My mind races. Sonia would never have told them that, not in so many words. And I could never have gone through with it, because of Jess. ‘It isn’t true. I was low at that time, yes. But nothing more.’
‘According to Ms Richardson, at the time, you admitted as much to her. Are we supposed to believe you over a mental health professional?’ His eyes bore into me.
It’s an impossible question – one that I either answer truthfully, risking adding to the damaging picture they have of me, or else lie. But there have been too many lies. ‘When I was at my lowest, I thought about it. But I could never have done that to my daughter.’
He goes on, each new statement filling me with fear. ‘Like I said, there are other accounts. Whether or not you had an accomplice, Ms Reid, I don’t think there’s any question that you are guilty of the murder of Matthew Roche. You will be remanded in custody until we can arrange a court hearing. I’m not sure what your role was in the death of your sister, Kimberley Preston, but the truth will come out. It always does.’ Sounding matter of fact, he pauses for a moment. ‘Ms Reid, I am charging you with the murder of Matthew Roche. You do not have to say anything …’
But as he goes on, his words go over my head. Then I’m thinking of Matt with Allie again, suddenly dizzy, unable to think, to take any more in, feeling my mind close down.
1996
Kimberley’s grandmother knew what you’d done. She found your potion, found out what you’d put in it. Suspected who was guilty – how could she have missed the jealousy in your eyes? But she didn’t tell the police. It was that belief she had – about nature’s way of finding balance; in the alchemist’s curse. The circle of life – and death. At some point, what you’d done would come back to haunt you.
But your actions stretched further; had consequences you couldn’t have foreseen. A boy who never got over losing the only girl in the world for him, who could only follow her to her grave. Two devastated families. A friendship tainted forever, by the shared knowledge of what you’d done. The guilty secret that would stay with you, every waking day, until your last.
So many wrongs you could never right. So much grief you left so many people with. Grief that will never fade – grief for the young never does. When a life is wasted, how can it?
Fiona
Chapter Thirty-Five
A hint of early spring brings Brighton to life. As I walk to work, I notice more people running or cycling along the seafront, under clear skies, the sea becoming a chalky blue. When I hear no more from the police, I begin to believe that justice will at last be served and my life can go on as planned.
When I think about the letter that deliberately implicated me, there’s no way of knowing whether it was inspired by a desire to tell the truth or by some other motive. Why name me and not Amy? Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe in their twisted mind, the writer wants the police to question both of us. My stomach turns over as I think about how they already have Amy. How long before they want to question me again?
I try not to dwell on it. After weeks of angst, peace of mind no longer exists. Every street corner, the people I work with, even my flat, are a constant reminder of what I’ve lost. I imagine going away, picture somewhere quiet, where the sun is hot, a place where no-one knows who I am, while I come to terms with losing Matt.
When I hear through the legal grapevine again that Amy’s been charged with Matt’s murder, hatred fills me, then sadness, as I allow myself to grieve for the man I loved. But with clarity comes the sense of a weight starting to lift. That morning, as I walk to work, my mood is brighter, my step lighter than it’s been in months. Thinking about booking a couple of weeks off while I work out a long term plan, my sense of optimism builds. There are times it’s good to step away from what you know. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is one of those moments.
At work, instead of waiting for the lift, I take the stairs to the first floor, but when I pass through the swing doors into the reception area, I’m stopped in my tracks.
‘Ms Rose.’ It’s PC Page, with another uniformed officer I don’t recognise. ‘We’d like you to come with us, please.’
A feeling of foreboding fills me. Then as I stand there, I feel my plans disintegrate, falling like rain. Staying calm, in an attempt to mask it, I smile at her. ‘PC Page. I don’t understand. Surely whatever it is, we can talk about it here? Would you like to come through to my office?’ As I speak, I’m aware of people around us, watching, as a horrifying thought occurs to me. Surely they’re not about to arrest me?
As PC Page frowns, then opens her mouth to speak, I nod. ‘Yes, of course.’ I turn briefly to the receptionist, Sheila. ‘Could you cancel my meetings for today?’
A look of astonishment on
