“Yes.”
“And she’s got young kids?”
“Yes,” said Kate.
“Just sign it, Mum. Two grand will probably go a long way for her,” he said. Chewing the last of his food, he got up. “Thanks for the chili, it was awesome.” He kissed her on top of the head. “Oh, sorry. I just got chili mince in your hair,” he said, wiping his mouth.
Kate reached up and felt the lump of chewed mince sitting in her parting. He picked it off and flicked it into the dunes.
“What a lovely way to say thank you,” she laughed.
“Yuck, sorry, Mum.” Jake’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “Yeah. I can see you; I’ll be down in a sec,” he said into the phone and hung up. “I’m meeting the guys on the beach. Thanks again for dinner.”
Before Kate could say anything, Jake was gone, climbing down the sandy cliffside between the dunes. She could see that the group of young guys and girls from the campsite, including Becca, were on the beach. The boys were building a fire, and two of the girls were sitting on the edge of a giant piece of driftwood.
Kate watched as Jake hurried down the last part of the cliff and ran through the dunes. He slowed when he emerged on the other side.
“How did you turn into such a good kid, Jake?” she said to herself. When Jake reached the group on the beach, Becca got up and gave him a hug and a kiss. “If you tell me I’m going to be a grandma, I’ll kill you.”
She pulled a tiny piece of stray mince from her hair, picked up the bowls, and went indoors to the kitchen; then she phoned Marnie.
43
Kate was up early the next morning. It was already warm at six thirty a.m., and she saw the remnants of the fire when she walked down to the beach. She was pleased to see that there was no litter—just the smoldering remains of the fire surrounded by a rough ring of rocks. She’d heard Jake come in at two twenty a.m., so she’d left him sleeping.
The water was beautiful, and it was getting warmer by the day. After she ate breakfast, showered, and dressed, she texted Tristan to say she’d be a bit late back to the office, and then she drove over to the Moor Side Estate.
The car park was empty. The burned-out cars still there, like pieces of modern art. Kate met Marnie at the entrance to the building—she was moving slowly and leaning on her crutch.
“I’m just back from dropping the kids at school,” she said, not wanting to meet Kate’s eye. The journey up the stairs looked slow and painful for Marnie, and she was out of breath when they reached the front door.
“Would you like a cuppa?” she asked as they went inside.
“Yes, thank you,” said Kate, regretting her answer as soon as it was out of her mouth. She just wanted to sign the book and go.
The door to the living room was closed, and there was the same oppressive smell of stale cigarettes and air freshener. When they got to the kitchen, the book was waiting on the table with a blue ballpoint pen next to it.
Kate sat at the table as Marnie filled the kettle. She pulled the book toward her. It was the hardback edition, and the dustcover was a little yellowed at the edges. The title was in bold black letters over the cover image.
NO SON OF MINE
ENID CONWAY
The cover image was a split-pane photograph. On the right was a picture of a sixteen-year-old Enid Conway cradling baby Peter. The picture was blurred in a nostalgic way, and baby Peter’s eyes were wide and staring at the camera, while Enid looked down at him adoringly. Enid was a hard-faced young woman with a shock of long dark hair. She wore a long flowing dress, and behind her was the sign AULDEARN UNMARRIED MOTHERS’ HOME. Through a window behind Enid and Peter was the blurred image of a nun, in full penguin habit, staring out at them.
The other half of the cover was a police mug shot of Peter Conway, which was taken on the day he gave evidence at his preliminary trial. In this photo, his hands were cuffed, and he was smirking at the camera. His eyes were wild and pupils dilated. This was before he’d started on the cocktail of drugs to deal with his schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder.
“Is it hard to look at, the book cover?” asked Marnie. Kate didn’t know she’d been staring at it for so long. Marnie had made two mugs of tea and was putting one on the table in front of her.
“Yes. You see in the mug shot, Peter has stitches above his left eyebrow?” said Kate, tapping her finger on the photo. “That’s where I hit him with a lamp when he was attacking me . . .” Kate stood up and lifted her T-shirt to show Marnie the six-inch scar on her abdomen, which curved close to her belly button. “And that’s where he sliced me open. I was four months pregnant with Jake; I didn’t know that at the time. The doctor said the knife missed him by millimeters. It was a miracle he wasn’t killed . . .” Marnie was nodding with her mouth slightly open in shock. “So, when I said no about signing this book, I had my reasons, don’t you think?”