Melissa tried to keep her face neutral. She wasn’t going to tell them Bill planted it there, that was a step too far. But she wasn’t going to lie either. ‘Lewis told me where they hid it, under the bin in the kitchen. I cleaned it then I buried it.’
‘That’s very serious, Melissa. That’s aiding and abetting. You know that carries a prison sentence? Not just for you, but the twins too.’
Melissa swallowed. ‘I know. But you need to remember, the twins were only protecting their little sister. She’s just ten.’ She leaned forward. ‘They’re all so close. How could they even comprehend telling you what she’d done? Their first instinct would be to protect her . . . As mine was to protect the kids. Wouldn’t you do the same?’
‘No, actually,’ Detective Powell replied.
‘I think you would, though, in the same situation. Think about it. Really think about it.’
The detective sighed. ‘So how did the knife end up at Ryan Day’s place? Why would someone unearth the knife you buried and plant it on him?’
Melissa paused. Should she tell the detective about Bill? She just couldn’t bring herself to. He was family too, after all. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘I’m not sure I’m convinced,’ Detective Powell said. ‘It all seems rather far-fetched to me, especially in light of how close you and Ryan are.’
‘I already told you the truth about that,’ Melissa said, wiping tears from her cheeks. ‘Nothing happened between us. I swear I’m telling you the truth!’
‘And yet you’ve not exactly been generous with the truth the past week, have you?’ Detective Powell retorted. She leaned forward, her slim dark forearms on the table. ‘I understand you found it particularly difficult after your first son, Joel, passed away?’
Melissa frowned. ‘Of course I did. He was my son! What’s this got to do with anything?’
‘You disappeared for a week, I believe? Just walked out?’ the detective asked, ignoring Melissa’s question. ‘In fact, you left your young children alone for a few hours, didn’t you?’
‘Who told you all this?’ Melissa asked.
‘We can’t divulge our sources. Can you answer the question, please?’
‘The twins weren’t alone for more than two hours. Patrick’s mum turned up. But yes, I’m ashamed of it, so thank you for reminding me,’ Melissa said, her voice catching.
‘Where did you go, Melissa?’
‘My parents’ old cottage. Well, my cottage officially after my dad passed it on to me.’
‘Anywhere else?’
Melissa paused. ‘I stayed with Ryan for a bit,’ she admitted.
‘I see. That was eleven years ago, right? Back in February 2008, a few days after your first son passed away in January, to be exact?’
Melissa nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And Grace was born in October, eight months later?’ the detective continued.
‘Okay, I see where you’re going with this,’ Melissa said with a sigh. ‘But Grace was not born prematurely so no, Grace is not Ryan’s.’
‘Is that another lie, Melissa?’ Detective Powell said. ‘She looks like Ryan Day, with those blue eyes of hers, and yet the twins have brown eyes.’
‘Yes, Grace has my eyes and hair,’ Melissa said, pointing at her own blue eyes and fair hair. ‘Anyway, what has any of this got to do with it?’
‘Everything,’ Detective Powell remarked. ‘Your husband said Grace stabbed him, but what we need to know is why? The possibility of Grace being Ryan Day’s daughter certainly makes things interesting.’
‘So that’s your theory, then?’ Melissa said with a bitter laugh. ‘That Ryan is Grace’s father and he somehow got her to stab Patrick? Do you realise how outlandish that is?’
‘It makes sense, though, doesn’t it?’ Detective Powell continued. ‘Ryan kills two birds with one stone, so to speak. Clears the way to get his child and his lover. You find out and decide to protect him by lying about burying the knife.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Then tell me what happened in that forest in those days after your son died, Melissa,’ Detective Powell said. ‘Tell us why you disappeared for so long with a man who’s just a friend? Tell me, why do we have a witness saying they saw you sleeping in Ryan’s lodge for the duration of the week?’
Melissa swallowed. What witness was this?
‘Melissa?’ the detective pushed. ‘What happened those few days in the forest with Ryan Day? Why did you stay with him when you could have stayed at your parents’ cottage?’
She slumped back down on the chair. ‘He was helping me,’ she said in a quiet voice.
‘Helping? Why?’
Melissa took a deep breath. ‘I attempted suicide.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Saturday 27th April, 2019
11.55 a.m.
Memories from those lost days after Joel died came back to Melissa. After walking out on the kids that day and falling asleep in her old cottage, she had woken in darkness, the familiar smell of the place confusing her, making her think her mum was still there, pottering around. But as she’d grappled through the darkness, seeing furniture covered in dust sheets, she’d remembered: her mum was gone . . . and Joel was gone too.
The pain overwhelmed her, making her double over. She just needed the grief to be gone too. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of her dad’s old bottles of gin beckoning her, so she’d gone to it, doing what her father and Ryan’s father did to chase their troubles away: she drank it. Drank it and drank it and drank it.
But the pain wouldn’t go away. It was a toxic combination, grief, guilt and gin, like a million bugs all over her, itching at her.
As she’d stepped outside, ready to walk back, she’d hesitated before the ancient oak, looking up in the darkness at the moon-encrusted branches above. It felt as though her mother was calling for her to stay as they swayed in the breeze.
Stay, Melissa, stay.
She could imagine her mother doing that, telling her she needed time; that the forest heals. And God, she needed healing, because she felt broken, cracked open, ready to crumble.
So she had stayed. She’d sat on a log and she’d breathed in the night forest, stilling her mind. It was so quiet, the oak tree casting shadows across the forest floor before her. As she sat there, she thought of her poor mother. Her death had been a complete shock to them all. She’d disappeared in the night three months after they’d moved in with the Byatts. Bill had gone to look for her with Tommy and had discovered her beneath the old oak. It was a particularly freezing-cold night in late October and, unable to get into the cottage, which Bill had boarded up, she’d chosen to just sit by the oak tree rather than return to the Byatts’. She had passed away from hypothermia right there, by the tree she so loved. The guilt Melissa had felt had been unbearable. She had been so wrapped up in the excitement of being with the Byatts, and with Patrick too, that she hadn’t noticed her mother was so desperate to leave that she’d sneaked out in the night.
The guilt had itched again. Itch itch itch. The grief swirled around, snapping its teeth. She threw the bottle away, watched as it smashed against the oak tree. A piece of glass rebounded, cutting her, but she didn’t notice, just walked to the tree, her blood dripping on the leaves below. The rope from the makeshift swing her father had made her still draped from one of the oak’s old branches, the seat rotten and black.
Melissa kicked it to pieces with her foot, her silver ballet slipper falling to the ground below. Then she took the rope that remained and twisted it around her neck, the only way she could think of getting rid of the pain. The last thing she saw before she passed out was her ballet shoe, the blood on the leaves, an image that had haunted her dreams since.
Looking back, it was awful to do that to the twins, who were themselves having to deal with the horror of losing their brother. But she simply wasn’t thinking straight. She’d been drunk, out of her mind. It was something she’d never dreamed of doing. She was crazed in
her mourning and, if Ryan hadn’t found her, she wouldn’t be here today.
She remembered Ryan’s arms around her waist, his desperate pleas for her to open her eyes, to breathe.
‘Melissa?’ Detective Powell said now, dragging her from her past. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ Her voice was unusually soft.
‘I tried to hang myself, from the oak tree,’ Melissa said. ‘Ryan found me, he saved me. He took me to his lodge and he – he brought me back to life. He called a nurse we know, Debbie Lampard. She came over and they put me back together so my family would never find out. So nobody would.’ She leaned forward, looking the detective in the eye. ‘A week later, I discovered I was pregnant with Grace, Patrick’s child. I swear to you. Take a DNA test if you want. There was no sordid affair.’
The detective was quiet for a few moments as she examined Melissa’s face. Then she nodded. ‘I believe you. I think it’s time we talked to the twins, don’t you?’
Melissa took in a breath of relief and stood up with the detective.
‘What happens now?’ she asked as they walked outside.
‘I’m going to send someone to get the twins. In the meantime, you can wait here for Grace.’
‘Will someone be with the twins when they’re interviewed too?’
‘Yes, but they’ll be interviewed separately.’
They got to the waiting room. ‘Look,’ the detective said, ‘I’m really sorry for all you’ve been through. I’m a mother. I can’t even imagine the awfulness, back then and now. I just want to get to the bottom of it all. You understand that, don’t you?’
‘I do. You’re just doing your job.’
The detective went to turn away, then paused. ‘You said your husband’s infidelities surprised you. That makes him a rather good liar, don’t you think?’
Melissa frowned. Was the detective implying Patrick might have lied about Grace stabbing him too?
But why would he do that?
Melissa walked out of the police station with Grace later, blinking up at the bright yellow sky. In the distance, the sun gleamed down on the forest, making the trees appear ablaze with fire.
She looked down at Grace, squeezing her hand. They’d released her after her interview, pending further information. The twins were now being interviewed and, though Melissa wanted to wait for them, she’d been told it could be hours, so she and Bill had agreed on the phone that he would come and wait for them while Melissa took Grace home. He was on his way now.
Melissa didn’t know much about Grace’s interview, just that she kept denying she had stabbed her father. Other than that, she didn’t divulge much information. With no proper statement from Patrick and the chance he might have been confused after waking, Detective Crawford had made the decision to wait until he could fully question Patrick and the twins.
In the meantime, it was agreed they’d release Grace to be with Melissa, which made Melissa so relieved. She decided not to push Grace about what happened. She’d already endured two hours of questioning, even if it was gentle questioning.
On the taxi ride back to Bill and Rosemary’s house, Grace said nothing, just staring out of the window with a wrinkled brow. When they got to the house, it was quiet, Rosemary with Patrick, Bill now at the police station.
Melissa thought of Patrick. Rosemary had sent her a quick text, telling her he was sleeping, mainly . . . and that he was asking for her. Melissa had replied, asking Rosemary if Patrick had said anything else about what happened. He can barely talk, was Rosemary’s curt reply. He needs time. You should come and see him.
But Melissa’s priority right now was the kids, especially Grace. As long as she knew Patrick was awake and doing well, her time with him simply had to wait. Plus, what would she say to him after all she’d discovered?
‘I’m tired,’ Grace said. ‘Can I go to sleep?’
Melissa nodded. ‘Me too. Shall we go and have a nap until the twins get back?’
Grace nodded and they went upstairs, slipping between the covers of Melissa’s bed. She folded Grace into her arms and stroked her hair as she fell asleep, savouring the feel of her.
Eventually Melissa fell asleep too, and it wasn’t until she heard the front door clicking open that she woke. She sat up, checking Grace to see she was still asleep. Then she quietly went downstairs.
Bill was in the hallway, taking off his jacket as the twins went to head upstairs. Melissa was shocked when she saw Lilly. Her face was red and puffy from crying, her hair dishevelled. Lewis looked exhausted, his dark eyes haunted.
‘How did it go?’ Melissa asked.
‘Conspiracy of silence,’ Bill said with a sigh. ‘They refused to say a single word.’
Melissa went to Lilly, stroking her cheek. But Lilly wouldn’t look at her. ‘Darling, what happened that afternoon?’
‘I’m tired, Mum. I want to sleep.’ She slipped past Melissa and went upstairs, pausing at the door to Melissa’s room as she looked in on Grace. She let out a sob and ran up to the attic room, slamming the door.
‘Lewis?’ Melissa said. ‘Look at me, Lewis.’
‘What, Mum?’ Lewis said in a weary voice.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she asked him. ‘Dad said it was Grace. Was it Grace?’
‘They’ve had enough questioning,’ Bill said. ‘Come on, son, get some rest and some grub, then we can take you to see your dad. He’s looking good,’ he added, putting his arm around his grandson’s shoulders. Lewis looked over his shoulder at Melissa. Then he turned away, going into the living room with Bill.
Melissa stood on her own in the hallway for a moment, curling and uncurling her fists. Still this bloody wall of silence!
Only Grace had said something concrete: she didn’t do it. Was she telling the truth or was she just a little girl scared of the consequences of stabbing her own father? That seemed more likely, didn’t it? What reason would Patrick have to lie about it being Grace? And if it were Grace, that was one hell of a reason for the twins to keep quiet: to protect their little sister.
It was all pointing towards it being Grace, except for one thing: her motive.
Melissa sat at the dinner table later, playing with the omelette she’d made for Bill, Lewis and herself. She kept looking up at the ceiling, hoping the girls were okay. They were both sleeping when she’d gone up to see if they were hungry, so she’d decided to let them rest.
‘Your nan said your dad’s looking forward to seeing you, Lewis,’ Bill said.
Lewis peered up, brow creased. He didn’t exactly look thrilled at the idea.
Melissa placed her fork down with a clang. ‘Why would Grace hurt your dad, Lewis?’
Bill sighed. ‘Melissa, I told you—’
‘This is my family, okay?’ she snapped back at him. ‘My children.’
‘And my grandchildren!’ Bill retorted.
Melissa ignored him and continued looking at Lewis. ‘Lewis, why? What happened? You can’t keep up this silence, not now Dad is awake and talking. He said it was Grace – done, over. The police know. All you need to do is fill in the missing pieces.’
Lewis remained quiet.
‘Look, I know why you’ve been doing this,’ Melissa said. ‘It was to protect Grace, and I get it. I admire it. But there’s no point any more. Once your dad is able to make a statement and confirms it was Grace, that’s it. There’s nothing more you can do.’
Lewis looked at Bill, then down at his food. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Leave it, Melissa,’ Bill hissed. ‘Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?’
Melissa put her head in her hands. ‘I can’t deal with this. I need to know.’
‘You need to calm down,’ Bill said in a low voice.
‘How can I? My little girl has been accused of stabbing her father, and her brother and sister are refusing to say why.’ Melissa shoved away from the table, grabbing her plate and taking it to the kitchen. She threw it in the sink then gripped on to the side, lookin
g out at the forest as she took in deep breaths.
Then the doorbell went.
She closed her eyes. She really couldn’t deal with Jackie or Ross right now.
She heard Bill walk down the hallway and open the door. Then she heard a familiar voice.
Detective Crawford.
She walked into the hallway to see him standing at the door with a uniformed police officer.
‘We’re here for Grace, Melissa,’ the detective said. ‘Patrick just gave us a statement. Grace definitely stabbed him.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
Saturday 27th April, 2019
12.42 p.m.
Melissa felt her legs lose their strength. Bill rushed to her, helping her to stay up.
‘I . . . I thought he couldn’t talk properly?’ she said.
‘It was a long process – we had to use flash cards in some cases,’ he said. ‘But he was very clear about it, I’m afraid. Grace stabbed her father, so we will be charging her with her father’s assault.’
‘How? Why?’ Melissa asked.
‘I’m afraid we can’t go into that now. We’re here to take her in, Melissa.’
‘But where? Where will you take her?’
‘We’ll be taking Grace to a very nice place in Ashbridge for some further chats.’ Melissa knew where he meant: St Fiacre’s, the same home Jacob Simms was sent to as he awaited trial.
‘No chance!’ she said, trying to keep her voice low so the kids couldn’t hear her. ‘I know a kid who got a horrible beating there.’
‘Things have changed since then,’ the detective said. ‘I promise you, it’s the right place.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Detective Crawford sighed. ‘Look, this is a very unusual case for us so there was a great deal of discussion about what will happen to Grace. In the end, we really felt St Fiacre’s is the best place for her.’
‘Surely home is!’ Melissa said. ‘She’s ten!’
The detective shook his head. ‘I’m afraid we can’t risk that, in case she harms one of you.’
Melissa put her fingers to her temples, rubbing them. ‘Harm one of us? She wouldn’t do that.’
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