Sitting on the narrow bed, closing my eyes, I breathe deeply, trying to centre myself. Shaking off my anger, I tell myself that by tomorrow this will be over; that I’ll load up my car, leave this county and never come back here – not even for my job. It has the desired effect and when I open my eyes again, I’m slightly calmer. Looking around, I study the room, its white painted walls, cheap carpet, the most basic bathroom facilities, aware of how completely closed off from the world I am. Lying back on the bed, I stretch my hands behind my head. Only this morning I was thinking of the future. I never imagined that by this evening, I’d end up here.
*
I sleep fitfully, waking early. The custody process itself wears you down, making you more vulnerable. I’m brought insipid tea and white toast, which I nibble at, only because I know I must fortify myself for what lies ahead. Then I wait, for the sound of approaching footsteps, of other doors being unlocked until at last it’s my turn. This morning, a PC I haven’t met before waits outside the open door. ‘Ms Rose? Would you come with me?’
*
In the interview room, Bill is already there waiting for me. He looks stressed. ‘I’m sorry, Fiona. I didn’t get very far. It isn’t good.’ As he shakes his head, I’m filled with a feeling of foreboding. ‘I don’t know what they have, but …’ As the door opens, he breaks off, then lowers his voice. ‘I think we’re about to find out.’
There’s the usual preamble as PC Page starts the tape, before the DI starts. ‘Ms Rose.’ He settles heavily down in his chair. ‘We’ve been back to Ms Reid’s house – or to clarify for the tape, maybe I should say, the house left to her by her grandmother, Ruth Preston. More specifically, we went to Ms Reid’s workshop. I was interested to know what was in there. You’re probably aware, like her grandmother was, she’s a herbalist. In light of what both you and Ms Reid have said about the potion the two of you concocted all those years ago, I needed to see it for myself.’ His pause is for dramatic effect, keeping me in suspense when all I want is to know what he’s going to say. ‘Of course, we’d already examined the workshop, but that was in relation to Mr Roche’s murder. This time was about Kimberley. Do you remember Amy’s grandmother’s notebook?’
As he stares at me, my skin prickles as a memory surfaces, of small pages scrawled in lines of her grandmother’s handwriting. Entitled with joy, health or similar, all cloyingly benign and well-meaning. ‘Yes.’ I’m silent for a moment. ‘It had her recipes in, if that’s what you call them. She used to go on about intention – and something she called the alchemist’s curse. Some hippy-dippy nonsense about natural forces restoring balance – a bit like karma, I suppose. None of it true, obviously.’ But I’m not as confident as I sound.
PC Page is silent for a moment. ‘I’ve been looking into it. I have a quote taken from her notebook, about how nature perseveres, quite markedly, until balance is restored. Maybe that’s what’s going on now.’
‘I strongly object to this line of questioning.’ Bill sounds adamant. ‘It’s pure speculation. There is no proof that any such thing exists.’
‘I think you’ll find there are plenty of people who’d disagree with you, Mr Merton.’ PC Page shakes her head. ‘And whatever you think, you have to consider the train of events that have led to Ms Rose being here.’ She pauses briefly. ‘If you’ll let me finish … The notebook that belonged to Amy’s grandmother had been added to. In the last pages, she created two more remedies for two specific people. You, Ms Rose, and Amy. I’ve been examining the constituents of each and while they’re similar, there are significant differences. I’ve taken copies of the relevant pages.’
As she hands me two sheets of paper, I stare at the titles: For Emily. Then, For Allie. Then at the lists carefully written beneath in the same handwriting.
PC Page’s voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘I can take you through them, but basically Amy’s is designed to remind her of what happened, to protect her against evil and make sure justice is done – perhaps in the form of the living punishment that her house is. The one for you, however, is different. It’s about hatred, jealousy, recklessness, danger – and justice again. It’s easy enough to read her hidden message. It was you, not Amy, who was the dangerous one. Her only crime was allowing you to sweep her along.’
Beside me, Bill stiffens. ‘That’s outrageous. This is supposition. You can’t possibly use this as proof.’
‘Along with the statements we have from both Ms Rose and Ms Reid, it tells a story,’ DI Lacey talks over him. ‘In the absence of being able to believe what anyone says, we look for clues. This, no question, is one.’
‘There is another remedy.’ PC Page’s voice is quiet. ‘It’s for Kimberley. The meanings are innocence, sorrow, regret, sweetness and purity. Kimberley’s death affected so many lives, and all because of a single act of foolish recklessness.’
It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to stop myself contradicting her, to tell her not to judge, to walk a hundred miles in someone else’s shoes, until she knows what it’s like.
‘Can I ask what you’ve done in the years since leaving school, Ms Rose?’
I stare back at her. ‘I’ve had various jobs over the years. I wasn’t well qualified when I left school and I had nowhere to go. I had to earn enough to keep a roof over
