Her Perfect Family(43)

I put my hands to my face as the awful reality dawns. Click. The two pieces in the puzzle suddenly slotting perfectly together. The woman watching me. The weird woman at the end of the drive and then outside the hairdresser’s.

He’s not who he says he is. I have to warn you . . .

Not Ed’s mistress. Never Ed’s mistress.

‘I need to see a picture of her, Ed.’

He looks stunned at this request. ‘Why?’ He rakes his fingers through his hair. ‘No. Rachel. You’re upset. I won’t let you torture yourself.’

‘Your phone.’ I stare at his pocket. ‘Do you have a picture of her on your phone?’

‘No, of course not. This is my past, Rachel. Decades ago. A lifetime ago.’

I glance right then left before shutting my eyes, trying to call up the image of the woman outside the hairdresser’s. It takes a moment but suddenly I can see her more clearly. Open my eyes.

‘Does she have striking hair, Ed?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Laura. Your Laura. Does she have strawberry-blonde hair?’





CHAPTER 28


THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR


As he pulls into the drive, Matthew can see Sally at the kitchen window, looking out for him. He raises his hand. She shares a small, nervous smile and then retreats, turning away towards the playroom.

Matthew finds that he’s nervous too, wondering what the counsellor will be like and what exactly will be expected of him. He takes his phone from his pocket and scans the contacts. He starts to write a text but changes his mind. Too difficult to get the tone right. Dials instead.

‘Amanda? Oh good. I just wanted to say thank you for helping us out. She’s here at the house now. Lucy, the counsellor. I’m so grateful. Really.’

‘Oh good. I’m glad she was able to come out so quickly. It sounded urgent.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the details. Something happened. Sort of classified.’ He can’t share details about the dolls. They need to keep it quiet. Something for the interview room down the line – to hopefully trip up a suspect. ‘But my wife and I are incredibly grateful.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

A part of him would like to ask her what to expect but he still feels awkward, knowing that she’s having counselling herself.

‘Also.’ He changes his tone – more upbeat – as he gets out of the car, not wanting to keep Sally and Amelie waiting. ‘Will you be at the update with the chancellor and DI Sanders later?’

‘Yes. Why? Anything to add? We’ve still got the media crawling all over us. Expect you do too.’

‘And some. No. Nothing to add. I’ll be out of action, obviously, for this session. But DI Sanders will bring you up to speed. Just wanted to add that if you need anything from us – a return favour, do please ask.’

‘No need. Happy to help.’

‘Right. I must go. DI Sanders will update me after the meeting.’

‘OK. Bye.’

‘Bye.’

He fires the central locking and hurries inside to find Sally and Amelie seated around the small table in the playroom alongside a woman with a shock of dark, curly hair, held back by a bright turquoise band. She’s wearing long, dangly earrings with white and turquoise beads and Matthew feels strangely reassured by how much she looks the part.

‘Hello. I’m Matthew.’ He shakes her hand.

‘Lucy.’

‘Look. We’ve got a worry jar, Daddy.’ Amelie picks up a large empty plastic jar to show him and he’s both surprised and pleased to see the energy back in her eyes. Amelie’s clearly open to this; up for this. She’s a frightened little girl just now, but above all still a curious girl.

‘What’s a worry jar?’ He finds that he is ironically worried about the worry jar, still wary of his part here. But he smiles at his daughter and at Lucy and Sally in turn to signal he’s up for this too. He takes a seat and tells himself that he will try very hard to bury his default setting that ‘therapy’ of any kind is all mumbo jumbo. That talking never solved anything. He will try not to remember that when he left the force – when he woke night after night, sweating and calling out from his nightmares for the child he believed he had killed – he refused help. Refused therapy. Left the force instead.

He smooths the fabric of his trousers over his knees. This is not about him. This is for Amelie so he must park the prejudice and do whatever it takes to help his little girl.

‘Well, everyone has worries,’ Lucy says as she hands out paper. ‘And everyone gets afraid sometimes. It’s normal. Adults and children have worries. So sometimes we need to talk about them and maybe draw a picture. Or write some words. And then we put the worry in the jar and put the lid on. And we think of something happier to help us not to think about the worry.’

‘I can write my name!’ Amelie says, looking proud.

‘That’s very clever! And I bet you can draw pictures. Do you like drawing, Amelie?’ Lucy is moving the pot of crayons and pencils closer to Amelie.

‘OK, Mummy and Daddy. You need to write or draw a worry too.’

Lucy is widening her eyes and Matthew feels a pull in his stomach. He finds that he is unsure how he is supposed to behave here. Should he have spoken separately to Lucy first? Is he supposed to be honest? Or brave for Amelie?