Jack Be Nimble

Chapter 2

2

DCI Jack Culverhouse stood ashen-faced at his front door, staring out at the figure in front of him. He wasn’t used to having late-night callers, and he certainly wasn’t expecting this one.

‘Hello Jack,’ she said as she tried to force a smile.

For him, though, no words were forthcoming. The last time he’d seen Helen was eight and a half years ago, the day she’d walked out and taken their three-year-old daughter Emily with her. That day seemed as though it could have been a century ago, but at the same time, seeing her face before him again now, it felt like it was only yesterday.

Her hair was shorter, cut neatly and shaped around the jawline, with fading highlights which had evidently been put in a few months ago. She’d still kept her slim figure, Jack noticed. At least that was something.

‘You probably weren’t expecting to see me,’ she said as she pushed a straight lock of hair behind her ear.

‘No. I can’t say I was.’

‘Can I come in?’ she asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

This wasn’t exactly a situation which had certain protocol or etiquette attached to it. Not that Jack Culverhouse was a man for protocol or etiquette. For eight and a half years he’d imagined this moment, thought about what he’d say if it ever happened. What could he possibly say? After eight and a half years, he still didn’t have an answer to that question.

Part of him — an ever-decreasing part — was pleased to see her. She was, after all, his wife. The anger and resentment had also subsided over the years. For the first year or two, he would’ve slammed the door in her face, no questions asked. But now those feelings had waned and he found himself feeling absolutely no emotion for a woman he’d married and fathered a child with.

His feelings for Emily had certainly not diminished, though. A father’s love never fades.

All of this flashed through his mind in a split-second before he answered the only way he knew how.

‘I don’t see why not.’

The first thought that crossed his mind as he closed the front door was how strange it was that Helen had had to ask to enter what was, essentially, her own house. He’d never got round to removing her name from the deeds. He’d need her permission to do that anyway, and he had no way of getting in contact with her. At least, that was his justification for not doing it.

Managing the mortgage on his own hadn’t been a problem. He’d been doing that anyway, before she left, but afterwards he’d had the added bonus of not having to clear her credit card bill each month too.

‘I suppose you want to know why I’m here,’ she said as she sat down on the sofa and leant forward, her elbows on her knees.

‘No, I just thought we could have a cup of tea and play happy f*****g families again.’

Helen smiled. ‘Still got your acerbic wit, I see.’

‘Is that what it is?’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Personally, I call it realism.’

‘You can sit down, you know.’

Culverhouse raised his eyebrows. ‘What, in my own house? How very kind of you.’

Helen’s smile faded. ‘Sit down, Jack.’

Culverhouse did as he was told.

‘I really don’t know where to start,’ she said, staring at her feet. ‘I’ve been planning this for so long, how to explain and get it to make sense for you. It doesn’t really make much sense to me, if I’m honest, but there we go. It’s not really something you can ever explain, is it? I mean, how do you find the right words to say—’

‘Where have you been?’ Culverhouse interrupted, more as a statement than a question.

‘Spain.’

‘Oh, lovely. At least you were sunning yourself and enjoying sangria and siestas, then.’

‘It’s not all that,’ she said, looking back at her feet.

‘And what about Emily?’ he asked, his voice lowered.

‘She’s fine.’

‘Where is she?’

‘She’s not here,’ Helen answered.

‘Well I can bloody well see that,’ Culverhouse replied, standing and pacing towards the kitchen with his hands thrust in his pockets.

‘She didn’t want to come. And before you say it, yes, I did try and get her to. But she didn’t want to. You have to understand, Jack, she barely knows you.’

‘Of course she doesn’t! You took her away when she was three years old, Helen. What do you think that does to a kid?’

Helen remained silent.

‘Where is she? Who’s she with?’ he asked.

Helen sighed. ‘She’s with David.’

‘David? Who’s David?’

‘He’s my partner.’

Culverhouse nodded slowly. ‘I see. And does she call him Daddy?’ It sounded ridiculous, but it was the first thing he could think to say.

‘No, of course she doesn’t,’ came the reply. In all his years of police training and experience, he could still never tell whether or not his wife was telling the truth. ‘What about you, Jack? Haven’t you moved on? It’s been eight and a half years.’

Culverhouse let out a small snort before he spoke. ‘I know exactly how long it’s been, Helen. And no, I haven’t. I’m married. To you.’

‘Only legally,’ Helen replied in a small voice. ‘Never emotionally. Emotionally, you were always married to the job. I can see some things never change,’ she said, pointing to the Mildenheath CID lanyard hanging around his neck. ‘I mean, am I being interviewed or are we having a chat? It’s gone midnight, for Christ’s sake.’

Culverhouse looked at the lanyard and took it off, throwing it on top of the lounge sideboard.

‘It meant nothing to you back then and it’ll probably mean nothing now, but it’s not a nine to five job, Helen. It’s a way of life. A way of life you bought into.’

‘Yes, yes, I know. But do you have any idea what it was like to have to try and bring up a child, pretty much on my own? Do you think I just wanted to use you for the free roof over my head and the occasional bonk when you’d got home at three in the morning? That’s not a marriage, Jack. We both deserved better than that.’

‘So why didn’t we ever talk about it?’ he replied. ‘Why just up and leave? What did that solve?’

‘I don’t know. I still don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.’

Culverhouse looked at his wife as she sat staring at the carpet and wondered if he’d ever really known her at all.