I stand, pace the room blindly, my hands in my hair as I attempt to make sense of this.
Ed?Ed?
Was this some sort of joke? Some meaningless flirtation? Wishful thinking on Ed’s part? Surely, it must have been. He fancied Caroline, I knew that. He made no secret of it. But to send her a card? And why did she keep it? She must have hidden it. Why?
Did this mean something to her as well? Were they…?
No, impossible. I’m not buying that. There has to be some other explanation. There must be.
I whirl and run from the room, narrowly avoid pitching headfirst down the stairs in my mad rush to escape. At the front door I stop, turn on my heel, and march back upstairs. I grab Ed’s card from the bed, leave the rest scattered there. I march out, slamming the door behind me.
Back in my kitchen I prop the card on the table and stare at it. My initial shock receding, I sift back through my recollections of Caroline and Ed, both separately and together. Did I ever see…? Were there any clues? Am I reading more into a silly birthday card than there really was?
Ed worked from home. I was out at work all day backthen, commuting to Leeds and back. Conveniently out of the way. Caroline worked part-time as a driving instructor. Most of her pupils wanted lessons at weekends or in the evenings so she was often here all day too. They had no shortage of opportunity. But even so.
I wish Ewan were here. He’d know what to do, what to think. He’d be able to make sense of this.
Or would he? Why should he find sense where there is none?
And now they’re gone, both of them long gone. No one to ask. No way to know.
Do I want to know?
Yes!I have to. Need to.
An hour later I’m still glaring at that lump of black paper. How can something so trivial, so unimportant, so fleeting, carry such significance? Damning evidence, that on its own means nothing. Tells me nothing. And everything. There must have been more. Some clue, some… some something left behind.
If only I’d known, suspected. I could have searched her room. If there had been any sign, any residual trace of Ed left behind there, I could have found it. But even if there was, Mike probably has it now; he took her personal possessions. I toy with the notion of phoning him, asking him to come back so I can check through his boxes, his memories of his only sister. Or maybe I could go to his hotel—he mentioned he’s staying at the Holiday Inn in Bradford.
I dismiss that notion. What would I say? That I believe his sister might have been screwing my husband, and could I just rifle through her things to find some way to prove it?
Hardly.
That just leaves…
I dial Ewan’s number, hoping that he won’t be tied up in a meeting, or in a dead zone somewhere. Theconnection takes half a minute to navigate the stratosphere and finally reach him. I hear the dial tone, and close my eyes.
Please be there. Please answer.
“Hi, darling. All go okay with Mike?”
“Ewan? Sir?”
“Faith? Are you alright? You sound upset.”
“Can you talk? I mean, I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
“Of course I can talk. What’s wrong? Is it something to do with Mike?”
“Yes. No. I found something. In Caroline’s room.”
“Yeah? What? What did you find?”
“Birthday cards.”
“I see. Cards. Cards she was going to send?” His voice is level, enquiring. It’s easy for him.
“No. Her cards, from her birthday. Just before she died.”
