‘What do you mean?’
‘It looks like Victor sedated his victims when he was about to perform some kind of procedure on them. And then took photos of them. Naked.’
Lorna’s stomach turns over. ‘Oh, my God.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Lorna feels dizzy. ‘Have you contacted the police?’
‘We’re about to. But … I also found something else.’
‘Okay …’
‘A letter. With your name on it.’
A letter from beyond the grave, from her real mother. Lorna stands up and paces her room. ‘Open it!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. Of course. I need to know what it says.’
‘Okay, hold on.’ She can hear the rustling sound of the envelope ripping open and then Saffy’s back on the line. ‘Right, well, it’s a long letter.’
‘How long?’
‘Five pages or so. Of A4 paper. Front and back.’
‘What does it say?’
‘You want me to read the whole thing?’
Yes. ‘No. No, don’t do that. It’ll take ages.’
She can hear the flicking of pages. ‘Shall I read it and then – Oh, my God!’ Saffy gasps.
‘What? What is it?’
‘Rose says here she killed Neil Lewisham. Mum, it’s a confession.’
Lorna sinks back onto the bed, her legs weak. ‘You’re going to have to show it to the police. You need to tell them everything. And give them the folder from Victor. Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have come back here.’
She hears Saffy’s sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she says, her voice sad. ‘I’m only scanning, but in the letter, Rose … It sounds like Victor found her.’
56
Rose
Bonfire Night, 1980
I decided to hide the folder under the wonky mantelpiece in your bedroom. It had never fitted properly because of the missing bricks behind it. I didn’t tell Daphne where I’d put it. Better that nobody knew.
‘Tomorrow,’ she said, standing at the range, stirring a saucepan full of carrots, potatoes and broccoli, ‘let’s look into renting Skelton Place out. And we can find somewhere to live in Bristol. A big city. It will be easier to blend in.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed. A busy anonymous street where all the houses looked the same. A place where nobody knew our names. I should have done that from the beginning. I shouldn’t have come here to Beggars Nook.
‘But tonight,’ said Daphne, angling her body towards me, wooden spoon in hand, ‘let’s go to the fireworks display, and act normally. For Lolly. Okay?’
I nodded.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Good. We can do this. It will all be okay.’
I didn’t feel so sure. It was like my world was closing in so that I felt claustrophobic in the village. In the cottage. In the place I’d always felt safest.
‘I think you should wear my old wig,’ she said suddenly. She was standing in her familiar flamingo pose, the sleeves of her jumper halfway over her hands. ‘Hide that lovely wavy hair of yours.’
I laughed. My hair was mousy – it didn’t exactly stand out. ‘I’ll just wear a bobble hat. It’ll be cold and dark, so if Victor’s there, prowling about, it’ll be hard for him to recognize me.’