All the Rage

Adam Fawley
3 April 2018
12.30

I'm late to the doctor's: Alex is already in the consulting room by the time I get there and the kindly receptionist bustles me through as soon as she spots me.

`˜They've only just started,' she says in a low voice. `˜Dr Robbins has had a very heavy morning.'

Alex looks up when the door opens and I see the relief wash over her face. She kept saying today is just routine `“ that I didn't really need to come, not if I was busy `“ but I know she wanted me here. Just as I know how worried she is, and how much worse that anxiety is getting as her due date draws nearer. And how hard she's working to keep any of that from me.

`˜Ah, Mr Fawley,' says the doctor, looking up at me over her glasses. She's only been at the practice for a couple of years. Which is my way of saying she never knew Jake. She knows about him, of course. It's in the file, for a start, but even if it wasn't, everyone knows here. It's why the receptionist is always so nice to me, why Alex is getting check-ups every three weeks: you get a special sort of compassion if you're the parent of a dead child. A child who died at their own hand.

`˜I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic.' No one questions that excuse. Not in this town.

`˜I'm glad you're here.' She smiles briefly, then looks back at her notes. `˜The health visitor asked Alexandra to come in today because she was concerned about her blood pressure. As am I. It's rather higher than we'd ideally like.' She looks over at Alex. `˜Are you under any particular stress at the moment?'

Alex opens her mouth then closes it again. `˜No,' she says at last. `˜Not especially. I'm trying to take things easy. I even got a cab here so I didn't have to drive `“'

`˜But you're still working, I think?'

Alex nods. `˜Only from home. Well, mostly. I'm not going into the office unless I really have to. You know, for meetings. Sometimes clients insist. If it's a big case.'

The doctor makes a disapproving face. `˜That sounds pretty stressful to me.'

`˜I have an assistant `“ she's doing most of the basics `“'

But the doctor doesn't appear to be listening. She takes off her glasses, as if to underline the point. `˜I'd like you to take at least a week off `“ completely off `“ and then we'll check your blood pressure again and decide where we go from there.'

I look at Alex and then back at the doctor. `˜But there's nothing actually wrong, is there? Alex isn't at any risk `“'

`˜No, no,' says the doctor briskly. `˜I'm just being cautious. Perhaps overcautious, but I'd rather err on the side of prudence. In the circumstances.'

Alex takes my arm as I walk her back to the car. Perhaps I'm getting paranoid too, but she seems to be leaning more heavily than usual.

`˜You're sure you feel OK? No dizziness, nothing like that?'

She smiles and squeezes my arm. `˜No, nothing like that. Stop worrying.'

`˜I am worrying. That doctor just ordered bed rest.'

`˜No, she didn't, she just said not to go into work `“'

`˜Well, as far as I'm concerned, that means bed rest. And that's exactly what you're going to get.'

She laughs. `˜OK, you win. As long as it involves tea, chocolate and unlimited supplies of fruit toast.'

`˜I'll even throw in a hot-water bottle. Not literally, of course.'

We're at the car now and I stop and turn her to me.

She looks as brittle as a porcelain doll.

* * *

Interview with Kenneth Ashwin, conducted at St Aldate's Police Station, Oxford

3 April 2018, 1.25 p.m.

In attendance, DC G. Quinn

GQ: Take a seat, Mr Ashwin. As I said, this is just routine.KA: I've seen the telly. I know what that means.GQ: [passes across an image]

Last Monday morning, April 1st 2018, the minivan shown in this still was picked up on the CCTV camera outside the petrol station on the Cherwell Drive roundabout. It's a hire vehicle, and when we spoke to the company they said you were driving it that day.KA: That's right, I was. My brother was moving house so I was giving him a hand.GQ: So what were you doing there that morning?KA: When was it again? Exactly?GQ: [becoming impatient]

Last Monday. Two days ago. Like I just said.KA: Nope. Don't think that was me.GQ: It's the same reg number as the van you hired.KA: I can't help that.GQ: [checks paperwork]

You live in Barton, don't you?KA: [warily]

Yeah, so?GQ: So you might have been coming into the city?KA: I suppose so. I did pick up some bits and pieces that morning `“GQ: So it could be you, after all `“ is that what you're saying?KA: It's possible, yes. But I don't remember.GQ: OK, Mr Ashwin, I think that's enough for now.* * *