The Lies We Told(84)

‘Because …’ she glanced down and, following her eyes to the curve of her belly, the penny dropped. ‘You’re pregnant,’ I said.

She gazed at me with those beautiful blue eyes. ‘I was going to stay away. But it doesn’t feel right, now. I want my family to know I have a child.’ She began to cry.

‘Then go to them,’ I said.

‘I want the truth, Beth,’ she replied. ‘I have to know.’

‘Know what?’ I asked, playing for time, because I suddenly knew what she was going to ask me.

She hesitated, then she looked me full in the face and said, ‘Hannah told me that my mother pushed Nadia. That she murdered her. Is it true?’

‘Murdered her?’ I echoed. ‘Why do you think that?’

‘Hannah told me. She was so certain. So absolutely convinced of it. I need to know if it’s true, if my mother really did it. Because if she is capable of such a vile thing, then I know I can never go back, I never want to see her again.’

I stared back at her. And I still don’t know what made me say it, only that I was still overwhelmed with resentment and pain. I’d lost my family, and I admit I did blame Rose. It was all her fault that Toby and Doug were dead. Why should I lie for her? Why should I tell Emily her mother was innocent, let them be reunited, rebuild their perfect, charmed life when mine was in tatters, when I had nothing left? I’d asked Rose for help once and she’d walked away – why should I help her now? So I said it. I told her the truth, I looked Emily in the eye and said, ‘Yes, it’s true.’

She gasped, her face drained of colour. ‘It is?’

I wanted to take it back then and there, because I saw that Emily hadn’t really believed it, that she couldn’t believe her mother could have done such a wicked thing. I saw that she’d wanted me to tell her that of course her mother was innocent, so she could go back to her family, build bridges with her father, carry on with her life, and in a few seconds I’d taken all that away. ‘Emily,’ I said, ‘go and see your parents, they love you – whatever they’ve done, they love you very much. Go and see them, I’ve lost my family, don’t lose yours.’

But she turned away from me. ‘I can’t.’

‘But where will you go? What will you do? Are you still with your baby’s father?’

She shook her head. ‘We split up,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s not interested. I don’t know what I’ll do now. I got friendly with a girl from Glasgow last summer, I still have her address. Maybe I’ll look her up, try to get a job up there.’

‘Will you be all right?’

She looked at me sadly. ‘I guess I’ll find out.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Never tell them, Beth. Do you promise me that? Never tell my mother you saw me today.’

‘I promise,’ I said.

She nodded, and we looked at each other for a moment more, before she got up and left, closing the front door quietly behind her.

I often think of her, and wonder where she is now, what happened to her. I like to think that she has her own family somewhere, a happy life, in Scotland maybe.

Perhaps I should tell Rose; she still thinks her daughter is dead, another of Hannah’s victims. Telling her the truth would be the right thing to do. But then I think of that day in the kitchen, all those years ago, how she wouldn’t help me when I begged her to, after all I’d done for her. I warned her what Hannah was like, but she left me to it. And now Rose has come out of it all, the trial, everything, completely free of blame. Revenge is a strong word, but perhaps it’s a kind of justice for what she did, to Nadia, and all that happened, later, to my own child. And I suppose I liked the idea of Emily being free of it all, being free of Rose and Oliver, that she, at least, out of all of us, could have the chance to start her life again, somewhere else.





33


London, 2017

It was her final day of giving evidence and as Clara walked from the court she turned to take one last look at the large, white stone building she hoped never to set foot in again and felt a euphoric surge of relief. It was early September, warm still, and breezy, the trees that lined the wide bus-congested thoroughfare showering their first leaves upon the sun-dappled pavement. She pulled out her phone and, seeing that there were two missed calls from Luke, halted mid-stride.

Since being discharged from hospital, Luke had been living at The Willows while he recovered from his ordeal. She had made the journey to Suffolk to see him only once. They’d walked across the fields behind his parents’ home, finally able to talk alone for the first time since they’d found him in Hannah’s flat. As they’d walked she’d stolen little glances, and she saw how he was altered by what he’d been through. It wasn’t just the scars that were still visible on his arms; she noticed that his eyes, once so full of complacent good humour, belonged to someone more uncertain now. The easy smile that had once perpetually hovered around his mouth was long gone. She’d been conscious of his hand swinging by his side, painfully aware that once it would have instinctively snatched up hers.

He told her that he’d met Hannah one night in a pub. ‘I was at the bar and she was standing next to me. She looked kind of lost, so I smiled at her, made some small talk, and she said she’d been stood up by her friend. So I bought her a drink.’