Dreams of Fear

Twenty-Two

It seemed to Amelia Ferguson that her entire life had fallen apart. The daughter-in-law she’d never liked had died a horrible violent death. Her beloved only son had been arrested for her murder. And the husband who had always been her rock was behaving more like a piece of drifting flotsam.

She stood for a moment in the doorway of her home, watching the little convoy of police cars disappear up Bay View Road. Two or three neighbours had stepped out of their houses to see what was going on. Amelia was the sort of woman who put considerable importance on appearances, and would normally have been horrified to think that her neighbours had seen the police take her son away in a squad car.

Today she did not even notice.

Sam was standing right behind her. She turned to him, looking for, and still half expecting, the comfort and support he had always given her.

She took a step towards him, reaching out to him. He just turned around and walked back into the house. She knew he must be in shock, as she was. But ever since the previous afternoon he had been behaving so strangely.

She followed him slowly indoors, aware that tears were falling down her cheeks, and into the kitchen. Sam was over by the window, with his back to her, and seemed to be gazing out to sea. Then she noticed his shoulders start to heave. He, too, was weeping.

She went to him at once. And to her immense relief he wrapped his arms around her. For a little while they clung to each other in silence.

‘Oh Melia, Melia,’ he eventually whispered through his tears. ‘What is happening to us? I thought we had everything. Suddenly we have nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘I know, I know,’ she murmured as soothingly as she could manage. ‘But we will get through it, won’t we? We can get through everything as long as we have each other. And we know Felix is innocent, we know that, don’t we?’

‘Of course, of course.’

Amelia stood back from him then.

‘Come on, Sam,’ she said. ‘You are always the strong one. You always know what to do. We have to help our boy.’

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes with one trembling hand.

‘You’re right, of course, you’re right,’ he said. ‘Look, first thing, we must get Felix a solicitor. Trevor Hardwick is the best round here. I’ll get on to him straight away.’

‘That’s better, Sam,’ said Amelia. ‘You see, you always know what to do, and you always know the right person to do it.’

‘If anyone can get Felix home it will be Trevor,’ said Sam, sounding just a little more like his old self.

Amelia thought she had read somewhere that people arrested for murder in the UK were remanded in custody as a matter of course, and only got bail in very rare and exceptional circumstances.

Nonetheless she tried to muster an encouraging smile.

Sam left the kitchen and made his way to his home office, telling his wife that he didn’t have Trevor Hardwick’s number in his phone. Which wasn’t actually true. But he desperately needed time alone to think. He was aware that he should also be phoning DCI Vogel. The detective had given him his mobile number. Now that Felix had been arrested, he really should tell Vogel what he had learned from Gerry Barham the previous afternoon.

But he could not quite bring himself to do so.

He sat for a few minutes struggling to compose himself before finally phoning Hardwick.

The solicitor sounded stunned when Sam told him about his son’s arrest. As well he might, thought Sam. Hardwick recovered quickly though, asked Sam a number of salient questions, and then said he would make his way at once to Barnstaple police station and offer his services to Felix.

Sam thanked him and ended the call. He supposed Hardwick was bound by some kind of code of confidentiality concerning his clients, but he could only imagine the tsunami of gossip which was about to wash over the North Devon peninsular. He was the mayor of Bideford. He was a highly successful businessman. He thought he was a respected local figure. He hoped he was, anyway. But not for much longer, in any case, he suspected.

Amelia had no idea what was going to hit them. If Felix was brought to trial it would all come out. It would have to. And what would it do to the children? Sam couldn’t bear to think.

He would like to share his burden with his wife. She would at least understand his behaviour then, understand why ‘her rock’, as she called him, was finding it difficult to hold himself together. But Amelia wasn’t as strong as she made out, and he wondered if either of them was strong enough to survive this.

He knew he should go back to the kitchen, or find his wife wherever she may have gone in the house, try to reassure her. But how could he, when he feared the worst in every direction?

Almost on cue, the office door opened and in walked Amelia. She had dried her tears, styled her hair and put on fresh make-up. At least she was behaving according to type, thought Sam. She always gave optimum importance to how things appeared.

One of her favourite sayings was ‘never let the act drop’.

She asked Sam if he had called Trevor Hardwick, and he was at least able to reassure her that the solicitor was on his way to be at their son’s side.

‘It’s gone half past two,’ she said then. ‘One of us needs to go and fetch the twins from school.’

Sam knew Joanna and Stevie finished school at three. From the way Amelia had worded her remark it was obvious to him that she was hoping he would offer to pick them up.

He did so willingly. It would get him out of the house, this time for a thoroughly legitimate reason, and give him something to do.

‘If anyone comes to the door, don’t answer it,’ he instructed. ‘I’m afraid it’s not going to take the press long to get hold of this. It never does.’

He met a couple of teachers outside the school, and a parent whom he knew a little, all of whom expressed only slightly embarrassed regret and condolences over Jane’s death. Sam thanked them and made no further comment. They would know that a murder investigation was underway, of course, but the news of Felix’s arrest had yet to break. That’s when things would turn really grim.

Meanwhile, the twins’ form teacher brought Joanna and Stevie to him, holding each of them by the hand. The children ran to their grandfather pretty much as they normally did, but he was aware that they lacked their usual exuberance. He wasn’t surprised. And things were going to get so much worse.

‘How’ve they been?’ he asked.

‘A little quiet,’ responded Miss Wakefield. She turned to the twins. ‘But you’re such brave little soldiers, aren’t you?’

The twins nodded. Stevie managed a small smile. Sam did not like to think about how brave these two six-year-olds were going to have to be.

He just wanted to get them home. He probably wouldn’t have sent them to school that day. But he hadn’t been around to make the decision, had he? And in the event, it was a good thing that they hadn’t been in the house when their father was arrested. They were quiet on the journey. Selfishly, Sam was quite glad they didn’t want him to talk to them, because, frankly, he no longer knew what to say.

As they pulled into Bay View Road, he was quickly aware that his worst fears had already been realized. A woman photographer was standing by the gate of All Seasons, aiming her camera through the Range Rover windows as he swung his vehicle into the driveway. A young man he vaguely recognized to be a reporter from the Western Morning News, known for being particularly quick off the mark, was standing by the porch.

Sam parked the Range Rover in front of the garage, and, ushering the children before him, headed smartly for the scant protection of the porch, aware of the photographer snapping away all the while.

‘Could you confirm that your son has been arrested for the murder of his wife,’ called out the reporter, who was doing his best to obstruct Sam’s path.

Sam only just resisted the urge to push him out of the way. He just hoped neither of the twins had properly understood what the reporter had said. He sidestepped around the young man then turned to face him, drawing himself up to his full six foot two inches. The photographer was still snapping.

‘I have only one thing to say to you,’ he announced, hopefully with an authority he most certainly did not feel. ‘My grandchildren are six years old. If their picture appears in your paper, any other publication, or anywhere on the internet including social media, I shall not just sue, I shall bring the wrath of God on all your heads.’

Sam wasn’t sure quite what he meant by the last remark, but he had the satisfaction of seeing the reporter take a step backwards and the photographer lower her camera. It made him feel very slightly better, although he suspected that feeling would not last for long.

He opened the front door and shooed the twins inside.

Joanna turned to him, wide-eyed, anxious.

‘Who are those people, Grandad?’ she asked.

‘Nobody you need worry about, kitten,’ Sam assured her, aware that nothing could be much further than the truth.

‘Grandad will make them go away,’ he continued. Another lie.

Amelia was standing in the hallway. To be more exact, she was cowering in the hallway.

‘Oh Sam, it’s started already,’ she cried. ‘I don’t think I can bear it.’

Sam went to her, put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. He knew she liked that. Although he didn’t think it would help much that afternoon.

‘There, there,’ he murmured ineffectually. ‘I’m on the case now. And Trevor Hardwick is with Felix. We should hear from him soon—’

‘He’s already called, on the house phone,’ interrupted Amelia. ‘He says Felix has turned down his services, won’t see him. This is just all so awful, Sam. I mean, Felix has been arrested for murder, why on earth would he turn down legal help?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Sam, who actually thought he did have a fair idea of at least some of the reasoning behind his son’s behaviour.