Daphne grabbed my arm and pulled me up. ‘If we call the ambulance the police will be notified and you’ll go to prison,’ she whispered. ‘Lolly will be taken away from you. You won’t be able to see her ever again. You don’t want to go to prison, Rose. Believe me.’
What did she mean? Was she talking from experience?
I closed my eyes. What would become of you if I went to prison? When I opened them Daphne was staring at me, her beautiful face serious. She held my hand, grounding me, calming me. She smoothed the hair from my forehead, kissed my face, my lips. ‘Please, listen to me, Rose.’ Her voice was low, soft. ‘This is for the best.’
We turned back to Neil, standing over him as the life seeped out of his body.
He was somebody’s son. Somebody’s brother, perhaps. Maybe a husband. Father. And I had killed him.
I’d had the chance to try to save him yet I did nothing. I stood, with Daphne, our arms around each other, too shocked even to cry, and we waited until we were sure that he was dead.
‘What do we do now?’ I said.
‘I think we need to bury him,’ she replied.
‘Bury him?’ I gasped. ‘Bury him where? In the woods?’
‘No. Not the woods. That’s too dangerous. Someone might see us. We need to do it here. In the garden.’
I clamped my hand over my mouth. ‘I can’t,’ I said, through my fingers. ‘Not here, not where Lolly plays. Not where we hid Easter eggs …’ I started crying then, hot tears cascading down my cheeks.
‘Rose,’ she said gently. ‘You’re not a bad person. You were protecting me.’ She put her hand up to my face and gently wiped a tear away. ‘And I’ll owe you for that for the rest of our lives. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. But now you need to be strong. For Lolly.’
I nodded. She was right. What choice did I have?
That’s what I told myself anyway.
It was only later – much later, after we spent hours digging and burying a full-grown man along with my bloodstained cardigan – that I allowed myself to think about what Neil had said as he was dying.
You’re both murderers now.
39
Saffy
‘What do you mean, Gran?’ I ask. ‘Who is Jean?’
‘Jean Burdon,’ says Gran, a tinge of impatience in her voice. ‘Neil Lewisham thought Daphne was Jean Burdon.’
I notice the detectives exchanging shocked glances and I hear a gasp from Mum.
‘Who is Jean Burdon?’ I ask, confused. Why does that name ring a bell? And then I remember that article in Sheila’s file: it had been about a Burdon. Was the first name Jean? I’d only scanned it. I hadn’t recognized the name and assumed it had ended up in the wrong file. I could kick myself. I should have read it properly. If I’d seen it had said Jean I would have remembered Gran’s ramblings.
Jean hit her over the head.
‘Have you heard of Mary Bell?’ asks DS Barnes.
I nod. ‘She was a convicted child killer?’
‘Yes, and Jean Burdon’s case was similar but about ten years before. When she left prison as a young woman she was given a new identity and was never heard of again.’ He addresses Gran: ‘Is that who you mean, Rose? Jean Burdon who killed her friend back in the early 1950s? In east London?’
I feel shaken. I notice Mum is looking at Gran in horror.
Gran nods, folding her hands in her lap.
‘And was she?’ DC Webb asks, sitting forward in her seat. ‘Was Daphne really Jean Burdon?’