by Katie Lowe
‘Well …’ Byers blushes. ‘One of my researchers has been trying to track down the Hawkwood House archives for a while. Since … Since the series we did on you. They’ve been in private ownership since the place closed down. But Margot’s records weren’t there.’ I feel a thud of disappointment; a hope I hadn’t realized I’d been harbouring. ‘The most recent owner, though – they’ve been very helpful.’
‘Sophie was there, Mum,’ Evie cuts in. ‘She used your name, but she went there, and she took Margot’s records. She’s on their CCTV. No one’s touched the boxes since, so they think they might have fingerprints. We can prove it.’
I try to force a smile. But she sees through it. The sorrow in her eyes breaks my heart. ‘Evie—’
‘Mum.’ She’s desperate, pleading. Her voice cracks on the words. ‘You don’t get it. Margot didn’t do anything wrong.’
My breath catches in my throat. ‘What?’
‘Hannah …’ I don’t know what I’m hearing in Byers’s voice. It sounds like grief. Pity, perhaps. ‘Your grandmother was cleared of all the charges against her. We have the court transcripts, and her records from an institution she visited, just before she died. The news reports were … It was enormously sensationalized – none of it was even close to accurate. There was a carbon monoxide leak, but … she left the house because she thought her husband and girls were already dead. She thought she’d lost everything. She was traumatized.’
I close my eyes, my lashes fat with tears. It’s impossible. All these years I’ve spent believing she was a murderer. Believing that I’d become one, too; that I was just like her.
I feel Evie’s eyes on me. ‘Mum, please.’ She’s trying so hard not to cry. My heart cleaves in two. ‘I know everything. About what Dad did to you, and … All of it. You need to let Anna make it right. You can’t just stay here forever. It isn’t fair.’
All at once, she’s my little girl, in our hotel room, begging me to go outside.
A teenager, alive with righteous fury, typing missives into her phone.
And an adult, now, though barely – pleading with me to be strong.
I can’t do it, I think. I can’t.
But I’d do anything for her. I’d do anything to keep her safe and well. That’s what I told myself; what I’ve always told myself, though I’ve failed more times than I can count. No more, I’d thought, the night her father died. No more. I feel the same love for her fortify me: the knowledge that, for my little girl, I’d do anything. No matter what.
I tap my fingers on the desk, three times.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I take a slow, careful breath.
And then, I speak. I begin my story once again – knowing, this time, that the last word will be mine.
Resources
Any person, of any gender, sexual orientation, race, age, religion, level of education, or socioeconomic background can be a victim – or perpetrator – of abuse. Those who have lived through psychological abuse may display symptoms of PTSD, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, and/or personality disorders.
If your partner is psychologically abusive, they may:
Be jealous and possessive, controlling where you go, and who you see, isolating you from friends or family
Put you down or humiliate you, in public or in private
Control how you dress, how you spend your money, or other aspects of your life
Pressure you to have sex when you don’t want to
Monitor or track your movements or messages, or stalk you
Be unpredictable, switching from charming to abusive from one moment to the next
Use anger to intimidate and control you, causing you to walk on eggshells around them
Make you doubt your own judgement, calling you irrational or ‘crazy’
If you are experiencing psychological abuse, you are not alone.
Contact the National Domestic Abuse Helpline at 0808 2000 247, visit Women’s Aid at womensaid.org.uk, or contact Mankind’s confidential helpline for male victims of domestic abuse and violence at 01823 334244.
Acknowledgements
Without the kindness, faith and generosity of Juliet Mushens, this book would not exist. I’ll never quite work out how to say how glad I am to know her, both personally and professionally – though I intend to keep trying. Thank you, Juliet, for everything.
Thanks also to Liza DeBlock, a genius of lifesaving details; and to Jenny Bent, who makes coming up with brilliant ideas look easy.
Working with Natasha Bardon on this book has, once again, been the thrill of my life: her warmth, wit, and limitless patience are outweighed only by her superb editorial suggestions and seemingly supernatural ability to know when to tell me I’m being ridiculous. I love you for it. Thanks also to Jack Renninson and the rest of the team at HarperCollins – I am so inspired by everything you do.
A brief note of thanks to the team at the University of Birmingham, where I am – hypothetically – still working on my PhD. Nathan Waddell, Rachel Sykes, Andrzej Gasiorek: thank you for bearing with me while I figure out how to do both.
My incredible friends, Caroline Magennis, Natalie Houlding, Laura Bligh, Mallory Brand, Davinia Day, Emma Maisey, and Sarah Clarke-Wareham – I’m sorry I’m so often writing, and so rarely fun. Thank you putting up with me anyway.
And finally, my family, to whom this book is dedicated: my parents, Jim Lowe, whose enthusiasm for writing keeps me going, when my own runs out; and Cathrine Lowe, who somehow always knows exactly what to say to make things right. I’m so lucky to have you both.
And my sister, Becky Rose, whose music is the soundtrack to my life. No-one knows me better – and no-one makes me belly-laugh so much. I’m proud of you. Thank you for everything.
Also by Katie Lowe
The Furies
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