The Widow

Chapter 40

Friday, 22 January 2010

The Widow

I WAS DOING some hand washing in the sink when Bob Sparkes knocked. I stuck my hands under the tap to rinse off the soap and then shook them dry as I walked to the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but Glen had put in a little camera so we could see who was on the doorstep on a video screen. ‘Saves us wasting our time opening the door to the press, Jeanie,’ he said, putting the last screw in the bracket.

I didn’t like it. It made everyone look like criminals, all distorted like in the back of a spoon, even his mum. But he insisted. I looked and saw DI Sparkes, his nose filling the screen. I pressed the intercom and asked, ‘Who is it?’ No point making it easy for him. He sort of smiled. He knew it was a game and said, ‘It’s DI Bob Sparkes, Mrs Taylor. Can we have a quick word?’

I opened the door and he was there, his face restored to normal proportions – a nice face, really. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you again, after the compensation settlement and everything else,’ I said.

‘Well, here I am. It’s been a while. How are you both?’ he said, bold as brass.

‘Fine, no thanks to you, but I’m afraid Glen isn’t here, Inspector. Maybe you should call ahead next time, if you want to come back.’

‘No, that’s fine. I just want to ask you a couple of questions.’

‘Me? What can you possibly have to ask me? The case against Glen is closed.’

‘I know, I know, but there is something I need to ask you, Jean.’

The intimacy of using my first name threw me off guard and I told him to wipe his feet.

When he came in, he went straight into the living room – like he was family. He sat down in his usual place and I stood in the door. I wasn’t going to get comfortable with him. He shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t right.

He didn’t look sorry for coming, harassing us after the courts had said it was all over. I suddenly felt frightened. Having him here was like it starting all over again. The questions starting again. And I was afraid. Afraid he’d found something new to hound us with.

‘Jean, I want to ask you why you became Dawn Elliott’s friend on Facebook.’

I hadn’t expected that. I didn’t know what to say. I’d started using the internet after Glen was charged and taken away. I wanted to understand how it worked – put myself in Glen’s shoes, maybe – so I bought a little laptop and the man in the shop helped me set it up with an email address and Facebook. It took a while to get the hang of it, but I bought an idiot’s guide to help me and I had lots of time to spend figuring it out. It whiled away my evenings and was a change from the telly. I didn’t tell Glen while he was in Belmarsh. I was worried he’d think I was doing it to try and catch him out. He might think I was being disloyal.

I didn’t use it much, anyway, and when he came out he was surprised, but not in an angry way. I suppose there was too much going on for anything I did to matter much.

But he certainly didn’t know that I was a Facebook friend of Dawn’s, and now Bob Sparkes was here to make trouble about it. It was stupid of me – ‘reckless’, Glen would say if he knew. I did it one night after I saw Dawn on the news. I just wanted to be part of the campaign to find Bella, to do something to help, because I believed she was alive.

I didn’t think the police would see me in the middle of all those hundreds of names, but of course they see everything. ‘You never think, Jean,’ Glen would say if he was here now. I shouldn’t have done it, though, because it’s going to make the police look at us all over again. It’s going to cause Glen problems. DI Sparkes is looking at me, but I think I should say nothing and look stupid and let him blunder on.

And on he goes. ‘Did you sign up to the campaign, Jean, or did someone use your identity?’

I suppose he means Glen.

‘How would I know, Inspector Sparkes?’ Need to keep my distance. No first names. Where’s Glen? He said he’d only be ten minutes. Finally, I hear his key in the lock.

‘We’re in here, Glen,’ I call. ‘DI Sparkes is here.’

Glen looks in, his coat still on, and nods to the inspector. Bob Sparkes stands and goes into the hall to talk to him on his own. I sit, petrified that Glen will explode about the Facebook thing, but there are no raised voices and then I hear the door click.

‘He’s gone,’ Glen says from the hall. ‘He shouldn’t have come. I told him it’s police harassment and he left. What did he say to you?’

‘Nothing. He wanted to know when you’d be back.’ Well, he did.

I go upstairs to put my rinsed tights on the airer over the bath, then get my laptop out to see if I can delete myself from Bella’s Facebook page. Bit pointless really as the police have already seen it, but Glen hasn’t. I don’t think Inspector Sparkes said anything to him. That was good of him.

I expect he’ll be back, though.

Glen is rummaging in the fridge for something to put in a sandwich when I come downstairs and I jokily push him aside so I can do it for him. ‘What do you fancy? Cheese or tuna?’

‘Tuna, please. Have we got any crisps to go with it?’

I fix up a plate of food with a bit of lettuce and tomato. He needs to eat more fresh veg. He’s looking pasty and putting on weight with all this sitting around indoors.

‘Where did you go?’ I say as I put the plate in front of him. ‘Just now?’

Glen puts on that face, the one when I’m irritating him. ‘Down to the paper shop, Jean. Stop checking up on me.’

‘I’m just interested, that’s all. How’s your sandwich? Can I have a look at the paper?’

‘I forgot to buy one. Now let me eat in peace.’

I go off into the other room and try not to worry, but I think it’s all starting again. His nonsense. He has begun doing his disappearing act again. Not in the house – I’d know. But he sometimes goes out for an hour or two and comes back unable to say what he’s been doing and gets cross if I ask too many questions.

I don’t really want to know, but I need to. If I’m honest, I thought that was why Bob Sparkes came today. I thought Glen had been caught doing something on a computer again.

I try so hard not to doubt him, but some days, like today, I struggle. I start imagining what could happen. No point thinking the worst, my dad says to my mum when she gets in a state, but it’s hard not to. Hard when the worst is just out there. Just outside the door.

I should do something to stop it. If I don’t, we’ll both be lost.