The Girl Who Came Back

by Susan Lewis

  —

  Jules had no idea what she was doing here, what kind of madness had made her turn her car in this direction when she’d left Greensleeves. She only knew that she hadn’t wanted to go home, or into town, or anywhere that might have actually made some sort of sense.

  As if this did.

  She was parked in the shade of a sprawling sycamore tree diagonally opposite the black wooden gates to Crofton Park. The gates she and Kian had tried so desperately to get through the night Daisy was murdered.

  She sat motionless, expressionless, staring at the stillness and trying not to torment herself with images of Kian blithely dropping Daisy off and driving away. It could have happened yesterday, or last week, or maybe she was plucking it from a dream.

  If only.

  Sunlight was streaking through the trees that spilled over the walls, casting dappled pools among the shadows in the street. Jules barely noticed. Since Daisy had gone, nature had lost its luster; all pleasures, along with hope and understanding, had fallen away like autumn leaves to be trampled, turned to mulch in a sodden ditch.

  Amelia Quentin belonged in a ditch, one so deep and clogged that she would never have been able to find her way out. Instead she was behind those walls enjoying the luxury of her father’s home, tasting the heady delights of freedom, soaking up the promise of a future that held all the options she was apparently going to take some time to consider.

  Hatred, resentment, and the need to hurt, even destroy, the girl were burning holes all the way through Jules.

  Why should Amelia Quentin have the right to anything at all after what she’d done? If she’d belonged to any other family, she’d have been charged with murder and so would be serving a mandatory life sentence now. There’d have been no easy open prison, no privileges, or early release, and God knew she wouldn’t have been able to stage that appalling show she’d put on for the cameras last week.

  Jules wondered bitterly if Amelia ever thought about Daisy, and if she did, how she felt. Dismissive? Triumphant? Was she capable of guilt or remorse?

  I forgive them for the way they treated me…I bear no ill will.

  Jules’s head went down as longing for Daisy overwhelmed her. How could anyone measure the depth of pain and suffering of someone being frenziedly hacked to death? How long had it taken? Had Amelia been sure Daisy was dead before she stopped, or had she simply run out of strength?

  She wanted to ask Amelia why she thought she’d had the right to take Daisy’s life. What sense of entitlement, outrage, self-pity, even, had made her force Daisy, and her family, to pay such a terrible price for such a small offense?

  Whatever the answers, the girl would never have been able to justify what she’d done, so maybe Jules didn’t want to ask after all. She only wanted to make Amelia pay….

  Hearing a motorbike approaching she glanced in her wing mirror and watched it pass, expecting it to carry on around the bend. Instead it slowed to a halt as it reached the gates of Crofton Park.

  Sinking lower in her seat, she kept her eyes on the rider as he took off his helmet, shook out his hair, and used a booted foot to press the entryphone bell. It was the young man who’d met Amelia at the prison.

  Come to be paid for his part in the show? Or was he really a friend?

  A few moments later the gates slid apart, and he roared off along the drive.

  By the time the engine noise died the gates were closing again. There had been plenty of time for Jules to follow, had she wanted to, but she wasn’t ready for a confrontation yet. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be, if it was even what she wanted, but knowing how long the gates took to close felt like useful information to tuck away.

  She should have left then, should have taken herself home to try to clear her head, or back to Greensleeves to check on her mother, but for some reason she stayed where she was.

  Several minutes ticked by, a couple of cars swept past, the birds continued to sing, and a squirrel darted across the top of the gates to disappear into the trees. Everything was so perfect, so tranquil. No one would ever have guessed that a killer was in the vicinity, hidden like a predator in the bush or an odorless poison in the air.

  Jules suddenly noticed that the gates were starting to open again.

  Quickly ducking into the shade of the passenger seat, she watched as an open-topped BMW with Amelia at the wheel and the young man beside her swept out into the lane and on around the bend.

  Immediately starting her car, Jules crunched it into gear and took off after them. She had no idea why she was doing this, what she hoped to gain by it; she simply felt compelled to follow, as if their destination might in some way provide her with information she needed to know.

  Fifteen minutes later, as they turned left off the moor into the upper reaches of Kesterly, Jules’s heart rose into her mouth. They were heading down the hill toward the Risings. Surely to God they weren’t intending to drop in on her? Was Stephie there? What would she do if she opened the door and found her best friend’s killer on the porch?

  It would terrify her.

  It was already terrifying Jules, until the BMW sailed on down the hill and she remembered that Amelia didn’t know where she lived.

  Or she shouldn’t. But how could anyone be sure about that?

  It was when they reached the bottom of the hill, where the road curved around to the right to carry on along the coast into Kesterly, that Jules realized where Amelia and her passenger were going.

  She could hardly believe it, couldn’t even bear the thought of it. The brazenness, the sheer horror of such gall was stifling her breath. They were out of sight now, because they’d already taken the spur road to the left, the one that led straight into the heart of Hope Cove.

  Driving on past, she pulled into a layby and dropped her head onto the steering wheel. She felt nauseous, panicked, like she wanted to scream or yell or bang her fists into Amelia’s hateful face—or stab a knife into the very heart of her.

  How could she? What kind of sick person could go to the home of the girl she’d killed as though she might actually be welcome, or as if it were some kind of fond trip down memory lane? What the hell was wrong with the girl? What was she trying to prove? No normal person would even think about going into the cove, never mind actually set foot in it after the chaos and heartbreak she’d caused there.

  There was no doubt in Jules’s mind that Misty and Marco would throw the pair straight out again, but she took out her mobile anyway, intending to call Misty, until she realized she didn’t want anyone to know that she’d been following Amelia. For the same reason she couldn’t call Andee either, to ask about Amelia’s parole conditions. And though she was sorely tempted to involve Danny, she quickly reminded herself that nothing good would come of it if she did.

  Besides, if anyone was going to avenge Daisy’s killing, it would be her.

  In the end, deciding she needed to go home to steady herself, she turned the car around and started back up the hill. She hadn’t got far when her mobile rang. Seeing it was Stephie, she clicked on.

  “Hi, are you still with your mum?” Stephie asked.

  “No, I’m on my way back. I should be there in a couple of minutes. Is everything OK? You sound worried.”

  “Do I? No, no, I’m fine. Well, no, I’m not, actually. I’ve just been online and there’s something…Well, there’s something here that you ought to see.”

  —

  Hey all you sizzly peeps, party time at my place. Everyone invited. If anyone in touch with Daisy’s mum pls tell her would love to see her. Dates and times to follow. AQ x

  Jules looked at Andee, whom she’d called right after Stephie had shown her the post.

  Andee was shaking her head in disbelief. “If I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes…,” she murmured.

  Still inwardly reeling at the tone of the message, never mind what it said or where Stephie had found it, Jules pushed an unsteady hand through her hair.

  “It’s putting it on Dai
sy’s Facebook page that’s really getting me,” Stephie raged. “How dare the bitch go anywhere near it? It’s like having filth poured over something lovely and pure.”

  To Andee Jules said, “She surely can’t believe I’d go, so what’s this really about?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Andee replied. “Her mind doesn’t seem to work along the same lines as most, but she’s definitely trying to engage you in something.”

  “She’s totally schizo,” Stephie snorted. “Have you read what she said to Janey Field, who told her she’d rather hang herself than go anywhere near her? She actually said, ‘I’m sure I can help with that,’ with a smiley face.”

  Jules turned to Andee again. “Is this breaking the terms of her parole, going onto Daisy’s Facebook page?”

  “I’m not sure,” Andee replied, “but I can check.”

  “Did you hear she went to the Mermaid yesterday?” Stephie asked Andee.

  Andee’s eyebrows rose in shock.

  “She didn’t even get through the door,” Jules told her. “It wasn’t only Misty who barred the way; a few of the regulars were there. So she realized pretty quickly that she was making a mistake.”

  Andee frowned as she thought. “Like you,” she said, “I’m asking myself what this is really about. Not just this bizarre invitation, but why did she choose to come back here at all?”

  “And why,” Stephie cut in, “stage that ludicrous display outside the prison with a bunch of fake friends and a bloke who can only be interested in her money? Or there’s something wrong with him too. I mean, who in their right minds gets involved with a convicted killer?”

  “According to Danny,” Jules said, “he’s the brother of someone she was in prison with. We’re guessing that most of the friends are similarly related.”

  “I wonder,” Andee said very gently to Jules, “if it’s time to close down Daisy’s Facebook page?”

  Jules immediately felt a surge of resistance. “It would feel like a victory for her if we did,” she replied. It would also feel like closing off another part of Daisy, and she’d had to close off so much already.

  “It would be one less way for her to get to you,” Andee pointed out.

  “We can always unfriend her,” Stephie piped up. “And there has to be a way of taking that post down. I’ll ask Joe; he’s sure to know.”

  All eyes went to the laptop as another post bleeped its arrival.

  Hey peeps, me again. Someone pls tell Daisy’s mum that we were watching her on CCTV yesterday. Sad. She should come to the party. It might cheer her up to have some fun.

  Andee frowned. “What CCTV?” She turned to Jules. “Where were you yesterday?”

  Realizing she had to come clean, Jules said, “I drove up there.”

  Stephie’s eyes widened as Andee regarded her darkly.

  “I know it was a crazy thing to do,” Jules admitted. “I can’t even really say why I did it. I guess I needed to know for sure if she was there.”

  “Did you try to go in?”

  “No, of course not. I sat outside for a while.” She looked from Andee to Stephie and back again. “It was a bad day,” she explained. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “The next time you feel like doing that,” Stephie cut in, “call me first and I’ll come with you.”

  “It would be best not to go at all,” Andee cautioned. “Look, I understand this isn’t an easy time—emotions are fraught, nerves are in shreds—but engaging with her on any level will only make things worse.”

  Jules turned away, her insides clenched with frustration and fury, while the need to lash out at the girl, to crush her with a whole lot more than rejection, made her head thump with its power.

  “Jules?” Andee said carefully.

  Realizing Andee was sensing something, Jules forced herself to sound calm as she replied, “You’re right, of course. We need to give Crofton Park a wide berth. And maybe it is a good idea to close down the Facebook page.”

  Stephie was regarding her uncertainly.

  “Just do it,” Jules told her. “Then maybe you can private-message everyone from your own account to explain why it’s not there anymore.”

  Following her into the kitchen, Andee said, “You shouldn’t be having to deal with this. Have you thought about going away for a while?”

  Being in such turmoil, so dislocated from anything that made sense, or felt right, or even sounded right in her own mind, it took a moment for Jules to register the words. When she did her eyes sparked with anger. “She’s done enough already,” she snapped. “I’m not allowing her to push me out of my own home.”

  “That’s not how it would be.”

  “It’s the way she would see it. I would too. No, I’m sorry, if anyone’s going to leave this place, I can promise you this: it’ll be her, not me.”

  “Jules, it’s Aileen. How are you, dear?”

  “I’m fine,” Jules replied, lifted by the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice, just because she loved her. “How about you?”

  “Oh, you know how it is. Over my cold, but I’ve got myself a niggling pain in the back to take its place. It’ll go. It’s not why I’m ringing.”

  Jules guessed as much. “Is Kian OK?” she asked, always her first concern.

  “Sure, as OK as he can be, but I’m afraid someone’s told him she’s out. Don’t ask me who, but with that telly thing we heard about and everyone knowing, it was bound to reach him sooner or later.”

  Of course. She should have thought of that. “How’s he taken it?”

  “To be honest, he didn’t say much, but I heard him on the phone to our Danny last night.”

  “Saying what?”

  “I didn’t catch a lot of it, but he was definitely asking Danny to look out for you. Do you reckon that girl means you some harm, Jules? Is that why she’s back there?”

  “I think she’s trying to mess with my head,” Jules admitted, “but as for anything else…” Her eyes flicked across the street to the closed gates of Crofton Park. Thank God Aileen couldn’t see where she was, but presumably Amelia could. “Don’t let’s talk about her,” she said, turning aside. “Tell me about Kian.”

  Aileen didn’t need much encouragement, so it wasn’t long before Jules knew that Kian had started to help his second cousin Cullum on the building sites, and he’d been to see Father Michael a couple of times lately, although Aileen didn’t know what they’d discussed. “I don’t think he’s doing the confessional or has settled down to some praying,” Aileen ran on ruefully, “but he’s got a lot of questions he still wants answering, so I’m guessing he’s testing the Good Lord through our long-suffering priest.”

  Jules couldn’t be sure whether she was finding it hard or easy to picture her shattered husband sitting down with a man of God to demand reasons for why he’d had to lose his daughter, especially in such a senseless and brutal way, or even why he’d had to lose her at all. All she knew was that her heart was filling with his confusion and pain and all the love she still felt for him. She missed him so much that sometimes it was almost as hard to bear as losing Daisy, but it still did no good for them even to speak on the phone. They couldn’t go more than a few minutes without mentioning her; even if they did manage not to, she was so powerfully there they simply ran out of words. How sad and hard it was that they couldn’t bear each other’s pain.

  Eventually she said, “It’s good to know that he’s going out. Be sure to send him my love, won’t you?”

  “Oh, and he’ll be sending his too,” Aileen responded. “Can I tell him you’re coping all right with her being around?”

  Jules looked over to where the CCTV camera was partially hidden in a tree. “Yes, you can tell him that,” she replied, and after promising to be in touch again soon she switched off the phone.

  A few minutes later she got out of the car, walked across the street and stared up at the lens.

  If Amelia was watching at her end, they’d be in eye-to-eye contact now.

&
nbsp; Did Amelia feel afraid, or at least unnerved by these unusual visits from her victim’s mother? This was the third one Jules had made in as many days, each time parking in the same spot under the sycamore and crossing from time to time to go and stare up at the camera.

  With a small twist of her mouth that might have been a smile, she turned from the camera and walked back to the car.

  If this wasn’t throwing doubt on her sanity, she didn’t know what would. A mother, torn apart by grief, crushed by the system that had robbed her of proper justice, traumatized by the proximity of her nemesis, besieged by Facebook posts and attempted visits to her old home…How, in the light of all she’d been subjected to, could it come as a surprise to anyone that she’d lost all sense of reason? And if she had no sense of reason, how on earth could she be held accountable for her actions?

  Maybe she’d be tried for voluntary manslaughter—with provocation.

  —

  Stephie was going to be away for two nights. She’d rented a car so she could drive up north to visit Dean in prison, and was planning to drop in on his parents on the way back, if they were up for seeing her. After that she’d arranged to spend the night at a hotel near Heathrow in order to be handy for picking up Joe and his friend when they flew in the next morning.

  This small house was going to seem quite crowded with all four of them bustling about in it, something Jules had no idea if she was ready for or was even looking forward to. She felt sure she must be, given her fondness for Stephie and Joe, but lately she’d seemed so out of kilter with her feelings, as if they weren’t really hers, that it wasn’t always easy to know what was actually going on in her mind. All she could say for certain was that in the wake of Stephie’s departure she was aware of a swamping loneliness trying to drag her into its endless murky depths.

  However, she’d made plans for this evening that should, in their own strange way, rescue her from the worst of it.

  It was just after eight when she got into her car and drove into Kesterly. A dark mass of clouds was swirling in from the horizon as she reached the seafront, dimming the evening light and making the Victorian promenade appear like a faded postcard of its original era. She’d heard on the forecast that there might be rain later; it seemed they were right.