Then She Vanishes(31)
Yesterday she’d contacted a defence lawyer in the likelihood that Heather will go to court – because her daughter will wake up, and when she does they need to fight her case. Together. Damn Ruthgow. He must be near to retiring. Does he want to solve Flora’s case before he leaves the force? Is that what this is all about? And if he and the rest of his team pin it on Heather, it’s a closed case, ends neatly tied up. Ruthgow can walk off into his future with a clear conscience and a pat on the back.
She closes her eyes and remembers the day Keith died. It had been a beautiful April afternoon, the girls’ favourite time of year because that was when the lambs were born. They’d loved the farm in Maidstone, Kent. She had foolishly thought it was an idyllic place to bring up children. She’d always told the girls to respect the guns, never to handle or hold them without permission and supervision. Both she and Keith had been so strict about that. The girls could shoot, of course. Keith had trained them well. But he’d drummed it into them that they were never to pick up a gun unsupervised. So why had Heather picked up the gun that day? Keith had been using it himself only five minutes before. She knew he was always strict about locking the guns into the cabinet after use. He’d had to kill a cow that was ill and in pain. She remembers seeing him striding towards the barn with the shotgun over his shoulder and a look of determination on his face. Little did she know it would be the last time she’d see him alive. Less than ten minutes later, while she’d been putting out the washing, she’d heard a gunshot ring out. It hadn’t frightened her. She’d thought Keith was killing another animal. But then there was a scream. A child’s. And a deathly silence that had made her flesh turn cold. She knew the girls were playing in the barn with the lambs so she’d run as fast as she could around the side of the house just in time to see Keith staggering backwards and clutching his chest, her daughters looking on in horror, and then the gun slipping from Heather’s grasp onto the grass, fear and shock etched over both girls’ pale little faces.
By the time Margot had reached her husband he was already dead, his eyes rolled back in his head and blood blooming at the front of his shirt. She’d furiously checked for a pulse, even though she knew he was gone. And then she thought of her daughters, and how they must be feeling to see their father dead like that on the ground. She had no choice but to leave him lying there while she ushered the girls back into the house. Heather said it was an accident. That Keith had left the gun on the ground by the barn after shooting the cow and she’d picked it up. Keith, realizing his mistake at leaving the gun unattended, had shouted at her to put it down. ‘She swung the gun towards Daddy without thinking and it just went off. It was an accident,’ Flora had explained, backing up Heather’s version of events.
And Margot had had no reason to doubt any of it. Until now.
Margot stands in the front porch and pushes her feet back into her recently vacated wellies. The sky is brooding but there’s no rain yet so she takes this chance to make her way across the field to the caravan park. The wooden shed that they’ve converted into an office for the site is empty but she can see through the window of the coach house that Adam is in. His face is illuminated by the computer screen. Has he picked Ethan up yet from nursery? It’s nearly six. She raps on the door and he lifts his head, annoyance crossing his features at being disturbed. When he sees it’s her he waves, although he still doesn’t smile. He gets up and she imagines his lumbering gait as he goes to answer the door.
‘You okay?’ he says, as he pulls the door open.
‘Do you want me to pick Ethan up from nursery?’
‘Nah, you’re all right, Marg. Mum’s gone to get him. He’s staying the night at hers. I think being here makes him miss Heather more, y’know?’
She nods, trying to quash the jealous feelings in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Gloria spending all this time with her precious grandson. She knows it’s for the best, but she wants him.
Adam stands aside to let her in and the two of them take up most of the space in the small, square hallway. The ceilings are low, and there are parts of the house where Adam has to stoop. Margot had been thinking lately that as Heather and Adam extend their family they could move into the main house and she’d come here. The house is too big for her now. All those empty rooms, Flora’s still as it was when she last used it. She wonders what will happen if Heather doesn’t wake up. Or if she goes to prison. Will Adam still want to be here, running the caravan park? Leo’s already left. She bought him out five years ago. After Flora went missing, all his spark and humour slowly seeped out of him, and he spent longer and longer away from Tilby. Then, one night a year or so later, when he was out of his head on whisky, he admitted that he couldn’t stand being here any longer, that he was fed up with the stares and silent accusations of the locals that he, the only young man living at Tilby Manor at the time, must be responsible for Flora’s disappearance.
‘Do you want a cuppa?’ asks Adam now. He looks haggard, thinks Margot. She wonders if he’s eating properly. In the week that Heather’s been in hospital Adam has sometimes joined Margot for dinner, and a few nights he’s stayed in one of her spare rooms for company, but most of the time he’s sequestered in here.
‘I’m fine, thanks. Just wanted a quick look at the register. The police were here earlier …’