The Loyal Servant Read Online Free Page A

injury time.
    ‘Has something happened?’ Caroline turned to the constable. ‘We’ve not won a world cup in something that’s completely passed me by, have we?’
    PC Mills smiled at her and shrugged. The policewoman looked at her in the rear-view mirror.
    ‘I can radio in and check for you,’ she said.
    ‘Oh don’t worry – I’ll find out soon enough.’
    ‘If we have, it’s a world cup that I’ve missed too – international tiddlywinks championships maybe?’ Mills flashed Caroline an even broader smile, flashing gums as well as teeth.
    The policeman had been valiantly trying to keep her spirits up ever since he and his partner were given the task of conveying her home to Catford. Before she’d been allowed to leave the department she’d had to endure an hour and a half of questioning by the inspector. He’d asked exactly the same questions as the PC, but with none of the constable’s bedside charm. By the end of her interrogation, Caroline felt as if she was a suspect.
    Over Westminster bridge the traffic started to thin and the police car made faster progress south of the river. The sights of Camberwell and Dulwich whizzed past the window in a blur. In no time at all they were turning off Brownhill Road and into her street.
    ‘You can drop me off here,’ she said, hastily unbuckling her seatbelt. ‘We can’t go frightening the neighbours, can we?’
    ‘Are you sure?’ The PC frowned and peered out of the window.
    ‘You can practically see my front door from here. It’s not as if I’m going to get lost. Stay here and watch until I get inside, if you like.’ Caroline smiled at him. ‘I’m not giving Brenda from number 24 an excuse to gossip about me from now ‘til Christmas.’
    PC Mills jumped out of the car. He scooted round to her side and opened the door. Caroline grabbed his outstretched hand and hauled herself out. She looked up into his face. He was smiling his sympathetic smile again. He reached into a pocket and plucked out a business card.
    ‘If you think of anything that may help with our investigation, or even if you just want someone to talk about what’s happened, call that number.’ He handed her the card. ‘Just ask for me.’
    Caroline took the card and squeezed his hand; it was much warmer than hers. ‘Thank you, constable, for being so kind. Goodnight.’
    She waved at the policewoman and turned slowly up the street, taking small, deliberate steps, determined to make the short journey to her front door last as long as possible. She was enjoying the coolness of the air against her cheeks and the quiet of her road, knowing as soon as she got inside she’d be confronted with a barrage of questions. She’d managed a quick call to her husband just before she left the department, but hadn’t gone into too many details. Not over the phone. Not when she felt she might tip into tears at any moment.
    She reached the front gate and stared up at the first floor windows. Through the gaps in the curtains she could see all the lights were still on. Downstairs too. She hadn’t anticipated the whole family would be waiting up for her. She hesitated for a moment, desperately wanting to be with them but not sure she could face another interrogation about what had happened. She wanted to scrub that final image of Martin Fox from her mind, not be reminded of it as she gave them a blow-by-blow account. She drew in a deep breath, letting the chill air fill her lungs, and exhaled slowly. She pushed open the gate and hurried up the path. When she reached the front door she heard her mother shouting on the other side.
    ‘Pete! Coffee or tea? Or should I get you another beer?’
    Caroline recognised that accusatory tone only too well. She fumbled in her bag for her house key, angry with her mother, but nevertheless worried how many four-packs Pete had chucked down his throat since he’d got in from work.
    She closed the door quietly behind her and slowly slipped out of her jacket, managing