Page 131 of The Dead Ex
Helen
The judge calls a brief adjournment.
I nip outside for some fresh air, keeping my head down in case anyone from the office is there. I hadn’t expected the barrister to mention Helen Evans by name. Luckily there’s a hat stall outside. Swiftly buying the cheapest – a dull black that won’t stand out – I yank it down over my forehead. Still, it’s not like I’ve done something wrong.
Apartfrom not saying I was at the scene of the murder.
Of course, I could have told the court myself that Vicki had killed Tanya. But it would have meant admitting that Mum and I were at the Goudmans’ house too.
Not that it should have worked out that way.
It was at the end of March when Mum declared she had a ‘brilliant idea’.
‘You could ring Vicki Goudman to make an appointment. Tell her youneed some aromatherapy for … I don’t know … sleeping better or something like that. I’ll come down with you.’
‘Then what?’
She shrugged. ‘We’ll play it by ear.’
Yes, said Vicki Goudman when I rang. She’d be delighted to see me. In fact she had a cancellation at 9 a.m. for 1 April.
April Fool’s Day.
I had a bad feeling about that. ‘By the way,’ I said. ‘I’m pregnant. Is it still all rightto have treatment?’
‘We’ll need to avoid certain oils but we can go through all that during the consultation. Now what’s your name?’
‘Helen Evans.’
I was nervous. Mum was so unpredictable. ‘You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’ I whispered.
‘Course not.’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘What do you think I am? Just want to get a few things off my chest, that’s all. Give her a piece of my mind.’
Mum had dressed up as though we were going to a fancy tea party, with a flowery skirt from Sue Ryder and a velvet sequinned handbag over her shoulder. I’d bought it for her from the market at a reduced price because it was slightly torn, but she paraded around in it like a child in a birthday outfit. Still, maybe that was understandable after years of having to wear prison clothes.
We took thePaddington ‘Riviera Express’ down to Cornwall on the night before the appointment, dozing on and off in our seats as we couldn’t afford a sleeper. Mum had this strange grin on her face when we woke up. ‘I can’t wait for this,’ she said over and over again, rubbing her hands with excitement. The other passengers gave us odd looks. As we reached Penzance, I checked my phone. There was a text from Vicki.It had been sent last night but I hadn’t noticed it.
Sorry but I have to cancel for personal reasons. I’ll be in touch shortly to arrange another appointment.
‘Fuck,’ said Mum loudly when I showed it to her. A woman opposite threw us a disapproving glare. ‘So we’ve come all the way down here for nothing.’
Yet part of me was relieved. Maybe there was another way we could pay Vicki back withoutMum needing to see her. It was too dangerous in Mum’s unpredictable state. But as we got off the train at Penzance, Mum nudged me in the ribs. ‘Look. That’s her on the platform over there. It’s our lucky day. Quick. We’ll follow her.’
Shit. Mum was already rushing ahead, leaping on the return train. At every station we watched to see if she was getting off. But she stayed put. All the way backto Paddington again. ‘Stick with me,’ Mum instructed. ‘We can’t let her out of our sight.’
It was when Vicki Goudman took the Wimbledon-bound Tube and then changed that I suspected where she was going. ‘Kingston,’ I whispered. ‘David talked about that. It’s where he lived with Tanya when he wasn’t in central London.’
Mum was good at tailing. We stayed close enough not to lose our quarry butsufficiently far away so as not to be noticed. Eventually, Vicki turned down a pretty tree-lined side road and then headed for a house on the right behind a tall hedge.
‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Mum as we peeped round.
I did a double-take too. David and Tanya lived in the poshest place I’d ever seen, with a sports car parked outside a triple garage. There was an alarm box on the front, large diamond-panedwindows. Vicki was just walking through a gate at the side of the house, which looked as though it led to a back garden.
‘What do you think she’s doing here?’ I asked.
‘We won’t know if we just stay here, will we?’
‘But they’ll see us.’
