by Lauren North
MH: Steve Morris?
Martin: Yes. He’s staying here for a few days. He and Kat have had a falling out. He’ll tell you everything. He’s just as in the dark as we are.
CHAPTER 62
Seven months later
Anna
I’m painting the kitchen when the doorbell trills through the house. I jump at the noise and a drip of teal paint splats on my overstretched T-shirt. I place the roller back in the tray and wipe a cloth across my huge bump.
I glance into the garden and check on the girls. All three are still wearing the bright-red polo shirts of their new school and playing on the climbing frame Rob built for them. Molly is hanging upside down from a bar, grinning as the ends of her bunches brush against the ground. Elise is sitting on the swing laughing and Harrie is at the top, throwing a ball up in the air and catching it.
The house is a new-build on the edge of town. It is in a maze of through roads and dead ends and one identical house after another. From our living room window, I can watch Harrie and Elise kick a ball and play with their new friends in the small green park across the road. Molly and I can walk to the swings in under a minute.
Every afternoon when the weather is dry, schoolchildren and parents spill on to the grass and the sounds of shouts and chatter carry through to the house. It’s not a beauty spot, it’s not quiet or tranquil, but I feel more sense of community here than I ever did in Barton St Martin.
Our fresh start at last.
Rob found a job at a local engineering firm and is home every evening just like he promised. He calls himself Chief Taxi Driver, taking the kids to all of their clubs and trying to make up for the lost time. We’re not rich and we never will be, but we earn enough to have planned a trip to France for a week at the end of the summer. It’s nothing fancy – a campsite with a pool, and the beach nearby – but we’re all excited. No more debts. The thought rolls across my mind – a marble that never stills.
The children have settled into their new school, their new life, faster than I could have hoped. Elise is still mourning the loss of the scholarship and there are days when I could kill Mike Pritchett for the terrible reference he gave Elise before he retired. I spoke to the admissions department at St Benedict’s. I tried to explain, and while they were sympathetic, the scholarship had already been awarded to someone else.
And Harrie. Our sweet, funny girl. She is coming back to me. Slowly. I’m not sure she’ll ever be the easy-to-smile, easy-to-joke girl she was. That was stolen from her the night of the car accident. Stolen by Jack Briggs and Kat and everything that followed. She’s cautious now. Slow to trust. She sticks close to Elise at school and me at home. Even with Rob she’s wary and I can see it hurts him. Then there’s the flinching, the way she jumps, hands flying out to protect herself if someone touches her unexpectedly. It breaks my heart to watch.
Tracy texted me last week. A half-hearted attempt to organize a play date for Molly and Olivia. I’ve not replied. Like the rest of them, she’s denied knowing anything about the stealing of the village funds, pinning the blame solely on Dean and Jack. It’s all lies. Molly talks about Olivia sometimes, but she has a new best friend now. His name is Ralph and he’s the sweetest, kindest little boy I’ve ever met, and he worships the ground Molly walks on.
I push the thoughts of Barton St Martin away as I step to the front door. Some nights when I lie awake, too uncomfortable to sleep, the thoughts return and I play what happened over and over in my mind, powerless to stop the worry grabbing me by the throat, but I am getting better too. I no longer spend every waking second worrying over all the what-ifs.
My body is slow, a huge waddling vessel. Two weeks until my due date. The fluttering excitement, the mild panic, returns to my insides. Rob is waiting for the call. So is June, who visits me once a week with a cake or a casserole, and fills me in on the village gossip I don’t want to hear.
Kat is moving. She and that husband of hers are divorcing.
Dean’s land sold. Did you hear?
They’re building seventy-eight houses on the meadow. They’ll be dinky little things.
The new Parish Council are fighting the planning permission but it’ll go through. The country needs more homes. People will adjust in time.
I’m grateful to June for her friendship and the support she gives us. She still babysits when I attend networking events in the town and meet Rob for dinner afterwards. I should’ve gone to the events years ago. There are lots of mums just like me and they’re a supportive bunch. I’ve got more work than I can handle right now.
I open the front door and find Sue Stockton standing on my doorstep, a bunch of flowers in her hands, and Timmy hopping and dancing at her feet. There’s a fragility to Sue that wasn’t there on that first doorstep visit seven months ago, as though she might be blown away by a gust of late-spring wind at any moment. She’s aged since I saw her at Dean’s funeral. The skin on her face is sagging and her hair is now completely white.
‘Hello Anna, I hope I’m not intruding,’ she says, holding out the flowers.
‘Not at all. I was due a break,’ I say, brushing at the paint stain on my T-shirt before taking the flowers. ‘These are beautiful, thank you. Come in. You’ll have to forgive the mess. It’s a work in progress.’ I glance at the breakfast bowls still sitting by the sink and wait for the embarrassment to flush through my cheeks. Nothing happens and I almost laugh at myself. Maybe there has been one positive to come out of all of this. I’ve become comfortable letting things slide. I’ve loosened my control – my constant need to clean and tidy. There are no Excel spreadsheets pinned around the house, no routines or lists, and just in time too. In a few short weeks, we’ll have two almost-teenagers, an eight-year-old and a newborn baby in our lives.
‘I was just going to put the kettle on. Would you like a tea or coffee?’ I ask, already filling the kettle.
‘Tea would be nice, thank you.’
‘Girls,’ I call out the back door. ‘There’s a visitor here you’ll want to say hello to.’ Even as the words leave my mouth, Sue unclips Timmy’s lead and he races into the garden, a speeding bullet of fur. I hear three delighted screams followed by cooing and excitement, a yipping bark, laughter.
Sue stands awkwardly in the kitch-ditch, as Molly calls it, a kitchen and a dining room all in one. Two walls are currently mustard-yellow and hideous, the others are a fresh teal. Rob is already talking about moving somewhere bigger. Maybe one day, but not yet. I like it here and the rent is low.
‘Let’s sit in the living room,’ I say when the drinks are ready. ‘Away from the paint fumes.’
Sue’s eyes are on me as I lower myself on to the sofa in our small square living room with the bulging toy boxes and purple and yellow Lego bricks scattered across the floor.
‘How long have you got?’
‘Two weeks officially, but I’m painting the kitchen which is clear nesting territory so any day now I suppose.’ I smile, a protective hand on my stomach for the little girl who will soon be in the world.
‘How are you?’ I ask.
‘Oh, I’m surviving. The last few months have been hard. There are constant reminders of Dean and what happened everywhere I look. I hate that place – the house, the village. Hate it. Anthony has taken over Dean’s business, you know. He hasn’t even had the decency to change the name. Then there’s the police investigation. Have you been following it?’
I nod. ‘I’ve been scanning the news every day waiting for something.’ Three times a day actually. I could’ve called PC Quinn but deep inside I know they – Anthony, Tracy, Kat, Sandra, Mike and Bev – have got away with it and I can’t bring myself to hear it.
‘They all banded together and blamed the whole thing on Dean and Jack. They said it was just the two of them taking the money. Can you believe that? The police are sure the rest of them are in on it, but there is no evidence. They were smart with the money trail, I’ll give them that. Throwing their little parties, pretending to sell th
at crap. Faking receipts. They had a forensic accountant comb through the Parish Council finances and Stockton’s but it’s too small-time for the police. It’s not like they’re looking for a murderer, is it? Dean killed Jack and then himself. Case closed.’ Sue’s words are matter of fact, but I catch the wobble in her tone. ‘They’ve dumped it on HMRC but unless one of them admits it, they’re all safe.’
‘Mutual assured destruction,’ I mumble as memories of that night in the stable fill my head.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘It’s what Anthony said that night I found Dean. One goes down, they all go down.’
The colour drains from Sue’s face.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’ She swallows a long sip of tea before she speaks. ‘Do you remember I told you about that man I saw on our driveway punching Dean? I’m sure I remember him saying that to Dean. It’s such a strange expression.’
‘And it wasn’t Anthony?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Sue falls silent. I see a tremble in her lower lip. Her eyes swim with tears as she looks at me. ‘Why do you think Dean did it, Anna?’
I’m not sure if she means killing Jack or himself, or both, but I shake my head either way. ‘He was in a bad place.’
‘I should have done more to help him. I should’ve—’
‘It’s not your fault.’ She smiles a little at that, but I don’t think she believes it.
‘I told Dean about Luke the night those beasts dropped him home, dumping him on the doorstep without even bothering to ring the doorbell. The first thing Dean asked was “Where’s Luke?”, and of course Dean blamed himself.
‘He told me that he thought someone had hacked into his emails and knew he was planning to sell the land he owned in the village to a competitor of Stockton’s. But when Kat invited him over he thought he might be able to get her on his side. I don’t think he’d have gone if it had been Jack or Anthony, but he liked Kat and wanted to talk some sense into her. Then Jack turned up and Dean sensed where it was going and texted Luke asking for help, but obviously Luke never made it.
‘He blamed himself for Luke’s death, but he blamed Jack too. Dean was in such a bad way when he came back. You can’t imagine it, Anna. I think hearing about Luke’s death tipped him over the edge. I wonder sometimes, even before Jack shoved him in that cage, whether Dean was planning to kill himself. Some of the things he said, when I look back now … Well, hindsight is a powerful thing, isn’t it? But what Jack did to him – I think Dean couldn’t kill himself without taking Jack with him. Some kind of warped justice for Luke’s death and everything that happened. The gun belonged to his father. An old hunting rifle. I didn’t even know we still had it, let alone that it worked.
‘Maybe if I’d waited until the next day to tell Dean about Luke, things would be different. But I didn’t and nothing will bring Dean back. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here,’ she says with a weak smile. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye. I’m finally moving to Spain.’
‘I’m pleased for you.’ I smile too. ‘I’m sorry Dean can’t be with you.’
‘Me too. That man was a fool, but I loved him.’ She sighs. ‘There will still be reminders of Dean at the villa,’ she continues. ‘But they’ll be good ones. He was always at his happiest there. I’ve sold the land. Did you know?’
‘I heard.’
‘It was mine, you see. Not Dean’s. I didn’t even know. He transferred it to me along with the house, years ago. I think he could foresee trouble ahead and wanted to keep it as separate from the company and himself as he could. I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I didn’t do enough while he was missing.’
‘I think about it too. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘And it wasn’t yours.’
A silence falls over us and I don’t try to fill it. The baby pushes an arm out, a punch from the inside, and I mask my gasp.
‘You must be wondering why I’m here and telling you all this.’ Sue places her cup on the coffee table and reaches into her bag before pulling out a white A4 envelope. ‘I’ve got something to give you.’ She stands up and puts the envelope in my hands before taking her seat again.
My eyes look from Sue to the envelope and she smiles properly for the first time since she’s been here. ‘Open it,’ she says.
I peel back the lip and pull out a single sheet of paper. Fenwick & Wright Solicitors is printed across the top of the letter and as my eyes glance over the words I struggle to take them in.
A single word stands out – Trust. Then another few – Education of your children.
My eyes fly back to Sue. There are tears on her face but she’s smiling.
‘What is this?’ My voice shakes. I think … I think I know but I can’t allow myself to believe it.
‘It’s an education trust for the girls, and the little one when he or she is older.’
Goosebumps prickle my skin and I shake my head. ‘Why?’
‘That night Dean came home, he told me about Harrie visiting him. The kindness and bravery your daughter showed meant so much to him, and to me. It kept him going knowing she would come to visit. I know that sounds stupid after … But, well, it mattered. Harrie explained about Elise’s hard work for a scholarship and how they’d be going to different schools if she got it, but this way, they can go to the same school.’
I nod, tears forming in my eyes. ‘Elise didn’t get the scholarship. Mike wrote a rather damning report about her.’
‘God, I’ve always hated that weasel,’ Sue says with an exasperated huff. ‘But it doesn’t matter now. They can all go to the same school. I don’t need much from the house sale or the land. I’ve got my villa and a bit of savings. That trust is the rest. It’ll be enough for whatever they need, for as long as they need it. I’ve made sure the term “education” is flexible. It’s not just school fees. It’s uniforms, shoes, books, and also travel. Take them places, Anna, when you’re ready. Travel with them. Maybe come to Spain for a little visit some time. It’s just in your name. No offence to your husband, but I’ve never met him and it’s you I know and you I trust. Dean told me how much your friendship meant to him. You were there for him and I’ll always be so grateful for that.’
Tears are falling, streaming down my face, dripping on to the round bump of my belly. ‘I can’t accept this.’
‘You can and you will because it’s for your children. My solicitor is a nice man. He’s expecting your call. He’ll go through all the fine print with you. But there’s one other thing I wanted to say about it. Counselling, therapy, whatever you call it these days, it’s included too. For Harrie. If she needs it.’
A sob escapes my throat then and I cry and cry for this gift, this wonderful kindness. Sue moves and sits beside me on the sofa, her arm around me just as I have sat with the girls a thousand times.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘Thank you so much.’
It’s then that Timmy bounds into the living room, followed closely by Harrie, Elise and Molly – a whirlwind of excitement and noise.
‘What’s going on?’ Elise asks. She looks at my face and then to my belly. ‘Is the baby coming?’
I shake my head. ‘Mrs Stockton is giving us some money.’
‘Cool,’ Harrie says, scooping Timmy into her arms. ‘Can we buy a dog with it?’
‘It’s for school.’ I look at Elise and her mouth drops open. ‘You can go to St Benedict’s. You and Harrie, and Molly when she’s old enough.’ I choke on the words and I know it’s only a school and that the girls would find happiness anywhere, but it’s what Elise so desperately wants and after the years and years of not being able to give them so much as a holiday, they deserve this. We all do.
Elise’s face drains of colour. Her bottom lip wobbles. ‘Seriously?’ She looks at Sue and then at me and I nod. ‘And Harrie too?’
‘Yes.’
‘There is one more thing,’ Sue says and I see the tears falling from her own eyes now. ‘Timmy has always been Dean’s dog, a
nd, well, the climate in Spain will be too hot for a dog with so much fur. You can say no of course, but I wondered if Harrie would like—’
‘Yes,’ Harrie shouts. ‘Can we, Mum? Can we look after him?’ I look at the smile on Harrie’s face, the hope and joy I’ve not seen for so long.
‘Absolutely,’ I laugh.
‘It won’t be too much with the baby?’ Sue asks, looking at me.
‘I’ll walk him every day before school and afterwards,’ Harrie jumps in. ‘He can sleep on my bed.’
‘And mine,’ Molly shouts.
‘I’m sure it will be a lovely distraction for them while I’m changing nappies and feeding.’
Sue smiles before she stands, hooking her bag over her shoulder. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. I have his bed and a few things in the car. I’ll send you a postcard when I’m settled. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep in touch and see how the children are getting on.’
I smile and stand too, the baby nudging at my ribs again. ‘We’d love that.’
We gather around the doorstep, Timmy snuggled in Harrie’s arms, and say goodbye to Sue. And then, just as she’s turning to leave, I spot Rob walking down the road. My heart expands and I grin, excited to tell him about the trust. But even as the thought runs through my mind, there is something unfolding before me.
Rob is still bouncing towards us, but Sue has stopped dead. She’s staring at my husband, her eyes wide with recognition and fear. Rob falters, a questioning frown on his face as he looks between Sue and me. Then he smiles, his charm offensive at the ready.
Sue turns back to look at me, her mouth agape. She mouths two words. ‘It’s him.’
And I see it. I see it all. One split second is all it takes, like someone has thrown open the curtains and let the light pour in.