Then She Vanishes(83)
‘Wait! What?’
He holds up a hand and I see the teacher in him. ‘You stay here and watch. I’ll take a torch. If I need your help I’ll flash it three times.’
‘No! You could get hurt.’ This isn’t what I expected from Rory. ‘Don’t try to play the hero.’
His jaw sets hard. ‘I’m not. But you’re afraid and you have been for weeks. If it’s a squatter, they won’t hurt me.’
Before I can say anything else he’s off down the hallway, poking his head into the shoe cupboard for our torch. I race into the kitchen and take a knife from the knife block. ‘Here,’ I say, catching up with him by the door. He opens his mouth to tell me no but I insist. ‘Take it. Just put it into your pocket. Please. If anything happened to you because of me and this story …’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘But keep watch, okay? And if I flash the torch three times, call the police because it means I’m in danger.’
My mouth is dry. I can’t believe he’s going to do this. ‘Should we just call the police anyway?’
He shakes his mop of dark hair. ‘No. Not yet. We don’t want to waste their time. It could be a homeless person or they might have moved on. Nothing to worry about. I’ll go over and see.’
I hug him to me, not wanting to let him go. He’s tall, over six foot, but he’s slim built. He cycles a lot but he’s never been to the gym. Would he be able to protect himself in a fight?
He pulls away. ‘Hey. I grew up with two older brothers. I’ll be fine,’ he says, as if reading my mind. ‘Now, keep watch.’
He slips out of the door and I run back to the bedroom. I watch as he crosses the street. He’s wearing his big padded coat and I can see he’s got his hand in his pocket where the knife is. When he gets to the door he stops and fiddles with something for what seems an age. Then, eventually, the door swings open. He turns to me and gives me the thumbs-up. And then he disappears into the building.
44
Margot
Margot sits in the corner of the room watching Heather with her family. Adam is sitting beside his wife’s bed and little Ethan is on her lap, trying to nuzzle into her neck while she reads him his favourite story, Guess How Much I Love You. She resembles the picture of contentment as she rests her cheek against his soft curly hair while he sucks his thumb. Adam watches them with a little smile on his lips. He’s brought in some of the daffodils that he grows in a part of the field they use as their allotment, and they fill the room with a scent that Margot has always found slightly cloying. It looks like a normal family scene, except Margot knows it’s not. The police officer’s presence reminds her that her daughter is under arrest for murder. Tomorrow they will come in to interview her and Margot knows she will be charged. Their lawyer has said she’ll fight for diminished responsibility, but even if that’s the case and Heather gets the lesser charge of voluntary manslaughter instead of murder, she’ll still have to go to prison or a secure hospital under the Mental Health Act. She’ll have to leave her husband and her son and go away for goodness knows how long.
Will Adam wait for her? How much does he love her daughter? She’s always found him so hard to read. He’s a good father, she can’t dispute that, and she’s always thought him a good husband to Heather. But they’d argued a lot since Ethan was born, and the night before the incident – Margot can’t bring herself to call it anything else – he’d walked out on her, taking his son with him. Why? He was going to tell her the night she got that phone call from DCI Ruthgow, but they were distracted by the possibility that Flora’s body had been found. And she’s not had the chance to ask him again.
Eventually Ethan starts to get wriggly and tired and Adam picks him up, but Ethan holds out his arms to Heather. His little chin wobbles. He doesn’t want to leave his mummy and it breaks Margot’s heart.
‘It’s okay, little man. Mummy will see you tomorrow,’ says Heather, smiling encouragingly, although Margot can see it’s killing her having to say goodbye. Adam bends over to kiss Heather and she leans forwards to hug Ethan once again, smelling his head with her eyes closed.
It’s not until they leave that Heather allows the tears to run down her cheeks.
Margot’s by her bedside in an instant. ‘I know, sweetheart,’ she says, pressing a tissue into her daughter’s hand. ‘It’s hard. I know.’
‘I can’t bear being apart from him.’ She sobs.
‘Hopefully not for much longer.’
Heather turns to face her, fire suddenly blazing behind her wet eyes. ‘Soon it will be even worse. Soon I’ll only be allowed to see him once a week. He’ll grow up not knowing me. Not really. A prison is no place for a child.’ She’s crying so much now that her shoulders are heaving.
Margot pulls her into her arms. ‘Please don’t cry. I’ve got a brilliant lawyer for you. We’ll do what we can to fight it, okay?’
Heather rests her head on Margot’s shoulder and cries as if she’s still a child. Margot rubs her back, feeling powerless. It’s inbuilt in her, the desire to make everything okay for her daughter, but how can she prevent this? Eventually Heather pulls away, her eyes red and puffy, and Margot sits on the chair. She glances at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly seven thirty. Soon visiting time will be over and she’ll have to go. She doesn’t want to leave her in this state.