‘There will be proper paperwork. A contract. Invoices and all that jazz. I can get HR to sort it all out, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
It isn’t that he’s worried about. It’s Sally he’s worried about. Also Amelie’s nightmares and her reluctance to go to nursery. Will working with Mel make this all worse for his family? Or better?
‘I need to think about it. And talk to Sal. You know how upset she was after the cathedral.’
‘Right. Yes. Of course.’ She’s staring at him. Her pale face is strained which he now realises is pure exhaustion. ‘Look, Matt. I’m going to the university next to speak to the chancellor. We’ve liaised by phone but she wants face to face to make a decision fast about the final graduation ceremony this Friday. The press want to know what’s happening. I’m not going to lie to you, I’m feeling the pressure and I’m worried about making the wrong call. I can’t win. If we cancel, we’re admitting we can’t keep people safe. If we go ahead and anything happens . . .’ She takes in a deep breath. ‘Will you come with me? Sit in on this meeting and the interview with Ed Hartley afterwards. Tell me what you think?’
‘And how will you explain me tagging along?’
‘I’ll think of something. Please say yes, Matt. Sit in with me today, see how you feel, and give me your decision about a more formal arrangement tomorrow. How does that sound?’
‘But don’t you need approval for this, Mel? I thought the National Crime Agency supplied their own experts?’
‘We’re short on numbers, as well you know. It’s pretty hand to mouth out there; they’re hiring retired detectives all over the country.’
‘But I’m not retired.’
‘Ex-job. Same thing. This will be up to me, Matt. Please say you’ll at least consider it? I’m up against the clock here.’
‘OK. I’ll do today. See how we go.’ He downs the rest of his coffee, trying once again to put a label on the feeling in his stomach.
Is it excitement? Or is it a warning? A signal that putting himself in the firing line one more time might just be pushing his luck too far.
CHAPTER 14
THE MOTHER
I glance across Gemma’s bed at Ed. He’s pretending to read his book but hasn’t turned a page in ages. He arrived late this morning and looks tired. Snappy too.
Look – things just took longer than I thought, Rachel. It’s not easy you know, juggling everything.
I don’t rise to it. Does Ed really think Gemma wants to hear conflict? But it feels awkward sitting in silence today, both of us pretending to read. I know from his expression that there’s something very wrong.
Beyond the obvious, I mean.
For myself, I keep daydreaming; thinking about that little moment with DI Sanders and how I wanted to tell her about the odd woman who turned up not once, not twice, but three times this past month. I can’t honestly believe that some strange woman is going to have anything to do with all of this but I still feel guilty for not mentioning it. The problem is my mind goes round and round in circles. If I tell the police about the woman, I will have to tell them what I did afterwards about it and I don’t want Ed to find out.
I look across at my husband again. Make no mistake, Ed is a good man and a good father. I love him very much and I would say that we have a good marriage, but what is it really – a good marriage? Is it strong enough to survive what’s happening to Gemma? Is it strong enough to survive what I did over that stupid woman?
Is it strong enough to survive the fact that I don’t always tell the truth? Can’t. Won’t.
Certainly there’s sometimes this odd space between Ed and me which I can’t quite explain. When we first met, he said he’d been hurt badly in the past but he wouldn’t talk about it. Boy – if anyone can understand not wanting to talk about something from the past, it’s me. I didn’t push him and he didn’t push me. I just assumed it was classic commitment phobia. A guy making excuses. He lived in Canada for a bit and said a business venture had gone pear-shaped there; he didn’t like to talk about it because it made him feel a failure. He wanted a clean slate. A fresh start.
I remember feeling this extraordinary bubble of hope because that was exactly what I wanted too. A clean slate. A fresh start . . .
It was as if we were made for each other. Anyway, I was wrong about the commitment phobia because he’s the loveliest and most loyal of men. We did get married, we made a good life and, most of the time, we’re very happy together.