The Things You Didn't See(61)

‘Tori!’

She flings herself at Victoria and they cling to each other like monkeys. They talk quickly, panicky about the few days they’ll be separated. The girls are getting older and changing – Dawn’s voice has more depth, she’s lost the girlish pitch. My eyes light on her bedside locker, and the framed picture, presumably her mother, whom I’ve never met. Still though, her face is familiar to me.

I pick up the frame to get a better look. She’s a beautiful woman, striking, with skin like mocha and dark silk-spun hair, Cleopatra-like. Then I know: she’s the woman I saw leaving my home on Friday afternoon in the business suit. The one I thought I heard fucking him, until I told myself I was being paranoid. I was the only one who could see the truth about the shooting, now I wonder if I was right about this too. You certainly thought so, didn’t you, Mum? ‘Could she have just dressed quickly?’ you asked. This woman is beautiful, slim, athletic-looking. I bet she works out; I bet she looks after herself. She reminds me of his ex, the Olympic cyclist. So much more his type than my slovenly, scarred self.

It’s only when I realise that Dawn is watching me that I hastily replace the frame. ‘Hi, Dawn. How are you?’

‘Fine, thank you, Cassandra,’ she says, politely, though her eyes are full of tears and she’s still clutching Victoria’s hand.

Like Victoria, Dawn has transformed since I saw her last: her face has narrowed and her lips are fuller. She’s an early vision of the woman she will become – the beautiful woman her mother already is. I stare at her face, and wonder what other secrets are being kept from me.

We’re on the A140, just past the boundary where Norfolk ends and Suffolk begins. The car’s speeding now. I’ve merged into the fast lane, fizzy with euphoria now my girl is by my side. But I know I need to tell Victoria what’s happened; it’s not fair to keep it from her.

‘When Dad said you couldn’t come home for half-term because I was ill, it wasn’t true, love. It’s Granny.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’ she asks, so lightly that she can have no idea of what’s coming.

Somehow the fact that I’m focusing on the road makes it bearable to say the words.

‘She’s gone, love. She died yesterday.’

‘What?’ I know she heard me and I can’t bring myself to repeat it. She turns to face me, twisting in the seat. ‘Granny’s dead ?’

‘I’m sorry.’ And I am. For both of us.

‘What happened?’

The inevitable question, still it throws me.

‘She had an accident.’ I’m trying to soften the blow, but Victoria’s face twists sharply in horror.

‘Mum! What accident?’

‘Grandad shot her. He says he was having a nightmare, love. He didn’t know what he was doing.’

She doesn’t take her eyes off me, I don’t take my eyes off the road.

‘How can Grandad have shot her?’ She’s asking me as if I have the answers, as if it doesn’t sound crazy to me too. I want to pull over, so I can at least hug her, but there’s no rest stop coming up and a lorry is tailing me, very close.

‘He was sleepwalking. You know how when people sleepwalk, they can move around and do things?’

‘Yeah, of course I know about that.’ She flings herself back in her seat. ‘Fuck, poor Granny.’ Her breathing has quickened, but she’s too stunned to cry. That will come later.

‘I know, love. It’s a hard thing to understand.’

Especially for me, now I know Daniel paid the architect that very morning. Is it possible Daniel shot you because you’d changed your mind about Samphire Health Spa? Or did Dad do it, in his sleep? Either scenario is crazy. Give me a sign, Mum, because I don’t understand any of this.

‘So Grandad didn’t know what he was doing?’

‘Not until he woke up, by then Janet and Ash had arrived. Janet called the ambulance and Granny was rushed to hospital.’

‘But they couldn’t save her?’

I frown at the road. ‘They did – she was in hospital. We thought she was going to be okay, but she never woke up. But then, without warning, she slipped away.’

Dark clouds break above us and rain spits on the windows. The fields become more familiar, the road now leads only to the sea, with a turning off that could easily be missed, to the isolated flatness of Innocence Lane.

‘Where’s Grandad now?’ she asks.

‘He’s in prison, love.’

‘But that’s not right! He was sleepwalking – it’s not his fault.’

How easily she’s accepted his explanation. It doesn’t even occur to her that it could be a lie. The heavens crack open and raindrops hammer on the windscreen, fat tears obscuring the way forward. As we drive on, another thought buzzes in my head: the woman in the photo. Why was she in my home?

‘Where does Dawn’s mum live?’

Victoria snivels, and takes a moment to answer. ‘Reydon, near Southwold. You know that!’

I ignore the tone of her voice, and allow her to be angry with me, though I don’t know why. None of this is my fault, but she’s confused and needs to direct her feelings somewhere.

‘She’s a single mother, isn’t she? What is it she does for a living?’