Then She Vanishes(45)

She’s surprised when Jess reaches across the table and takes her hand. ‘I think you’re amazing.’

Margot’s cheeks flame. ‘Amazing? I’m anything but.’

‘I always thought you were an excellent mum. And the way you coped with what happened to Flora. Now this … and I didn’t even know about what you went through with Keith.’

Margot chews her lip. She’s not used to someone being so kind to her and she’s annoyed with herself when tears sting her eyes. ‘Oh, shush,’ she says. ‘There’s nothing I can do but carry on, is there? I need to be there for Heather when she wakes.’

Jess nods and removes her hand.

‘Are you okay here with me on a Friday night? Shouldn’t you be with your fella?’ says Margot.

Jess toys with the stem of her glass. ‘He wants to get married and have kids,’ she blurts out, ‘and I’m not ready. I feel like the worst person ever because I love him. He’s so good, you know. I’m realizing how hard that is to find …’

‘There’s no rush. You’re still young.’

Jess smiles stiffly. ‘Yes.’

Margot studies her. ‘Are you worried about your career?’

Jess shakes her head. ‘No. Not really. To be honest, since I’ve moved away from London I’ve been a bit disenchanted with the whole journalism thing.’

Margot doesn’t understand what drove Jess to become a journalist in the first place, but she doesn’t want to say that. It’s obvious the poor girl is suffering some inner turmoil and she doubts there’s much she can say to help without knowing the facts. She does wonder, though, if it’s to do with Jess’s upbringing. She was practically neglected by Simone, and there was never any sign of the father, but it seemed to be socially acceptable because the Foxes were considered middle class and Simone had a good job as a legal secretary. She wonders now if it would have been different if Jess had been from the only council estate in Tilby. She would probably have been hauled into the care system.

‘DCI Ruthgow turned up yesterday,’ she says, watching Jess carefully. ‘He worked on Flora’s disappearance.’

Jess looks interested. ‘What did he say?’

Margot sighs. ‘I’m worried he thinks Heather had something to do with it.’

She’s relieved to see that Jess looks suitably shocked. ‘With Flora’s disappearance?’

She nods.

‘Bloody hell. Surely not. What does he think Heather’s done? Shot her, too, and then buried the body?’

Margot winces. She would never have believed Heather capable of something like that. But, then again, she’d never have believed Heather could shoot dead two people.

‘She was only fourteen at the time,’ says Jess. ‘Jesus.’

Heather was only ten when she shot her father. But Margot pushes the thought away. Ruthgow is wrong. She knows that, deep down, no matter what else Heather has done she’d never hurt Flora.

She remembers the white blouse she’d had to identify. The bloom of blood at the front. Could that have come from a gunshot wound?

Margot feels sick at the thought. With trembling hands she pours herself another glass of wine and offers more to Jess.

Jess declines. ‘I’d better not.’

Before Margot has the chance to think about it she says, ‘You can stay here tonight. If you like?’ She doesn’t know why she makes the offer, really. Maybe it’s because she’s so fed up with spending the night alone in this big old house. It would be lovely to have some company again.

Sometimes, when Adam was away or she wanted some space, Heather would stay over in her old room. And when Ethan came along he would stay with her. Those were Margot’s favourite times, when it was just the three of them.

Jess opens her mouth, looking surprised. ‘I … Well, that’s really kind of you, but I’d better not. Rory – my boyfriend – he’ll be expecting me home.’

Margot tries to look understanding despite the hard stone of disappointment lodged in her chest.

‘I’ve been thinking about Deirdre a lot,’ Margot says, trying to move the conversation on. She hasn’t seen Jess in nearly twenty years and now here she is, asking her to stay over. Jess must think she’s lonely and desperate. ‘And wondering what transpired between her and Heather when she stayed here earlier this year. I haven’t told the police yet.’

‘Oh, Margot! You should,’ says Jess. ‘I think Clive was into some dodgy dealings. I found a card outside his mother’s house, the kind that comes with flowers. It said, “This was one bullet you couldn’t dodge.” He obviously had enemies.’

Margot pushes her bowl of soup away from her. She’s hardly eaten any and it’s cold. Since Heather was taken to hospital the weight has been falling off her. Now her collarbones jut out and her once tight-fitting jodhpurs are loose. ‘But his mother, Deirdre. Surely not her.’ This was one bullet you couldn’t dodge. Where has she read that before?

Jess shrugs and Margot notices she hasn’t eaten much either. ‘I don’t know. I’m in the process of gathering more information about them from the neighbours. But as they haven’t lived there that long …’ Jess sighs.

Margot stretches, her back hurting on the hard chair. She suggests they move into the living room and Jess nods encouragingly. She can see, by the clock on the wall, that it’s gone nine. She doesn’t want Jess to leave yet.