The Half Sister(98)
‘Why don’t I come with you?’ says Lauren, at a loss for anything else. She can’t let Jess, a young girl she’s come to care a great deal about, face the news of her mother’s murder alone. ‘Where are you? I’ll come and meet you. You don’t want to do this on your own.’
Jess sniggers. ‘You make it sound like I’m a lamb going to slaughter. Do you know something I don’t?’
An oppressive heat bears down on Lauren and she’s grateful for the rush of air the oncoming train brings with it. Kate and Matt look at her with raised eyebrows, both of them questioning whether they’re getting on or not.
‘Of course not,’ laughs Lauren awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders. ‘I just think you should have somebody with you. Tell me which police station you’re heading to and I’ll meet you there.’
‘Oh that’s really sweet of you,’ gushes Jess. ‘I’m going to—’
‘Jess?’ calls out Lauren as a silence fills the line. ‘Jess?’
‘What’s going on?’ asks Kate. ‘Where is she?’
The doors of the train begin to slide shut. ‘Lauren, where is she?’ Kate shouts, jamming her foot in between them to stop them from closing.
‘Hey!’ says Matt, pulling Kate free. ‘Nothing’s worth killing yourself for. We’ll get the next one.’
‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ says Lauren as she jabs at her phone again and again, only to hear the busy tone. ‘She’s on her way to talk to the police now, but I’ve no idea what station she’s heading to.’
‘Okay,’ says Kate. ‘She’s going to have to find out in her own way now, so we need to think about damage limitation from our point of view.’
‘How do you mean?’ asks Lauren, wondering how they can protect themselves from the fallout that looks to be heading their way. Even if Jess takes the news she’s about to get well, the police are still going to be knocking on their door again, wanting to know more. What started out as someone else’s adventure now feels like Lauren’s very own nightmare.
‘I think we need to go and see Mum,’ says Kate. ‘We need to prepare her for what might be coming her way.’
‘Agreed,’ says Lauren, as they rush across the footbridge and onto the opposite platform where a southbound train is waiting. ‘But how the hell are we going to tell her that the woman her husband’s had a child with was murdered.’
‘Do you think Dad knew?’ asks Kate, stepping on just as the door alarm sounds.
‘That he had a child or that her mother was killed?’ asks Lauren.
‘Either,’ says Kate.
‘I’m still sure I saw him with a woman and a baby, and I know I told Mum, despite her not remembering.’
‘So if he knew he had a baby, then he’d know that child’s mother was dead. Even if they weren’t in a relationship – weren’t even on speaking terms – he’d know because it was all over the local paper.’
Lauren’s head falls back against the glass partition. ‘It doesn’t look very good, does it?’ she says, not wanting to state the obvious, but unable to ignore it. ‘Especially given we moved to London that same year.’
It hits her then that this is all her fault. If she hadn’t uploaded her DNA, hadn’t persisted in bringing Jess into the family, hadn’t upset Kate and her mother with her insistence that Jess’s story was worth listening to . . . and now it’s out there and look what’s happened. Lauren feels as if the air is being squeezed out of her as she acknowledges that she may have served her father’s head on a silver platter.
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions,’ says Matt, without any real conviction. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this. We just need to let the police join up the dots. At the moment they’ve got to follow every line of inquiry, so all we need to do, is tell them what we know . . . and support your mum, until they realize that they’re barking up the wrong tree.’ He offers a smile of reassurance, but Lauren gleans none.
‘Do you think they know who killed her already?’ asks Kate.
Matt looks at her. ‘I think they have someone’s DNA, other than the husband’s.’
‘What, so now all they need to do is match it up?’ asks Lauren, somewhat naively.
‘All they need is a name,’ says Kate dourly.
Lauren can’t bear to imagine it’s one they all know.
They walk from Greenwich station to their parents’ house in silence, playing out the next few minutes in their heads.
Lauren presumes it will largely fall to her to tell their mother about the secrets from the past; to destroy the love she’s held for her husband all these years. Because whichever way you look at this, the absolute best-case scenario is that their father was a serial philanderer – firstly with Helen Wilmington, then Julia Woods, and God knows how many other women. They’re the cold, hard facts that are about to crush their mother’s world. The worst case doesn’t even bear thinking about.
Lauren’s mouth instantaneously dries up as she turns into her parents’ quiet cul-de-sac, and by the time she reaches their house, it’s nigh on impossible to swallow. In the summer sunshine, with its manicured garden and flowering hanging baskets, the house looks the epitome of the suburban dream. She shudders as she imagines what’s about to go on behind its perfect facade.