DI Green carries on with the explanation. “Your mother told Shane on the Tuesday what she had done to Rob. It was given as a warning what she would be capable of doing to him, his wife or his sons, if he proceeded with his decision of ending things with your mother.”
“According to Shane, your mum can’t have actually planned to tell him what she’d done,” says PC Robinson. “When she saw Shane’s reaction, she backtracked - told him she’d made it all up to scare him.”
I massage my forehead. She is utterly evil.
“But he couldn’t get it out of his mind.” DI Green raises the paper cup to her lips again. “Obviously. And when your mum kept begging and pleading, even after she’d returned to Yorkshire, Shane knew he had to tell us what she had confessed to, even if she had tried to retract it. Plus, deep down, he feared she would carry out her initial threat to hurt him and his family. She’d already proven herself to be more than a little unhinged. He’s come up here as he says he wants to see her put away, with his own eyes.”
I’m as numb as I was when I first discovered Rob had died. My mother has killed my husband. And for what? Because, as always, she couldn’t control her impatience, or her anger? Had Shane not come forward, she would probably have let me be tried for it. Not only was she prepared to do that to me, but to Jack as well.
“And what about Turner?”
“We believe he got on a plane to South America yesterday. Interpol have been informed, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.” PC Robinson tilts his phone screen towards him, either checking the time or an autopilot check of any messages. “We’re keeping in touch with his wife. She’s not happy with his dealings and disappearance and will contact us with anything she hears.”
“So she didn’t know anything about it? I thought so. I threatened that I was going to tell her.”
“You should have left things to us.” DI Green frowns. “We can’t say for certain, but the footage of his car that we’ve seen on several occasions says to me that he is behind the personal threats you have suffered. Things could clearly have been much worse - we feel he was trying to frighten you more than anything.”
“My head is spinning with all it all. To be honest, I really thought it was Turner who had killed Rob as well. I can’t believe it was my own mother,” I spit the word out, “that has killed my husband.”
“It’s a lot for you to take in, I know.”
Can all parties in the case of Margaret Ann Mortimer please attend at court number three?
“Are you sure you’re up to facing her?”
“I’d like to speak to her. Will that be possible?”
“It depends whether she gets bail. I’ll have a word for you in court.”
* * *
They’ve ruined my life.
There’s no coming back from this.
Chapter 45
“You can have a few minutes.”
I stand in response to the police officer’s words. “That’s all I need. Thank you.”
I follow her as she jangles from the sunny court corridor to the bowels of the building. I feel as though I should make conversation with her but wouldn’t know what to say. As we leave the lift, I shiver. The officer taps a code into a keypad and a door swings away from us.
“The prison van is due soon.” She turns to me as we walk along the gloomy passageway. “And I must stay in the cell with you, for obvious reasons.”
“I understand.” I’m amazingly calm. I wonder if at some point, I’m going to fall apart. Or maybe my blow out occurred when I got drunk the other week. Perhaps I’ve got a strength within me I’ve never acknowledged before.
The officer unlocks a metal door and beckons me in after her. My mother slumps on the bench at the far side of the cell, her usual larger than life presence shrunken in the gloom of her surroundings. She’s wearing the skirt and blouse Dad dropped at the station yesterday. She doesn’t look up as I walk in after the officer.
“Mum.” My voice reverberates around the cell. “Or should I say Maggie? You’re no mother of mine anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know why you did it?” My voice wobbles.
“I can’t believe they’ve remanded me.” She looks at me now, desperation in her eyes. “What’s going to happen to me? I can’t go to prison!”
“That’s right. You think of yourself. Poor Maggie Mortimer. Never mind that you’ve murdered my husband and Jack’s father. Because of your mastermind plan, we’ve been left with nothing.” I glance around the cell, the sight of it reminding me of my own recent incarcerations. It smells nasty in here too – urine mixed with bleach.
“It’s nothing less that you deserve, Fiona.” She says my name like it’s a swear word. “You owe me. That money you got when Roger’s mother died – it should have been ours. The life you secured for yourself when you married Rob – with your posh house and holidays - you weren’t worthy of any of it.”
“You were jealous. Of me? That’s madness.” I stare at her. “You need help, you do.”
“Do you know Rob and I had a fling? Whilst you were pregnant with Jack.”
I stare at her. “I don’t believe you.” As I say it, the absurdity of her claim hits me and something deep inside shifts. I should feel winded at this so-called revelation, but I feel nothing for her. For the first time, I see who she truly is.
“I don’t care if you do or you don’t. Food for thought though, isn’t it?”
A calmness I’ve never known whilst in her presence floods through me. “What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?” I search the
