Tania Carver: Choked

He had gone on to talk of what Don had meant to him. How he owed his career, his attitude, everything he had to him. And how he would miss him. God, how he would miss him.

There was more. But Marina couldn’t remember it. She had been crying too much.

When he had finished, Phil had walked back to her side. Alone. Unaided.

And in that moment, she knew everything was going to be all right.

Marina had barely let Josephina out of her sight. Even in the hospital when they wanted to check her over she had insisted on being with her. She wouldn’t be parted for one second. And Josephina, clinging to her, felt exactly that same way.

Once they had returned home, there had been a week of sleepless nights. Josephina not wanting to close her eyes in case the scary woman was there. Marina had done everything she could to reassure the child, and she had gradually started to sleep. But the nights then became punctuated by nightmares, with Josephina waking up crying and screaming. They had moved her bed into their bedroom to have her near to them. Eventually they had just let her into their bed.

She hadn’t let go of Lady. Marina had tried to take the toy off her, wash it at least, but Josephina wouldn’t let her. So there it had stayed. Filthy dirty, ragged, but loved.

And that was OK.

One night after getting Josephina into bed, Marina and Phil had sat in their living room, trying to lead normal lives once more. Pretend they were ordinary again. Sharing a bottle of wine.

‘Only to be expected,’ Phil had said, ‘after what she’s been through.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Marina had replied.

‘Is she going to be … you know. Scarred by this for life.’

Marina had shrugged. ‘I hope not. You and I had much more traumatic childhoods and we did all right.’

‘We were lucky, though,’ said Phil. ‘We found ways out.’

‘True. We’ll just have to make sure that Josephina doesn’t need luck. Children are resilient and they can forget things. But trauma like this can do massive damage. Massive. Even if she buries it deep in her subconscious, under all the other layers of memory she’ll acquire. There’ll be some trace memory of it, some emotional unease.’

‘Should we be worried about that?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. All we can do is be there for her. Make her feel safe. Loved. Yes, take her to a specialist if we need to, if things get worse and she needs professional help. But for now, let’s just see how it goes. Let’s help her to get over it.’

Phil said nothing.

‘We’re here,’ said Marina. ‘We’re alive. That’s the main thing. If we’re alive there’s always hope.’

‘And human beings forget things,’ said Phil. ‘Memories fade. Pain fades. It’s how we can carry on. All of us.’

She looked across at him. Wondered if the words hadn’t just been about their daughter but his father as well.

They had sat in silence.

In the upstairs room of the King’s Head, amidst the noise of the mourners and celebrants, with Don’s pictures on the wall behind them, Phil and Marina stood like a small island. The calm at the eye of the storm.

Franks looked over at them, nodded. But didn’t come any closer. Marina wasn’t surprised.

Franks had been furious with Marina for what she had done that night in Wrabness. He had called her into his office the next day, didn’t invite her to sit. He clearly wanted to stay sitting himself but was too angry so stood up, faced her over the desk top.

‘What the bloody hell did you think you were playing at? That was a police operation and you are one of this team. You were given a direct instruction and you ignored it.’

Marina stood up to him. ‘And it was a good job I did. If I’d waited for you to get there, my daughter might well have been dead.’

Franks’s mouth had twisted but he hadn’t given her a reply. ‘We were right behind you. And not only did you interfere with a police operation, you left a murder scene. One dead, two seriously injured.’

‘I had my daughter to take care of. And as you said, you and the team were on the way.’

Franks didn’t seem to have been spoken to like this before. He didn’t know quite how to respond. Anger and sympathy vied for prominence in his features. He sighed. ‘Yes. I understand. I realise you were under a lot of strain, with what you’ve had to go through in the last few days. But it doesn’t alter the fact that you’re part of this team. And there’s a chain of command. This is the Major Incident Squad, not some cowboy outfit. If you can’t understand that and be part of it, then perhaps it’s best you’re not here.’

‘Fine,’ she said.

‘What?’ He stopped talking, stared at her, surprised at her answer. ‘You mean that?’

‘Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last couple of days. Maybe it’s time I had a change.’

Franks fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded. ‘Right. Spend some time at home. With your daughter.’

‘Yes. And go back into private practice. Or consultancy. Or academia. Somewhere where my talents will be more appreciated.’

Franks reddened, tried to say something consoling, but she was no longer listening.

And that had been the end of that.

Sandro had visited Marina and Phil a few nights earlier. Gone to their home and been welcomed in. Well that makes a change, he had thought. Hell of a change. He had even sat with Phil, drank a beer. Talked. He wasn’t a bad bloke, Sandro had decided. For a copper.

But when Marina pulled him aside into the kitchen to have a word in private, he knew what she was about to say.

‘You OK?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Well as can be expected. You?’

‘Yeah.’ He sighed. Ran his hand over his head. ‘Mental.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Marina said.

Sandro nodded. He knew what she was talking about.

‘I shouldn’t have left you to make that choice. Open the trapdoor or not. It should never have happened.’

Sandro shrugged, aimed for nonchalance. Missed. ‘I couldn’t leave her,’ he said. ‘Just walk out of that house and leave her to die.’ He sighed. ‘I couldn’t.’

Marina nodded.

‘It was a crazy night.’ Sandro thought for a while, head down. Then looked up, directly at Marina. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about this, though. A lot. What happened with the Golem, that was a fight, yeah? Proper kill-or-be-killed fight.’

‘What you did was self-defence.’

‘Yeah. But leaving that madwoman there, even after everything she’d done, that would have made you just as bad. And me.’

‘I’ve been thinking about Mum again,’ said Marina. ‘What she did for us. A mother will do anything, Sandro, anything — everything — to protect her children. Our mother put herself, her own body, in the way of blows meant for us. All I could see was Josephina. All I wanted to do was … neutralise the threat to her as best I could.’

‘And I let her out.’

‘She was no threat then. Not really. But you were the one with compassion.’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘Maybe I don’t take after Dad after all.’

‘Maybe you don’t.’

He smiled. ‘Maybe there’s hope for me yet.’

Marina returned the smile. ‘Maybe.’

They fell into a resigned silence. Still, like a ceasefire after a war.

‘He’s not a bad bloke either,’ said Sandro, gesturing to the living room. ‘For a copper.’

‘What about your other trouble?’ said Marina. ‘The money you owed?’

A smile crept across Sandro’s features. He kept his eyes averted from his sister. ‘Fine. Everything’s fine there. No worries.’