The Nurse(11)

‘Is there someone you can call to come stay with you?’

I looked around to where the two officers were sitting. I’d almost forgotten they were there. The question was gently put and filled with concern, but it hit me hard. Because there wasn’t anyone. My parents had both been only children. My father’s parents had passed away before I was born, my mother’s a couple of years later.

I’d liked to have said I didn’t need anyone, but that would have been a lie. Except, of the people I needed, one was dead, and the other had abandoned me. Grief for my loss was edged with conflicting emotions. Unreasonable anger towards my father – how dare he die and leave us? An aching sadness for my mother who adored him – and rage at her for retreating and leaving me to fend for myself. ‘I can call the neighbours if I need someone,’ I said. I could, but I wouldn’t. ‘I’m sixteen, I’ll be fine alone.’

I could see the officer wanted to say something, could see his lips poised to speak but relaxed when an ambulance pulled up outside. I jumped to my feet. ‘I need to pack some things for my mother.’

Ten minutes later, she was in the ambulance, a hastily packed bag on the floor beside her. ‘I’ll be in to see you as soon as they allow me,’ I said to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. ‘You’ll be better soon and be back home.’ The lie was for her benefit if she heard it. I didn’t believe she’d be home soon; I wasn’t sure she’d be home, ever.

The doctor went with her. ‘I’ll give them your phone number and ask them to ring you as soon as she’s settled.’

‘Thank you.’ And then they were gone.

One of the officers had made more tea and we sat, the three of us, having an uncomfortable tea party. I wanted them to go. Wanted to be on my own so I could howl. But my day of misery wasn’t over yet.

‘We obtained your details from your father’s mobile.’ The teacup rattled on the saucer as he reached to put it down. ‘Do you recognise the name, Olivia Burton?’

The list of our acquaintances wasn’t large. There wasn’t an Olivia Burton among them. ‘No, I don’t, who is she?’

The two men exchanged glances and shifted in their seats. Although, they seemed to be of equal seniority, it was the same officer who had the larger speaking part. ‘If I could get away without telling you what I’m about to say, believe me, I would.’ He shrugged and sighed loudly. ‘Unfortunately, that isn’t possible.’

‘I’m tougher than I look, officer.’ It wasn’t hard. With my short stature and slight physique, I might look like a frail child, but my looks were deceptive… I had killed after all. Not something I could share. ‘Please, just tell me whatever it is.’

‘Olivia Burton is… was… your father’s other wife.’





9





My laughter rang out, startling the two police officers who reared back and then looked at me with an element of fear in their glances. Perhaps they were afraid they were going to have to recall the doctor. They needn’t have worried. My laughter was part disbelief, part instant realisation that my mother and I had been fools, me for sixteen years, her for possibly all the twenty years she’d been married to my father.

My charming, handsome, funny, generous, kind, bigamous father.

Had my mother never been suspicious? I hadn’t, but I was young, tougher than I looked, granted, but I hadn’t seen much of the world, hadn’t yet learned what people were capable of. All those lies my father must have told. The double life he led. It must have been exhausting. No wonder he died so young, the stress of it all.

‘Are you okay?’

I wonder how many times over the coming weeks I’d be asked that particularly stupid question? It was, however, unfair to shoot the messenger. It did explain, of course, why the officers were keen to hang around. ‘I’m fine.’ A stupid answer to their stupid question. I was a long way from fine. ‘Did this woman… Olivia Barton–’

‘Burton,’ he corrected me.

‘Did she know?’

He rubbed a hand over his short hair before answering. ‘No, she didn’t know. They married four years ago; she kept her maiden name.’

Four years ago. ‘My father worked away, a few days every week and alternate weekends, for as long as I can remember, far longer than four years.’ They said nothing. What could they say? That it was possible there had been other women before Olivia. I got to my feet. ‘Thank you.’ I was dismissing them too soon. Dropping back onto the sofa, I wiped a hand over my forehead. I was in this alone and there were things I needed to do. A funeral I needed to arrange for my lying, cheating parent. ‘Where is my father’s body?’

As if afraid I wouldn’t be able to retain the information, on top of all I had already received, the officer took out a notebook and pen and scribbled the information down. ‘You just need to ring an undertaker; they’ll collect your father’s body and follow any instructions you give them.’

Any instructions… I’d obviously succeeded in convincing the officers that I was in control. I didn’t have much choice, of course, my mother had abdicated all responsibility. There was some consolation that in her current state, she wouldn’t know how dreadfully she’d been betrayed. ‘Thank you, and for being kind.’