‘Wait!’ Lucy is hobbling towards the doorway. She must have come down the stairs on her bottom.
‘Are you Lucy Winterbourne?’ The detective asks her, looking at her plastered ankle.
‘Yes.’ She leans on the doorframe.
‘And is this your sister, Jenna Winterbourne?’
‘Yes,’ she says again.
The policeman steps forward and begins to read me my rights again.
‘But she’s not my biological sister. That’s Grace.’
The policemen look confused. ‘Not your biological sister? But you’re both on the electoral roll as having lived here, and we’ve examined your birth certificates.’
‘Let me sit down and I’ll explain everything. Jenna, why don’t you put the kettle on?’
I move towards the kitchen but the policeman blocks the doorway. ‘I’m not going to run away,’ I tell him. ‘We need you to hear this. Come with me, if you must.’
‘We don’t need tea,’ the inspector says. ‘Just sit down and tell us who and where Grace is.’
‘Jenna? Lucy?’ Mum’s tremulous voice drifts down the stairs. ‘Who is it?’
‘I’ll be up in a minute, Mum,’ I call back. ‘Our mother is seriously ill in bed,’ I explain in a low voice. ‘She’ll be distraught if she finds out you’re here to arrest me.’
‘We found out last week that Jenna and Grace were swapped at birth,’ Lucy says, then, seeing the sceptical look on the older policeman’s face, adds, ‘Mum will verify it, if you need her to, but we really don’t want her upset.’
The policemen look shocked. I don’t suppose they hear stories like this very often.
DI Paton turns to me and his face softens. ‘You must be devastated.’
I feel tears well in my eyes at his kind words.
‘You need to find Grace. We think she’s dangerous,’ Lucy adds. ‘There have been attempts on Jenna’s life.’
‘Why didn’t you report it?’
‘Our mother is at the end of her life. These last days are precious to us.’
DI Paton slowly shakes his head then looks at Lucy. ‘I understand,’ he says. Perhaps we could do a DNA test on Jenna and maybe a hair from your mother’s brush to avoid troubling her, unless you have other proof?’
‘Grace talked about old letters that my mother had written to her mother but she took them with her.’
‘We’ll need to take a full statement from you both, but right now can you tell us her full name and where she lives?’
‘We don’t know where she lives,’ Lucy explains. ‘She was going by the name of Cavendish but I overheard her talking to Mum and showing her a new passport in the name of Grace Winterbourne.’
‘When did you last see her? What car does she drive?’
‘A week ago, but she left a bouquet of flowers on the doorstep yesterday. She drives a black Fiat Panda but I don’t recall the number plate. Do you know it, Jenna?’
I shake my head.
‘Have you still got the flower wrappings?’ DI Paton asks.
‘They’ll be in the dustbin,’ I say.
Paton turns to the PC. ‘Go and have a look,’ he says. ‘If they’re from a supermarket they may have CCTV of her buying them. We might be able to see what car she gets into then track it on the ANPR cameras. I’ll rush through the DNA maternity test and put out an alert for Grace Winterbourne at the airports and ferry terminals.’
Chapter 70
The Next Day | Grace
‘All set?’ Mark asks as he puts our overnight bags in the boot of his Audi Q7 and closes it.
It’s lucky he’s got a decent sized car because most of his belongings are packed in it ready for our two-year stay along with all my clothes, shoes and toiletries. I’ve given my little car back to Derek in exchange for £200 and my new birth certificate.
I’ve checked the Dover Travelodge room for stray belongings and I’ve got my handbag. This is it. I’m finally escaping my past and beginning a new life with a good man by my side. It’s been an emotional wrench leaving Mum behind so soon after finding her, but at least we had a loving reunion before it was too late.
I couldn’t leave without letting her know I loved her one more time and I’m glad I asked Mark to stop at Waitrose to buy her a bunch of flowers. Placing them on the doorstep late at night so no one would see me was hard, knowing Mum was inside. I desperately wanted to bang on the door and run in for one last hug. Instead, I have to console myself with the thought that at least Mum said she wants me to have what is rightfully mine. I’ll wait until I’ve been in France a while before I arrange for a solicitor to make a claim for my share of the inheritance. No doubt I’ll be unable to stop Jenna stealing part of the pot because Mum made it clear it would be split three ways. Still, a third is better than nothing.
‘All set.’ I say, and kiss Mark on the lips. I may have lost my family but I’ve found a good man at last, and maybe the start of a new family one day. I’m sure I’ll grow to love him, but in the meantime, it’s enough that I like him and he clearly loves me.
‘Ten minutes to the port,’ he says. ‘By teatime we’ll be eating snails and frogs’ legs.’ He laughs and hugs me.
‘You might be. I think I’ll stick to a bowl of French onion soup.’
The queues at the ferry terminal are daunting and I wonder how all the cars are going to fit on the boat. We crawl forward at a sloth’s pace but I feel quite chilled. Much as I despise her, I’m glad I didn’t go after Jenna again. It would have been foolish to give the police another reason to pursue me and I might have left vital clues to my whereabouts. As it is, I feel safe. The police still have no way of linking me
