Nobody messed with Victor Carmichael and got away with it.
But I was blissfully unaware, going into November. Things had settled down between Daphne and me. I still woke in the night sometimes, my pyjamas clinging to my sweaty body, my heart racing after dreaming of killing Neil. And when that happened Daphne was by my side, my angel, soothing and shushing me until I fell back to sleep. I had come to terms with the fact that the guilt would live beside me for ever, my shadow. And that was the price I had to pay.
I still had my doubts about Daphne, of course I did. But I loved her. And I wanted to believe in her. And, for the most part, I did. Since the Joel incident she never gave me any reason to doubt her. Even if she did lie sometimes, about silly things, like how she’d got things for ‘free’ from the farm – or more particularly, from Sean – nothing worth a lot of money, items like eggs and milk, but still it didn’t sit well with me.
One day, she rang me from the farm asking if I’d pick her up in my Morris Marina. She had been given a couple of leftover boxes of tiles, she said. She looked so joyful when she got to the car, carrying them. That weekend she knocked the ugly brown tiles from around the cooker and sink and I watched, in awe, as she fastened the new ones to the wall. ‘What?’ She’d laughed when she saw the amazement on my face. ‘You wouldn’t believe the skills I acquired in prison.’
It was a stark reminder of her past and I swallowed the uneasy feeling that lodged in my chest every time she mentioned prison. Not that she did often. And never in front of you.
You loved the new tiles – they were very country cottage with cartoon pigs and sheep on them but they brightened up the dingy kitchen.
The next day, a Wednesday, Daphne came with me to walk you to playschool because it was her day off. There was a fireworks display that evening and she was desperate for us to go. I was a bit worried about taking you – you’d never seen a firework before and I was concerned they would frighten you – but Daphne convinced me that it would be fun, even though I hated large crowds.
We watched you skip in with Miss Tilling.
‘Listen, Daph, about tonight,’ I began. ‘Do you think Lolly’s a bit young –’
We were interrupted by Melissa, who was heading out of the café and barrelling towards us with a polystyrene cup in her hand. ‘Hello, ladies,’ she said, and looked pointedly at our held hands. Embarrassed, I moved away from Daphne, although she was wearing a defiant expression. I know she would have continued to hold my hand, not caring what Melissa thought. Melissa could have been no older than late forties yet she was so old-fashioned in her outlook on life. She’d never understand our relationship.
‘Rose, I’m glad I caught you,’ she said, ignoring Daphne completely. ‘A man came into the café on Monday looking for you.’
My heart stopped. ‘Really? Did he … give a name?’
She shook her head. ‘No. He just asked if I knew you.’
‘What did he look like?’
She seemed to consider this for a few seconds. ‘Well, handsome, I suppose. Dark hair. Tall.’
Victor. It had to be him.
‘Did you tell him …’ I swallowed, my throat dry ‘… anything?’
She gave me a pitying look. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, in a rush of fondness towards her. ‘Thank you so much.’
She patted my arm reassuringly. ‘Seemed very charming too. But,’ her expression clouded ‘he appeared determined to find you, Rose.’
I fought back tears. I sensed Daphne moving closer to me. ‘Please,’ I said, my voice shaky. ‘Please don’t tell him anything about me.’
Melissa searched my face with her currant-like eyes. ‘Of course I won’t,’ she said seriously.