Matthew lets out a long, slow breath. Truth is he would prefer not to face Maidstead Cathedral again. There’s been an urgent conference call – the university, the police and the local MP. It’s going ahead and Mel needs him there. There have been terse messages from Amanda, who had the hump for being kept out of the loop over Sam’s ID earlier. She’s clearly under pressure today too. He remembers that she was among those who wanted the final graduation cancelled right at the start of this. She looked tired on the news earlier, issuing a statement paying tribute to Sam’s service to the university. It’s a terrible shock and loss. There will be a commemoration in due course, but the family don’t want the students let down; they’ve worked so hard. They want them to graduate today.
Matthew can’t think of anything worse than having to deal with the media all the time. What a job.
There was a moment when Matthew was sure the university would cancel. But the police hierarchy are in overdrive, issuing reassurances after the arrests to keep the tourism chiefs happy.
Meantime the poor Hartleys are having it tough. Today was always going to bring the media out in droves even before Sam’s death. Rachel and Ed have had notes through the door at home. Messages on social media, begging for interviews.
One journalist even turned up at the hospital, pretending to be a relative. Mel’s livid. I want that reporter arrested. Given a scare . . . She was trying to breach security in a serious investigation. I’ve had enough.
‘If you have to go to the cathedral, you’ll wear your protective vest, Matthew? Like you promised.’ Sally’s voice again.
‘Sal, I told you. It’s over. You can stop worrying, love.’ Matthew glances at his boot. He never told Sally or Mel that he gave Wendy his vest when they arrested Laura earlier. ‘They’re all in custody. We just need to figure out which one now, find the gun and build a watertight case.’
‘They haven’t found the gun yet?’
Matthew shuts his eyes. ‘Please don’t stress. It’s not unusual. Probably in a river or a bin somewhere. We’ll find it.’
‘Yeah, but you know me. I keep thinking what happened last time. Better safe than sorry. Wear your vest? Please?’
He doesn’t answer.
Matthew checks his watch. ‘Look. I’m sorry darling but I need to go.’ His gaze is again drawn to the woman who’s now kicking the ticket machine in frustration.
‘So where are you now?’
‘At the hospital. Mel’s asked me to quickly check in with the Hartleys before I go to the cathedral. Courtesy update. They’ve been having a lot of hassle with the media. I’ll ring you later. How’s our lovely girl, by the way?’
‘Painting seagulls. She’s fine. You coming down for us soon?’
‘Absolutely. As soon as I know how the interviews are shaping up. Look. I’d better go. Love you.’
‘You too.’
Matthew rolls his lips together, surprised at how dry they feel. An hour and a bit until the cathedral service starts. So tight. For just a moment he thinks back to that awful day. Everyone running and screaming. Sally’s face when he turned in the opposite direction. Gemma on the floor of the cathedral . . .
All those terrified students. Ice cream. Ice cream.
He can’t quite believe that was just nine days ago. He takes a deep breath and is just about to head to the machine himself when his mobile rings. He expects Mel again – but it’s an unknown number.
‘Is that Matthew Hill?’
‘I’m sorry but I can hardly hear you.’
‘Sorry. Satellite phone. Borrowed from a journalist. I’m Molly Price, the university HR. I’m still on Meltona.’
The hurricane. He’d forgotten about that. They’ve had no luck reaching her all week.
There’s terrible crackling on the line.
‘I’m sorry. Can you speak up?’ Matthew tries to adjust the volume through more interference.
And then the line goes dead.
CHAPTER 63
THE MOTHER
Ed’s gone for a quick shower to freshen up before all the coverage of the ceremony. He’s using the relatives’ room on the floor below. Shouldn’t be long.
I’m glad actually as I want to go through the laptop some more. I can’t bear this feeling of helplessness. Just sitting here, waiting for the cathedral to be on the news again. I honestly can’t decide what will be worse. To watch it. Or not watch it.
I try a few more essay titles. Chaucer. Shakespeare. All real. Pages and pages of it with links to research notes. And then at last I find something new. Just the title – Poetry. No essay question. I click open the file.