Cath Staincliffe - Blink of an Eye

My quest had changed from recovering memories for Naomi to trying to establish if anyone had seen them leave the barbecue. And find out why they’d not intervened. Or if Naomi really had fooled everyone, Alex included, by appearing perfectly capable.

Alice, an old friend of Jonty’s from childhood, was Ollie’s godmother or the lay equivalent. She had come down to Manchester for the barbecue. She had a horsy, outdoorsy style to her. When I’d first chatted to her at Suzanne’s wedding, I hadn’t been surprised to learn she lived on a farm. She raised rare-breed sheep.

Alice was very sympathetic, full of condolences, almost gushing when I rang her. Before I even had a chance to ask her anything, she went on, ‘It was such a shock when Jonty told us. I thought Alex was driving them back. She was pretty far gone.’

‘Yes, I think a few people assumed he’d drive.’

‘Even Naomi.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Naomi said Alex would drive,’ Alice said.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. No one else had mentioned this. ‘Are you sure?’ Could Naomi have been confused about the arrangement? Then, when she realized she was too pissed to make a sensible decision, just pretended she could handle it?

‘Yes, I asked her if they were staying over. Or if they wanted to share a taxi; we were in a hotel in town. She obviously didn’t want me to think she would be driving.’

My mouth was dry, my hands clammy on the phone. ‘You couldn’t have misunderstood?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘And he was on fruit juice.’

‘What?’

‘Well, for some of the time at least. Naomi and I went in to get more wine from the ice bucket and I offered it round, but he had a glass of juice.’

I was quiet for a moment, disturbed by what she said. I remembered Martin talking about the vodka and orange. Rocket fuel. Alex had been drinking but had made it look like he wasn’t. And at the hospital, when he’d first told us the awful details, asking him if Naomi was drunk. His response: No, I’d never have let her . She’d offered to drive, I was celebrating. She was fine with it . Denying she was drunk. Was he too drunk to tell?

‘If only they’d stuck to the plan,’ Alice said.

Don was very interested in what I’d heard from Alice. ‘It raises questions,’ he said, ‘and that’s good for us. Why did Naomi say that and Alex say something different? It also helps us with a very first plank of the case – was Naomi driving the car? Was she expecting Alex to? Was he complicit? Did he ask her to? Did she just offer?’

‘Why would she do that?’

‘You know alcohol loosens inhibitions. People imagine that their abilities are not impaired. Serial drink-drivers will boast that they drive even better after a couple of drinks. It’s bullshit. But it’s not impossible to imagine Alex and Naomi reaching the car and her offering, downplaying the number of drinks she’s had. A journey she’s made dozens of times, a fine evening.’

‘Except she’s never driven like that before.’ I was still sceptical. ‘If only someone had seen them getting in the car.’

‘At present, with this little gem, the prosecution will find it hard to prove she was driving,’ Don said.

‘But if she wasn’t, that implies that Alex might have… but Alex saved her life.’

He held up a hand. ‘We don’t imply anything ,’ he emphasized the word, ‘other than doubt. That’s the bottom line. Uncertainty, lack of surety. Niggling doubt. Was Naomi behind the wheel? No one saw her. Was the car being driven dangerously or carelessly; was it even an acceptable standard? A young woman, unblemished history, no previous offences whatsoever, not even a speeding ticket. The prosecution will find it very hard to get a jury to convict, to say there is no shred of doubt that she committed the offence.’

There was hope. But I couldn’t help thinking of Lily Vasey and where that left her family. I asked Don. He replied with the words I used so often in trying to comfort my daughter: an accident. Tragic, unforeseen, random, an accident.

Carmel

I pictured Alex and Naomi leaving. They’d parked opposite, outside the second of the detached houses on the cul-de-sac, not the one that had been sold. Julia had said something about Fraser helping the neighbours, the dog people, to move some stuff. Had he noticed Naomi leaving? I rang to ask him. He hadn’t – he’d gone home by then, the bulk of the job done. The couple, the Langhams, had given up their kennels and moved to the coast, Blackpool. Setting up a bespoke holiday company for people wanting something special from a weekend in the resort beyond a trip to the Pleasure Beach and a stick of rock. It seemed like a bizarre switch of field. Julia didn’t have their number, but she gave me the business name and I found them online.

As soon as Mrs Langham realized I was not a potential customer, she became impatient. I imagined they were under considerable pressure, the first few weeks into running a new business, especially as the recession showed no sign of abating. And the leisure industry relied on people with disposable income, which was in ever shorter supply for most of us.

No, she said, she hadn’t noticed the car, or anyone driving off in it. She exhibited absolutely no interest or curiosity about my call.

I asked to speak to her husband. ‘Neville’s out,’ she said.

‘I can ring back.’

She gave a gusty sigh and told me to try after eight. I did, and finally got to speak to him. He wasn’t as brusque as his wife, but he was sorry he couldn’t remember anything particular. He’d been ferrying their furniture to the new house much of the time. Disappointment rolled over me like a bank of cloud. I was thanking him prior to hanging up when he said, ‘Did you already talk to Larry?’

‘Larry? No.’

‘My brother-in-law. He was giving us a hand.’

Larry lived in Birmingham. He sounded suspicious at first: as soon as I introduced myself, he launched into a spiel about not wanting cold callers. Then he cottoned on to what I was asking: had he seen a couple drive away in a Honda Civic, the day of the removals, about eight in the evening?

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘bloody idiot nearly pranged my rear end. Had to brake sharp, like. It was a hire van, so the last thing I needed was shelling out the excess on the insurance. I’m a loss-adjuster myself, but these van hire firms, there’s no leeway if you cause any damage.’

Oh, Naomi. If only she had bumped his van. The ensuing kerfuffle would have delayed them leaving, Larry or Alex would have seen she was unfit, and Lily Vasey would still be playing out and giggling with her schoolmates and watching telly or having bedtime stories with her family.

‘You saw them get in the car?’ I said.

‘Yes.’

‘Could you tell she was drunk?’

‘She was, by the looks of it. But the way he shot backwards, he wasn’t exactly sober himself. Or maybe he’d not passed his test.’

My heart stood still and there was a roaring in my ears. ‘He was driving?’ I said, dozens of objections crowding in the back of my head.

‘Yes. Why?’

I began to cry, and poor Larry didn’t know what to do.

‘I’m sorry,’ I squeaked. ‘I’ll have to go, but I’ll be in touch. Please, remember what you’ve just told me.’

Phil was in the living room, the day’s paper, crossword almost completed, on the floor beside his chair. Eyes closed. ‘Phil?’

He heard me and stirred, came to. ‘Yeah,’ sleep thick in his voice. He must have seen how I was shaking; his manner abruptly changed. He shot to his feet. ‘What?’ Came towards me. ‘Carmel what is it?’