The Secrets Of The Shadows. Helen Phifer
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sorry she was. She jogged along the gravel path and pulled the key from her pocket. The door wasn’t locked which wasn’t like Will. He was the king of telling people to ‘Lock it or Lose it’, the force’s burglary motto. She opened the door and stepped inside. It reeked of stale beer, and her eyes fell on the table and the photo of them both which was face down. Her stomach began to churn, she hadn’t felt this way since she’d left Mike and she knew something was wrong. Call it a woman’s intuition or a copper’s instinct. A loud snore came from the direction of the living room and she forced herself to move towards it.
She wasn’t too sure what she had expected to see but it definitely wasn’t Will lying next to a practically naked Laura, who had her arm thrown over his chest and her legs wrapped around his. The pain which shot through Annie’s heart made her gasp out loud. Deep down her worst fear had been that it would end like this. She had managed to forget about Will’s reputation as a womaniser because he had changed since he’d fallen in love with her. Tears welled in her eyes and as much as she wanted to grab skinny, blonde Laura’s hair and drag her off the sofa and throw her naked into the front street – she couldn’t do it. Will murmured something into Laura’s ear and that was it, Annie turned to run out the house and out of Will’s life forever, but she tripped over his shoes and clattered into the wall. Will’s eyes flew open and he looked in her direction, confused. Annie stared back at him, composing herself as she turned and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.
Will felt the warmth from the body next to him and was shocked to see Laura. ‘Fuck me Laura, what are you doing?’
He shoved her and she rolled off the sofa onto the soft rug below. He fumbled to get up, his head swimming. His stomach lurched and his mouth filled with bile. Still he ran for the front door, noticing the picture frame he’d knocked over last night and had been too drunk to bother picking up. A loud screech as Annie’s car sped off was enough to make him puke all over the hall floor. When he finished retching he threw open the door to make sure that it had been her car and that she wasn’t still sitting outside. She was long gone and he stood on his front porch mentally begging her to come back. He turned to go inside and noticed his elderly neighbour watching him. He remembered that he was almost naked. ‘Sorry Mrs Jones.’ He went back in and shut the door. Laura was standing there, with her clothes on now. ‘I should get going, can you ring me a taxi – my phone’s dead?’
He pointed at the phone next to the overturned picture. ‘Ring one yourself. What were you thinking, what was I thinking, did we?’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
She shook her head, ‘I don’t know, I can’t remember.’
‘Phone your taxi then wait outside, you can shut the door behind you.’ He walked to the kitchen to get a pint of water and four paracetamol, he felt like shit. Hangovers at his age weren’t so much fun anymore and he had just royally fucked up his life. He wanted to cry but instead he took a roll of paper towels to mop up his vomit and then went upstairs to bed. He dialled Annie’s number but it went straight to voicemail. Not able to do much else he shut his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, one in which he hadn’t just broken the heart of the woman he loved and ruined his whole life.
Father John had a busy day ahead of him; he had two funerals and a christening to arrange. He also had a sick parishioner to visit who needed to speak to him about something they wouldn’t discuss with anyone else. But first things first, he wandered into the kitchen in his SpongeBob pyjamas and fluffy slippers. He needed coffee. Not just a spoonful from a jar, proper coffee. He rarely spent money on himself but the one thing he had finally succumbed to was a coffee machine, one that could match the industrial size one in the local Costa without breaking a sweat. In fact Father John’s cappuccinos were the stuff made of legends; if they were to make him a saint it would be Father John – Patron Saint of Coffee Drinkers. The woman’s union would congregate around the large kitchen table once a week with a plate of homemade biscuits and twelve of his coffees, then he would bow out gracefully and leave them to it. For the first time in history there was actually a waiting list to join them and he knew it was because he was running a parish coffee shop. He ground the beans and set about making his coffee, popping two slices of wholemeal bread into the toaster. Once he’d eaten his breakfast and read the daily paper he would shower and put on his sin-busting suit as he fondly called it and get to work.
He was on his second cup of coffee and halfway through reading the paper when he heard an ear-splitting scream outside. He jumped up, throwing his paper to the side, and ran to the window to see what the hell it was. He peered out and could see the bentfigure of Mrs Higgins come hurtling through the churchyard and into the front garden. For an old woman she could move fast! He rushed to the front door and opened it for the woman, who was now standing there breathing heavily and pointing towards the churchyard. She couldn’t speak, so John slipped on his boots and began jogging in the direction she was pointing. He couldn’t see anything and looked around expecting to see some young couple having sex or some drunken, homeless guy but there wasn’t anything. He looked back at her and shrugged. She lifted a shaking hand and pointed towards the wall. He turned around slowly this time, looking at the graves, and then he saw her; he had to blink to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. She was lying on one of the much older graves and she looked as if she was asleep, only John knew she was in a much worse state than being asleep. He nodded to Mrs Higgins and made his way towards the grave, not wanting to go any further but knowing he had a duty of care towards this poor woman. He stood in front of her and crossed himself, saying a quick prayer, then he bent down and placed two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. He knew there wouldn’t be one but he had to try. He stood up and walked back to the house to phone the police. Dear God what was the world coming to?
***
Will dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He couldn’t spend all day wallowing in self pity and hiding away from the world, he needed to sort this mess out now. The combination of the alcohol and the thought of how much he had hurt Annie was giving him a butterflies. He was positive he hadn’t actually had sex with Laura, he had been pissed as a fart but he remembered telling her that he loved Annie so how had she ended up naked next to him? He knew from past experience that when he got that drunk he wouldn’t be able to get it up for Jennifer Aniston so there was no way he would have been able to do it with Laura. The hot water cleansed his skin but he still felt like a dirty, rotten cheat on the inside. He rubbed the lemon shower gel that Annie bought all over. He hoped to God he would be able to sort it out with her because the last six months had been the best of his life. He had even been thinking about asking her to marry him and up until he’d met her he never really believed that he’d ever feel that way about a woman – ever. His phone was ringing but it was only when he turned the shower off and began to dry himself that he heard it; his heart skipped a beat and he crossed his fingers it was her. Dashing naked through to the bedroom to reach his phone he picked it up and saw it was a blocked number and knew it was work.
‘Will speaking.’
He listened as the control room operator informed him that a body had been found in St Mary’s churchyard, it looked suspicious and would he attend. ‘Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ He ended the call, bollocks now it was going to be hours before he would get to speak to Annie. Not wanting to do it over the phone he had no choice so he dialled her number. She didn’t pick up and he hadn’t really expected her to so he left her a message. ‘Annie, it’s not what you think. I swear to God I don’t know how she ended up there. I was so drunk I wouldn’t be able to, well, you know what I mean. I love you so much, I’ve got to go, there’s a suspicious death at St Mary’s and it might be hours before I can come and see you. Please Annie, I love you with all my heart – let me explain.’
He ended the call and slumped on the bed, today was going to be a long day.
***
Annie had driven around aimlessly for a couple of hours, at one point she ended up on Walney Island and parked the car on the seafront, watching the waves crashing onto the shore with tears rolling down her cheeks. She finally decided it was time to go home and