The Last Thing She Told Me

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The Last Thing She Told Me Page 25

by Linda Green


  ‘That takes me back a bit,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah. Thought I’d read it again. It’s sadder than I remember, Colin being locked away like that. All those secrets.’

  I nodded, unable to speak, and sat on the edge of her bed. She put the book down, as if she knew what was to come.

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if it’s the right time and it’s going to be hard to hear. It’ll make you angry and upset, so if you don’t want me to tell you, or you want me to wait a bit longer, that’s fine, just let me know. But I wanted to give you the choice.’

  ‘It’s about my father, isn’t it?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘I want to hear it then,’ she said.

  I looked at the wall opposite. It was covered with pictures of puppies and unicorns, which seemed entirely inappropriate in the circumstances. But I knew that if I looked at Ruby, I would never be able to get the words out. I’d stop as soon as I saw the first signs of hurt on her face.

  ‘Most of what I’ve told you is true,’ I said. ‘I was at a party in my second year at uni. I was drunk. I was twenty but I wasn’t half as sensible as you are now.’

  I paused, aware that Ruby was hanging on my every word. I was trying to sort out the jumble of things in my head so that the story came out as I wanted it to. It would be the truth. But I would spare her the full details.

  ‘I fell asleep in my friend’s bedroom. There was nobody else in there at the time. But when I woke up a few hours later, a man was in there. He was lying on top of me. He was inside me too. Although I hadn’t said he could do that.’

  I heard Ruby start to cry, I reached out for her hand, still afraid to look.

  ‘I froze,’ I said. ‘I was scared, so scared and confused, and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to move but I couldn’t. He was a lot bigger than me and I was worried that he would hurt me, so I lay there until it was all over.’

  I brushed away the tears that were coursing down my cheeks. ‘The reason I don’t know your father’s name is because he never stopped to introduce himself. And when he was finished, he got up and left the room without a word and I never saw him again.’

  Ruby let out a howl at almost exactly the same time as I did. I turned to her, seeing her wide, frightened eyes, the knowledge starting to seep through, the knowledge that would never leave her now. That she was the product of a rape.

  ‘No,’ she screamed.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. I tried to hug her but she pushed me away.

  ‘It’s not true,’ she shouted. ‘You’re making it up so you don’t look so bad.’

  ‘I would never do that,’ I said. ‘I would never do anything to hurt you.’

  ‘Well, you just have.’

  ‘I wanted you to know the truth. I thought you deserved that.’

  ‘If that’s the truth, you should have got rid of me. You should never have let me be born.’

  Her words slapped against me, stinging my face. ‘I didn’t get rid of you because the second I found out I was pregnant I knew I would love you more than anything else in the world. The most important thing you need to know is that the first time I saw you, when the midwife handed this little wrinkled, crying thing to me, I knew I was right, that you were the one good thing to come out of it. Every time I’ve looked at you since that’s what I’ve thought too.’

  ‘But don’t I remind you of him?’

  ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Because it was dark and I couldn’t see him. I have no idea what he looked like, so I don’t see him in you. All I see is a gorgeous girl who is turning into the incredible young woman I’m so proud of. And I don’t want you to waste a single second of your precious life thinking about him because he isn’t worth it, OK?’

  ‘Does Grandma know?’ she asked, between sobs.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I knew how much it would hurt her, you see, and I didn’t see the point of telling her because it wouldn’t change anything. She was cross enough at me for getting pregnant and messing up my education. She didn’t need to know any more.’

  ‘But you let her be cross with you. You let everyone think you had sex with someone whose name you didn’t know.’

  ‘I didn’t want them to treat you differently,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want anyone to look at you and think about what had happened, and I knew that the best way to prevent that happening was not to tell them about it.’

  ‘But you told James,’ she said.

  ‘Only last night. I had to tell him because not telling anyone was eating away at me, and I’d seen what that had done to Grandma. It was his idea to tell you. He said you were old enough to hear the truth.’

  ‘Does he hate me now?’

  ‘Hate you? God, he loves you more than I ever thought was possible. He’s always been your father, you know. He’s done more than lots of real dads ever do for their kids, and I don’t want this to change things between you.’

  ‘Well, it does!’ she screamed. ‘It changes everything. My father raped you. That’s how I was created. How the hell am I supposed to live with that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but I’ll help you if you’ll let me. I know it’s not going to be easy but you need to know I’ll be here for you, and if you want to talk about it, that’s fine, and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.’

  ‘Good. Because I don’t want to talk about it, not now or ever again. I want you to get out of my room and stay out.’ She hurled the copy of The Secret Garden at the wall.

  I stood up and walked towards the door. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘More sorry than you’ll ever know.’

  *

  She didn’t come out of her room for the rest of the day. I took a sandwich up to her at lunchtime. When I took her tea up later, the sandwich remained outside, untouched. When I went up to bed later, they were both still there, as if she was spelling out her hurt in food, outside her bedroom door.

  ‘Can I come in to say goodnight?’ I asked softly.

  ‘No,’ came the reply.

  ‘Night,’ I said, my voice cracking. ‘I love you.’

  There was no reply. I sat on the landing, my back against the wall, my head bowed, listening to fireworks going off outside and my elder daughter crying herself to sleep.

  23 September 1944

  Dear Betty,

  You were so brave today, my darling. Walking away without shedding a tear. You kept your promise to me and I will keep my promise to you. The one that came with the engagement ring. On the day of your eighteenth birthday, I will come knocking on your great-aunt Aggie’s door and whisk you away to get married. I might even do what you suggested and take you to Gretna Green, if we can’t wait until we get to Canada. And there will be nothing your great aunt or your parents or anyone else can do to stop me.

  I wish I could have bought you a ring with the biggest diamond in the world on it but I hope that little one did for you just fine. Every time I go in Bettys Bar I will see where we etched our names in the mirror with it, alongside all the other bomber boys’ names. We are there now forever. No one can take that away. It is a public record of our love.

  You looked so beautiful today, Betty. A proper English rose. Keep the Yorkshire one I gave you. Maybe you could press it. You can eat the butterscotch, though. I don’t think that will save! I would have given you the world if I could, because that’s what you’ve given me. And remember what I told you when you said you were sorry you hadn’t bought me a gift. You are carrying the most precious gift in the world, Betty. It is everything I could have wanted and more. Take care of our baby for me. I will be counting down the days until I can hold it, can feel its little fingers gripping mine.

  I’m excited now just thinking about the future. There is so much to look forward to. And when we are old,
we will look back on this time apart as a tiny speck in our lives.

  Remember that, Betty darling, and be strong for me. I will be thinking of you every second of every day and through the longest nights ahead.

  Take care of our precious baby until we meet again.

  Yours always,

  William

  22

  The next morning Ruby’s Coco Pops bowl was empty when I went back upstairs after we’d had our breakfast. It was a start, at least. I knocked on the door and heard a muffled ‘Yeah.’ I went in. She was sitting up on her bed reading The Secret Garden.

  ‘Can I get you anything else?’ I asked. ‘Toast? Tea?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said.

  ‘Did you manage to get any sleep?’ I asked.

  She shrugged.

  ‘I meant what I said. I’m here for you any time you need to talk.’

  She nodded, biting down hard on her lip.

  ‘James has gone to get your sister from Emily’s,’ I said. ‘Maybe see if you can come down for lunch, eh?’

  She nodded again. I shut the door softly behind me.

  *

  Ten minutes later Maisie careered into the kitchen, shattering the quiet that still hung over the house. ‘I’m home,’ she shouted, bounding up to me and giving me a hug. ‘Did you miss me?’

  ‘We missed your noise,’ I said, smiling at her.

  ‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ Maisie said, grabbing James’s hand as he followed her in and twirling around it as I tried to dodge between them to get to the fridge.

  ‘Well, I hope you two didn’t keep Emily’s mum awake all night with your chatter.’

  ‘Giggling,’ said Maisie. ‘She said we kept her awake with our giggling.’

  ‘Well, we’d better have Emily sleeping over here next time, give her poor mum a break.’

  ‘When we’re living at Great-grandma’s house?’ she asked.

  I realised for the first time that it would always be Great-grandma’s house. Whatever we did to it – central heating, new bathroom, repainting the whole place – it would still never be our house. The imprint she had left on it was too deep. It couldn’t be painted over or covered up. The stories the house had witnessed couldn’t be untold. And the pain of one of those stories would be etched on Mum’s face forever. It hadn’t been a home for her. Not even a house. It was the scene of a crime.

  ‘Let’s wait and see,’ I said.

  ‘Where’s Ruby?’ Maisie asked.

  ‘In your room. Leave her be, we need to give her a bit of space today.’

  ‘Is she being a teenager again?’ asked Maisie.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘How about I take you down the park for a bit?’ James said to Maisie. ‘Let off some of that pent-up energy.’

  ‘Yay,’ said Maisie, running to get her scooter from the back yard.

  James came over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Give her time,’ he said.

  I nodded, though I had no idea how much time she was going to need.

  *

  DI Freeman rang as I was emptying the dishwasher. I checked that the kitchen door was closed before I answered.

  ‘Sorry to bother you on a Sunday,’ he said. ‘We’ve had some developments.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We’ve got the DNA results back from your mother and from John Armitage. I’m afraid they do match the third set of bones.’

  Even though I had been expecting it, hearing it confirmed still shook me. I sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘OK,’ I said, trying to stop my voice cracking.

  ‘Do you want to tell your mother, or would you like us to do it?’

  ‘No, I’ll tell her, thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Armitage remains in custody,’ DI Freeman went on. ‘We’re going to be charging him with rape and indecent assault, as well as criminal damage and threatening behaviour against you. He’ll appear in court tomorrow. I think it’s highly unlikely he’ll be given bail.’

  ‘Right. It’ll be on the news again, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but there are strict rules for the media once he’s been charged. They won’t be able to link him to your family because it would identify your mother. My colleague DS Lockwood will be in touch with her tomorrow but I thought you might like to speak to her first, reassure her that she will remain anonymous.’

  ‘Thanks. Yes, I will. Has he admitted what he did?’

  ‘He’s claiming it was consensual. Let’s see how that washes in court when the jury hears she was fourteen at the time.’

  ‘But they still get off, don’t they? People like him get off all the time.’

  ‘They do, but we’re going to be doing everything in our power to make sure he’s not one of them. We’ve found other photos of girls at his house. Some printed out, some on his computer. We’re going to try to trace as many as we can. I don’t think for a minute that your mother was his only victim.’

  ‘And what about her baby?’ I asked. ‘Has he admitted killing her baby?’

  ‘He’s denying all knowledge of it. Says he thought your mother had aborted the baby or it had been adopted.’

  ‘But he can’t. It was him. It had to be him.’

  DI Freeman sighed. ‘He was particularly vehement in his denial.’

  ‘You believe him, don’t you?’

  ‘It is possible someone else was involved. Unfortunately, your grandmother may have been the only one who knew what really happened to that baby.’

  ‘You don’t think she did it?’

  ‘No, but I think she may have known who did.’

  I sat there afterwards, staring at my phone on the table. I’d thought this was all sewn up. Now everything was up in the air again. What if DI Freeman was right? What if John was telling the truth and Grandma was the only one who had known what had happened? Not just to her own two babies but to Mum’s as well. How were we ever going to uncover the truth?

  I couldn’t bear to think she’d taken those secrets with her to the grave. That she hadn’t left some clue, or there wasn’t someone still alive who could shed some light. And then I remembered that there was. And that I needed to talk to her before it was too late.

  *

  I was standing in the doorway with my jacket on, ready to go, when James arrived back with Maisie.

  ‘Have a good time?’ I asked.

  ‘Daddy says I could get an Olympic medal in scootering.’

  ‘I’m sure you could. Go and put it in the back yard, please. I’ve got to pop out now but Daddy will make you something nice for lunch. Be extra kind to Ruby, all right?’

  She nodded and carried her scooter outside.

  ‘What’s up?’ James asked, as soon as she was out of earshot.

  ‘The police have rung. The baby next door was Mum and John’s. They’re charging him and he’ll be in court tomorrow. They say he had photos of other girls at his house.’

  ‘Filthy old bastard. I hope he gets what’s coming to him.’

  ‘He’s denying it, mind. Saying it was consensual. So Mum will have to go through a trial. He’s also denying killing the baby. DI Freeman believes him on that one.’

  ‘So who does he think did it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m going to see Olive. She’s the only one I can think of who might know.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ asked James. ‘I thought you said she was ill.’

  ‘She is, but I’ve no choice. I need to find out before it’s too late. I’ll go and see Mum afterwards, too. I said I’d tell her before the police call tomorrow. Can you sort lunch for the three of you? Something involving sausages. Ruby will be down. Just keep an eye on her for me. It’s probably better I’m not there, to be honest.’

  *

  I drove up the hill
to Heptonstall, passing the turning to John’s house and trying not to think about whether anyone had fed Bert the budgie. I pulled into the little car park behind the nursing-home and stood on the step outside, remembering the first time I had done this and how long ago it seemed now, though it was only a matter of weeks.

  Dawn, the duty manager I’d spoken to before, came to the door. She recognised me straight away. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘We’ve been expecting John. He hasn’t been for a couple of days – it’s not like him at all.’

  ‘Is there somewhere private I can have a word, please?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her expression changing at once. ‘Come through to the office.’

  I followed her into a tiny room with beige walls, a ­sorry-looking pot plant and a stack of ring-binders on the desk. ‘I’m afraid John’s not going to be able to come for a while,’ I said.

  ‘Oh dear, is he ill?’

  ‘No, he’s er, been arrested. He’ll be appearing in court tomorrow on some very serious charges. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to visit again.’

  I watched Dawn’s eyes widen, a frown crease her brow.

  ‘Oh, goodness. That’s come as a shock.’

  ‘It’s been a very difficult few days. I wondered if I could try to explain to Olive,’ I said. ‘I’ll obviously spare her the details. I just want to try to get her to understand that he won’t be visiting.’

  ‘Right. Yes, of course.’

  ‘How is she? John said she had pneumonia.’

  Dawn’s frown deepened. ‘Not pneumonia, no. She’s had a bad cold but she’s a bit brighter this morning. She’s in her room.’

  Clearly John had been trying to put me off visiting.

  ‘I see. Can I come through?’

  Dawn led me out of the office and along the corridor to a door at the far end. She opened it and I stepped inside. Olive was sitting in her armchair next to the bed, wearing a cheerful yellow cardigan. I wished I’d stopped to buy some biscuits at the shop, anything that might help to break the ice and get her talking again.

 

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