My body’s straining. ‘That’s rubbish. They would have both been arrested if that was the case.’
‘Why I left is none of your business.’
Danny shakes his head. ‘Would they? In many ways I envy your innocence because you have no idea what the police service could be like back in those days.’
Locking his fingers together he looms forward. ‘But you do work in a hospital and so you must have seen many instances where rules and regulations get bent ever so slightly. That’s why I ensured you were properly represented by a lawyer.’ His voice hardens. ‘That hospital is not sacrificing my daughter when they should have sorted that idiot Walsh out long ago.’
Mention of the hospital makes me pull in a strong rush of air.
Danny gets to his feet. ‘I didn’t know Sugar then and I don’t know him now. Which brings us back to the Suzi Lake Centre. The rumours I heard involved Sugar and Dixon. There were all types of stories about unsavoury things happening.’ Danny’s blue eyes are bluer than normal. ‘I know it’s hard to take in, but Sugar was a bent cop. And probably had something to do with those poor women going missing.’
I stare at my father as if he’s got multiple heads. ‘Have you gone crazy? Sugar?’
‘Why I left is none of your business.’
My breath sizzles between my side teeth because Danny’s now so close to me. ‘There’s no point asking Sugar because he won’t tell you the truth. But if you get into his room I’m sure you’ll find plenty of evidence. If you bring me what’s there we can find those women together.’
Desperately I reach for the names of my women to calm me down:
Amina, Hope. No! That’s wrong. I must say their names in the right order.
Hope, Sheryl. No! No! No!
Veronica, Ronnie . . .
‘Why I left is none of your business.’
‘Why I left is none of your business.’
I stumble away from Danny towards the side gate. The brightness of the sun roars down on me as I rush out. The world feels like it’s crashing in on me.
CHAPTER 33
The world turns violently upside down as I climb over the high fence at the back of the graveyard. I land half-crouching on the ground, my gaze manically darting around. The cemetery being closed wasn’t going to stop me from getting in. I’m unsteady on my feet, light-headed, the ground feeling like thin air as I walk. My breath catches when I find what I’m madly searching for.
Mummy Cherry’s grave. There’s no headstone yet, only a patch of sunken earth marks her passing. My legs buckle and I collapse on the edge of the grave. My palm heavily presses into the damp dirt above her. My head bows. Everything has gone wrong since she died. Everything’s such a mess. Danny’s damning words are on a loop circling my mind that won’t go away.
Sugar was a bent cop.
Sugar was a bent cop.
I hold my head in my hands and sink into the damp earth on my side. Danny’s got it wrong. He can’t be talking about the man who not only saved me but became my daddy. My lashes flutter. Close.
2002
Eight-year-old Little Eva wrestled with how to tell Sugar she wanted to sometimes call him Dad. Only sometimes though because she liked his name Sugar too. Beneath lowered lashes she furtively observed him as they ate Saturday morning breakfast at the kitchen table. Breakfast at the weekend was a big deal in the McNeil household. They insisted on family time, gathered around the kitchen table, a time of togetherness, talk and delicious food. The food in the care home was designed to fill bellies and no more. In this house of peace and calm, food was to be enjoyed and talked about like everything else. Their breakfasts were always a mash-up of English and Caribbean dishes. Today was scrambled eggs and sausage accompanied by Sugar’s melt-in-your-mouth saltfish fritters and Cherry’s homemade coconut and banana bread, all washed down with the cocoa tea sprinkled with grated nutmeg Little Eva and Sugar made together.
Some nights Eva couldn’t believe this was really happening to her. That she had a family. The kids she mixed with at her new school took their families for granted. Not Little Eva. What she had with Sugar and Cherry was very special.
‘Is something on your mind, daughter?’ Sugar asked, peering at her through the rising steam of his cocoa tea.
Annoyed with her husband, Cherry kissed her teeth lightly, throwing him a severe glare, emphasised by the shake of her head. ‘Leave our daughter alone. Let her enjoy her Saturday morning feast in peace.’
Daughter. It sent a thrill through Little Eva. That’s what they always called her. But never had they asked her to call them Mum or Dad. And she was desperate to. But she wasn’t sure if it was allowed. The frightened part of her believed she couldn’t because they would eventually take her back to the care home and choose another little girl. Another daughter.