wouldn’t be the first to abuse prescription medication. Try life without them for a while, Jessica. Let’s see who you can become with non-medical interventions.’
On the moped heading back to London, Drew calls back to me, ‘You know, Charles doesn’t suck as much as I expected.’
‘Why? Did you think he was plotting my downfall with Michael?’
He shrugs. ‘He might’ve been.’
‘I never thought he was out to get me, just that he didn’t listen to me.’
‘He seemed very reasonable today. He listened to me.’
‘Yeah, but you have something that I don’t have.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A Y-chromosome.’