The Doll's House

73

She slipped her key in the lock and teased the door open. She should really have gone back to the station after the discoveries on the beach – to brief Stephen and talk to Media Liaison – but she couldn’t face it. Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding and she just wanted to shut the world out for a while.

Yet again, Helen Grace had made her look a fool. She had argued vigorously not to waste time and resources digging up the beach and though neither she, Helen nor Stephen would ever mention it again, it would be remembered by both. For Helen it would confirm her impression that her boss was a politician and desk jockey rather than a real copper, but more worryingly it would set back her relations with Stephen. He knew her well and had always liked her but lately she had come to question where his loyalties lay. Was he attracted to Helen? Many men were, despite the fact that she was totally unobtainable. Or was he just seduced by her status as the heroic face of Southampton policing? Once more, Helen had proved that she had a nose for the big, career-defining cases. And if she managed to bring in another serial killer it would burnish Stephen’s reputation still further. Leaving her as the bad guy who nearly messed the whole thing up.

Opening the fridge, Ceri Harwood took a large swig of Chardonnay straight from the bottle, then held the chilled glass against her raging head. It felt nice and suddenly all she wanted to do was to find Tim, snuggle up on the sofa and finish the rest of it. This cheering thought roused her to action and she climbed the stairs two at a time. Tim often worked at home and was constantly badgering her to get home early, so they could spend more time together. She seldom obliged – how could she in her position? – but having bunked off work she felt exhilarated by the thought of surprising him with her sudden appearance.

She was halfway up the last flight of stairs to the attic office, when she paused. The office was quiet, but there were noises coming from elsewhere. From their bedroom. She could hear Tim, but also female tones too. Laughing, talking and more besides.

Ceri willed herself to move, but her feet stayed firmly planted to the stairs. What does one do in these situations? Slink away or confront? She wanted to do the former – God she wanted to do that – but some vestige of personal pride now forced her to choose the latter course. Summoning her courage, she marched forward, turned the handle and stepped inside.

The confusion started as soon as she entered. Surprise, then shock, then panicked apologies, as the naked lovers scrambled to make themselves decent. Tim was already halfway across the room, trying to steer her from the bedroom, but she didn’t see him. She had eyes only for his lover. The woman she had been tasked with buttering up on numerous occasions, when she dined at their house. Lucy White.

Shrugging off her husband, Ceri Harwood stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. Her first thought was for the girls – she didn’t want them walking into this – so she found herself texting another school mum to see if she could pick them up. She invented a lame excuse for the sudden emergency, which brought her up short. Is this how it would be now – lying to cover up her hurt and Tim’s transgression? What are you supposed to tell your children in these situations?

Ceri sat down on the hard kitchen chair. None of this felt remotely real, but as she heard the front door shut quietly and Lucy’s gentle footsteps clip-clopping down the steps to freedom, she knew that it was. This day had started badly, got steadily worse and ended in utter horror.

All that she had to look forward to now was the fallout.