is wasted, how can it?
Fiona
Chapter Thirty-Five
A hint of early spring brings Brighton to life. As I walk to work, I notice more people running or cycling along the seafront, under clear skies, the sea becoming a chalky blue. When I hear no more from the police, I begin to believe that justice will at last be served and my life can go on as planned.
When I think about the letter that deliberately implicated me, there’s no way of knowing whether it was inspired by a desire to tell the truth or by some other motive. Why name me and not Amy? Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe in their twisted mind, the writer wants the police to question both of us. My stomach turns over as I think about how they already have Amy. How long before they want to question me again?
I try not to dwell on it. After weeks of angst, peace of mind no longer exists. Every street corner, the people I work with, even my flat, are a constant reminder of what I’ve lost. I imagine going away, picture somewhere quiet, where the sun is hot, a place where no-one knows who I am, while I come to terms with losing Matt.
When I hear through the legal grapevine again that Amy’s been charged with Matt’s murder, hatred fills me, then sadness, as I allow myself to grieve for the man I loved. But with clarity comes the sense of a weight starting to lift. That morning, as I walk to work, my mood is brighter, my step lighter than it’s been in months. Thinking about booking a couple of weeks off while I work out a long term plan, my sense of optimism builds. There are times it’s good to step away from what you know. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is one of those moments.
At work, instead of waiting for the lift, I take the stairs to the first floor, but when I pass through the swing doors into the reception area, I’m stopped in my tracks.
‘Ms Rose.’ It’s PC Page, with another uniformed officer I don’t recognise. ‘We’d like you to come with us, please.’
A feeling of foreboding fills me. Then as I stand there, I feel my plans disintegrate, falling like rain. Staying calm, in an attempt to mask it, I smile at her. ‘PC Page. I don’t understand. Surely whatever it is, we can talk about it here? Would you like to come through to my office?’ As I speak, I’m aware of people around us, watching, as a horrifying thought occurs to me. Surely they’re not about to arrest me?
As PC Page frowns, then opens her mouth to speak, I nod. ‘Yes, of course.’ I turn briefly to the receptionist, Sheila. ‘Could you cancel my meetings for today?’
A look of astonishment on her face, she nods, as I turn back to PC Page, summoning as much dignity as I can muster. ‘Right. I’m ready. Shall we go?’
We walk to the lift in silence, PC Page beside me, the younger officer slightly ahead, silence that’s maintained as the doors open and close. Even when we reach the ground floor and walk to the car, I don’t speak. Around me, the Brighton I walked through just minutes ago, where the future felt filled with hope, doesn’t exist any more. If I’d objected to their request, they would have arrested me in front of my colleagues. Of that, I’m in no doubt. That I’ve avoided it by the skin of my teeth is of little comfort.
At the police station, I’m led into a small interview room. The younger officer stays with me, while PC Page disappears for a few minutes. When she comes back, she nods towards him. ‘That’ll be all. The DI’s on his way. When he gets here, can you show him in?’
At the mention of the DI, my heart sinks further. ‘Can I ask what this is about?’
Her voice is short. ‘You’ll find out in a few minutes, Ms Rose.’
As she finishes speaking, the door opens and DI Lacey comes in. Looking directly at me, he pulls out a chair and sits down.
‘I still don’t know why you’ve brought me in, Detective Inspector.’
‘Before we go any further, we have one or two more questions about Mr Roche.’ He pauses. ‘From what we’ve learned, it looks as though he subjected Ms Reid to a form of emotional abuse known as gaslighting. Are you aware of what that is?’
I nod.