Dreams of Fear

Eighteen

Amelia Ferguson wasn’t so much furious as, like Anne Barham, bewildered at her husband’s behaviour. To outsiders it might have seemed that she was the dominant partner in their marriage, and that her husband, whilst successful and rather important out in the world, deferred to her in everything concerning home and family. Not a lot of people knew it, but the truth was rather different. When it came to the bigger issues in their lives, Amelia looked to her husband in everything. Sam was her rock.

He finally arrived home just after six thirty p.m., looking damp and dishevelled. His wife greeted him in the hallway, closing the door to the sitting room firmly behind her.

‘For God’s sake, what have you been doing?’ she demanded.

‘I told you,’ replied Sam curtly. ‘I needed to go to my office at the council, I had business to sort out before tomorrow.’

‘I called your direct line, several times, you didn’t answer. You weren’t there, were you? I mean, look at you. You’re wet through.’

‘It’s raining and blowing a gale, haven’t you noticed? Of course I was there. Since when did you feel the need to check up on me, anyway?’

‘Since you disappeared on the day your son’s wife died, that’s when.’

‘I’m sorry. It was unavoidable.’

Amelia noticed that he didn’t sound very sorry. In fact, he barely sounded like Sam. But she was still too angry to pay that much attention.

‘Well, now that you’re finally back perhaps you could give the remains of your family five minutes,’ she snapped. ‘Felix is in a real state. When he returned from walking the dogs he sat himself down with a bottle of whisky, and he seems to have drunk the lot. He’s slumped on the sofa in the sitting room, barely conscious. Will you see if you can get him upstairs to his bedroom to sleep it off?’

For a moment Sam looked as if he were about to protest. Ultimately, he muttered a reluctant assent.

‘Now, Sam,’ continued Amelia. ‘I want him out of the way of the children, although I get the feeling they’ve seen it all before.’

‘Where are the children?’ asked Sam.

‘They’re in the kitchen, I’ve got them playing with cake mix, and a right mess they’re making too... ’

‘Go back to them,’ instructed Sam. ‘I’ll sort Felix out. Just make sure those children are safe.’

Amelia was thoroughly puzzled.

‘What on earth are you talking about, Sam?’ she asked. ‘Safe? Of course, they’re safe.’

‘Yes, of course,’ echoed Sam. ‘I meant, well you know, you’ve left them alone in the kitchen. There are knives and things around... ’

‘Sam, you know perfectly well we redesigned our kitchen when the twins reached toddler age so that they couldn’t reach anything that might harm them.’

‘So, I do,’ said Sam, smiling a rather forced sort of smile. ‘I don’t seem able to think straight today, that’s all.’

‘Yes, well, that I can understand.’

Amelia paused at the kitchen door and looked back over her shoulder.

‘Look, I think we should have something to eat. You deal with Felix, it’ll soon be the little ones’ bedtime, and then I’ll get us some supper.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ said Sam at once.

‘Neither am I. But we must eat, we are going to need all our strength.’

‘You’re not wrong there,’ Sam muttered.

When Amelia woke at six a.m. the following morning she found her husband had already left the house. It was a Monday morning, the start of the working week. Sam always started early and worked long hours. So this was not unusual. Or it would not have been at any other time.

But this was still only the day after the death of their daughter-in-law, and the day after learning the equally shocking news that the police were treating her death as murder. Although Amelia supposed she had to accept that Sam’s behaviour was nothing if not consistent.

She tried his mobile at once. Her call went straight to voicemail. His direct line at the council offices also went straight to voicemail. This, too, would not have been unusual on any other day. Sam was a very busy man and a very independent man with his own agenda to follow. When he was out and about running his various businesses, he rarely answered his mobile; neither did Amelia expect him to. Usually she would text him if there was something she wished to tell or ask him.

Neither of them had the time or inclination for idle chat on their mobiles. They weren’t those sort of people.

But she couldn’t quite believe he’d again walked out on her like that, at such a stressful time, leaving her to deal with their son, who was still sleeping off his excesses of the previous afternoon, their grandchildren, and quite possibly, further police enquiries.

Amelia did something she would not normally dream of doing. She set out to find Sam, wherever he was.

She knew that the council offices opened at nine a.m., and almost on the dot she called the switchboard, asking to speak to her husband, only to be told that he was not in his office. She then began a ring around of the family businesses, the café, Cleverdon’s, the estate agency, the department store in Bideford High Street, and the office at the Westward Ho! holiday complex. Nobody had seen Sam.

Angry, and becoming increasingly more anxious, she blitzed Sam’s phone with calls and texts. She even emailed, and messaged him on WhatsApp.

Finally, just before twelve noon he called back.

‘What on earth’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘You must have called a dozen times, and texted. Didn’t you realize I was obviously busy? You don’t usually behave like this.’

‘No,’ said Amelia. ‘But this isn’t a usual day, is it?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Sam, in a more reasonable tone of voice. ‘I do realize that, darling. I don’t understand why you have been chasing me, that’s all.’

‘Where have you been, Sam?’ asked Amelia.

‘I’ve been working, just like always. I’ve been busy. Life has to go on, you know. Somebody has to get a grip if this family is going to survive.’

‘Sam, I’ve phoned the council, I’ve phoned the café, the estate agency, Westward Ho! I have phoned every one of our businesses trying to find you. Nobody has seen you all morning. I asked at each place that they call me if you turned up there. Nobody called back. What’s going on, Sam?’

‘Nothing’s going on, Amelia. Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Well, will you tell me honestly, then, what have you been doing?’

She heard him sigh down the phone.

‘Look, I had things to do, could we just leave it at that. I’m not always quite as strong as everybody thinks I am.’

‘Really?’ queried his wife. ‘Well, you’re not alone in that, Sam. So, where did you go?’

‘I went for a drive.’

‘For the best part of six hours?’

‘No. I stopped. Parked up. I’m sorry, darling. I was just trying to get my head around everything. I’m having difficulty coping.’

Amelia felt most uneasy. This really wasn’t her Sam. Did he really say he was having difficulty coping? This was a man who always coped. Coping was what Sam Ferguson was best at.

‘Just come home, Sam,’ she said, her voice displaying more emotion than she would normally reveal to anyone. ‘Your family needs you. I need you. Together we will cope. Just come home.’