I haven’t forgotten what she told me in the woods about my dad.
Now that I’ve had a little time to think about it, I do believe she might have killed him all those years ago. He was a violent man, and if she did do it, then I believe it was as much about protecting me as saving herself. My mother isn’t the only one who is good at keeping secrets. I am too, and there are some I’ll never share with anyone. Not even Jack.
“What is happening to Priya?”
“She did everything she should have.”
“She shot you, Jack.”
“I know she shot me. I’ve got a hole in my shoulder to prove it. But if the roles had been reversed I might have done the same. Priya also saved you and your mum.”
“About that … Mum said that she came to the house, asking questions.”
“If she did, then she was just doing her job. Cat Jones was very good at covering her tracks and trying to make other people look responsible, but evidence was found at her house linking her to each of the murders. Including childhood diaries, in which she went into quite graphic detail about how much she hated you all. Especially you. She seemed to think you pretended to be her friend then betrayed her. Priya witnessed her attacking your mother, and it was lucky she was there again before Cat could hurt you. They still can’t find the knife—which is frankly bizarre given all three of you saw Cat holding it—but every inch of the woods where it happened is being searched, so I’m sure it will turn up. Forensics think the same weapon was used in all four attacks, and I’m pretty confident she carried out the murders alone.”
I can’t stop thinking about it.
The idea of Catherine Kelly growing up to be Cat Jones is one thing, but her plotting such horrific revenge on girls who bullied her at school is another. It’s hard to believe, but everyone else seems to. I feel the weight of Jack’s stare and snap out of it.
“I’m so sorry about Zoe,” I say.
He looks away and his face crumples a little.
“How did you know? It hasn’t been released to the press yet…”
“I guess doctors and nurses gossip just as much as journalists. I overheard.”
He nods.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell my niece that her mum is dead.”
“You were a wonderful father and I’m sure you’re a brilliant uncle. Olivia is lucky to have you in her life. It will be hard, but you’ll get through it.”
He can’t look me in the eye, and I know we are both thinking about our daughter.
“I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m going to move back to London,” he says. “I don’t want to stay here. I’ll sell my parents’ house, go back to the Met, but maybe ask for a part-time role so I can be there to take care of Olivia. I don’t have it all figured out yet. But…”
“Sounds like you do.”
“Well, she’s the only family I have left.”
His thought triggers one of my own.
“You were right about Mum—she needs more help, especially now we know how unwell she is. I’m sorry, I should have listened to you.”
“Wow, can I get that on the record, please?” he says, and I try my best to smile.
The apology was served a little cold, but he swallowed it anyway. Sometimes when you are hungry enough for forgiveness from someone you have loved, the tiniest morsel will do.
“I’ll look at that care home you suggested and try to pay for it myself. That way she won’t have to sell the house, which was always what she was most upset about,” I tell him.
“Because she’ll miss her garden and her bees?”
I pause for the briefest of moments.
“Exactly.”
He takes my hand in his and it feels so good to have him hold it. Such a small thing and yet it makes me cry. Not sad tears; hopeful ones.
“Maybe we could help each other,” he says.
“I’d like that.”
“You know I—”
“I know.”
I don’t need him to say that he never stopped loving me. I feel the same way too.
Him
Friday 14:45
She lets me hold her hand, then starts to cry.
Seeing Anna in a hospital bed reminds me of when our daughter was born. It’s as though the years and hurt and pain fall away, and we’re back. Perhaps not where we started, but to a place before we got broken.
The truth is, although it sounds like I have a plan, I don’t really know what happens next. But maybe I don’t need to. Maybe life already has a plan for us all, and we only get lost when we shy away from it, through fear, or pain, or heartbreak. Charlotte’s death broke us, there is no doubt about that. But sometimes when things get broken, they can be fixed. It just takes time and patience.