Chapter 81 Results
As the press are rehashing Hollis’s and my relationship as a tragic love story with some help from me, I await the postman. My shins are still sore, not that anyone’s asked. Hollis is still in a hypothermic coma and seems determined not to die, which is probably the worst of all worlds.
I hope it’s not uncharitable to hope for brain damage in the area responsible for language and memory, if he does pull through. If he survives, I’m unable to inherit a penny of his considerable wealth and am entitled to nothing from Stephen.
If he dies, things are somewhat sunnier.
Cait did manage to break into Hollis’s flat, find his will and burn it, clever girl.
If he now dies, he dies intestate, which should mean I’ll get everything as his legal spouse.
On the less positive side, Cait’s been arrested for the attempted murder of Matthew Hollis.
I strongly believe that her video of him dangling me over the Thames while holding a gun means that they won’t charge her.
However, as she breached her bail conditions again, and is clearly a lethal threat to abusive men everywhere, she’s back in Bronzefield until her trial for Owen’s manslaughter.
I watch the road from the front room. The postie’s a nice chap, quite mature, with a limp and a large trolley.
Always manages a smile, but he is slow. I head upstairs to the bedroom for a better view and spot him five houses down from ours.
I look at my watch. I just want to run and grab Nelly’s letter.
I decide to indulge my impatience on this occasion, rush downstairs, grab my coat, and shout to anyone who’s interested that the post is here.
No one in the house responds, least of all Nelly, who’s hiding again.
We no longer search for her. I think one of those trackers that Cait has attached to her ankle might be the only solution.
I open the door and I’m confronted again by DS Birch and DC Mattoo coming through the gate. It’s almost as if they know I won’t answer the door and wait to ambush me.
‘Mrs Rook,’ says DS Birch. ‘Looks like you’ve recovered from your injuries.’
‘I nearly died. Most of the scars from that incident will never heal, Detective,’ I say.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. Mrs Rook, we just need a further word with you.’
‘If this is about that Jason Mercer again, I can’t help you. You’ve got to learn to find people by yourself.’
‘We understand that Matthew Hollis paid Mercer to track you down,’ says DS Birch. ‘It explains a great deal.’
I stop, partly because they’ve blocked my path but mainly because of the expressions on both of their faces. I glance from one to the other. Constipation? It’s a strange look for a police officer and it suits neither of them.
‘Could we come in?’ says DS Birch. ‘There’s something important we need to discuss.’
‘I’m afraid not, I’m just trying to catch the postman. Just say what you need to say right here.’ I look over their shoulders at the postman as he reaches number 40.
‘It’s about Matthew Hollis,’ says Birch.
‘Hold on,’ I interrupt as I slip in between them and head for the postman.
‘Mrs Rook, did you hear me?’
‘I don’t see what I can add. He attacked me. I’m a victim – look at my bandages. Isn’t it time the police stopped persecuting women for protecting themselves? Now, I’ve got to catch the post. He’s missed number 42. They rarely get letters, actually.’
‘Mrs Rook, we’re not investigating the incident at the river. That’s not our case.’
The postman arrives at the gate and I wave at him enthusiastically.
‘Mrs Rook, please,’ says Birch loudly.
‘One minute,’ I say, and walk to the postman. ‘Hello, anything for me?’
The postman nods his head, then gives me a look and points his nose towards the police officers.
‘Oh, my husband tried to kill me,’ I say.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ he says. ‘He always seemed so nice.’
‘Oh, not Stephen, another husband,’ I say.
‘Takes all sorts,’ he says, and gives me a quizzical look as if I’m part of a throuple.
‘I’m expecting good news, actually,’ I say, as he flicks through a handful of letters.
‘Just the one.’ He hands me a beautiful, weighty envelope inscribed with the Adams crest.
I press the envelope to my chest and turn back to the door. ‘Important letter,’ I explain to the police officers, whose expressions are still quite sombre.
‘I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news,’ says DS Birch.
I stare down at the envelope. It’s a gorgeous thick ivory paper.
Like something from Buckingham Palace. I can’t imagine that they would send a rejection in such a fine envelope.
I nod to the police officers as I pull out the letter.
It’s folded so exactly that I delight at the execution. These little touches really matter.
‘Matthew Hollis died in the early hours of this morning,’ says DS Birch.
‘Right,’ I say, hardly listening as I unfold the letter and read. I scan it quickly and feel my organs all seize up at once. I stagger forward. DC Mattoo has to reach out to stop me falling, then I let out an almighty scream.
‘We’re sorry for your loss,’ says DC Mattoo, with a kindly hand to my shoulder.
Adams Preparatory School
Hampstead
Dear Mr and Mrs Rook,
We so enjoyed the pleasure of meeting Nelly over the course of the admissions process. She’s a remarkable young lady with such strength of character and talent. We were particularly impressed by her beautifully sculpted dolphin and her passionate interest in Mary Poppins and taxidermy.
The examination consisted of a mathematics test, and an English test. Our decision is also based on other important factors such as Nelly’s school reference and her social interactions.
It is with enormous regret that we are unable to offer Nelly a school place for 7+ entry. We are grateful for your application and all the work that Nelly has put into her preparation. She should be justly proud of herself.
Although you may be deeply disappointed by this news, please may I take this opportunity to share my personal good wishes for Nelly’s future education.
Yours sincerely,
Penelope Pembury