Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Tearing her attention away from her toddler, who was busy dressing and undressing her favourite doll, Tara Bridges downed the rest of her coffee and snatched up her phone. She was due to drop Amy at nursery in fifteen minutes and there were still several domestic chores to complete. She had to do an online Asda shop, pay an electrician's bill and message her mother about arrangements for the weekend, but as the young manager looked down at her phone, her attention was arrested by a news headline that flashed up on the screen, before discreetly disappearing from view.

Troubled, Tara quickly opened up her news app, but her eyes hadn't been deceiving her, the headline as blunt and as shocking as she'd imagined. Serving police officer suspected of sex crimes

Suddenly all thoughts of domestic duties vanished, as Tara took in the detail. The story had broken locally, courtesy of a journalist at the Southampton Evening News , but had now gone national, several news outlets majoring on it, as yet another ingredient in the grim mosaic of crimes and misdemeanours committed by serving members of the police force. It was an increasingly long, increasingly dispiriting list of offenders that encompassed pretty much every force in the country. But today it had landed on their doorstep, the culprit a regular presence on the streets of Southampton.

Breathless, Tara took in his name, her anxiety growing as she read about the historical allegations of abduction and rape, which had later been dropped, following his victims' decision to withdraw their allegations. Tara's hand was shaking, her anger growing, imagining their distress, their fear, as the full force of their attacker's authority was brought to bear on them, crushing their resolve, their resistance, but she read on, determined to find out the full extent of PC David Reynolds' offences, however distressing that might be.

But now, suddenly, she ground to a halt, her finger hovering over the screen. Reynolds' official service photo, gleaned from Hampshire Police's community outreach website, was displayed in the middle of the article and stared out at Tara now. A moment's panic, a sharp intake of breath, then Tara slammed the phone down on the counter, unable to bear his scrutiny for another second. For a moment, she stood there, shaking and speechless, before she was summoned from her trance by a childish voice.

‘Mummy, are you OK?'

Snapping out of it, Tara turned to find Amy looking up at her, puzzled.

‘Fine, I'm fine, honey,' she replied quickly, just about keeping the emotion from her voice. ‘But we do need to go soon, so finish up what you're doing.'

Tara turned away, not trusting herself to maintain her composure. Emotions were swirling inside her, feelings she'd kept buried for a long time, feelings she didn't want to confront. That was her then , not now. Now things were very different. She had a husband, a child, a good job, a life. This was the real her, the person, the success she had become.

The sweat that was creeping down her back, the thickening emotion in her throat, told a different story, however. They suggested that nothing had changed, that the terror, the shame, the humiliation she'd felt all those years ago was as keen, as sharp, as ever. They robbed her of her composure, her confidence, her certainty, insisting now that she pick up the phone and read on, that she thrust herself into the gathering storm. But how could she?

Turning back to look at her daughter playing innocently on the floor, Tara knew that it was an impossibility. She couldn't tear down the fabric of her life, couldn't traumatize those she loved best. The damage would be too great, the impact too devastating. After all, how could she admit what had happened to everyone else, when she had never admitted it to herself?

Picking up her phone, Tara turned it off before dropping it into her handbag and fastening the clasp. Out of sight, out of mind. It was pathetic, shameful, but it was the only way she could survive. So slinging her bag over her shoulder, she walked slowly over to her baby girl, a rictus smile painted on her face, as she piped up:

‘Come on, honey. We don't want to be late.'

Amy obliged, scrambling to her feet, pushing her messy, tangled hair out of her face. Normally, Tara would have reacted to this, grabbing the nearest brush to restore some sense of propriety, but there was no prospect of that today. Today she just wanted to cling onto her daughter's hand, to hold her close, hoping that by embracing the present, she might blot out the past.