Tania Carver - The Surrogate

She went up the stairs, one step at a time, supporting herself heavily on the banister, into the bathroom, where she ran the water, began to slowly strip away the layers of her clothes.

At least all I have to do is stand there, she thought. I don’t have to move.

She stepped into the shower. Closed her eyes.

Stood there until her legs ached. Then towelled off, went into the bedroom and changed into her pyjamas and dressing gown. She only meant to have a few minutes’ rest. Just a quick lie-down on the bed. But as soon as she closed her eyes she was gone.

Her last thought before sleep claimed her was that it would all sort itself out. When the baby was born.

Chrissie Burrows had, Anni thought, been very eager to help but didn’t have much to contribute. She had come across her type quite often. It was a common enough response in situations like this, to feel that you had to do everything possible to assist, even when you had exhausted your knowledge.

The woman was in her thirties, plain and round. But she had eyes that, under different circumstances, would have indicated a lively, fun companion. Not these circumstances, however.

The empty classroom they were talking in felt hot and cloying. Like the boiler was turned up too high to keep the children drowsy. Anni tried to ignore it, set to work establishing a timeline for the party.

Chrissie Burrows sat fidgeting with one paper tissue after another, dabbing her eyes, blowing her nose, reducing them to shreds with her fingers. ‘Well, I… I left early.’

‘What time would that have been?’

‘Around nine. Nine thirty at the very latest. But nearer nine, I think.’

‘Any particular reason?’

She thought, shook her head. ‘We… we were all having a good time. I’d given Claire her present, some Babygros…’ The tears threatened again. She plucked another paper tissue from the box. Anni waited for her to ride the moment out.

‘And you went home.’

She nodded. ‘Still had some work to do for today. And I have a long drive, so I only had one glass…’

‘And did you see anyone suspicious as you left? Anyone loitering outside or on the stairs?’

She shook her head. Her brow was furrowed, as if by concentrating hard enough she would be able to make the memory, or even the person, Anni wanted appear before them.

‘So who else was there, apart from yourself?’

‘Claire, Julie, Geraint… that’s it.’

‘No one from outside school?’

She shook her head.

‘Not Claire’s boyfriend? Ryan Brotherton?’

Chrissie Burrows sat up, something else in her eyes besides tears. ‘No. Not him. Claire never wanted to see him again.’

Anni kept her expression professionally blank. ‘Why not?’

‘He was a… oh.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t say it. But he was bad for Claire. Very bad. Getting rid of him was the best thing she ever did.’

‘What about Julie? Was there anyone in her background who might have wanted to harm her?’

Chrissie Burrows looked up. ‘Julie? No. No one. No one wanted to harm her. She was, she was…’ The tears started again.

Anni was beginning to see a pattern emerging.

She regarded the weeping woman intently, doubting there was anything more she could tell her. She was just a normal woman who couldn’t believe that something horribly extraordinary had invaded her life and taken away two of her friends in the most brutal way imaginable.

Anni stood up, handed her a card. ‘If you think of anything else, please call.’

Chrissie Burrows took the card without looking up.

With a uniform stepping in to take a statement from the distraught teacher, Anni went on to question Geraint Cooper. Relieved to be out of that hot room.

The police had requisitioned the nurse’s room for questioning and he was waiting for her there. At least it was slightly cooler than the classroom. Geraint Cooper was black and, she surmised, in his mid to late twenties. Neatly dressed, he sat with his hands in his lap. Anni didn’t believe in jumping to conclusions, and certainly not in stereotypes, but from his demeanour and attitude, she was sure Geraint Cooper was gay.

She sat down opposite him and introduced herself.

‘Mr Cooper, I’m DS Hepburn.’

They shook hands. She felt from his loose grip that he was shaking slightly.

‘I’ll try and make this as painless as possible,’ she said with a small smile. ‘You were at Claire Fielding’s last night along with Julie Simpson and Chrissie Burrows.’ Not a question, a statement.

He nodded.

‘What time did you leave?’

‘Around ten. Something like that.’

‘And where do you live?’

‘Dutch Quarter. Just up the road from Claire.’ His voice caught as he said her name.

‘How did you get home?’

‘Walked.’

‘And what would you say the mood was like when you left?’

He shrugged. ‘We were all having a good time. A good laugh.’ He looked straight at her. ‘Claire was enjoying herself. We all were.’

‘No arguments, nothing like that?’

He looked as if the question offended him. ‘No. Just having a laugh.’

‘And it was a baby shower?’

He nodded. ‘A baby shower. We brought our presents, opened some wine, had a laugh. God knows, she needed it.’

‘Claire? Why d’you say that?’

He sat back, his body language defensive, arms wrapped over his chest. ‘Because of him .’

‘You mean Ryan Brotherton?’

He nodded.

‘What did he do?’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard all about it by now.’

‘Tell me again.’

‘He didn’t want the baby. Wanted her to get rid of it. She wouldn’t. She dumped him.’

Anni waited. He said no more. ‘And that’s it?’

He nodded, arms still wrapped tightly round his chest.

She changed her approach. ‘When you left, at around tenish, did you see anyone suspicious hanging about?’

He said nothing, thinking.

‘Either outside the flats, in the street, or even inside, on the stairs. Anyone. Anywhere.’

He sighed. His arms dropped, his posture relaxed. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all day. Over and over in my head. Trying to think…’

‘And was there? Anyone?’

He sighed. ‘No. No one. Sorry. I wish there had been.’

‘That’s all right. And Julie Simpson was still there when you left?’

He nodded.

‘Didn’t she have to get back home?’

‘Said she’d help Claire clear up.’

Knowing the answer, she asked the next question anyway, to check that the stories matched. ‘And were you the first to leave?’

He shook his head. ‘Chrissie went first. She had the furthest to travel. Wivenhoe way.’ He looked at her pointedly. ‘She didn’t drink too much. Didn’t want to get pulled over.’

Anni smiled again. ‘I don’t care about that. I’m just trying to find who killed Claire and Julie.’

He nodded, as if accepting that. ‘Well I think we know who did that, don’t we?’

‘Do we?’ Anni leaned forward slightly. ‘Who would that be, Mr Cooper?’

Geraint Cooper looked her square in the eyes. Anni realised that he was shaking not from nerves but from anger. ‘Well it’s obvious, isn’t it? Claire’s ex. That bastard Ryan Brotherton. He killed her.’

DS Clayton Thompson glanced quickly round. No one about. No one following him.

He had left the station and walked down Headgate towards the town centre. The shops were thinking about closing, and with the night drawing in, the bars and restaurants in front of him along Head Street were becoming alluring. He felt their pull on him now, even on a weekday.