by K. L. Slater
The three of us watch silently as they leave the room. There is something about two angelic-looking children being accused of such a terrible, savage crime that feels wrong on a visceral level.
It’s just not right. It can’t possibly be right.
When Tom pops to the bathroom, I check my phone. There’s a group text from school.
Hathersage trip update: your child will now require picking up at 3.30 p.m. prompt from school please. Many thanks.
My heart hammers. It’s two-thirty now, so that’s only another hour now that they’ve brought the pick-up time forward from the original four o’clock.
Soon we’ll have another child to try and protect from all this. At least while Josh is with his friends on the trip, he’s away from this circus of horrors. Plus I’m worried something important will happen here and Tom will be delayed getting to the school in good time to collect him.
My phone buzzes as another text from Beth comes through.
There are people in your front garden, looking through the windows!! Pls let me know asap if you’re all OK. B x
I shiver. Who are these people trespassing in our front garden? Locals? Or ghoulish out-of-town onlookers?
When Tom comes back into the room, I show him Beth’s message.
He shakes his head, colour flooding his cheeks. ‘Cheeky buggers. I’ll be going over there soon to get changed; I’ll chase them all away before we bring Maddy home.’
I think cheeky is the wrong word. It feels more menacing than that to me. The thought of people trampling through our personal space totally freaks me out.
But in a way, it’s the least of our problems.
‘Also, school have texted,’ I tell him. ‘Josh needs picking up at three-thirty now.’
‘I can do that when I’ve been to the house.’ He’s calm and confident, and it helps. I pinch my tight left shoulder, trying to alleviate the tension that has gathered there. He checks his watch. ‘I’ll need to get going shortly. I’ve only got an hour until Josh gets back.’
‘I feel so helpless,’ I say. Tom sits down next to me and slides his arm around my shoulders, massaging my neck. ‘I don’t know how we can help Maddy when she won’t even talk to us.’
‘What I want to know is when Mum and Dad are going to get here,’ Chloe remarks. ‘It could take hours before Dad manages to shoehorn Mum out of bed, even for an emergency like this. We need some gaps filling in as to why the girls were at Bessie’s house in the first place. I’m going to ask the front desk if they know what time they’re due to arrive.’ She starts to walk out and then turns back. ‘Oh, and I’ve left another message for them to bring spare clothes from their house for the girls so no need for you to bother, Tom. That’s if they listen to their voicemail before leaving.’
She leaves Tom and me alone.
‘I don’t know how Mum is going to handle all this.’ I chew my thumbnail.
‘I’m worried how you’re going to handle it,’ Tom tells me. ‘We have to make sure we’re there for Maddy every step of the way. She needs to know we believe she’s innocent, Jules.’
I nod, and when I look at him, I realise his gaze is loaded.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Because I want to make sure I’ve got through to you. Maddy is our priority now. Not Brianna, not Chloe or your mother. Just Maddy.’
‘Obviously!’ I shake my head, irked. ‘I don’t know why you even feel the need to say that.’
‘I’m saying it because I know how easily your family can sway you. Chloe and your mother are the worst when they get their heads together, so don’t give them the time of day if they start. Don’t be their fall guy, Juliet.’
My nostrils flare. I’ve no intention of causing tension with my mum and sister at a time like this.
‘I’m just saying,’ Tom continues, ‘I think you’ve paid enough years of penance for what happened. They’ll bleed you dry if you let them.’
‘You know, I really don’t need this.’ I stand up and walk a circuit of the tiny room like a caged tiger. ‘Maybe this is a chance to get closer to my family. We need to pull together, not bicker about the past.’
The door opens, and Carol’s head pops around it.
‘Your parents have arrived, Juliet. Your sister is with them in room 15A, just down the corridor on the left.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, and walk past Tom and out of the room. Finally, Mum and Dad are here and can hopefully shed some light on the situation.
Tom catches up with me just as I reach room 15A, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. I turn and whisper to him.
‘Don’t wade in with both feet, Tom. The last thing we need is Mum’s anxiety flaring up again.’
He looks hard at me and presses his lips together.
Eleven
The door is already slightly ajar, so I push it open a little more and see that Mum is sitting next to Chloe, their heads close together. They’re speaking urgently, in voices too low for me to discern what they’re saying.
I step inside the room and Tom closes the door behind us. Mum looks up quickly and reaches for my sister’s hand.
‘Here’s Juliet now,’ Dad says needlessly. ‘Any more news?’
‘Not yet.’ I kiss Dad on the cheek. His face is smooth from a recent shave, and I can smell toothpaste.
‘Thank God you’re both here.’ Mum offers me her cheek before turning her attention to my sister again. ‘We got Chloe’s message and brought the girls some clothes.’
‘I can’t bear seeing my baby like this, Mum,’ Chloe whines softly. When Mum’s around, she seems to regress to a teenager again, but she needs to stay strong for Brianna.
‘Try not to think about it, love,’ Mum tells her gently. ‘Everything will sort itself out, I’m sure.’
It doesn’t sound as if Mum quite understands the gravity of the situation.
‘All right, Tom?’ Dad stands up and shakes his hand. ‘Rum business, this. Terrible.’
Tom nods, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
‘Tell you the truth, we can’t get our heads around what’s happened,’ Dad says, his face haggard and pale. ‘Where’s Josh?’
‘He’s on his way back from the Hathersage trip,’ I say. ‘Tom’s got to go and pick him up from school shortly.’ I notice Mum hasn’t spoken to Tom yet.
Tom ventures a few steps further into the room and says pointedly, ‘Joan. How are you doing?’
Mum shakes her head sorrowfully by way of reply and continues to stare down at her hands.
‘I was due a trip up to Edinburgh tomorrow to see my old mate there but I’ve cancelled it now,’ Dad says softly, his voice fading out as he seems to realise nobody’s really listening. We’re all caught up in our own little worlds of denial and dread.
Tom sits down in Dad’s chair, next to Mum.
‘I know this is as hard for you both as it is for us, but we’re trying to understand what’s happened here,’ he says softly. ‘I need to ask you a few questions, is that OK?’
Mum looks over at Dad.
‘This has already sent her anxiety soaring, Tom. She’s been in bed with one of her headaches most of the day,’ Dad says in a confidential manner, as though Mum can’t hear him. ‘Think the world of those girls, we do. We’re gutted this happened on our watch.’
Mum is in charge of the kids when they’re over there; she kind of directs Dad to carry out certain duties so he’ll have coped on his own if she’s been in bed resting. As with everything else in their lives, it’s Mum who’s boss.
‘They said the detectives will need to talk to us too,’ Mum says fearfully. ‘I mean, what can we tell them? We didn’t even know they’d gone over to Bessie Wilford’s house, did we, Ray?’
Tom presses his lips together as Dad shakes his head sadly. ‘What her husband Charlie would make of all this, I can’t imagine. Friends since school, me and Charlie were, you know.’
‘How did the girls know Bessie?’ I ask.
Mum taps the side of her head and I shake mine in mild disapproval. Her comment is disrespectful and cruel but my parents are of another generation. I know from previous times I’ve challenged their language and views, I might as well save my breath.
‘I think if we just recap on timings, we can make sure we all agree on the early part of the day and you’ll feel more prepared to speak to the detectives,’ Tom says affably. ‘Juliet, you dropped Maddy off this morning at your mum and dad’s house, yes?’
‘About nine o’clock,’ I confirm. ‘Maddy darted straight upstairs to Brianna’s bedroom.’
Chloe and Brianna still live with Mum and Dad. They moved in for a few months after her husband, Jason, left her, supposedly so she could get a deposit for a new place together. Five years later, they’re still there.
Mum told me a year ago that it was time Chloe got her own place, and Chloe told me Mum had said she’d like them to stay.
‘I left for work at nine thirty, and the girls were playing quite happily in Bree’s room.’ Chloe sniffed.
‘I was making Joan’s breakfast when Juliet dropped Maddy off,’ Dad adds. ‘I saw Chloe leave for work while I was downstairs, too.’
‘And… where were you, Joan?’ Tom prompts.
‘She had a bit of a headache and stayed in bed later than usual, didn’t you, love?’ Dad looks at Mum and then back at Tom, lowering his voice a little. ‘If truth be told, she’s been under the weather the past couple of days.’
Mum starts to sob quietly. ‘I’d give my own life to keep those children safe,’ she says to nobody in particular. ‘I watch them like a hawk when they’re out in the back garden, you know. And I always check out of the window when they’re playing on the street, make sure I’ve got sight of them.’
Mum and Dad still live in the quiet cul-de-sac where Chloe and I grew up. They’ve been there since they got married forty years ago and have known most of their neighbours for as long. All the grandchildren often play out together, and everyone watches out for each other.
‘I heard Maddy suggesting to Bree before I left for work that they play outside,’ Chloe remarks lightly.
‘And that’s where they told you they were going, isn’t it, Mum?’ I say kindly. ‘They said they were going out to play on the street.’
Mum nods and looks at Tom. ‘I saw them out there, too. There weren’t any other kids with them, but the girls were bouncing a ball across the road to each other.’
Tom nods. ‘And that was what time, approximately?’
‘I’d say… probably about twelve,’ Mum tells him.
‘I went out to call them in for a sandwich at twelve thirty after your mum went up to bed,’ Dad says. ‘No sign of the little scamps then. I went to the gate and looked up and down the road, but there was nobody out.’
‘I thought they might have popped in to Maureen and Arthur’s for a glass of juice when he told me,’ Mum murmurs.
‘And did you check?’ Tom asks carefully. ‘If they were next door, I mean?’
Mum fusses with her hanky.
‘I went round there about twenty minutes later,’ Dad says quickly. ‘We didn’t think there was any rush, you see. Always been as safe as houses, our road.’ He looks at me and then over at Chloe. ‘These two used to play out all day long when they were little, Tom.’
My husband’s expression says it all, and I find myself cringing inwardly. The last thing I want is for Mum and Dad to think we’re criticising them, but it sounds as if the girls have been given carte blanche to do pretty much as they please.
I’ve never thought to question how my parents supervise Maddy when I’m not there. Why would I? They managed to raise my sister and me without any trouble, so it’s never felt necessary or appropriate to question their capability.
Plus, it isn’t as if my kids are with them constantly, unlike Brianna. Granted, Mum does look after Maddy and Josh on staff training days and some school holidays, or occasionally if I have to work early or late, but Tom and I try really hard not to palm them off on my parents all the time like my sister does.
Now it seems blindingly obvious that it might have been prudent to have a general chat with them about safety and how things have changed since we were small. And I could easily have quizzed Maddy about what the three of them get up to when Tom and I are at work.
I’m awash with regret. If only I’d thought to check this stuff, explain the sorts of dangers kids face today, maybe this whole terrible situation could have been avoided.
Tom stands up, and I can see he’s finding it hard to swallow down his thoughts.
‘I’d better get off to pick Josh up.’ He kisses me on the cheek. ‘See you soon.’
Once he’s gone, I sit in the empty seat opposite my parents and sister, and when I speak, my voice sounds thin and stringy.
‘How did Brianna’s interview go?’ I ask Chloe. ‘We need to talk through what they asked and what the girls said, so we have an overview.’
Chloe sobs on Mum’s shoulder and I sit there watching them like a spare part.
‘Not now, Juliet,’ Mum says, sitting back and shaking her head discreetly at me so that Chloe doesn’t notice. ‘You can see the state your sister’s in; she’s finding it hard enough to cope as it is without dredging up every detail.’
‘We’re all in a state, Mum,’ I reply. ‘But we need to make sure—’
‘I’ll go and get us some coffees, shall I?’ Dad moves towards the door.
‘Just sit down, Ray.’ Mum touches her temples with her fingers. ‘I need you here supporting me. Not running around making drinks left, right and centre.’
Dad sits back down again.
Chloe is inconsolable now, sobbing loudly into Mum’s blouse.
‘She was always the sensitive one, eh, Ray?’ Mum croons, stroking Chloe’s hair.
‘Aye,’ Dad murmurs.
I get up and walk over, placing my hand on my sister’s upper back and patting it gently. I can’t help feeling I’m somehow lacking because I’m not falling to pieces, on the outside at least. But the truth is, inside I feel hollowed out and weirdly distanced from the whole thing.
‘We were unpacking a delivery at the unit,’ I hear myself say as I sit down again. ‘We thought the girls were safe with you, Mum, until the police came banging on the door.’
‘What are you trying to say?’ Mum sits back slightly and stares at me, her small eyes glinting like black beads under the fluorescent lights.
My breathing speeds up a little.
Dad shuffles forward on his chair. ‘We couldn’t have done any more, Juliet.’
‘The girls were playing on the street, as far as I knew. I haven’t got eyes in the back of my head, you know.’ Mum presses her hand to her forehead and squeezes her eyes closed.
‘We’re run ragged when we’ve got the kiddies,’ Dad says. ‘You know that, love. We can’t be expected to—’
‘I’m not saying you’ve been negligent!’ Mum’s mouth tightens, and I soften my tone. ‘I’m not saying that at all. It’s just…’
For God’s sake. I can do without Mum’s histrionics today, but there’s no escape, stuck here with her in this tiny room. I just want to sit quietly, think the whole mess through. I really need to discuss the interviews with Chloe so we can piece together what the police are asking them.
‘Do you know what the girls were doing on Conmore Street, Mum? It’s quite a walk from your house.’ I have to push for answers, for Maddy’s sake.
Mum holds her handkerchief up to her nose and sniffs.
‘They didn’t even tell us they were going over there, so how would we know what they were doing?’ Dad leans over and hugs Mum into his side.
; ‘I didn’t realise the girls knew Bessie well,’ I remark.
Dad shrugs. ‘They’ve been at ours when Bessie has visited, listened to her stories about the war.’
Mum’s hugging Chloe, Dad’s hugging Mum, and I’m sitting here saying the wrong thing every time I open my mouth.
We’re all startled when there’s a tap at the door and DS March enters the room, looking round cautiously at us.
‘DI Neary has asked me to let you know there’s been a development.’ She leans against the small table next to the door and grips the edge behind her back. ‘The press haven’t been informed yet, and he’s asked you don’t repeat the information outside of this room for now.’
I blow out air. The immovable weight that settled on my chest when the police came to the lock-up shifts slightly for the first time.
Have they discovered they’ve made a terrible mistake and our girls are innocent after all? I feel the rigidity in my neck and shoulders soften slightly.
‘What’s happened?’ Chloe asks, her voice strained and tight. She pulls herself away from Mum and sits up straight.
I make a rapid, silent pledge in my head. Please, please, please, God, make it be OK and I’ll never complain about anything again.
‘Sadly, we’ve just heard that Bessie Wilford has died from her injuries in hospital without regaining consciousness.’ DS March speaks slowly, enunciating her words with care. ‘It’s important the girls don’t know this for now.’
The room is silent, the air still.
The detective looks at Chloe and me.
‘DI Neary thought you might want to get your brief back in here.’ She hesitates. ‘I’m afraid we’re no longer investigating an assault; we’re now looking at a possible murder inquiry.’
Twelve
2001
Joan Voce sat back in the raspberry-velvet-upholstered armchair that used to belong to her grandmother and watched her two daughters put on their performance.
They’d been bored to death in the school holidays, and sick of hearing them grumbling, Joan had suggested they choreograph a gymnastic show. They’d been practising for days now in the back garden.