sometimes, especially when he’s drunk.
‘Yes,’ we all say in answer to his question. He scribbles it down in his notepad, his fingers all trembly.
‘Your mum arrived five minutes after you got back from your walk?’ he asks. We all nod. ‘You say the walk took half an hour . . . and you came back to find your dad like this?’ he asks. We nod again, nodding monkeys like the ones we saw for sale when Mum and Dad took us to Koh Samui last year. I get a flash of Dad leaping about in the waves, the smell of frying insects, the taste of Mum’s cocktail she let me have a sip of one night.
Things were so different then. Or maybe I told myself they were. Maybe they were all wrong then too.
A man walks in. He isn’t wearing a police uniform like Adrian is, but he has ‘police’ written all over him. He’s in a dark suit with dandruff on the shoulders. He’s been checking out the scene, all serious like. I can tell from the way he looks around the house and out at the forest that he’s not from around here. He leans against the doorway, taking in each of our faces. I try to keep mine straight but my heart feels like it might thump so hard it’ll travel up my chest and out of my nostrils.
‘I’m Detective Crawford,’ he says, voice all soft. ‘I’m sorry this is happening to you guys. I have kids your age.’ I know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to make some kind of connection with us, but lots of people have kids our age. Nobody’s had to live with what we have lately, though, have they? ‘Was there any sign of a weapon?’ he asks. ‘A knife? I see one is missing from the knife holder,’ he adds, peering towards the knife block by the cooker.
We all hold our breath. Mum too. She looks so confused and there are clusters of pink on her chest like she gets when she’s nervous.
Then this steely look appears in her eyes, the same look she had when she and Dad came to view this house six years ago, like ‘We really can’t afford this house but we’re going to bloody buy it even if we don’t know how.’
‘No sign of it,’ she says firmly. ‘Kids, did you see anything?’
I want to just jump up and hug her. She has our backs even if she doesn’t know why.
‘No,’ I say.
‘No,’ the other two say.
My heart soars.
Mum did good. She knew what we needed her to do without us even saying it. Mum knows us more than anyone, though, doesn’t she? Like that time I broke my arm while riding my bike, but I was trying to make out it was okay because I didn’t want to ruin the family dinner Mum and Dad had spent ages planning for the anniversary of Joel’s death. Nobody else clocked on, not even Grandad, who’s a bit like Mum too, the way he notices when we’re down. But Mum knew, she just knew, and the way she just ploughed into action, taking me to hospital like the family dinner meant nothing to her when I knew it meant everything.
‘Can you think of anyone who might want to harm your father, your husband?’ the detective asks, looking at us, looking at Mum.
‘No one,’ Mum says. ‘As you probably know, he’s running to be a parish councillor and we have elections coming up, but I can’t imagine it has anything to do with that.’
I hear familiar voices outside and I feel sick again.
That’ll be Nan and Grandad. I peer out, see them talking to Andrea Cooper, who’s trying to peer into the kitchen at Dad.
I nearly lose it at the thought of their sad wrinkled faces when they see Dad – their son – on the floor. But I have to hold it together, just like I did when I broke my arm.
It’s something you get used to, hiding the bad stuff.
Chapter Six
Thursday 18th April, 2019
5 p.m.
Melissa sat in the ambulance with Patrick, the spatter of blue lights on the road and the high whine of the sirens filling her senses. She clutched on to his hand, telling him he’d be fine, that he was strong.
An incessant bleeping suddenly sounded.
‘Move,’ the paramedic said, gently pushing her out of the way. He jumped into action, pumping at Patrick’s chest.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Melissa cried. ‘Is he dying?’
‘He’s lost