The Couple at No. 9(67)

Lorna sips her latte to cover her smile.

‘So you don’t know what happened to Daphne?’ Melissa asks.

‘No. Mum never mentioned her. It’s only recently we found out about her.’

‘Well, give Rose my love, won’t you? I was fond of her. And you. It’s lovely to see what a beautiful woman you’ve turned out to be.’

Now Lorna blushes. ‘Thank you, that’s kind.’ She scribbles her number down on a napkin and slides it across the counter to Melissa. ‘If you remember anything … it’s hard to ask Mum now, what with the dementia, but any information you might have … I’d love to find out what happened to Daphne.’

Melissa nods. ‘Sure,’ she says, pocketing the napkin in her thick cardigan.

Lorna buys some croissants, then ambles over the bridge to the corner shop to get milk. As she walks back to the cottage she wonders about her mother and Daphne. Were they in love and did they fall out? Was that why Daphne was never in their lives after they left Beggars Nook, and why they left so suddenly? As far as she’s always been aware, her mother had never had a boyfriend. Why did she feel she had to hide her sexuality from Lorna for all those years?

There is so much about her mother she doesn’t know, she realizes. Had never bothered to ask, even when she was an adult. Was she that self-obsessed, refusing to see what was behind Rose’s frumpy, self-contained fa?ade? Not even bothering to care? She’d just accepted there was no father in her life. Accepted her mother’s version of events. In hindsight she can see there were inconsistencies in her mother’s stories. She kept things simple, never elaborated. Not that Lorna had really asked. She’d never been a particularly inquisitive child.

Guilt and regret wash over her. All those wasted years when she could have really got to know her mother.

When she reaches the cottage the front door is flung open and Saffy stands there, anxiety radiating from her. Something’s wrong.

‘What is it?’

She’s still in her pyjamas. ‘The police rang about speaking to Gran again. They want to do it today!’





37


Saffy





Mum has tried to persuade me to stay behind but I can’t. I have to be there when the police speak to Gran. I need to protect her as best I can. I’m driving and Mum is in the passenger seat, tension emanating from her. I knew the police would want to talk to Gran again but the fact it’s such short notice concerns me. Now they know Neil Lewisham died when she lived in the house, is she a suspect?

‘I just can’t believe Gran knew about this, can you?’ I say, as we head towards the motorway. Mum remains silent and I bristle. ‘Can you?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so, honey, but –’

‘But what?’ I snap. ‘You can’t possibly think Gran is capable of murder.’

Mum snorts. ‘Of course not. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know something. She could have been there when it happened. Maybe even helped cover it up.’

I refuse to believe it. ‘Gran is the most staid, law-abiding person I know. There’s no way.’ Mum clenches her jaw and I feel irritation bubble within me. ‘I can’t believe you can even doubt her. She’s your mother!’

‘She’s not perfect. She’s human, just like the rest of us.’

I grip the steering wheel tightly, not trusting myself to speak in case all the resentments I’ve felt towards Mum for so many years threaten to spill out of me.

‘And,’ continues Mum, ‘she does mention a Jean hitting someone over the head. Did she witness something?’

‘Of course she didn’t! She’s just coming up with random names!’

‘She was right about Sheila, though, wasn’t she? She’s real. I’ve already told you what Alan said – and how I think Daphne’s really Sheila Watts.’

‘We don’t know that for definite. Next you’re going to tell me you think Daphne’s the other body in the garden … Do you think Gran killed her too?’

Mum doesn’t say anything.

‘You think it’s Daphne?’

‘I’m not saying that. But I spoke to Melissa earlier, and she said your gran and Daphne moved out at the same time. I don’t want to think badly of my mother any more than you do but we have to face facts.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Just because you have no faith in Gran. Just because you’ve never bothered –’ I stop. I’ve said too much.

Mum’s silent for a few seconds. Then, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing. Forget it.’

‘No. If you’ve got something to say to me, I suggest you say it.’

I turn to Mum. Her mouth is pressed into an angry line. We haven’t argued for years, not since I was a teenager and she’d shout at me for my messy bedroom.

‘Okay, then. I think you’ve been a bit … neglectful.’

‘Neglectful?’

‘Yes. You buggered off to Spain. Left a lonely old lady by herself. Hardly visited. How many times have you actually seen Gran in the last six years? Once or twice a year?’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘It’s true. And me? How many times have you seen me? And when you do come and visit you bring along one of your many hideous boyfriends. And don’t pretend you’re happy about this baby.’ I’m on a roll now and I can’t stop even though I know I’m being a bitch. ‘I could see by your face how disappointed you were when I told you! Just because you regretted having me so young it doesn’t mean that I’m the same. Just because you couldn’t wait to get rid of me every summer so you could go out and act like a teenager, leaving Dad and going off with other men. And you wonder why I’m closer to Gran!’