For Death Comes Softly

Epilogue

Three months have passed. Robin has been charged with the murder of Natasha Felks, attempting to murder Julia and the manslaughter of the forty-four people killed in the Abri disaster.

I am still in shock. I feel numbed by the immensity of all that has happened. It takes a huge effort of will for me just to get out of bed in the mornings. I don’t know how long it will be before I can function properly again. Nonetheless, I am also aware of a certain relief. At least it has ended. I know the worst now.

I am being helped to cope — allegedly — by the attentions of assorted doctors and, of course, those strange people called counsellors who read into my state of mind peculiarities that I haven’t previously considered. Mostly they want to give me drugs of one sort or another, usually hiding under fancy names, but still drugs. I continue to prefer to drown my sorrows in The Macallan, which both Julia and I consider to be one of the few signs of hope around.

Robin was arrested the same day that I summoned the police to his office and has been remanded in custody ever since. I have not seen him again, and neither do I ever wish to do so. I have received several letters from him which I have returned unopened. Sometimes, just sometimes, there really is nothing to say.

He will stand trial before the end of the year. Predictably, however, he plans to plead not guilty, which means I will have to face a Crown Court cross-examination, from a brief no doubt already looking forward to having wonderful fun with a Detective Chief Inspector who has failed so dismally both professionally and personally.

The Crown Court cannot force me to give evidence against my husband, of course, but what choice do I have? I really couldn’t live with myself if I refused.

I suppose I always realised that my overwhelming passion for Robin made it impossible for me to be objective about him. I still cannot believe, though, quite how blind I was. Julia, who seems to be totally well again, thank God, says it wasn’t like that — I saw, but I wouldn’t accept. That might be worse, I reckon. Julia also says I’m to remember that a government enquiry which sat for several months completely exonerated Robin — and even she did not really suspect that he was guilty until almost the very end.

‘Surely nobody expects intelligent reason in anything the Government does, and you have the excuse of having suffered brain damage,’ I told her glumly.

‘Thanks,’ she said, raising her eyebrows at me. But I knew she didn’t mind. She is as glad as I am that I am recovering — if not my sense of humour — at least my sense of the ridiculous. I reckon I’m going to need it.

I have resigned from the force, of course. Ultimately I felt I had no choice. I didn’t see how I could go back, or even how I could expect The Job to have me back. I no longer even want to remain a policewoman. Curious, I suppose, as my career has always been the driving force of my life. But I now know with absolute certainty that it cannot continue.

Peter Mellor has been promoted to Detective Inspector and not before time. He came to see me when he heard that I was quitting and told me he was going to miss me. I’m not sure if he was telling the truth but if he was fibbing, then I’m grateful to him for bothering. He also told me he would continue, on my behalf, to drive Titmuss the Terrible barking at every opportunity.

On the day Robin was arrested, and I eventually stopped kidding myself that there was even the slightest chance that he might be an innocent man, it felt as if my life was finished, not just my career. Now I am trying to make myself believe that I can start again. I have to build from scratch. Even the basic foundations of my old life have been ripped from beneath me.

Abri remains unlikely to be inhabited for a very long time to come, if ever. The Japanese consortium AKEKO backed away from any plans to resurrect the island faster than the speed of light after Robin was arrested. They have launched proceedings to sue him for every penny they paid him to lease the island. I am advised that they are likely to get it, and they are merely heading the queue of victims and victim’s families who are now suing Robin for damages.

My sister Clem called me a few weeks ago. I think Julia may have told her of the part we both played in Robin’s arrest. I was overjoyed to hear from her, particularly as I had deliberately held back from contacting her.

‘Now do you understand how I feel?’ she asked.

I told her that I did. I always had, as it happened, even when I firmly believed that Robin was in no way to blame for the death of little Luke and all the others.

My mother has somehow managed to persuade her long-suffering New Zealand cousin to allow her to stay on there — it has been almost a year now — and apparently went into full Hyacinth Bucket mode when she telephoned Clem to tell her that she couldn’t possibly come home because of the scandal.

Clem and I almost managed a chuckle about that. I just about dared to hope that maybe one day we might be real sisters again, but it’s going to take time. And I do know that things can never be the same.

Poor Jason Tucker has been released from his secure mental hospital and gone home to live with his parents in the council house they have been allocated in Bideford. I keep wondering what it must be like for them to have lost the home I know they loved as well as everything else, and I want very much to tell Jason how sorry I am. But I haven’t the courage to contact him or his father at the moment.

Maude is still virtually comatose. There is a television in her room. Roger says he switches off all the news bulletins because he isn’t sure how much Maude understands. He is a kind man. I haven’t told him of my suspicion that Maude had always understood much more about Robin and what he was up to than I like to think about.

The Clifton house is on the market. I still have some cash in the bank from the sale of my flat — Robin never wanted any of it — which is just as well as it looks as if all of his money is going to go in legal fees and damages.

I don’t know what I’m going to do next. I will have to earn a living somehow, and I must find a new home. I’m tempted to leave Bristol and indeed to go as far away as I can — maybe even to the other side of the world. But I have learned some things in my life as a police officer — and one certainty is that running rarely helps.

Julia has invited me to stay with her for a while. I probably won’t, because I’m inclined to think I have caused her enough trouble for one lifetime.

There’s an obscure picture I can’t get out of my mind. Whenever I shut my eyes I see Robin, handsome, windswept, untroubled, standing tall on Abri, silhouetted against the true blue of a sea the same colour as his eyes, telling me with such pride all about his island. I can still feel his excitement, his love of the place, wrapping itself around me.

And most of all I can hear him, clear as the sound of the waves breaking against the cliffs, explaining to me the meaning of the name.

‘Abri — place of refuge.’