Ask laura, p.7
Ask Laura, page 7
Steve assured me I’d done the right thing by ringing him and as he was still working, it was no trouble to call round, although he was about half an hour away. My apologies sounded lame and confused, which exactly matched my feelings, yet knowing he was on his way calmed me down somewhat. I checked that all the doors were locked and put the kettle on to boil before going upstairs. The boys were reading, so I told them to put the light out and go to sleep. My gentle knock on Lucy’s door was ignored, so I opened it quietly and went inside. She was lying across her bed with earphones on, oblivious to my presence. Walking over to the bed to get her attention, I asked if she would like a hot drink.
‘No thanks,’ was the curt reply, but at least she’d added ‘thanks’. I returned downstairs to wait and prowled aimlessly around until Steve arrived, by which time I’d eaten four Kit Kats and was thoroughly disgusted with myself, not just for the chocolate but for everything. Perhaps I should forget the novel and write a handbook on how to mess up a life! My credentials for writing such a work include: unplanned pregnancies, messing up a marriage, alienating a daughter, and not handling an unwanted admirer. The list grew in my mind until interrupted by the doorbell.
Had it only been this morning when this man had last been here? It seemed so much longer. Steve looked at me with concern.
‘Let me make you a drink,’ he said.
‘I’ll do it. What would you like?’
‘Hot, sweet tea. You need it more than me.’ He followed me into the kitchen and watched me make the tea, asking no questions until we were back in the lounge.
‘What time did he call?’
‘Shortly after nine.’
‘Do you think you can tell me what he said?’
‘I’ll try.’ It was embarrassing repeating some of the disgusting things Richard had said and avoiding eye contact, I repeated most of the one-sided conversation.
‘I was taken completely off guard and barely responded until it became too much and I put the phone down. It rang again within a minute or two. That’s when I took it off the hook.’
‘Have you had any calls since then?’
‘Well, no, but it’s been off the hook for most of the time.’
Steve picked up the phone and dialled 1471, listened to the number, and noted it.
‘Right, Laura, this is what’s going to happen. After you rang, I sent a couple of uniformed officers to Ward’s address. They should have seen him by now and they’ll make sure he doesn’t get in touch again. Tomorrow I’ll send someone to fit a security camera outside your front door. This can only be a temporary measure for as long as the threat lasts. We can’t fit them permanently, but it might be an option you’d like to consider yourself. I would also suggest you get a telephone which has a caller ID display, so you’ll know who’s ringing and have the option of answering or not.’
I nodded feebly, feeling like a useless woman who couldn’t sort out her own pathetic little life.
‘When we visited Ward earlier, we took his fingerprints, so they’ll be on file to compare as soon as forensics sends the results over. It could be what angered him, but in my experience, the ones who make the loudest noise are the ones who are least likely to take action.’ Steve was trying to reassure me, which I appreciated. His presence was in itself a comfort. Strangely, living alone with only my children had never frightened me before, but I was truly scared then. However, he seemed in no hurry to dash off and asked if he could look at the doors and downstairs windows to check for any security issues. It didn’t take long to do the tour of my home and Steve seemed satisfied that it was reasonably secure.
It was half past ten by then, and I knew he would have to leave, although irrationally, I longed for him to stay.
‘Be sure to lock the door after me,’ were his parting words. As well as locking it, I wanted to barricade it with furniture. But I refrained from such excessive measures, making my way upstairs to bed instead, weary yet with little hope of sleep. Reliving the day’s events in the silence of my bedroom, I drifted in and out of sleep, restless and listening to every sound. Even the familiar creaks and groans of my home brought fear rather than the comfort they usually afforded. It began to rain, and as the windows rattled with the high wind, my mind started to play tricks on me. Shadows from the trees outside the window took on fearful, ugly shapes, which in my half-dream, became people trying to enter the house. A bolt of lightning illuminated the room and I sat upright, suddenly wide awake. The storm was worsening, and I began to wonder if all the doors were secure. Once the thought took root in my head, it was impossible to sleep without checking.
Downstairs, the phone was still disconnected and I picked it up to check for any missed calls, of which thankfully there were none. Richard must have been warned off and hopefully wouldn’t trouble me again. Everything was secure, so I made my way back upstairs to look in on the children before returning to bed. All three were sound asleep, oblivious to the storm outside and the even fiercer one raging inside my head.
Chapter Thirteen
A workman was on my doorstep by nine-thirty the following day to fit the security camera. It was a relief that the children had already left for school, but there would be some explaining to do when they came home this afternoon. Exactly how much to tell them was a dilemma. My instinct was to protect them from the world’s realities, but they were growing up so quickly. Perhaps they were old enough to know what was going on, and although I hadn’t directly lied to them about current circumstances, I’d been evasive.
Mid-morning, the phone rang, and I almost dropped the dishes in my hands. Surely it wouldn’t be Richard again? The only way to find out was to answer and when I did, a flood of relief washed over me as Janet’s voice greeted me warmly.
‘We were wondering how things were, Laura. Are the police any nearer to finding out who sent those dreadful letters?’ Her voice was comforting, and I took the phone and sat down to tell her the latest happenings.
‘So do you think it could be this Richard who’s sending the letters?’
‘I honestly don’t know, but he’s certainly a problem. Hopefully, the police will have scared him off and he’ll not be in touch again, and they’ve taken his fingerprints too.’
‘Have they managed to get any fingerprints from the last letter?’ Janet asked.
‘Sadly, not yet. It’s too early. This might be a major incident to me, but it’s not very high on their list as far as priorities go. I’m sure they’ll let me know as soon as they can.’ I was deliberately vague about the police, for some reason, not wanting to mention Steve by name. He was concerned and helpful, which is probably the sort of man he is. But, of course, I was stupid reading any more into it.
‘Why don’t you come over for lunch? We’d love to see you again and I’ve got some jam for you. As usual, I’ve made far more than we’ll be able to eat.’
The thought of Janet and Bob’s comforting presence and their lovely home beckoned, the workman had finished fitting the camera, so there was no reason to say no. I was achieving nothing productive in my own home and their company would surely give me a lift. So, replacing the phone, I ran upstairs to tidy my hair and apply a little make-up, then set off to the Tube station and on to my in-laws.
As usual, they greeted me warmly, and even Fudge made an effort to stand up and waddle over, wagging his tail enthusiastically. Pasta and salad were waiting on the table, making me feel suddenly very hungry. I enjoyed the food and probably had more than my share of the bottle of wine they’d opened but only for medicinal purposes, of course. Sitting in the warm lounge with coffee afterwards, we discussed the storm from the night before. Huge branches had come down in their street and smaller ones littered their garden. Naturally, I didn’t tell them the effect the storm had on me and the irrational fear it had induced, but I began to open up a bit more to these lovely people about some of the things which troubled me.
‘The magazine has suspended my page until this is all over,’ I admitted as if I’d done something wrong.
‘Oh, how awful, but surely they’ll find this menace soon and things can go back to normal?’
‘That’s what I’m hoping too, but what if they don’t find him? Even if the letters stop they will still be there in the background and the magazine might decide to finish ‘Ask Laura’ permanently. There aren’t many magazines which still feature problem pages, and they have been trying to streamline lately. So they might use this as an excuse to cut out the page for good.’
‘Well it would be their loss. You do a great job, Laura,’ said Bob, giving me his vote of confidence.
‘Thank you, but it’s a possibility I’ll have to consider.’
‘But you still have your articles, they’re always so good, and perhaps you could write for other magazines too?’ Janet always looked on the bright side.
‘Yes, I’ve been trying to think about some features, but quite honestly, it’s so hard to concentrate with all this going on.’ I paused, wondering if I should tell them about the situation with Lucy. They were her grandparents and had a right to know.
‘Things are a little difficult at home too at the moment.’ The tale about Lucy, her mysterious boyfriend and finding the pills came out, and it was such a relief to be able to talk about it.
‘So when are you going to meet this boy?’ Bob asked.
‘We haven’t agreed on a date yet. Lucy is putting great effort into avoiding me and has hardly spoken a full sentence to me since I found the pills.’
‘What did Paul say?’ Janet’s face was all concern.
‘He did come round, and we spoke to Lucy together but it wasn’t a very fruitful dialogue. With everything else going on I suppose I’ve let the matter slip. We’ll try again and see if we can arrange a time to meet him.’ I spoke determinedly, but the phrase ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’ was ringing in my mind.
‘Do the children know about the letters?’ It was an obvious question and something about which I was still undecided.
‘No, not yet, but when they see the CCTV outside the house, there are bound to be questions, so tonight might be a good time to talk to them.’ It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, and to be quite candid, I was weary with worry. It seems our little lives had been invaded with unwelcome events and I was no longer in control.
With that thought in mind, I left Janet and Bob, having enjoyed their company and the chance to talk openly to someone other than the police. But, yes, it was time to tell the children, if only for their own security. Until we knew who was sending the letters, they should be more vigilant too.
Sam was the first to spot the camera and ask the question why. When his brother and sister arrived home, I gathered them around the kitchen table to explain what had happened. Trying to make it sound like everything was under control wasn’t easy when the reality was, it wasn’t. Nevertheless, I attempted to keep my voice calm and even and explain the letters as simply and as well as possible.
‘It’s not Jon’s dad who’s sending them, is it?’ Jake looked worried.
‘I did mention him to the police and they’ve been to see him. Has Jon said anything to make you think he might?’
‘No, but I don’t like his dad,’ Jake said. At least there was no fallout from this quarter. Hopefully, Richard would be too embarrassed to tell anyone, especially his son.
‘How does the camera work? Can we see everything which is happening outside?’ Trust Sam to be the curious one.
‘Probably not. We won’t have to do anything as the camera belongs to the police, not us. The man who fitted it talked about video compression and motion detectors. It’s only activated by something moving into the camera’s range. He said it could be connected to a computer to view any images, but that’s for the police to do, not us.’
‘Cool, can I try?’ Sam was excited. At least he didn’t seem concerned about any threat. Jake and Lucy were harder to read. Jake was quiet, he always was the one to keep his thoughts to himself, and Lucy remained silent and sullen.
‘No, Sam, we can’t touch it. It’s not ours, and when this is over the police will take it down, and it probably won’t record anything more interesting than the neighbourhood cats chasing mice through the night.’ Only Sam laughed.
‘This letter writer is probably only someone wanting to cause trouble, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be extra careful. Tell me if anything unusual happens so we can tell the police, and I don’t need to tell you about talking to strangers, do I?’
Lucy rolled her eyes, already bored with the whole subject. Jake nodded and Sam asked, ‘What do you mean about anything unusual?’
‘Well, if you think anyone’s watching you or the house. Other than that, I don’t know, just be careful, please.’
‘Did you really have to go to the police over a few cranky letters?’ Lucy didn’t actually tut her disapproval, but I heard it anyway.
‘The magazine insisted on contacting the police, and I agree with them. Just all take a little extra care, will you?’
The children left the kitchen, Sam, to look at the CCTV camera and Jake and Lucy upstairs to their respective rooms. It was a relief when the situation didn’t appear to frighten them. To Sam in particular, it seemed to be exciting, whereas I simply longed for it all to pass so we could get on with our normal, if somewhat dull, lives.
Chapter Fourteen
A week passed without incident, which in itself was somewhat worrying. I hadn’t heard from the police other than a courtesy call from DC Amy Peters to say they expected the fingerprints from forensics any day. I didn’t know exactly what to expect from the police as this was hardly the case of the century, so I asked if there’d been any more letters, to which she answered no. Whether this was good news or not was debatable. If the letter writer had stopped, feeling he’d achieved the goal of the ‘Ask Laura’ page being suspended, then we would probably never find out who he was. But if the magazine reinstated my page, would the letters begin again, or would they decide not to take the risk and cut out my page permanently?
Admittedly I was somewhat disappointed when Amy rang and not Steve, which is rather silly of me, I know. Steve’s presence was reassuring and had a calming effect on me, but he would have many other cases which were far more important than mine. Very little had changed with Lucy either, although I did press her again to invite Brad for a meal so we could meet him. She looked horrified, but when she saw the determination in my face, she reluctantly agreed. Conveniently, Brad was away on holiday for a couple of weeks, so a meeting would have to wait until he returned; Lucy enjoyed telling me that one.
My new phone, with caller ID, rang mid-morning and I recognised the number as the school.
‘Mrs Green? This is Marjorie Wilson; I’m the pastoral care tutor for the lower sixth.’
‘Oh yes, hello.’ I vaguely remember meeting her at one of the parents’ evenings. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘I was going to ask you that. Lucy hasn’t been in school this week. Is she ill?’ Her words hit me like a slap in the face.
‘But she has, surely? She’s left the house as usual each morning. Are you certain she hasn’t been there? Could she have been late and missed registration?’
‘No, Mrs Green, we’re sure. Perhaps you could come into school to discuss this with Mr Bennett? Are you able to come today?’
‘Yes, of course. Shall I come now?’
‘Mr Bennett has a gap at one o’clock if it’s any good?’
‘Yes, I’ll be there.’ I was stunned. Lucy had left as usual every day that week, so where had she been going? My first thought was to dial her mobile number, but unsurprisingly, my daughter’s voice told me she could not take the call and please leave a message. I did, perhaps a rather angry message, letting her know the school had called to ask where she was. If she got the message and knew she was rumbled, it was unlikely she’d call me back, which sadly was the case. After an early lunch, I tried again telling her I was on the way to school to see the headmaster, softening my tone a little and saying how much not knowing where she was worried me. It was pouring with rain, so I decided to take the car rather than brave the twenty-minute walk, not wanting to be soaked through when I arrived.
West End Academy, where all three children attend, is my old school too, but it was called West End Comprehensive then. Since my day, there are many other changes, including a swimming pool and a new science wing. For parents’ evenings or productions of one kind or another, my visits to the school invariably prompted uncomfortable feelings. Having been a shy, self-conscious child, school had been an anathema to me, and I cannot concur with those who insist they are the best years of life. For myself, I couldn’t wait to leave, and going to university was a much more positive experience. There’d been a culture of bullying at West End in my day, which thankfully is not the case today. But there was a different attitude to bullying then, and I would never have told my parents about it. They would only have lectured me about standing up for myself. It was part of the growing up process which I was expected to deal with on my own.
Those unpleasant memories came flooding back on entering the school, and heading to the headmaster’s office evoked the same nauseous feeling from my school days. The corridors were much narrower than I remembered, and the classrooms seemed smaller, almost claustrophobic. Knocking gently on the headmaster’s door, I waited for a reply.
