‘There are some T-shirts and leggings in there, too, if you need a change,’ I remarked.
‘Thank you,’ she repeated, still bemused for some reason.
‘And a bottle of water. I imagine you haven’t had time to drink much today.’
‘You’re right,’ she said again, stopping herself from laughing while her eyes glanced at the grass beneath her feet. ‘I haven’t. But you know, you and I, we still have…’ She sighed. ‘So much to talk about.’
‘We do, we do,’ I agreed. Divorce proceedings would surely be one of those things; no couple could go through what we had and survive, but I couldn’t bear to think about that right now. ‘Look, I know we need to sort things out between us. I get that,’ I continued. ‘But I just want to say…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. I’m sorry for everything you went through at St Nicholas’s, everything with Edith, everything with Dr Patel. I had no idea, and if I did…’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, Gareth. Slow down a second,’ Fran interrupted, her face scrunched up as it always did when she was baffled by something I had said. Admittedly, it had been a lot to unload on her at once, though no more than she’d kept hiddenfrom me over the years. ‘How do you even know about any of this?’
‘It’s been a very busy few days. I mean, Lord above, Fran, why didn’t you tell me about any of this?’
‘What could you have done about it, Gareth?’ she said, resignedly. She paused for a second, as I waited tentatively on every word she said. ‘I mean, there’s nothing in our wedding vows about being truthful, you know, just having and holding,’ she added.
‘Oh, piss off,’ I replied with a nervous laugh. I thought I could see Fran chuckle, too, but I wasn’t sure if maybe it was just a gurn. ‘God, I thought I knew you better than you knew yourself, Fran.’ I gave a long sigh. ‘I was so wrong. I had no idea what you went through.’
‘I guess I tried not to think about it all too hard,’ she said, stumbling over the words as she spoke, like it was some kind of rusty memory she was still trying to unearth. ‘I was only a little girl, Gareth. I think…doing what I did made me think that somehow it wouldn’t happen again to anyone else. No more Ediths would have to experience what my Edith did. Look, I know that’s ridiculous to say, but…’
‘No, no,’ I said as assuredly as I could. The image of Fran having to go through all that as a child – losing her sister – it stirred something in me. A fury? A rage? I wasn’t totally sure what it was, especially standing outside the place that had let the organisation get away with it.
‘I didn’t know you had a sister, Fran,’ I said. ‘You know, I could always picture you as an older sister.’
‘I know,’ she said mournfully. ‘I don’t even like talking about her with Angus.’
‘I get it, I do. I…I just can’t even imagine how painful it must be,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ she said, glancing to the ground again. Clearly even this whole conversation was agony for her.
She walked over to the lone, rather miserable-looking swing set in the park and perched herself down on one of the seats, wrapping her hands around the rusty chains as I gingerly approached and sat down on the seat next to her, hoping she wouldn’t scream at me to make myself scarce.
‘I get it, Fran, I really do,’ I said after a moment of silence. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the fertility problems, though? We could have worked through that together?’
‘Honestly, I could tell you that it was because when the investigation heated up I didn’t have a chance, but if I’m being honest with myself, it’s because I thought…I thought that you’d leave me if you ever found out.’
I couldn’t help the minuscule smile that escaped my lips when she said that. How could she be so smart and so silly at the same time? How did she ever think I would leave her because of that?
‘Look, the idea of having children terrifies the shit out of me, Fran, but it’s all less terrifying with you. I would never leave you, not in a hundred years. I thought you knew that?’
‘You would arrest me, though?’
I genuinely belly laughed in shock and disbelief. ‘Whoooa,’ I bellowed as a few passers-by glanced at us, baffled at what these two grown adults were doing sitting on the swing set.
‘Too soon?’ she asked. ‘Too soon,’ she affirmed to herself. ‘I am glad you know everything now. There are no more secrets I need to worry over. I had always wanted to tell you everything, but thought it would somehow change things between us and we’d fall apart. Look, for what it’s worth, I spent a lot of my time doubtful I would ever let anyone in again, and I guess when we met and then got married, what I’m trying to say is…’ Her voice softened for a moment before she began a new train of thought.This whole conversation was just discombobulated people trying to articulate their innermost feelings and failing miserably. ‘Look, I need to go and talk to my idiot brother again,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘But I need some time to decompress, so I’m going to check into a hotel and maybe we can find a time to talk properly in the next few days?’
‘Of course, sure,’ I said, though I couldn’t shake the feeling she didn’t really mean it. ‘Let’s…just stay in touch, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Fran replied with a slight laugh, amused by my formality. ‘I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye.’
‘Bye,’ I said, resisting the impulse to say ‘I love you’ before letting her walk back to the station.
I had already made up my mind before she had even crossed the road.
It was three hours of near-constant motorway driving. After what felt like a small eternity, I finally arrived, pulling up a little distance away from the lone house on the street. I turned off the engine and curled my gloved hand around the knife, whilst tilting the cap further down my face. I checked the crumpled piece of paper in my hand again. It was definitely here. I listened out for anyone else nearby – anyone walking their dog, any teenagers smoking a joint – but it was dead quiet. No cameras, no witnesses. I didn’t know how many were inside, but if it was meant to be some kind of safe house, I could practically guarantee it would be under three, including Clark. Two, most likely. He was probably in the process of trying to flee the country to escape, nervous his actions with Heart of Hope were about to be fished out of the sewers.
I waited for thirty minutes or so in the darkened car. After a while, I saw a small glimpse of light as a figure left the house and shut the door behind him. I watched him bumbleand stumble across the front garden, and then begin doddering in my direction. Leaving the keys in the ignition, I pulled my fingers around the inside door handle, and carefully opened it up, placing the knife in the pocket of my coat. Silently pulling myself out of the car, I crouched down, gently pushing the door shut. As I eased myself closer to the bonnet to keep watch, my eyes remained fixed on the figure moving towards me. He had a newsboy cap fitted to his head, and a thick winter coat wrapped around him, but I could tell by his stature that this was definitely Clark.
One strike to the head would be enough to take him out, not a doubt in my mind. Once he passed the car I would leap out of my position, launch the knife down onto his skull, watch the man fall, and then drive away within twenty seconds. I planned my trajectory as I adjusted my hands and feet. In this moment of adrenaline, I was suddenly unsure whether I was left or right-handed. Was this how Fran had felt before she’d murdered Macleod and O’Neill?
