The Half Sister(103)
‘I’m not here for her,’ says Kate tightly, before offering a weak smile. ‘I’m here for you.’
‘Well, I appreciate it,’ says Lauren, taking hold of Kate’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
‘Are you still okay for Sunday?’ asks Kate, absently swiping a photo of a beaming Matt holding their baby, Charlie, from her phone’s home screen. She checks for any last-minute texts and emails before turning it off.
‘Yes, the kids are looking forward to it. It’s supposed to be Simon’s weekend to have them, but he’s been unusually civil and agreed to swap it.’
‘Wonders will never cease.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ says Lauren. ‘He’s still a bastard most of the time.’
‘I was going to suggest a barbecue if the weather stays like this,’ says Kate. ‘It’ll be our first chance to use the garden since we moved in. It also means we can put Matt and Justin in charge of the grill, whilst we put our feet up with a bottle of wine.’
‘Sounds like my kind of afternoon,’ says Lauren.
The banality of the conversation jars against the seriousness of their surroundings.
‘What do you think’s going to happen?’ asks Kate, suddenly conscious.
‘Well, she’s still maintaining that Dad called her in a panic and asked her to meet him at Julia’s house. And that when she got there, he told her there’d been an accident and gave her the baby.’
Kate shakes her head. ‘Does that sound like Dad?’
‘No doubt we’ll find out. But I can see that he would have wanted to get the baby away from the scene.’
‘And she’s still claiming she left Jess at a church?’
Lauren nods. ‘She said that Dad told her to put the baby somewhere safe and the church was the first place she could think of.’
The gallery door opens and in walk Jess and Finn. Jess gives a polite nod and sits down on the back row.
‘Have you spoken to her yet?’ asks Kate.
‘Only briefly, this morning, after the jury were sworn in and the opening speeches had been made.’ Lauren sighs. ‘It’s funny, but despite everything that’s gone on, it’s good to see her. With each day that passes, the more I understand why she felt the need to do what she did, and if I’m really honest with myself, there’s a part of me that still misses her.’
‘Did she say what she’s doing with herself?’ asks Kate.
‘Finn’s moved in with her now, but I think that was always the plan, and she’s got a new job in a restaurant in town.’
‘Do you want to invite them over on Sunday?’ asks Kate. Lauren turns to look at her with a smile.
The court hushes as Rose shuffles into the dock, looking like a shadow of the woman she was; her shoulder-length auburn hair is cut short and greying at the sides; her once vibrant skin is sallow and pale; even her height seems to have diminished. Though when she looks up to the gallery and sees Kate, she instantly stands taller, buoyed by her daughter’s presence.
As soon as the judge is seated, the prosecution calls the forensic investigator to the witness box and after the formal introductions, the wigged barrister approaches the stand.
‘Can you confirm that the defendant Rose Alexander’s DNA was found at the scene of Julia Woods’ murder?’ he says.
‘Yes,’ says the bespectacled man, before leaning in closer to the small microphone perched in front of him and repeating himself.
‘And can you confirm that the same DNA was found close to the body of the deceased, even though the defendant claims in her written statement that she didn’t enter the house?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘Whilst we could allow the benefit of the doubt to some extent, it’s unlikely in this event, is it not?’
‘Highly unlikely,’ says the witness.
‘And can you explain why that’s the case on this particular occasion?’
The man clears his throat and Lauren squeezes Kate’s hand tighter. ‘Because the defendant’s DNA was found under the victim’s fingernails.’
There are audible gasps from the gallery and Kate and Lauren lock eyes.
‘And just for the record,’ the Crown Prosecutor goes on, twisting the knife until it has nowhere else to go. ‘Is it conceivable that anyone else was present at the time of the murder, apart from the defendant, Mrs Alexander?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Thank you.’ The barrister grins. ‘I have no further questions.’
Acknowledgements
Writing one book was a dream come true, and writing a second and third – with a fourth in the offing – is beyond anything I could have possibly imagined. And it’s all thanks to my agent, Tanera Simons at Darley Anderson, who spends her days mixing magic potions into life-changing concoctions. Her colleagues, Mary Darby, Georgia Fuller and Kristina Egan, have ensured that my novels have reached far and wide, having been translated into fourteen languages and counting. And Sheila David is the visionary who floats the idea of an altogether different format – thank you all.
Like most novels, this book is far removed from the first draft that I sent to my editors, Catherine Richards at Minotaur Books and Vicki Mellor at Pan Macmillan. Together they’ve helped me hone this final draft – for, in my eyes, it will always be a draft, as writing is so infinite – into the best shape it can possibly be. I am sure it could always be better, but there comes a point when you have to hand your baby over, as otherwise you will coo, fuss and fret over it for far longer than you should. Thank you both for guiding it through that difficult teething stage!