Daisy in Chains(3)

‘I enjoyed them. Is enjoyed the right word? I’m not sure. I found them interesting. You make a good argument. They were readable. Not too much technical stuff. And you go easy on the gore, and the violence.’

‘Readers usually choose crime fiction for the gratuitous violence,’ Maggie says.

‘Are you working on another one?’

‘Always.’

‘I don’t suppose you’re allowed to say what it’s about? I mean, who it’s about?’

‘I’m allowed to do whatever I like. But I choose not to talk about work in progress, I’m afraid.’

‘You’re obviously wondering why I’m going on like this.’

‘Actually, I’m wondering how you found out where I live.’

Sandra slows to take a corner. When she is back on the straight she glances over. ‘I’m Sandra Wolfe,’ she says.

For a second, the two women stare at each other. ‘Hamish’s mother,’ Sandra adds, unnecessarily.

‘This is Hamish’s dog.’ Maggie looks round at the motionless animal. ‘Of course. I remember a photograph of the two of them together. It was used a lot while the trial was ongoing.’

‘His defence team thought it would be the most sympathetic. Hamish with his beloved dog. Not that it made any difference.’

‘Her name is Daisy?’

‘My son wrote to you. Four times. I know you saw the letters. He showed me your replies.’

‘How did you get my address?’

Sandra’s chin has the stubborn set of someone who knows she’s in the wrong but won’t back down. ‘Someone found it for me. I promised I wouldn’t say who exactly. Please don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of invading your privacy. That’s why I waited to talk to you at the beach.’

‘One could argue this is a greater invasion. At home I could close the door on you. All I can do now is wait until you drive me home.’

They’ve reached the main road. Sandra applies the handbrake.

‘Miss Rose, my son is innocent. He isn’t a killer. I know him.’

Maggie wraps her arms around herself. The cold is starting to hurt. ‘I’m sure you believe that, but do you imagine any mother of a convicted killer says anything different? The traffic is usually heavy here at this time of day. You need to be careful.’

They pull out into the path of a yellow car.

‘He was with me the night Zoe Sykes was killed.’ Sandra ignores the angry horn. ‘We had dinner, I drove him home. He couldn’t have killed her, so it follows he didn’t kill the others, doesn’t it? All four women were killed by the same man, so if Hamish didn’t kill one of them, he couldn’t have killed the others.’

They cross the village boundary. Less than five minutes to Maggie’s house. ‘I’m afraid I know very little about the case.’

‘The police didn’t believe me. They thought I was lying. The restaurant couldn’t help. There was no CCTV footage. The staff couldn’t remember, but I know he was with me. He didn’t kill that Sykes woman.’

‘And yet a jury believed that he did.’

‘Have you ever been in a prison, Miss Rose?’

‘Yes, many times.’

‘Then you know what it’s like. Decent people, people like Hamish, they can’t survive in prison. The stench and the violence and the endless noise. He’s not known a moment of silence since he was convicted.’

‘Then the best thing you can do for him is keep him well supplied with ear plugs.’

Sandra flinches. ‘There was a fight on his corridor just yesterday. They pick on him all the time. Every day he’s in fear for his life.’

‘Why me?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Why is it so important to your son that I take up his case? Turn right here, please, on to the High Street.’

‘It isn’t just me. There’s a whole bunch of people who support Hamish. People who’ve read about the case. Who know there was a miscarriage of justice. Miss Rose. I wish you’d meet them. They have a website. You can google it.’

‘Mrs Wolfe.’

‘Sandra, please.’

‘As I wrote to your son directly, my work schedule is full for the foreseeable future. I simply don’t have the time. Just before the pub, on the right. Thank you for bringing me home.’

‘I can drive you back to collect your car. When you’ve changed.’

‘I’ll get a cab. And now, if you’ll excuse my being blunt, I don’t expect to see you waiting for me at the beach again.’

‘Wait!’

Maggie is half out of the car. She turns back to see that Sandra is holding something out to her. A small, square cardboard box. ‘He asked me to give you this. He makes them himself.’

Maggie starts to shake her head. On the back seat, Daisy opens her eyes.

‘Please, Maggie, what harm can it do?’

Maggie takes the yellow box tied with white ribbon, closes the car door and sets off along her drive. Only when she has turned the corner and she can no longer be seen does she open it.

Inside is a flower, fashioned from paper. The petals are white, the stalk and leaves a bright emerald green. It is beautiful, perfect.