The Good Samaritan
Page 69
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I walked slowly in the direction of a fence that cordoned off the cliff’s edge. I imagined holding Charlotte’s hand in one hand and our son Daniel’s in the other, and talking with her one last time.
‘Did you have second thoughts when you got this far?’ I asked.
No. I was sure it was what I wanted.
‘Did you think about me?’
Yes, of course I did. I love you.
‘Did you talk to the baby?’
Yes, I told him I was sorry and that we would be all right.
‘What was the last thing you thought about?’
Our wedding day and when we all went out into the gardens to light the Chinese lanterns. Do you remember? We threw them up into the air and watched as they floated across the fields and into the distance. If I could go back and remain in any one moment forever, it would be right then.
‘Why did you leave me?’
It wasn’t your fault. It was what I had to do.
Only now, by following in Charlotte’s footsteps, could I understand that she wasn’t being selfish in taking her own life. No suicidal person is. Like I was now, she truly believed in her heart of hearts that sometimes it is all there is left to do.
And as I climbed over the fence and walked my last few steps towards the cliff’s edge, I stared into the horizon and let the wind blow through my hair. I closed my eyes, so that all I could see were the oranges and reds of the sun on my eyelids, and all I could feel were the soft, warm hands of my wife and son.
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you or convince you to stay. I hope before you died that you found a way to forgive me for letting you down, as I forgive you. I love you.’
I love you too, Ryan.
I smiled as we all fell together.
PART THREE
CHAPTER ONE
LAURA – TWO MONTHS AFTER RYAN
The Mayor of Northampton smiled as she pulled the rope cord that opened a small pair of red curtains. The photographer’s flash lit up the heavy gold chain of office hanging from her neck as she, myself and the area manager of End of the Line posed for pictures either side of the copper-plated plaque.
Janine Thomson House, it read. In memory of our friend and colleague.
A small gathering of staff from our office, and some faces I didn’t recognise, representing neighbouring county branches, joined us to mourn our loss as I perched on the steps outside the building. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling jittery because I’d been asked to speak in front of a crowd or because Tony was standing just a few metres away from me. It was only the second time I’d seen him since poor Janine’s sudden demise.
I’d attempted to make contact by text and I’d left several messages on his phone, but he’d yet to call me back. Seeing him brought my skin out in goosebumps, and just thinking about our future made me want to burst into a broad grin. But I stopped myself; it wasn’t the time or the place for that.
I wondered why Effie and Alice weren’t with him. I’d watched them a month earlier from my seat way back inside the church at Janine’s funeral. The order of service looked nice among the others in my black bag. My girls were sitting in the second row with their father, close to the heart of Janine’s family. It was a little excessive – it wasn’t as if there had been anything serious between her and Tony. He’d just been using her to get at me: to teach me a lesson . . . showing me that I needed to be a good wife, a better wife.
Once Janine’s bulk was reduced to a pile of ashes, I’d texted Effie to offer her an olive branch, but she was still wallowing in self-pity. She didn’t seem to understand that putting the recording of her and Ryan’s conversation online had been a necessary sacrifice. But patching up our relationship wasn’t my priority right now – it was Tony. Once we were together, the rest of the fragmented pieces of my family would fall into place.
I guessed he needed to keep up the facade of the grieving boyfriend for now. I wore the copper-coloured earrings and matching necklace he’d bought me for our ninth wedding anniversary, and the black dress I’d worn on our last night out together at his work Christmas party. Back then he couldn’t wait to get me out of it as he pushed me up against the filing cabinets in his office and eased his way inside me. His face had been contorted with lust, miles away from how he looked today. Only he and I knew this was an act.
Next it was my turn to speak at Janine’s ceremony. I unfolded a piece of paper from my pocket, cleared my throat and began to read aloud.
‘Good morning, everyone, and on behalf of End of the Line, thank you for coming.’
I glanced in an appropriately solemn manner at the people around me. Tony was the only one whose stare was cold and intense.
‘The horrific death of our dear friend Janine shocked her close friends, co-workers, and the rest of the country, too,’ I continued. ‘She had dedicated her career to helping others with her generous spirit, kind nature and charity work. And she was repaid for that devotion with a brutal attack that ended her life so very, very prematurely. Unfortunately, we at End of the Line were unable to help the troubled man responsible for her death and, as you will no doubt be aware, he took his own life rather than face the consequences of his actions. But the events of that awful day prove just how necessary a safe haven like our charity is for people who are desperate for someone to listen. That is why we have named this building after Janine Thomson as a reminder to others that we are always here to hear you.’
I dabbed the crocodile tears pooling in the corner of my eye with a tissue, when a polite ripple of applause began. As we made our way inside, a morbid fascination made everyone’s heads turn towards the closed door of the room where Janine had breathed her last.
When the police had eventually allowed us access to it, I’d been the one to organise everything from its professional clean-up to the fitting of new locks. I was also the only person to have an extra key, and sometimes, on my way out following a shift, I’d take time to sit in the exact same spot on the sofa where Janine died. I’d close my eyes and relive our confrontation. The thud of the hammer against her head and her last, desperate gasp for air – sometimes I remembered it as clearly as if she were still next to me.
In the conference room at the back of the building, I’d provided the food for the buffet using a little of the money donated in the wake of Janine’s death. The story of how the kind-hearted charity worker had been beaten to death with a hammer at her place of work had made national newspaper headlines, and more than £100,000 in donations came flooding in from well-wishers. It irked me at first that she was being held up as a heroine and that I could never take credit for that money, but eventually I made my peace with it. In the end, I’d won.
Also making the news was the man accused of murdering her. Ryan Smith’s DNA had been found on the murder weapon and a screwed-up photo of me was discovered in the neighbouring yard. It was assumed I’d been his intended victim until a voicemail from Ryan was discovered on Janine’s phone threatening that she ‘owed’ him.
Ryan’s car was later located abandoned in the same place as his wife’s, and with the assumption he’d followed in her footsteps over the cliff’s edge. I only wish I’d caught his last, desperate breath, as I had his wife’s.
Kevin and Zoe approached me to tell me how much Janine would have appreciated my speech, but they knew as well as I did that she’d have hated the fact that I had given it. I looked around the room to see if Mary had changed her mind and joined us, but after finding Janine’s body she couldn’t bring herself to set foot in our building again.
‘Did you have second thoughts when you got this far?’ I asked.
No. I was sure it was what I wanted.
‘Did you think about me?’
Yes, of course I did. I love you.
‘Did you talk to the baby?’
Yes, I told him I was sorry and that we would be all right.
‘What was the last thing you thought about?’
Our wedding day and when we all went out into the gardens to light the Chinese lanterns. Do you remember? We threw them up into the air and watched as they floated across the fields and into the distance. If I could go back and remain in any one moment forever, it would be right then.
‘Why did you leave me?’
It wasn’t your fault. It was what I had to do.
Only now, by following in Charlotte’s footsteps, could I understand that she wasn’t being selfish in taking her own life. No suicidal person is. Like I was now, she truly believed in her heart of hearts that sometimes it is all there is left to do.
And as I climbed over the fence and walked my last few steps towards the cliff’s edge, I stared into the horizon and let the wind blow through my hair. I closed my eyes, so that all I could see were the oranges and reds of the sun on my eyelids, and all I could feel were the soft, warm hands of my wife and son.
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you or convince you to stay. I hope before you died that you found a way to forgive me for letting you down, as I forgive you. I love you.’
I love you too, Ryan.
I smiled as we all fell together.
PART THREE
CHAPTER ONE
LAURA – TWO MONTHS AFTER RYAN
The Mayor of Northampton smiled as she pulled the rope cord that opened a small pair of red curtains. The photographer’s flash lit up the heavy gold chain of office hanging from her neck as she, myself and the area manager of End of the Line posed for pictures either side of the copper-plated plaque.
Janine Thomson House, it read. In memory of our friend and colleague.
A small gathering of staff from our office, and some faces I didn’t recognise, representing neighbouring county branches, joined us to mourn our loss as I perched on the steps outside the building. I wasn’t sure if I was feeling jittery because I’d been asked to speak in front of a crowd or because Tony was standing just a few metres away from me. It was only the second time I’d seen him since poor Janine’s sudden demise.
I’d attempted to make contact by text and I’d left several messages on his phone, but he’d yet to call me back. Seeing him brought my skin out in goosebumps, and just thinking about our future made me want to burst into a broad grin. But I stopped myself; it wasn’t the time or the place for that.
I wondered why Effie and Alice weren’t with him. I’d watched them a month earlier from my seat way back inside the church at Janine’s funeral. The order of service looked nice among the others in my black bag. My girls were sitting in the second row with their father, close to the heart of Janine’s family. It was a little excessive – it wasn’t as if there had been anything serious between her and Tony. He’d just been using her to get at me: to teach me a lesson . . . showing me that I needed to be a good wife, a better wife.
Once Janine’s bulk was reduced to a pile of ashes, I’d texted Effie to offer her an olive branch, but she was still wallowing in self-pity. She didn’t seem to understand that putting the recording of her and Ryan’s conversation online had been a necessary sacrifice. But patching up our relationship wasn’t my priority right now – it was Tony. Once we were together, the rest of the fragmented pieces of my family would fall into place.
I guessed he needed to keep up the facade of the grieving boyfriend for now. I wore the copper-coloured earrings and matching necklace he’d bought me for our ninth wedding anniversary, and the black dress I’d worn on our last night out together at his work Christmas party. Back then he couldn’t wait to get me out of it as he pushed me up against the filing cabinets in his office and eased his way inside me. His face had been contorted with lust, miles away from how he looked today. Only he and I knew this was an act.
Next it was my turn to speak at Janine’s ceremony. I unfolded a piece of paper from my pocket, cleared my throat and began to read aloud.
‘Good morning, everyone, and on behalf of End of the Line, thank you for coming.’
I glanced in an appropriately solemn manner at the people around me. Tony was the only one whose stare was cold and intense.
‘The horrific death of our dear friend Janine shocked her close friends, co-workers, and the rest of the country, too,’ I continued. ‘She had dedicated her career to helping others with her generous spirit, kind nature and charity work. And she was repaid for that devotion with a brutal attack that ended her life so very, very prematurely. Unfortunately, we at End of the Line were unable to help the troubled man responsible for her death and, as you will no doubt be aware, he took his own life rather than face the consequences of his actions. But the events of that awful day prove just how necessary a safe haven like our charity is for people who are desperate for someone to listen. That is why we have named this building after Janine Thomson as a reminder to others that we are always here to hear you.’
I dabbed the crocodile tears pooling in the corner of my eye with a tissue, when a polite ripple of applause began. As we made our way inside, a morbid fascination made everyone’s heads turn towards the closed door of the room where Janine had breathed her last.
When the police had eventually allowed us access to it, I’d been the one to organise everything from its professional clean-up to the fitting of new locks. I was also the only person to have an extra key, and sometimes, on my way out following a shift, I’d take time to sit in the exact same spot on the sofa where Janine died. I’d close my eyes and relive our confrontation. The thud of the hammer against her head and her last, desperate gasp for air – sometimes I remembered it as clearly as if she were still next to me.
In the conference room at the back of the building, I’d provided the food for the buffet using a little of the money donated in the wake of Janine’s death. The story of how the kind-hearted charity worker had been beaten to death with a hammer at her place of work had made national newspaper headlines, and more than £100,000 in donations came flooding in from well-wishers. It irked me at first that she was being held up as a heroine and that I could never take credit for that money, but eventually I made my peace with it. In the end, I’d won.
Also making the news was the man accused of murdering her. Ryan Smith’s DNA had been found on the murder weapon and a screwed-up photo of me was discovered in the neighbouring yard. It was assumed I’d been his intended victim until a voicemail from Ryan was discovered on Janine’s phone threatening that she ‘owed’ him.
Ryan’s car was later located abandoned in the same place as his wife’s, and with the assumption he’d followed in her footsteps over the cliff’s edge. I only wish I’d caught his last, desperate breath, as I had his wife’s.
Kevin and Zoe approached me to tell me how much Janine would have appreciated my speech, but they knew as well as I did that she’d have hated the fact that I had given it. I looked around the room to see if Mary had changed her mind and joined us, but after finding Janine’s body she couldn’t bring herself to set foot in our building again.
