Then She Vanishes(96)



Then Heather pokes her head around the curtain and calls Margot over. She stands up, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach instantly dispelling her happiness of a moment before.

When she reaches the cubicle Heather pulls her in and indicates for her to sit on Flora’s bed.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she whispers, dread swirling in her stomach. Although she thinks she knows what they’re going to say.





51


Mum looks at me with such fear in her eyes that it breaks my heart. After everything I’ve put her through all these years and the not-knowing what really happened to me. It’s aged her. I can tell her the truth now. I can finally see a bit more clearly now the drugs are leaving my body, and I can put things right. At last.

I try to prop myself up on my elbows, but they tremble with the effort. I feel so weak. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum,’ I say, my head falling against the pillow and cradling her warm, comforting hand. ‘But you need to hear the truth. It wasn’t Heather.’ I glance across at you sitting with your head bowed. You have tears on your cheeks. I was terrified I’d killed you in the barn that terrible morning. I’m so grateful that you’re alive and here with me now. I turn my attention back to Mum and squeeze her hand gently. ‘She didn’t shoot the Wilsons. It was my fault. I was the one who killed them.’





52




Jess


Thursday, 22 March 2012





BRISTOL DAILY NEWS



SEASIDE SHOOTER’S SISTER FOUND ALIVE IN VICTIMS’ HOUSE


by Harriet Hill

The Missing sister of the alleged Seaside Shooter who killed a Tilby couple has been found in the victims’ basement.

Flora Powell, now 34, who went missing when she was just sixteen, has been found alive at Clive Wilson’s Bristol property. It is thought she was kidnapped and kept a prisoner, hooked on drugs, for nearly eighteen years.

She was found living rough along the Welsh Back by two residents and is said to be in a critical but stable condition in hospital after a suspected overdose.

Police have delayed charging Ms Powell’s sister, Heather Underwood, 32, due to her recovery from a head wound. But now police believe that Heather may not have killed Deirdre and Clive Wilson after all.

A source said: ‘The police are now looking into the fact that it may have been Flora who actually committed the murders. An eyewitness at the time of the killings recalled seeing a “dark-haired woman”, which would also fit Flora’s profile. After what they put her through, she definitely has a motive.’

A spokesperson for Avon and Somerset Police confirmed that Flora Powell had been found but refused to comment further on the case.



‘Fucking Harriet fucking Hill,’ I spit, to a startled Rory. ‘How did she get this story when it all happened just last night? Has she got spies at the hospital or something? Shit.’ I fling the newspaper onto the coffee table.

‘I’m sorry. I thought you should see it.’ Rory had gone out to get milk this morning and had bought the newspaper when he saw the headline.

‘Now they’re saying it’s Flora who killed the Wilsons?’ I throw my hands into the air.

‘It makes more sense, though, doesn’t it? You said Margot told you there was an unidentified fingerprint on the gun. And it means Heather’s off the hook.’

I groan. ‘That might be the case – but poor Flora. And poor Margot.’

The sofa sags as he sits down next to me and pulls me into him, kissing my hair.

‘My story about the body in the basement not being Flora is going to be old news now, isn’t it? It’s published tomorrow.’ I sigh. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I should work for a daily again.’

‘If that’s what you want?’

I turn to face him. ‘You’d follow me a second time? Leave Bristol?’

‘Of course. I haven’t got a permanent job here yet. I’m just supply teaching.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that for me again. It wouldn’t be fair. And, anyway, we’ve got a good thing going here, haven’t we? Especially if we’re saving to buy our own place.’

He stands up, a half-smile on his face. ‘That’s true. But only if that’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ I say resolutely. I mean it. Rory’s not my father and I’m not my mother. We’ll make our own way, Rory and me. If what Heather, Flora and Margot have been through has taught me anything, it’s that you have to grab happiness when you can as you never know what the future holds. Hold on to the ones you love.

He checks his watch. ‘I need to get off. What time are you going in?’

‘I don’t fancy seeing Ted this morning.’ I have Heather’s interview still to finish writing up, so at least that should pacify him for a bit but I know he won’t be happy about this. And my last article will have to be scrapped as it will no longer be relevant. ‘I’ll walk down in the next ten minutes. I’ve got a lunchtime deadline and at least my story about Heather will be an exclusive.’

Rory bends over to kiss me goodbye. When he’s gone I read through Harriet Hill’s article again. I wonder if she knows the ‘two residents’ who found Flora were Rory and me.

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