The Adulterer's Daughter: A Novel Page 31

  “But he attacks and rapes old ladies. He tried to kill me.” Serena poked herself in the sternum.

  “Well, he didn’t harm her. In fact, they got on very well. Mrs Forrester allowed us to search his room, and we located this diary.” She held up an evidence bag. “In it, he describes each of his crimes as if they were training sessions in preparation for his main goal.”

  “Which was?” said Eric.

  PC Patel referred to her notebook. “Which was, and I quote, ‘to murder the fucking whore …’”

  Serena looked up. “Me? Does he mean me?”

  “I haven’t finished. ‘To murder the fucking whore who stole my father and split up my family.’”

  The room went silent.

  Serena was confused.

  Eric squirmed uncomfortably. “You still haven’t told us his name.”

  “His name is Nigel McDougal, age twenty-four.”

  “Shit!” Eric put his head in his hands.

  “He’s your son!” Serena gasped. “No wonder he looked familiar.”

  The sergeant allowed the news to sink in before saying, “Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Mr McDougal?”

  “No. I haven’t seen Nigel for years. I tried, but he wouldn’t let me. Why would Nigel do this to Serena?”

  The sergeant nodded at PC Patel and she continued.

  “Once he realised we’d discovered his identity, he became rather verbose. He’s a very confused young man, and we struggled to follow his logic at times, but it seems he blames you, Mrs McDougal, for the break-up of his parents’ marriage.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Serena protested. “Angela chucked Eric out long before we got together.”

  “How long?”

  “Months.”

  “Why did your wife chuck you out, sir?”

  The blood drained out of Eric’s face. “Does it matter?”

  “Your son mentioned an incident at a birthday party.”

  “That was just a misunderstanding. Angela made a big deal out of nothing as a pretext for divorcing me and taking my house and most of my money.”

  “We’ll be looking into that, just to make sure.”

  “I’m not worried. Nothing happened. I still don’t understand why Nigel blames Serena for the break-up, and not me.”

  “I think your ex-wife may have something to do with that. She told your kids that you and Serena had been having an affair for years, and that she had stolen you away from them and banned you from contacting them ever again.”

  “But that’s not true,” Serena said. “We hadn’t even met when she threw him out.”

  “Unfortunately, Nigel believed his mother. He always hoped you would return home, Mr McDougal, and be a family again, but when that didn’t happen he became increasingly depressed and unstable. He failed his school exams and was unable to get into university. For the last few years he’s been moving from one dead-end job to another. All the while blaming you, Mrs McDougal, for his misery. In the end, he decided to get his revenge.”

  “By murdering me?”

  “He’s not right in the head,” said Sergeant Sergeant, pointing at his temple and making a rotating motion with his finger.

  PC Patel clarified. “We believe he may be mentally ill. His diaries certainly indicate some behavioural health issues.”

  “What will happen to him now?” Eric asked.

  “Good question. Robbery, breaking and entering, ABH, GBH, rape, attempted murder. He’ll be going down for a long time.”

  “But he needs help, not prison. He’s just a mixed-up kid who’s been brainwashed by his mother.”

  “I’m sure the prison service will provide some psychiatric help if he needs it.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Not yet. I don’t think that would be a good idea just now. When we left him, he was still writing up his confession. I get the feeling he’s rather proud of his short-lived notoriety.” PC Patel noticed Eric’s worried face. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to visit him later.”

  The sergeant got to his feet. “Right, I think we’ve taken up enough of your time. I should let you know that we’ve retained your axe and the gun. They might have to be used as evidence if there’s a court case against your son. Although, we’re hoping he will simply plead guilty.”

  “I understand,” said Eric, and he led the police officers towards the front door.

  “Wait. Before you go,” said Serena. “As you seem to like it so much, why don’t you take the rest of this fruitcake with you for the guys at the station?”

  Eric nodded eagerly.

  Sergeant Sergeant gave Eric a cold, hard look. His keen detective’s mind was telling him that the man of the house wasn’t overly fond of his wife’s baking, and his grumbling gut was in agreement. “Thank you, Mrs McDougal. That’s very kind.”

  Serena smiled.

  “One final question for you both, if I may,” said the sergeant. “Do you think it’s possible that Steve O’Connor murdered his wife?”

  Chapter 79

  Wednesday 17 December, 2003

  The churchyard, 11:35 a.m.

  The funeral was over.

  Sergeant Sergeant and PC Patel were conspicuously observing from the comfort of their police vehicle.

  Most of the attendees had drifted mournfully away to escape the wet sleet and gusty wind, leaving Steve and Ava huddled alone at the graveside beneath a failing umbrella.

  Steve had no words. What do you say to your daughter when you’re responsible for the death of her mother?

  Ava had no words. What do you say to your father – your only close relative – when you no longer believe anything he says?

  “Why?” said Ava in a voice so soft Steve could barely hear her.

  “What’s that, Pumpkin?”

  “Why did she die?”

  “Because she hit the rocks at the bottom of the quarry at seventy miles per hour. A human body can’t tolerate that much trauma.”

  “No, I mean why were you up there in all that fog in the dark?”

  “We were talking.”

  “What about?”

  “About our relationship. Personal stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “I’ve just lost my mum. Don’t tell me what I should be worrying about. Were you arguing?”

  “Yes.”

  “About me?”

  “What? No. This was nothing to do with you.”

  “Then, what were you arguing about? Had Mum done something bad?”

  “Mum? No. Your mother never did anything bad in her life. She was a good person. Kind, generous, thoughtful, caring. She loved you so much.”

  A tear rolled down Ava’s cheek. “I know.”

  “It was me,” said Steve. “I was the one who did something bad.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I … I’ve been having an affair.”

  Ava couldn’t have looked more stunned if her father had chosen that moment to slap her face. “You idiot! Why would you do that?”

  “It’s hard to explain. I … I haven’t been happy for a while.”

  “And you thought sticking your penis inside another woman might make you happy?”

  “It isn’t just about sex. She makes me feel special.”

  “Who? Who is it?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not ready, it’s too soon.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “How can I ever trust you if you keep things from me?”

  “I don’t keep anything else from you. Just this.”

  “What’s in the basement, Dad?”

  “Huh?”

  “What’s in the basement?”

  “Just all our old junk.”

  “No, in the locked room at the end.”

  Steve raised his voice. “Never you mind. You need to forget about that room. We hardly ever used it, anyway. I know it was you who left a hair on the doorknob. It’
s still there because no one ever goes in that room.”

  “Ever?”

  “Hardly ever.”

  “Is your mistress living in our basement?”

  “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Then why won’t you tell me her name or what’s in there?”

  “My affair and our basement are unrelated. You’re adding two and two and getting five.”

  Ava sighed. “I don’t believe you. You know I’ll never be able to forgive you if you won’t tell me the truth, don’t you? The whole truth.”

  “I can’t, Ava. I’m not ready. You need to give me some time.”

  Ava didn’t respond. She just turned on her heels and walked away, head down.

  Watching from a distance, Ollie said, “Should we go over, or leave him to say goodbye on his own?”

  “Let’s go over,” said Serena. “Steve’s going to need all our support for a long time to come.”

  Eric led the way and Mia brought up the rear.

  “How are you, mate?” said Ollie.

  “I’ve never felt worse. I can’t believe she’s down there. Cold and dead. She always hated to be cold.”

  Serena put her arm around him. “You have to think about all the happy times you spent together. What were her final words to you?”

  “The last thing she said was ‘Steeeeeeee …’ as she was falling. I assume she was calling my name, but I guess she might have been trying to say ‘steep’ or ‘steel’.”

  “Why would she say ‘steep’ or ‘steel’?”

  “Well, it was a steep drop. I’ve got nothing for ‘steel’. On reflection, I guess it was probably ‘Steve’.”

  “But before that. What’s the last thing she said?”

  “Let me think … Ah.” It came back to him.

  “Ah, what?”

  “I’ve remembered, and you don’t want to know. They’re not final words that Fiona would want to be remembered for.”

  “Just tell us,” said Eric.

  “Fuck you!”

  “We were her friends. I think we’ve got a right to know.”

  “No, those were her final words to me: ‘Fuck you!’”

  “Ouch,” said Mia. “Although you definitely deserved it.”

  “I know.”

  Steve hung his head in shame, but Mia wasn’t finished.

  “On the one hand, you’re my friend and I feel so sorry for you. But, on the other hand, I think you’re a selfish, heartless shit for cheating on Fiona. How could you do that?”

  Steve said nothing. He looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, so he could lie beside his wife as he had nearly every night for sixteen years.

  “Come on, mate,” said Ollie. “Let’s get you out of this foul weather.”

  As they walked away from the grave, Serena took Mia’s arm. “Are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself today.”

  “I’m at the funeral of one of my two best friends. What do you expect?” Mia snarled.

  “I expect you to be nicer to your other best friend. What’s wrong?”

  Mia rubbed Serena’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. There’s just something on my mind. I’ll fill you in at some point, but now isn’t the time.”

  Chapter 80

  Thursday 18 December, 2003

  The school, 12:50 p.m.

  Mia waited until the class had all left before she slumped into her chair, put her face in her hands, and began to sob. It was the first time she’d cried since the diagnosis, and she let it all out. Great heaving gasps as the tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto the floor.

  It was five minutes before she felt the soft, tentative hand on her shoulder.

  “You all right, miss?”

  “I’m fine, Wayne.” She sniffed. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Was it something I done? I was only ’aving a laugh.”

  “No, no. It wasn’t anything you did. I’ve just been having a few personal problems.” Why did she tell him that? “You should run along now; it’s lunchtime.”

  “I got nowhere to be right now if you wanna talk about it.”

  She looked up to see concern written all over his face.

  “I’m sorry, miss.”

  “It’s okay, Wayne. It really wasn’t you, this time.” She patted his filthy hand.

  “What’s up, then?”

  With a wan smile, she said, “It seems I’ve got cancer.”

  What was she doing? Why was she telling this troublemaking fifteen-year-old boy – the bane of her existence – about her worries, when she hadn’t even told her friends yet?

  “Fuck!” he said.

  “Fuck, indeed. Don’t worry; I’m going to be all right.”

  Wayne didn’t know what to say. He never had any trouble coming up with a cheeky remark in lessons – whether it was required or not and it usually wasn’t – but on this occasion, he was lost for words.

  He reached into the pocket of his threadbare, unwashed trousers and took out a crumpled plastic packet. “Wanna crisp?”

  Now her smile was genuine. There was still hope. “Yes please, Wayne.” She peered into the bag and selected the smallest one. “That’s just what I need.”

  ◆◆◆

  That was a turning point for Mia. Until that moment, a turning point had been a place on a curve where its gradient changed from positive to negative (or negative to positive), but not on that day. From that day onwards, Mrs Fairfax had no behaviour issues with any of the pupils in her classes. One young scallywag in her year seven bottom set briefly denied he was chewing gum, until his neighbour whispered something into his ear. Mia only managed to catch two sotto voce words: ‘Wayne’ and ‘Smith’. The masticating youngster went as white as a sheet, walked to the bin, and spat a sticky glob of gum directly into it.

  “Sorry, miss,” he said. “It won’t happen again, I swear.”

  And it didn’t.

  Mia rediscovered her love of education, and was heard saying to a colleague, “I’m determined to beat this fucking cancer and throw myself into my career. It’s so pleasant being able to actually teach again instead of just being responsible for crowd control. I’ve asked my head of department if Wayne Smith can be in my class again next year, and she said yes.”

  Chapter 81

  Saturday 20 December, 2003

  Fairfax house, 9:32 a.m.

  “I’m just popping to the tip,” Ollie called up the stairs.

  “Okay. See you later,” Mia replied.

  Ollie opened the front door, just a crack, and Lord was out in a flash. He sprinted down the drive to the lane, and turned right, accelerating to top speed in seconds.

  “Lord!” Ollie shouted. “Come back, boy.”

  But the Saluki was already out of earshot, running like the wind, past the post office, past the church, over the bridge, left at the corner shop, and on up Pete’s Special Way Lane towards the McDougal residence.

  ◆◆◆

  Eric was in the kitchen, reading a magazine article about parents reconnecting with their children, when he heard scratching. “Can you get that, Serena? I think someone’s at the door.”

  She strode from the kitchen to the hallway, and peeped through the spyhole. “I can’t see anyone. You must be hearing things.”

  Then she heard it too; insistent scratching on the thick wooden door.

  She opened it slowly, just six inches, but that was enough for Lord Bounce-A-Lot to come charging into the house, sniffing and wagging his tail, and rushing around searching for his friend.

  “Where are you, old chap? I haven’t seen you for ages,” he barked.

  There was no response.

  Lord ran to the back of the house, the gym, the dining room, the wine cellar. He ran upstairs and searched all the bedrooms. “Stumpy, it’s me. Where the devil are you?”

  Eric caught Lord’s collar as he attempted to run outside to scour the garden for canine companionship.

  “Come here, buddy,
” said Eric softly. “Sit down.”

  Lord sat.

  Serena put her arm around the dog’s neck and tickled his ears. “I’m so sorry, Lord. Stumpy’s gone. The vet did everything she could, but … the bullet … he … he didn’t make it.”

  Fat tears flowed down Serena’s cheeks, and she hugged the sweaty, smelly dog and buried her face in his fur.

  Even Eric had to wipe something from his eye before Ollie arrived, panting and wheezing, on the doorstep.

  Ollie leant forward and put his hands on his knees.

  “I … ran … all … the … way,” he gasped.

  “Yes, we can see that,” said Eric.

  “Did … you … tell … him?”

  “We did, but I doubt he understood what we were saying.”

  Ollie took one look at Lord’s sad, brown eyes. “He … understood.”

  ◆◆◆

  Ollie and Lord stayed for a cup of coffee and a bowl of water, respectively.

  When Ollie stood up to leave, Serena said, “I’ll walk you home. I could do with the exercise.”

  “Said the fittest person I know,” Eric chuckled. “See you soon, mate,” he called to Ollie before strolling away and going back to his magazine.

  Serena waited until they were out of sight of the house before saying, “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Ollie agreed. “Can I go first?”

  “Feel free.”

  Ollie took a deep breath. “I realise you’re going to be devastated by this, but you and I are going to have to stop seeing each other. We can carry on being friends, of course, but no more being friends with benefits. No more sex, no more mutual masturbation, nothing physical at all. Mia is going to need all my love and attention to help her get through this illness. I’m sure you understand.”

  “That’s fine,” Serena said breezily.

  Ollie looked crestfallen. “I thought … no I hoped you might be more upset at the prospect of foregoing my outstanding lovemaking skills forever. Once you’ve had the best …”