JEN
I can’t bring myself to ask Bex to help me deal with Laurence. This is something I’m going to have to do by myself. However, I’m pleased I did ask her about whether she knew Daniel Oliver. At least I can put that out of my mind now. But I’m still annoyed with myself for allowing Penelope to inveigle her way back into my life.
I should never have accepted the offer of her house as a base for the interviews. I was in danger of compromising myself. Not only are Penelope’s methods seriously off the wall, but her suggestions about Bex make me wonder whether she’s beginning to lose it. Since I left her house after the interview sessions she’s sent me nearly twenty messages, all of which I’ve deleted without opening. As I begin to transcribe the interviews I let her calls go straight to voicemail. I can’t be bothered to listen to the messages she leaves. When my phone rings I expect it to be her and I almost don’t look, but it’s Jamie Blackwood.
‘Jen – can you talk?’
‘Hi Jamie – is there something wrong?’
‘Are you alone?’
It’s late at night. Bex is at the 24-hour gym. Exercise, she always says, is the best thing to get rid of stress, anxiety, and anger. As she left the flat, leggings and trainers paired with a big parka, she told me that she felt she needed to hit something. I’d joked about how a punchbag would have to serve as a substitute for Laurence.
‘Yes, why?’ I ask Jamie.
‘Listen – this is going to sound a bit … weird. But Penelope’s really worried about you and—’
‘Don’t talk to me about Penelope. You don’t need to know the details, but she’s proving to be a bit of a pain at the moment.’
‘She asked me to check on you just to make sure you’re okay.’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit knackered, but apart from that—’
‘She thinks you might be about to do … something.’
‘Such as what?’
‘Something drastic. That’s what she said. She’s really worried about you. She says she’s tried to call you, she’s sent you some emails.’
‘Sorry that you had to get dragged into this Jamie, but to be honest it’s a load of shit.’
There’s a pause on the line and I can hear him breathing. ‘Jen, you may not like what I’m going to say, but Penelope has shared with me some of the information she’s gathered – she didn’t know what else to do – and there may be something in it.’
‘What?’
‘Look – if you want an objective opinion, I think you should take her concerns seriously.’
I can feel the rush of blood to my head, the sudden breathlessness that accompanies the onset of anger. ‘I don’t know what she’s told you, but—’
‘It’s about your friend, Rebecca – I think you call her Bex. I don’t know the background, but Penelope showed me some stuff. And some of it … well, it’s worrying. Just promise me one thing – if I send it over to you, will you take a look at it? That’s all I’m asking. That’s all that Penelope wants.’
‘Anything to shut her up,’ I say wearily. ‘But really, it will turn out to be nonsense.’
We chat a little more about that day’s interviews before we end the call. A few seconds later an email pings into my inbox. It’s a scan of an old newspaper cutting from the East Anglian Daily Times, dated 28 April 1990.
VALENTINE’S DAY MURDER–SUICIDE
A Colchester woman in an abusive relationship killed her violent husband and then herself.
Amanda Paterson, 34, cut the throat of her husband, Brian, 38, before killing herself. The couple, who lived in Maplestead Close, Colchester, was found dead by the police on 15 February this year. It’s thought the incident occurred the day before, on 14 February – Valentine’s Day.
The inquest in Colchester today heard evidence from pathologist Dr Bruce Robinson, who said that mother-of-one, Amanda, suffered severe burns to her hand during the incident. A frying pan was found by the bodies, which were discovered in the kitchen at the couple’s semi-detached home, and it was suggested that Brian Paterson held his wife’s hand down in the hot fat for some time before Amanda could take no more. Police said that it’s likely that this was the factor that drove Amanda to pick up a kitchen knife and murder her husband, a local painter and decorator. After slashing his throat, she then used the same knife to kill herself.
Neighbours submitted evidence to the inquest to say that they were worried that Amanda was a victim of domestic abuse. ‘It was difficult because although we suspected all was not well within the house, Mandy didn’t want to alert the authorities,’ confessed one concerned neighbour who did not want to be named. ‘I wish now I’d said something – if I had, perhaps things would have turned out differently.’
Neighbours say that the dead couple are survived by a young daughter, Rebecca, 13, who was at the house at the time of the incident, but was uninjured. She has since been placed with a foster family.
The name, Rebecca, sears itself into my consciousness. That, and the fact that the murder–suicide occurred on Valentine’s Day. I feel a wave of nausea work its way up from my stomach, but I force myself to swallow it down. The text begins to blur and swim across the screen. This can’t be happening. I tell myself that it’s the wrong surname. This is about a Mr and Mrs Paterson. Bex’s last name is Shaw. But then I realise that she could have taken the name of the family she went on to live with. I look at the date of the newspaper – 28 April 1990 – and the age of the young daughter left behind, thirteen. If she was alive today that would make her forty-two – the same age as Bex.