The Forever Home by Sue Watson

Chapter Thirty-Six

The following evening, I returned late from seeing Mark. The meeting had been traumatic, in ways even I hadn’t expected, and I really didn’t want to talk about it. But Ryan was waiting for me when I got back.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked, standing in the kitchen in bed shorts and a T-shirt; his hair was a mess and he looked genuinely worried.

I walked up to him, and put my arms around him. ‘I’m back now, that’s all that matters,’ I said, trying not to cry.

‘You smell smoky,’ he said into my hair.

‘That’s Mark and his damn cigarettes.’

‘Why are you so late?’

‘Oh, the usual shit. I arrived on board to find him below deck in a stupor. Took me ages to get any sense out of him. And that boat he’s living on is old and it smelt vile and I wanted to vomit…’ I shuddered at the memory, as he squeezed me tighter.

‘So did he sign the papers?’

‘No… he was too drunk.’

‘But…’ he looked at his watch, ‘it’s after eleven, you went at seven. You’ve been four hours, Carly.’ Then his face changed expression. ‘He didn’t hurt you, did he? If he touched you, I’ll—’

‘No, no. I’m fine, just so tired.’ I gave him a weak smile, but even that felt like too much effort. I just wanted to go to bed, to try and forget this evening, although I knew that would be impossible.

‘Hey, what about a nice cup of coffee?’ I said, feigning brightness. I just needed him to stop asking questions and was relieved when he pulled away from me and put the kettle on.

‘Did you even talk?’ Ryan asked. ‘I mean, the house – the reason you went there was to make sure you got your half back,’ he said, as he put a heaped spoonful of coffee into a mug.

‘Yeah, I know that, Ryan,’ I snapped.

He rolled his eyes; he seemed pissed off.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

‘It doesn’t add up. You’re saying you spent all that time on some scuzzy little boat, and came away with nothing?’

That angered me. ‘Ryan, he was drunk, anything he might have signed would be worth nothing. I’m sorry if you’re annoyed I didn’t get the house back…’

‘I’m not saying that. I just can’t believe you spent all that time with him and didn’t get any further.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you? He was pissed. I tried to cajole him, but he’d been drinking all afternoon; even if he had agreed to it, his signature would have been meaningless.’

‘Whatever,’ he mumbled, sounding like a bloody teenager.

He plonked my mug down on the kitchen unit without looking at me.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll stay in Jake’s room tonight; I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.’

I was hurt, but after the night I’d had, a little part of me was relieved. I didn’t want to have to talk any more about it, or address the timeline any further with Ryan. There were things I needed to get my head around; things I couldn’t tell him.

The next morning, I was woken by a sharp rapping on the front door. I heard Ryan answer it, and sat up, half-awake, listening to him talking to a female voice, and then a male voice.

I put on my dressing gown and walked out onto the landing, where I peered over the bannister, straight into the faces of DS Sally Barker and DS Harefield.

‘Ahh, there you are, Carly,’ Sally said, walking to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Could we have a word?’

My heart sank as I walked downstairs to join her.

‘I’m sorry, love, we have some bad news – your husband, Mark Anderson, has been found dead this morning.’

My hands flew up to my mouth. ‘Oh God, I don’t believe it! What happened?’

‘A fire, on the boat he was staying on. It looks like there were some head injuries too, but we’re not sure if they happened before the fire, or as a result of him falling.’

‘No! A fire?’ I felt unable to say anything else.

‘Yes, very sad, and probably an accident that could have been avoided. A lit cigarette perhaps?’ she suggested.

‘Yeah, he sometimes smoked.’ I nodded.

‘My colleagues are with his… partner?’ She cleared her throat. ‘But as you’re still his wife on paper, I felt it only fair to come and tell you in person,’ she said, searching my face.

Ryan offered them coffee.

‘They drink tea, I think, don’t you?’ I said, looking back at Sally and DS Harefield’s rather blank faces.

They both nodded, and Sally dragged her eyes away from mine to study Ryan, who was now in my kitchen. In pyjama bottoms. I looked down at my own night attire, and, embarrassed, pulled it around me, covering my cleavage.

‘When did you last see Mr Anderson?’ DS Harefield started before we’d even sat down. He was getting out his notebook, and my heart sank as I was lurched right back to Erin’s disappearance, the questioning, the dark, dank little office with only a desk, and the constant questions. I couldn’t go through that again.

‘I haven’t for a while… Actually, I spoke to him on the phone, the day before yesterday,’ I added, realising they might check his phone records.

Ryan shot me a look, but I ignored him, keeping my eyes firmly on DS Harefield’s eyes.

‘Oh – and did he seem… any different from usual?’

‘Any different from his usual drunk and depressed? No.’

‘Has he had a diagnosis of depression?’ Sally asked.

‘No… Oh, I don’t know. Ask Erin, ask Lara, they know more about his recent mental state than I do. All I know is that he’s always had a problem with alcohol.’

‘Has he ever indicated to you that he might have considered taking his own life?’ DS Harefield asked.

‘Not directly, but let’s face it, he was an accident waiting to happen.’

‘Meaning?’ he said, looking up from his notebook.

‘Meaning – his big dream in LA was looking unlikely, he had the new baby, the high-maintenance younger woman, money was tight; it’s no surprise that his alcoholism had worsened. Lara, my friend, Erin’s mum – she said he sometimes dropped the little one off at hers and she was horrified because he’d driven over and she smelt alcohol on his breath,’ I said. I wanted them to know how bad he was. ‘I think he’d given up on life,’ I added, with a final flourish.

‘Oh dear,’ Sally said, making notes, ‘you think he was suicidal?’

‘Look, I’m no psychiatrist, but the last time I spoke to him on the phone he said he’d had enough…’ I started, then plucked a tissue from the box to dab my eyes. ‘I’m worried now that he was asking for help, and I missed it…’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ Sally said, as Ryan put down cups of tea for them both on the coffee table.

They chatted away, trying to make conversation, but I knew this was more than just chat, that they thought I knew more than I was saying about Mark’s death. And just before they left, Sally was still keen to find out about Ryan’s status in my life.

‘So – you guys are still together?’

Ryan looked slightly panicked at this, unaware that I’d already told Sally at the last ‘meeting’.

‘Yes, still together.’ I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

‘Good for you,’ she said, giving me a wink, which was all rather embarrassing, but I appreciated her support, and it felt like an indication that they were finished with me. After more small talk, which felt like genuine small talk, mostly about the house, I gave her a Forever Home coffee table book for her mum, who she’d said on our first meeting had loved the programme.

‘Oh Carly, she’ll treasure this,’ she said, pink with pleasure, and asked me to sign it.

‘I’m not the famous one,’ I said, with a smile. ‘It’s Mark’s signature she’ll want.’ Then I looked at her. ‘Oh God, I will never get used to the fact he isn’t here…’ And I burst into tears.

Sally comforted me, told me ‘sometimes things happen for a reason, and who are we to know what goes on in someone else’s head’. I stopped crying, and, satisfied I wasn’t able to tell them anything they didn’t already know, I walked them to the door, and they left.

‘What the hell are you doing lying to the police?’ Ryan hissed as soon as their car had left the driveway.

‘I didn’t lie.’

‘Carly, you so did,’ he said, his face red. ‘You were there. You were with him for four hours last night, and today he’s dead. WTF?’

‘You heard them. He killed himself. He set light to his boat, either by accident or suicide – he did it, anyone can see that,’ I said, gathering the cups together to wash. ‘I didn’t need to tell them I was there.’

‘I think they came here because they were convinced you knew something. I just worry for you. I don’t want to be collecting you from bloody police custody again, or worse.’

‘Look, Ryan, this isn’t helping. Believe it or not, I’m sad about Mark, he’s the father of my kids – and now I have to tell them,’ I said.

‘Okay, so perhaps you’d better make those calls.’ He shrugged, leaving the room.

‘Ryan,’ I called, ‘stay with me while I call them. You’re one of us now.’

He wandered back into the room and, sitting down next to me on the sofa, held my hand as I called them.

Phoebe didn’t cry. She was surprised, but as I said to her, ‘In some ways, darling, it was inevitable, he was so unhappy, and his drinking had got so much worse.’

The phone call to Jake was harder though. He cried a lot and asked me how I was and said he’d come over. ‘Stay at uni, darling,’ I said. ‘Don’t drive back, you’re in no fit state. Come when you’re ready and feel strong enough to face all this. The police have been and I just don’t want you or Phoebe having to deal with them.’ I wanted my kids as far away from this as possible. I had to protect them.

That evening, as Ryan and I sat on the sofa, staring out onto the ocean, we were both quiet. ‘Are you okay?’ he said.

‘Yeah, I think it’s just hitting me now what’s happened,’ I said quietly, although in truth, my mind had been non-stop all day. ‘Talking to the kids was the worst. I’m glad that’s over,’ I said, knowing I’d be there for them as I always had been, where their father hadn’t.

‘Who gets this house?’ he suddenly asked.

‘You mean now Mark’s died?’

‘Yeah – does half of it automatically go to Erin?’

‘Not sure, it depends,’ I lied. I didn’t want Ryan to know I was still next of kin. Mark’s will hadn’t been changed, and therefore everything would be left to me, including the half of my house I gave to him all those years before. I had to know if Ryan wanted me for me, and if I didn’t have the house, or any money, that would be a test. ‘Why do you ask?’ I said.

‘No reason, just wondering,’ he said, then immediately changed the subject – which made me feel even more uneasy.