A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [91]
The report said very little, just giving Angela’s name and age, and stating that her body was discovered by a neighbour during yesterday afternoon, and that the child’s parents were being held for questioning.
Fifi guessed that at the time the paper went to press, that was all the information available. But by now journalists would be sniffing around, and there would be dozens of people only too willing to tell them everything they knew about the Muckles, and indeed which neighbour found Angela.
She wasn’t concerned so much that reporters might pester her, she could always refuse to say anything. But they might name her, and her parents might see it. She could just imagine what her mother would say. ‘This is his fault. He took my daughter to live in a place where that sort of thing goes on!’
No one would be able to convince Clara Brown that ‘that sort of thing’ could happen anywhere.
Dan did come home early, bringing with him some ham and salad stuff for their tea. After a quick bath he prepared the meal and suggested they went out for a drink later, just for a change of scene.
He didn’t apologize further about going to work, nor did he ask her much about making her statement. Fifi wanted him to, she needed some kind of outlet for her feelings, but without some prompting from him she felt unable to begin. He wasn’t at all sulky, just quiet, and after they’d eaten the salad and cleared away and she said she thought they ought to stay in, he didn’t argue, but began tinkering with an old clock he’d found in a junk shop.
What she had meant was that she wasn’t sure it was appropriate to go out and drink so soon after Angela’s death. She supposed she wanted his reassurance it was okay, and she certainly didn’t want to sit there watching him playing with a clock or being reminded of the child whenever she looked out of the window.
It was hot and airless in the flat and Fifi wanted to suggest going to Hyde Park for a walk. She thought she’d feel better getting some fresh air, seeing grass and trees, but Dan seemed to be engrossed in his clock and quite happy to stay in.
Around eight, Fifi glanced out of the window and saw a couple standing outside number 11, looking up at it.
‘Do you think they are journalists?’ she asked.
Dan came over to the window and looked. ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ he said. ‘More like pathetic horror seekers.’ He grimaced in disgust and went back to his clock. ‘I suppose we’re going to have lots more of them,’ he added a few seconds later. ‘I really wonder at the mentality of some people. What do they hope to see? A corpse hanging out the window?’
Fifi went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, convinced then that Dan had already put the matter behind him, and he thought she should too. But she didn’t see how she could ever put it behind her.
She didn’t hear Dan get up the following morning. She woke at eight to find he had already gone to work, and she felt hurt he hadn’t woken her to say goodbye.
By eleven the heat in the flat was oppressive, the police were over the road again and she was feeling very weepy, so she decided to go down and talk to Frank.
From the hall she could see through to his kitchen, and as the back door to the garden was open, she knew he was out there.
‘Frank,’ she called out. ‘Could you stand a visitor?’
‘Come on out, Fifi,’ he replied.
He found him perched on a stool mending a pair of old boots, and right away she knew he was upset too because he didn’t get up to greet her or ask how she was feeling.
‘Are you feeling miserable too?’ she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it? I still can’t really believe it’s for real. But you must have got such a shock when you came home on Saturday and were told about it.’
‘You can say that again,’ he said dolefully.
‘Thank you for the brandy you sent up. It helped,’ she said. ‘But I can’t keep on drinking to numb it. I don’t know what to do with myself today.