The Silent Ones: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller(30)

I prickle at the implication that lies beneath her words. Maddy’s the one who wanted to play outside, Maddy’s the one who knew Bessie Wilford.

‘Well, Maddy talks to us about everything too, and she’s never mentioned her, but they did both meet her at Mum’s. We know that.’

Chloe twists a piece of hair around her finger.

‘It’s just that… well, Maddy’s the quieter one, isn’t she? More secretive. Like Mum always says, Brianna can’t hold her water; she finds it impossible to keep anything a secret. Remember when she ruined Dad’s surprise birthday tea last year because of her obvious excitement? She’s always been the same. It’s just not in her nature to be silent.’

I know what she’s getting at; she’s trying to say it must be all Maddy’s doing.

I don’t want to be drawn into an argument, but neither can I sit and listen to her casting unfounded doubt on my daughter like that.

‘Silence doesn’t suggest someone is more likely to beat an old lady around the head,’ I say icily. ‘If we’re looking for differences between the girls, then Brianna’s temper needs to be flagged up.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘I’m discussing the girls’ personalities just like you are,’ I say lightly. ‘But we can second-guess all day. The only thing that’s going to help is to get them talking. We have to know what happened in that house.’

‘But what if one of them did do it, Juliet?’

‘Huh?’

‘We know that when the police arrived they were halfway up the street and they both had blood on them. We keep refusing to believe they had anything to do with the attack, but what if one of them did kill Bessie Wilford and the other one is innocent?’

I’m shocked that she can even utter the words.

‘It’s impossible.’ Every fibre of my being rebels against the thought. ‘I refuse to believe either of them could be capable of doing such a thing. It must have been some kind of awful accident.’

‘We can’t dispute they were there.’ Chloe’s voice drops low.

‘Then why don’t they just say so?’ I counter.

‘Juliet, we have to consider that one of them might have killed Bessie Wilford by accident and one of them could be completely blameless. We can’t let both their lives be ruined because we refuse to face the facts.’

But I know the only fact Chloe would be willing to face is Brianna’s innocence. She might not be so keen on Maddy escaping punishment if the opposite scenario proves to be the case.

Punishment… innocence and guilt… My head feels woozy, as if I’ve been drinking.

‘I need some air.’ I stand up.

‘We need to talk about this stuff, unpleasant though it is,’ Chloe says curtly as I take a step forward. ‘You can’t just keep running away from it.’

I close the door behind me and lean against the cool plaster of the wall in the corridor outside.

I know just how quickly things can escalate when my family want to point the finger of blame. It sounds as if Mum and Chloe have been discussing which of the girls might be responsible for the attack and Maddy has come off worse.

Time in this place drags while we wait continually for the next step, the next scrap of news. But then, in a matter of seconds, it flashes forward so terrifyingly quickly that I feel breathless with the dreadful possibilities of what could happen to Maddy if this ghastly mess isn’t sorted out soon.

The corridor is quiet and cool and I feel my breathing begin to return to normal.

I’ve been a fixer for as long as I can remember. As a child, if anyone in the family had a problem – Mum, Chloe, even Dad – I’d get this clenching ache in my stomach that meant I couldn’t rest until I’d figured out how to make it all right again.

Even if it meant taking the blame myself.

Of course, most of the time I just got in the way. I suppose I must have seemed quite the little busybody. But it came from a good place, whatever people might have thought of me.

I find parenting Maddy easy. Most of the time she accepts my guidance, although there have been a few incidents at home in recent months that show she’s definitely forming her own opinions.

Tom finds my willingness to advise more irritating. I struggle to find a balance between helpful suggestion and interference, like the day before his interview, when he was deciding what to wear.

‘You’ve got to strike the right balance, Tom.’ I eyed the mid-blue Ted Baker suit he’d selected from his wardrobe. ‘I think the navy one would be better.’

‘But they’ve got a young leadership team there.’ He hesitated, held the suit away from him to study it and then tucked it back into the wardrobe.

I watched as he deflated in front of me, his enthusiasm dissipated by my apparent criticism, which was really only a keenness to help. There was little I could do to stop myself.

Right now, I feel the need to fix things. It’s building inside me like a furnace, and there’s nowhere for it to go. A door opens further down the corridor and Carol steps out. She looks at me quizzically but I don’t explain why I’m standing out here on my own.

‘I was just about to come up to see you both,’ she says. ‘The girls will be interviewed again at five o’clock.