Amanda, it turns out, is not right in the head. Seriously.
I freeze. Amanda? Tingling in both my arms. Why on earth is Gemma writing about Amanda?
I scroll . . .
It’s like she has this split personality . . .
. . . I wish I’d never asked for the bloody work experience now. Never persuaded her to change her mind about it; never got to know her . . .
I look at Gemma in the bed, goosebumps covering both my arms. Amanda has never mentioned working with Gemma; knowing her so personally.
My heart’s pounding as I take my mobile from my pocket and dial DI Sanders. As the call connects, I skim more words, trying to make sense of what the hell this means. Why my daughter has this panic pouring from the page – over Amanda.
There’s no answer. DI Sanders’ phone goes straight to voicemail.
CHAPTER 64
THE PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR
It takes Matthew three attempts to reconnect to the satellite phone. A reporter answers. She’s abrupt, saying she needs to file copy.
‘This is an attempted murder investigation.’
That peaks her interest. At last she calls out Molly’s name and the university head of HR is back on the line.
‘Matthew Hill. The Gemma Hartley inquiry. You called me?’
‘Oh. Yes. I had a message that I needed to speak to DI Sanders but she’s not answering. They gave me your number instead. Look. We have limited time on the phone. All very basic on the ground here. I heard about Gemma Hartley but we only found out about Sam’s murder from the media here this morning. So awful. And well, I’m in a bit of a panic now. The thing is, you might want to speak to our communications lead.’
‘Amanda?’
‘Yes. She’s on gardening leave but her address is on file.’
Matthew feels something shift inside.
‘Amanda’s not on leave. She’s really busy. Right in the thick of it. Especially today.’
‘No. That can’t be right.’ Molly’s tone changes completely. ‘She agreed. To hand over to her deputy. We had an understanding. I’ve put a package together.’
‘I’m not following you.’
‘It’s just – I’ve only just heard about Sam, you see.’ She sounds confused now. Babbling. ‘I couldn’t know. I would have tried harder to get through before if I’d realised . . .’ Again the line fades out.
‘Please. You need to speak quickly. What about Amanda?’
‘I’m having to let her go. I caught her taking drugs. Then found out she’d lied on her CV. Not so serious at this stage in her tenure, but we had a big disagreement. Amanda got very nasty. Very inappropriate. And then I found out the drugs issue went back years.’ Another pause. ‘I gave her a choice. A package to avoid anything unpleasant in the press . . . or suspension. She agreed to gardening leave until I’m back. Until I speak to the chancellor, who was away when it all blew up.’
Matthew’s mind is now in overdrive, his adrenaline pumping.
‘There’s something else.’ The line’s still poor and Matthew tries to adjust his volume.
‘When she first joined the university, Amanda got in a bit of a pickle personally.’
CHAPTER 65
First light today
The problem, Amanda thinks, is that people don’t listen. Not properly.
Before she heads out to speak, first to Sam and then to Gemma, Amanda takes her diaries from her bedroom and puts the tall stack on the stand in the nursery.
It makes her feel good to see it. Her story. Her truth.
Whatever happens today, they will have to listen now. She thinks of all the thick, black words in the diaries and imagines her voice being heard at last. Everyone wishing they had listened to her sooner.
She’s been up since four but that’s not unusual. She sits in the nursery chair and takes in the elephant curtains. The cot. The mobile. The sun’s just coming up and she wonders how today will go but she’s not afraid; not at all. If there’s any justice, if there is any such thing as karma, today is the day they will all finally see that her plan for this baby is what is best. It’s what she deserves. Needs. Is owed.
She thinks of that other child – her own child who would be fifteen now. If a girl, they would be best friends. Shopping and spas and friendly fights over borrowed clothes. If a boy? A messy room. Football up too loud on the telly. She would have taught him to cook. Found common ground.
She turns her head and can imagine it exactly – the voice shouting up the stairs. You up there, Mum?
Instead she takes in the silence. How it eats right into her flesh. The emptiness – both around her and deep inside her too. Every time she puts her key in the door. She has to clench her fists to push down the bile and the rage, when she thinks of Sam, sitting with her in that clinic all those years ago. ‘It’s the right decision, Amanda. It’s just not the right time for us to have a child.’