‘What do you want?’
‘Drop the charges.’
‘Nope.’
‘But—’
‘Freedom of speech – I had every right to go to the newspaper.’
I stared into his shifty eyes and down at the too-tight chinos digging into his doughy midriff and I hated him. He’s a bottom-feeder, desperate for attention; he sold his story to make himself feel important.
‘I’m not talking about this anymore,’ he said. ‘Leave, before I call the police myself.’
And with that, he slammed the door in my face.
All the day’s frustrations built and built until I felt like a kettle coming to the boil. I wanted to pound on his door or kick it in. Curling my hands into fists, I turned and jogged back down the path, through the gate and into my car. My life was in tatters, scattered all around me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pick up any of the pieces.
Tapping on my car window made me jump. A young woman I vaguely recognised, with red hair and an elfin nose, was crouching beside my door. I rolled my window down.
‘You Elodie’s sister?’
I nodded. ‘And you are …’
‘Hannah. I worked with Elodie.’ She looked back towards Richard’s house. It took me a second to realise that’s where she’d just come from, wrapped in a bathrobe. She lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t always get on with her.’
‘Neither did I.’
She smiled. ‘But I’m sorry about what’s happened to her. Sorry for your family too.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s my fault she was fired.’
‘Doesn’t matter now.’
She lingered, biting her bottom lip like she wanted to say more.
‘Yes?’ I prompted.
She sighed. ‘Months ago, Elodie mentioned a customer was following her. I laughed, joked about how all the boys love Elodie Fray and told her to get over it. I should’ve made her go to the police. When I saw David’s face on the news, I recognised him instantly.’
‘Hannah—’
‘Rich shouldn’t have accused your dad of hurting Elodie. It wasn’t him. I’ll make sure he drops the charges.’
I blinked in surprise. ‘Thank you.’
She nodded, then turned and started hurrying towards the house. Impulsively, I leaned out the window and called softly, ‘You can do better.’
Hand on the gate she replied, ‘I know.’
Later, I got the call to pick Dad up. Christopher was waiting for me in the police station car park.
‘Martin’s inside,’ he said before I could ask. ‘I just wanted to come and see you before you took him home. How did you get Richard to drop the charges?’ He looked at me in a way I realised my husband never has: with admiration and respect. As an equal.
‘I didn’t. It was Elodie’s co-worker, Hannah, said she’d talk to Richard.’
‘But if you hadn’t got the ball rolling …’
I shrugged, feeling awkward.
‘I don’t condone what your dad did,’ he said gravely, and I felt a twinge of shame because Dad is a good man, I don’t want anyone to think of him as a violent drunk. Christopher leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘But, off the record, I saw the footage from some bystanders and it’s a shame Martin didn’t break Richard’s nose.’
I laughed. Six weeks ago, if you’d told me I’d be in a police car park, laughing about a coffee shop owner having his bones broken, I’d have thought you were off your rocker.
‘Your dad has got a lot to thank you for,’ he said.
Christopher sees me as this capable, tenacious, bright woman, and not just some childless, trivial little housewife like everyone else does. I’m not sure which version is the correct one, but I know which version I want to be. It’s possible though that Christopher sees me through the same rose-tinted specs you view Jack. The kind that are fixed to your face after years of knowing someone.
‘While you’re going around taking care of everyone else, I hope you’re taking care of yourself too,’ he said. ‘Or that you’ve got someone making sure you do.’
And then something embarrassing happened: hot tears sprang to my eyes. I am usually so collected, but everything is falling apart.
‘God, Ada, I didn’t mean to …’ he trailed off and pulled me into his chest.
‘I’m fine,’ I said.
His smell was so familiar and brought with it a thousand teenage memories: Christopher and I driving around the countryside on a hot summer’s night with the windows down and the music up; panting breaths and fumbling hands beneath the sheets in my old room. Back then I was so young and carefree and invincible. In every one of those memories, in the background, you were safe and alive and waiting at home for me with Mum and Dad.