Читать книгу Lock Me In - Kate Simants - Страница 22

The dirty remains of the afternoon sun quivered in the puddles at my feet as I approached the marina. The office was closed up, but as I headed down to towards the boats I saw Mr Jupp. He threw his cigarette on the ground like a dart when he saw me, and came lumbering up the gangway.

‘We’ve got the bloody police down here, looking for Matthew,’ he said, passing me. ‘You’ve got keys, you bloody let him in.’

Shit. Fear swelled in my chest, inflating in seconds. But I made myself go down before I could change my mind. Before I’d had a chance to think through what I was and wasn’t going to tell him, there was Ben Mae, hanging off the side of Matt’s boat.

‘All right, I’m coming,’ he said, waving me away without looking up.

I cleared my throat, and he turned.

‘Ellie.’

‘DC Mae.’

He smiled. ‘Been a while. It’s DS now. I’m the lead on Missing Persons, so that’s why I’m …’ he trailed off, gesturing at the boat, the yard. Me.

‘Congratulations,’ I said.

We stood there for a moment, before I remembered what I was doing. I climbed up, got both locks open and swung the tiny doors open and slid back the hatch.

‘Coming in?’ I asked him.

‘Are you inviting me?’

‘That’s vampires, isn’t it?’

He laughed and gestured at the door. ‘After you, then.’

The familiar smell rose up around me as I went down, a woody warmness with the slight tinge of damp. I half-expected him to be there but the boat was empty. I stepped down into the cabin. Mae started to follow me in, but paused on the steps. He gestured at the four coat hooks next to the door.

‘Should these have anything hanging on them?’

‘It depends.’ I frowned, thinking of the last time I’d been there, when I’d hardly had room to hang my own raincoat. Matt loved being on foot, but winter was forging on and he was skinny. Usually, those pegs were draped with his layers.

I went in and sank into the built-in sofa. It was as if the place had been exorcized. So cold in there. The few square feet of hearth under the wood-burning stove had been swept after its last use, and the shallow pile of the fabric of the upholstery was sticking up unevenly, recently vacuumed. Usually the windows wept condensation, but now they were dry. Which only added up if there had been no breath to wet them. I unzipped my rain-soaked top and hung it above the stove. Mae came in and abruptly slammed his head on the ceiling.

‘F … lipping hell,’ he said, rubbing his scalp where he’d hit it. I almost wanted to laugh: Matt had a permanent bruise on his hairline at the front where he continually banged his head coming in. Unscrewing his eyes Mae said, ‘This is not sensible for a man of his height.’

I fiddled with the keys, rolling the cork float-ball keyring around in my palm. Mae nodded at them.

‘Mr Jupp couldn’t get his to work. Reckons the locks had been changed.’

I nodded. ‘First time I’ve used these ones. The old locks had just got rusty.’ Matt had said he’d been meaning to change them for ages, and had given me the set of keys as an afterthought, less than a week ago. He’d rolled down the window of his car and called me back after we’d already said goodbye outside the flat. Keep them to yourself, he’d said. You never know who might want to break in and swipe my dirty underpants.

‘You know why? Security worries?’

I gave it half a moment’s thought, and shook my head. ‘Not that I know of. No. He would have said.’

‘Sure? His colleague said the hospital had been expecting his laptop back, so—’

‘He’s lost it.’

‘OK,’ he said, his notebook out now and pen poised. ‘Details?’

‘I don’t know any more than that. He asked me to check around the flat.’

‘But you didn’t find it?’

‘No,’ I said, irritable. But now I thought about it, Matt hadn’t found it and I hadn’t asked. Guilt pecked at me as I ran that phone call back: he’d sounded really worried, but I hadn’t offered to help. ‘Does it matter?’

Mae made a search me face. ‘It wasn’t … stolen, or anything? You’re sure?’

‘Look, I really don’t—’ I started, then I broke off. Processed what he was saying. ‘Why did the hospital want it back?’

Mae took a breath before he answered me. There was a look on his face that I couldn’t interpret. ‘West London NHS Trust had him on rolling freelance contracts,’ he said, watching for my reaction.

‘Yes.’

‘Until the end of last week.’

I blinked. Thinking, no. He’d have said.

‘Did he not tell you he’d lost his job, Ellie?’

I said nothing.

‘I have to ask, do you have any problems in your relationship, would you say?’

‘No.’

‘Because that would seem like a rather big omission, if you know what I mean.’

‘We’re fine.’ It came out hard and loud, and he blinked at me. I felt Siggy spark at the base of my skull, goading, satisfied.

Were we fine?

Mae nodded solemnly, appraising me for a moment, then went to the table.

‘So there’s this.’ He handed it to me.

I took it. A list, printed out. Things you’d take if you were going away. I held it with both hands, the burn of tears starting up in the corners of my eyes.

A bloom of hope spread across me. Did this mean he’d just taken a trip? But if it did—

Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor

then he’d left. He’d left me.

There was a blue-biro tick next to every item. I scanned it again, a storm started spinning in my head.

‘Anyone could have written this,’ I said eventually. ‘Where’s the pen? Huh? Are we looking for the pen, for fingerprints?’

Mae spread his hands. ‘Ellie—’

‘No. He wouldn’t have just disappeared.’ Not without telling me. He loved me. He loved me. I brushed the hair out of my face and handed the list back to him, defiant. ‘This doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because we’re happy, that’s why.’

We were. There was no way Matt had been planning to go away. A few weeks ago we’d been talking about a trip, a long weekend. Mum was so worried, wouldn’t say why in front of Matt even though she knew he and I had talked about it all, but she went on and on about the locks on the hotel doors. Matt hadn’t flinched. When she got emotional, demanding to know how he planned on dealing with Siggy, asking did he really understand what he was getting himself into, he put his arm around me. I love your daughter, Christine. Nothing is going to change that.

‘What if he didn’t write it?’ I went into the kitchen and turned on the tap to fill the kettle. ‘I mean, it doesn’t prove anything, does it?’

Neither of us spoke for a moment, and I realized the water pump was rumbling, but nothing was coming out. The tap spat droplets and air. His water tank was empty.

I turned and checked the fridge: a Coke would do just as well. I opened the door, and looked inside. Dark.

Mae was standing next to me. ‘It’s been switched off.’

Meticulously cleaned and emptied, too. Mae paused for a while, then gently shut the door, leaving my hand to drop down to my side.

‘Sometimes I go away in the winter,’ he said, in a slow, quiet voice. ‘Take my little girl snowboarding. I turn the water off in my flat and run all the taps until there’s no water left in them. In case it freezes in the pipes, and the pipes burst.’

I opened the breadbin. ‘He wasn’t going away.’ The breadbin was empty.

‘And I use up everything in my fridge,’ he said, as if I hadn’t spoken, ‘and give it a good clean.’

I pushed past him, cursing the lack of space, the fact that there is nowhere to go on a stupid tiny boat, nowhere to escape to. ‘I’ve said he wasn’t going away.’ I dropped onto the sofa and drew my hands over my face. I wanted my mum.

‘Ellie.’

When I opened my eyes, he was looking at my neck. I pulled my chin down fast, but it was too late.

Slowly, he asked, ‘What happened there, then?’

He wouldn’t have asked about the scar. He meant the bruises. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘No. It’s not.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No?’ Mae came round and sat next to me, the other end of the sofa. ‘Doesn’t look like nothing.’

I let all my breath out at once. ‘Well, it is.’

Leaning forward, he said, ‘Was it Matt? Did he hurt you, Ellie?’

‘No! God, no! He would never. He’s not like that. No.’

Mae looked away, placed his hands on his knees. ‘Someone reports someone missing, we need to look at everything that might be suspicious. And to be honest,’ he said, indicating my neck with a nod, ‘mystery bruising might look a bit suspicious.’

I stared down at my feet. ‘It’s not mystery bruising.’

‘OK.’ He waited.

‘I was … sleepwalking. Mum tried to steer me back to bed. I was agitated. She had to be … forceful.’

‘And this was, when? Last night?’

I nodded, my heart hammering. Mae inclined his head to get another look.

‘Looks like she fought pretty hard.’

‘I was just confused,’ I mumbled.

‘Confused. OK.’ There was a pause. ‘See. Ellie, I get confused all the time. Sometimes I can’t remember if I’ve left the oven on. Or I lose my car, or, you know, I annoy someone and I get confused about what I might have said to upset them. But I can’t remember a time when confusion has ever ended up in me being held by the throat.’

‘I’m telling you it wasn’t him.’

Mae stayed where he was for a moment. Then he got to his feet, steadied himself against the motion of the boat under his feet, and turned to me.

‘So for now, we’re classing this as a low-risk case—’

‘Low risk. What does that mean?’

‘It means that we wait and see what happens. This is still very early days. To be honest it’s only because I saw your name on the information that it’s me dealing with this and not just a bobby making a couple of calls. But look, you have to realize that everything we have here is pointing to Matt having just gone away somewhere.’ He tucked everything into his bag. ‘It’s a dynamic thing, though. If anything changes—’

‘But what does it mean you will do?’ I interrupted. ‘You have to do something.’

He pressed his lips between his teeth for a moment, measuring his words. ‘Look. Men are weak. Sometimes they are really shitty. I’m sure he’s been great to you, and break-ups can be awful but—’

‘No. It’s not a break-up. He is the most honest, the most grounded person you’ll ever meet. He is a good man, and I can rely on him. I can. You’re making a mistake.’

He watched me for a second, like he was trying to find something in my face. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got a hundred other jobs stacking up and this is just,’ he gestured around the boat, to me. The whole thing. ‘It’s just not a police matter,’ he finished at last. ‘I’ve already done more than I am supposed to.’

‘Fine. Then go.’ I turned away. He would not see me cry.

On the deck, he crouched and turned back to me. ‘This isn’t about you, you know. Men are shits. He didn’t deserve you.’

I watched him swing himself down onto the pontoon, and I thought about how much Matt had given me. How bottomless his patience was, how hard he’d tried to help me believe in myself.

Mae was right. Matt didn’t deserve me. He really, truly did not.