CHAPTER 2
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
‘Do you want a flake, sweetheart?’ Matthew Hill holds out a five-pound note to the ice-cream seller as his daughter Amelie frowns. It’s a simple enough question but Matthew’s learned that nothing in life is simple with a child of Amelie’s disposition. She tilts her head as if world peace is on the line.
‘Quick, quick, lovely. Chocolate flake – yes? There are lots of people waiting.’ The ice-cream van’s on the high street and Matthew is shocked by the queue behind him and the crowds in general. He’d quite forgotten it’s graduation season. Would never have come into the centre of Maidstead if he’d remembered.
Amelie is off nursery with a stomach ache that miraculously disappeared once a stay at home was confirmed. She’s starting proper school soon and they wonder if that’s worrying her. She used to love nursery so Matthew and Sally are ‘going with the flow’， hoping it’s not to be a new fad.
Amelie’s good at fads.
‘Yes to the flake,’ Sal adds suddenly. ‘I’ll have it if she doesn’t want it.’
And then, just as the man takes the money, there’s suddenly shouting and some kind of commotion off to their right.
‘Run. Run.’ A male voice, loud and desperate, from the midst of a small group running from the narrow street that leads to the cathedral. ‘There’s a gunman. There’s a gunman in the cathedral.’
The speed of the ensuing panic is extraordinary. Very soon there’s a lot of screaming. More people are running from the alleyway. People on the high street start running too. Matthew feels the familiar shot of adrenaline as he turns to grasp Sally by the shoulders.
‘Right. You need to take Amelie out of the city centre. Fast as you can. Jog so you don’t fall. Go to the Asda car park on the outskirts. I’ll meet you there.’
The look of horror on Sally’s face is like a physical blow. ‘You’re not coming?’
‘I’ll be right behind you. I just need to see if I can help first.’
‘No, Matthew, no. You come with us. You come with us now.’
‘There’s no time, Sally. Just go. I’ll follow you, I promise. Soon as I can.’
A terrible expression sweeps across his wife’s face. He can’t quite read it and just watches as she pauses for a beat before grabbing Amelie’s hand and starting to flee. He stares at their backs – Amelie crying over the lost ice cream – as Sally scoops their daughter on to her hip and jogs just as he instructed. A strong and steady pace down the high street.
Then Matthew turns to push against the tide of people running away from the cathedral.
As he forges forward, he puts his phone up to his ear and speed dials the only person he can think of. He prays for the sound of sirens. Prays that he won’t be needed after all.
DI Melanie Sanders picks up immediately. ‘What is it, Matt? Emergency here.’
‘I’m on Maidstead High Street. People screaming there’s a gunman in the cathedral.’
‘That’s my emergency. What are you doing there?’
‘Never mind. I’m not hearing sirens yet . . . Why no sirens?’
‘Traffic. They’re on their way but it’ll be a few minutes, Matt. I just got the call. I’m on my way too.’
‘And armed support? What’s the ETA for armed support, Mel?’
A pause.
‘How long Mel?’
‘Ten minutes minimum.’
Matthew increases his pace. As he reaches the green in front of the cathedral, there is the shock of a crush outside the main door. Some people are running away but others are standing still, faces terrified, calling out the names of loved ones.
‘Move away from the doors,’ he shouts. ‘Everyone away from the doors.’ He presses the phone back to his ear. ‘I’ll do what I can, Mel. But it’s chaos here.’
‘Not on your own, Matt . . .’
He hangs up and runs around the west side of the cathedral, avoiding the throng.
There’s a man in a high-vis jacket – some kind of usher or maybe security – looking completely overwhelmed, standing by temporary fencing, designed presumably to keep the graduation visitors to the front lawn, but which is now making the crisis worse – restricting the flow of people.
‘Get these fences down now so we can get everyone away faster.’ Matthew kicks one of the temporary barriers over by way of demonstration. The man in the yellow jacket copies him. As the fence is reduced – crash after crash after crash – people start to step and leap over the barriers, which slowly improves the flow.