Then She Vanishes(59)



‘I’m … Heather doesn’t remember,’ Margot blurts out, suddenly wanting this man to know her daughter isn’t a monster. ‘I don’t understand why she’s done this. If she’s done this. There was another set of fingerprints on the gun. She’s not been charged with anything yet. She …’ Margot runs out of steam.

Norman’s eyes widen. She notices that they are a clear jade, like a tropical sea, flecked with brown. From the photographs of Clive in the newspaper, he doesn’t resemble his brother. Clive was short and squat, with grey hair and a square jaw, while Norman is long and thin and sinewy, like one of the little wooden mannequins Heather used to have in her bedroom to help her draw people in proportion.

He holds up a hand. ‘I’m just trying to understand why,’ he says sadly. He backs away, the gravel crunching under his heavy boots. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t think.’ He retreats down the pathway until he’s swallowed into the darkness of the night.

When Jess turns up half an hour later, she’s aghast when Margot tells her of Norman’s visit.

‘Thank goodness you didn’t let him in,’ she says, taking off her coat and hanging it on the peg behind the door. Margot notices her outfit: bright turquoise tights with a blue corduroy skirt and a jumper covered with small pink pom-poms. Her clothes have always been a bit … wacky.

It cheers her to see how comfortable Jess feels in her home. ‘I felt sorry for him,’ she replies. ‘He had an aura of sadness around him. He’s just looking for answers. We all are.’

‘But to turn up here at this time of night? That’s a bit weird.’ Jess follows Margot into the kitchen and refuses the glass of wine she offers but accepts some chicken casserole that’s been in the slow cooker all day. She takes a seat at the table while Margot bustles about with plates and cutlery, making sure to leave enough food for when Adam gets home later.

‘He said he was in the area,’ she says, as she hands a plate of casserole and vegetables to Jess.

Jess takes it with thanks. ‘This smells delicious.’

Margot scoops some out for herself and sits opposite Jess at the table.

‘I bumped into Norman earlier while I was doing some digging on Clive. I found out a few things about him. Like he was banned from the local pub for drug-dealing.’

Margot’s mouth falls open. ‘What?’

‘I know,’ says Jess, through a mouthful of chicken. She pauses to swallow before adding, ‘Deirdre only bought the house in Shackleton Road back in February and already he’d managed to get barred from the local pub.’ She has a self-satisfied look on her face. But then her expression changes and she seems rattled. She reaches for the bag at her feet, and retrieves something, then hands it across the table to Margot. It’s a slightly unfocused photograph of Jess printed on thin paper.

‘It was on my windscreen tonight. If you turn it over …’

Margot does as Jess says and reels when she sees ‘BACK OFF’. The letters are written so thickly that she’s surprised they haven’t scored through the paper. ‘Have you shown the police?’

Jess shakes her messy blonde bob. ‘Not yet, no. But today I was trying to find out more about Clive. I wondered if this was from Norman.’

Margot gives back the photograph and Jess returns it to her bag. ‘Really? I know I’ve only just met him, and briefly, but he didn’t seem threatening.’

They eat in silence for a few moments. And then Jess pipes up, ‘I get the impression Norman’s hiding something, though. Or someone else could be scaring me off.’ She stares at Margot, as though expecting her to suggest who that person might be. When Margot doesn’t reply, she adds, ‘And there’s more.’

Margot’s insides turn over and she puts down her knife and fork. She doesn’t know if she can take any more revelations. Her nerves are frayed enough as it is. ‘Go on.’

‘The landlord saw Adam in the pub, talking to Clive.’

Margot’s head swims and she has to hold onto the edge of the table to steady herself. ‘But that can’t be right. Adam said he’d never met either of the Wilsons.’

Jess looks at her and Margot detects pity in her eyes. Stupid, foolish, na?ve Margot, that look says, believing your gruff and uncommunicative son-in-law.

Margot clutches the gold locket at her throat. Heather had given it to her one Christmas, a few years after Flora went missing. Inside there is a tiny photograph of her, Flora and Heather.

The other fingerprints on the gun. Adam had said one set was his, the other undetected. She’d taken it for granted that Adam’s fingerprints were on it because he’d used it before. But now … now … Her head spins. The neighbour spoke of seeing a woman leaving the Wilsons’ house. A woman they’ve identified as Heather, her car leaving the scene. Not Adam. Heather. But what about afterwards? In the barn. Maybe Heather hadn’t shot herself. Somebody else could have done that. Was it Adam? Was it a plan between them that had gone wrong?

She pictures her son-in-law, tall and brooding with his craggy looks. Outdoorsy, curt, a little anti-social at times, but he loves his wife and son. Doesn’t he? She might not have been convinced at first, but he’s right for Heather: their personalities meld together, making each a better person. Heather brings Adam out of himself and Adam is a solid, calm presence for Heather, who’s always been so sensible but who, underneath, can be anxious at times. He’s reliable and would do anything for her. And, okay, they argue now and then, but who doesn’t?

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