‘I hope there’s nothing wrong.’
‘Do you know Sienna Hegarty?’
Natasha raises her eyebrows. ‘Of course. She used to babysit for us. I heard what happened. What a shock! I can’t believe she’d do such a thing.’
‘I’m trying to help her.’
‘That’s good. That’s the nice thing about village life - people support each other. Don’t you think?’
Her eyes cut sideways to me and lips part slightly. She wants to leave. My left hand is tapping against my thigh. A nervous gesture.
‘How long have you been married?’
‘Nearly two years.’
‘Happy?’
‘That’s an odd question.’
‘I’m sorry. You must miss not having your family around. You’re from Scotland, aren’t you?’
She drops into an accent. ‘Just a wee lassie from Edinburgh.’
‘Gordon told me you were childhood sweethearts.’
She smiles fondly. ‘It’s funny really. He tells people we were at school together, but that’s just because he wants people to think he’s younger than he really is. He was a teacher at my school. We met up after I’d left. I saw him at a rugby game.’
‘Gordon plays?’
‘Oh, Heavens no! Gordon isn’t the sporty type. He watches.’
‘You must have been very young.’
‘Eighteen.’
She’s lying to me.
‘That’s quite an age difference. What did your parents think?’
‘Oh, they love Gordon.’
‘So Billy’s not your son?’
‘No, Gordon was married before. His wife left him . . . walked out on Billy. Gordon still can’t understand why.’
Her eyes shift from mine and she gazes along the road.
‘Did you know Ray Hegarty?’
Her face clouds with concern. ‘Not really. I might have spoken to him on the phone when I called to arrange for Sienna to look after Billy. I don’t know if I would have liked him, you know - is that an awful thing to say, I mean, now that he’s dead?’
‘Why wouldn’t you have liked him?’
‘He sounded like a bully. Some of the things Sienna said . . .’
‘She talked about him?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Saying what?’
Natasha’s voice drops to a whisper, ‘He was very controlling. He wanted to choose the clothes she wore and to stop her seeing her boyfriend. I think he used to beat her . . .’ she hesitates. ‘And there might have been worse things. That’s why we had her babysit so often. We even let her sleep over. Have you seen Sienna? Is she all right?’
‘Holding up.’
Natasha nods and raises her hand, brushing hair from her eyes.
‘Did you know that Ray Hegarty made a complaint to the school about your husband?’
Colour fades in her cheeks and her features tighten. For a moment I think she’s going to deny everything or plead ignorance, but her mind works quickly.
‘I blame myself,’ she says.
‘Why’s that?’
‘I should have seen how close Sienna was getting to Billy . . . and to Gordon. She had a crush on my husband. One night when Gordon dropped her home, she tried to kiss him.’
‘Is that what Gordon told you?’
‘That’s what happened.’ Steel in her voice. ‘Gordon was very upset. He told her parents and the school. She couldn’t babysit for us after that. That’s why we use Charlie.’
‘Pardon?’
‘That’s why Charlie has been babysitting Billy. She’s lovely. Billy adores her. Is there something wrong?’
I can’t answer her. The photographs on Charlie’s Facebook page; she was lying on a bed playing with a small boy. Billy. I replay the scenes as though I’m looking through the camera lens, watching my daughter, seeing how she responds.
I’m staring at Natasha. Sometimes I don’t realise how Parkinson’s can lock up my features, creating a living mask. It’s making her uncomfortable. She edges away from me, moving towards her car.
‘Your husband argued with Ray Hegarty.’
A flash of anger sparks in her eyes. I can see a pulse beating in her neck and her hands are opening and closing nervously on her car keys.
‘You’ll have to talk to Gordon.’
‘Was he home that night?’
‘Yes.’
‘You sound very sure.’
‘It was my birthday. He bought me flowers and made me dinner.’ She unlocks her car, fumbling with the keys, almost dropping her purse.
‘Your birthday - that’s lovely. How many candles did he put on your birthday cake?’
Her head turns and she peers at me with a cold fury that lays something to waste inside of me. Her voice comes out in a dry rasp.
‘Stay away from my family!’
28
Julianne and Emma turn the corner. Emma is wearing a woollen hat with ear-flaps that tie under her chin.
Tugging at her mother’s arm, she complains that she’ll be late.
‘And whose fault is that?’ says Julianne. ‘Next time, get out of bed when I tell you to. And get dressed . . . and eat your breakfast . . . and brush your teeth . . . and put on your shoes.’
Emma spies me and runs into my arms. I try to lift her above my head and get about halfway. She’s getting too big to be thrown into the air.
Julianne wants to know what’s wrong, but she doesn’t ask. She’ll wait until Emma is in school. We both get a hug goodbye and a wave at the gate. Emma milks every moment, turning and waving, turning and waving.
‘What’s up?’ asks Julianne.
‘I didn’t know Charlie had been babysitting for Gordon Ellis.’
The statement sounds too much like an accusation. Straight away, she raises her defences.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘I don’t want Charlie in his house. I don’t want her alone with him.’
‘You’re not making any sense.’
‘We can’t talk here.’
Pulling her further along the street, away from the school, we stop at a picnic table near the green, overlooking the church. A car with a blown muffler rumbles around the corner and I feel my heart race.
‘OK. Now what’s this about?’
I tell her about my trip to Edinburgh, about Caro Regan’s disappearance and Gordon Ellis marrying a former
