The Backs (2013) by Alison Bruce Read Free Book Online Page B

She’d never spoken about it, never had the opportunity to ask questions, only to try to find answers within the news reports. And that wasn’t the same.
    She’d meanwhile stopped listening to him. Instead she stared into her lap and caught sight of her own chest rising and falling in exaggerated breaths. Becca had died seven years and three months ago. Jane thought she’d done all her crying, yet here she was still fighting tears. She drew in a deep breath, and for a second her head cleared.
    DI Marks was still speaking. ‘I’m very sorry.’ He had now said it twice; perhaps he assumed she hadn’t heard the first time.
    Those were, she realized, the very first words of condolence anyone had offered her. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed. Acknowledging them meant she’d accepted them. The tears then broke loose, erupting as though they’d only ever been buried in the shallowest of graves. She heard her own pain too, voiced along with sobs that sounded primitive but disembodied, out of her control. She realized she was shouting ‘No, no, no’ between the sobbing.
    The silent policewoman pushed a box of tissues into her hands. Jane pushed them away. Right then she didn’t want to stop to even think about what she’d done. She’d missed her sister’s funeral. Never been to visit the grave. That bastard had gone to prison, but she’d always known he wasn’t the killer. How had she thought it OK to let a guilty man go unpunished? How much respect had that shown to Becca?
    ‘Am I free to go?’ she asked.
    Marks nodded. ‘You are, but I need an address.’
    ‘I don’t know what I’m doing about that yet.’
    ‘I still need an address.’
    ‘I see.’ She nodded, but didn’t have an answer.
    ‘A friend perhaps? It would be better for you to have some support.’
    ‘I’ll go back north tomorrow.’ Lies always found her when she needed them. ‘Back to my boyfriend. Please can I phone him? I can sort it out.’
    She could tell he doubted her; he thought for a few seconds, then let it go. ‘No one will pursue the shoplifting charge on this occasion. I would appreciate receiving an address from you, when you can. I’ll now leave you with PC Wilkes; she’ll get you in touch with victim support.’ He shook her hand and left her. Then the silent policewoman spoke for the first time: ‘Where are you going right now?’
    ‘What time is it?’
    ‘Just after three a.m. You might find a hotel but you’ll never get into a B and B at this hour. I finish at six, so I could leave you in here until then. Would you like me to fetch you a sandwich?’
    ‘No. I’m just going to clear off, but thanks. I’ve got friends who won’t mind. I can get a taxi there.’
    ‘OK, if you’re sure.’
    Sometimes people believed lies just because it suited them.
    Ten minutes later she exited through the front door of the police station, hoisted her rucksack on to one shoulder, and set off across Parker’s Piece. The sky had stayed clear, and although it was still night time, it didn’t seem all that dark. If the building itself hadn’t been in the way, she would have paused a moment to turn to the north-east and look for the faint glow that shone from beyond that horizon. Apparently it was Norway, though she couldn’t remember if she’d once been told that or just invented it. Anyhow, it was what she always chose to believe. The idea of standing in the night time of one country while looking at day-light in another still fascinated her. She’d often watched skies like that from her bedroom window because, even as a kid, her instincts had been telling her to get as far away as possible.
    That wasn’t how she felt now, though. She didn’t feel any danger walking through the city streets at night; in her mind a sleeping Cambridge was a benign Cambridge. She took her time, stopping frequently, moving aimlessly, telling herself that this really would be the final time she visited. It was only as she reached Magdalene Bridge