Page 135 of Maybe Tomorrow

They finished their meal and went into the living room with a mug of tea each and Freya got out the box of good biscuits. When she offered Jennifer the spare bed for the night, she jumped at the chance. She was so comfortable with them.

‘I was thinking on the way over here,’ Jennifer began as she nibbled on a hazelnut cookie. ‘You don’t realise when you’re going to need an alibi, do you?’

‘What do you mean?’ Freya asked.

‘Well, the fact that Anthony couldn’t actually say where he was on the night of the murder went against him. I mean, how many times do we go out on our own? What if… I don’t know… what if I’m out for a walk in the park after a hard day, clearing my head, and something happens at home to Malcolm? I could be accused of anything.’

‘I’m not sure what to say to that. My job sort of relies on witnesses and alibis,’ Freya said.

‘That’s what I mean. Without witnesses and alibis, we could all be guilty of anything.’

‘This is a fun conversation,’ Chris said, reaching over for a cookie.

‘I mean, where were you, Chris, on the night Alice was killed?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Me?’ He looked at her, wide-eyed.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve no idea. It was more than ten years ago.’

‘It was the night of the big storm, though. You should remember. I do.’

‘Me too,’ Freya said. ‘I was on the night shift, and me and a few of the other WPCs, as we were called then, were watching the weather through the window. It looked like the end of the world.’

‘I’d been at my mum’s for a few days and was driving home,’ Jennifer said. ‘Scariest journey of my life. I couldn’t wait to get in. Just getting from the car to the front door was a performance in itself.’

‘I was at home. On my own,’ Chris said. ‘I wasn’t working. I lived in a flat above a laundrette at the time. Just me and the telly. Until the power went out. Then I went to bed.’

‘See, there’s only you among us, Freya, who has an alibi. We don’t realise how vulnerable we are as people until our actions are questioned.’

‘Excuse me,’ Chris said. He put his mug down on the coffee table and left the room.

‘Is he all right?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Despite what he says, he really does miss being a detective.’

‘Ah. Sorry. I’ve put my foot in my mouth a couple of times this evening, haven’t I?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Is there no chance of him being allowed back in now that everything with Bishop is out in the open?’

‘I suppose he could try, but he’s drawn a line under that part of his life. He loves his business, but his first love was always being a detective.’

‘Bastard Bishop. It makes you wonder how many other lives he ruined.’

ChapterSixty-One

Tuesday 26th July 1994

Anthony had been out of prison for two weeks. His story had fallen off the front pages and out of the television news, but work was still ongoing to get him compensation for his time in prison. Jennifer was putting together a strong case against the prison service over the attacks Anthony suffered at the hands of other prisoners, particularly the one that left him blind in one eye with respiratory issues and with deep psychological wounds. There was talk of a seven-figure pay-out. Anthony couldn’t even begin to imagine what that looked like.

He liked the new home in Withernsea. It was much closer to the coast than the house in Whitby. He could see the sea from his bedroom window and spent a great deal of his time in there. He still hadn’t been out of the house on his own yet, preferring to have either his mother or Leo by his side.

Pauline worked four afternoons a week at a tearoom and Leo worked full-time in an insurance office. For a few hours, Anthony was home alone. On those occasions, he did nothing. He simply sat in his room and either read or looked out of the window. If the phone rang, he left it unanswered. If anyone knocked at the door, he didn’t go to open it.

At mealtimes, he sat with Pauline and Leo and listened to their conversations as they spoke about what kind of day they’d had, but he rarely joined in. He had nothing to say. His days were empty. He sat in silence, picking at his food, taking in all they said, before leaving to return to the quiet solitude of his bedroom overlooking the sea.