simply see straight through her. It seemed to take her a long time to decide how to answer, or even whether to answer at all, but eventually she said: ‘You could say that she was kindness itself. When I turned up on her doorstep, I was seven months pregnant and desperate. There was nobody I could turn to, and I knew nothing about having a baby. Have you got kids?’ Josephine shook her head. ‘Then you won’t understand what it’s like to feel trapped by your own body. She took me in and looked after me, she explained what was going to happen when the baby’s time came, and she made sure that I wasn’t frightened any more. When I think about Amelia Sach, I think about giving birth to my first child. She was so gentle, so caring, and so in control—it’s the only time in my life that I’ve ever felt truly safe. And she was a devoted mother. Lizzie adored her. So did my son. Nothing was too much trouble for her where they were concerned.’
Josephine had expected to hear that Sach was a good mother, but she had never dreamt that Edwards might regard the woman as some kind of sanctuary. She barely had time to consider the information before Edwards continued: ‘Or you could say that she was an obsessive, manipulative bitch who set out to destroy innocent lives and made a half-decent job of it. I watched her with those other girls, you know, and she was so protective until the moment the baby was born; after that, there was no warmth, no compassion—just a cold, detached process until the kid was safely out of the house. She held those babies as though they were already dead.’
Edwards must have seen the confusion in Josephine’s eyes, because she added: ‘There’s no sense in trying to work out the truth from what I’ve just told you. The point is, you can never know what Amelia Sach was like because you weren’t there. Just ask yourself—how would you feel if someone wrote a book about you in fifty years’ time? Would that be an accurate picture? Would I know what you were really like if I read it?’ She finished her coffee and put the cup down. ‘Don’t think I’m trying to put you off what you’re doing—it makes no odds to me, because things can’t get any worse. But if I were you, I’d forget all about it. It’ll only ever be half a story.’
Josephine looked at the woman she had cast as the pivotal figure in the Sach and Walters story, and saw only another casualty. ‘What will you do now?’ she asked.
‘Bury them and move on. Find somewhere else to hide and live the lie again until someone else finds out.’
Josephine stood to leave, but this time it was her turn to be held back. ‘You said you knew Lizzie,’ Edwards said, and there was an uncomplicated affection in her voice which hadn’t been there when she spoke of anyone else. ‘I didn’t know anything about her death until the police told me. What happened?’
Josephine hesitated, then chose the half of the story which was likely to give Edwards peace rather than further torment. ‘She had an accident in a gym. It was a physical training college, and she was practising on one of the ropes.’
‘But she was happy? I’ve never really forgiven myself for letting her or my son go just because Joe wanted a new start.’
‘Yes, she was very happy. From what I understand, she’d had a fabulous childhood and a lot of love. As hard as it must have been for you to give her up, she never suffered because of it. I’m sure it was the same for your son.’
Uneasy with the lie, she left Nora Edwards to her thoughts and headed back towards Scotland Yard. Archie must have been watching them, because he was already waiting for her on the steps. They walked in the other direction along the Embankment, and found a bench overlooking the river. ‘How did you get on?’ he asked.
‘I think I learned more than I ever wanted to know,’ she admitted, and told him about Amelia Sach’s execution. ‘I’m not sure I want to live in a world where that can happen.’
‘I know what you mean, but if you try to take responsibility for something like that, you’ll go insane. Believe me, I’ve lost enough sleep over it in my time.’
‘We’re all responsible, though, aren’t we? We’ve just come through a general election, for God’s sake, and we’re supposed to live in a democracy.’ She waved a hand in the direction of parliament. ‘If that lot can’t sort out a more humane way of punishing people, isn’t that my problem? Shouldn’t there be basic rights for everyone?’
‘And Marjorie? What about her rights?’
Josephine sighed. ‘I know what you’re saying, and I don’t have any arguments to that one.’ She waited for a pause in the traffic over Westminster Bridge, and then asked: ‘Has Celia admitted everything?’
‘Yes and no. I’m afraid it’s rather more complicated than that. This is strictly confidential, but the woman we have in custody isn’t Celia Bannerman.’
‘What?’ Josephine looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. ‘Of course she’s Celia Bannerman. I should know—I spent enough time with the woman at Anstey.’
‘With the woman, yes, but not with Celia Bannerman.’
She listened, incredulous, as Archie explained. ‘So you’re telling me that half her life has been a lie?’
‘In the fundamental sense of her identity, yes; the personality and the achievements aren’t an act, though— they’re who she really is, as she went to great lengths to point out to me. We’re waiting for Ethel Stuke to get here from Suffolk to confirm what she’s saying, but I’ve no doubt that she’s Eleanor Vale.’
‘But what about the information she gave me for the book? How could she have known all that?’
‘She’d spent enough time in Holloway to know how prison worked, and she lived with Celia Bannerman—they must have talked. I had another look at what you’d written, though; if you analyse it very carefully, there’s not much there that isn’t generally available, and as you’ve just found out yourself, a lot of it isn’t even true.’ He accepted a cigarette gratefully. ‘It’s that speech I can’t get out of my head, you know. All that talk about the nation’s children, and she ends up being a bloody baby farmer.’
Josephine stared out across the river to the crescent-shaped facade of County Hall. ‘Do you think she had anything to do with Lizzie Sach’s death?’ she asked quietly. The thought that Lizzie might somehow have discovered the truth about her mother’s execution as well as her crimes had haunted her from the moment Edwards described it to her.
‘I don’t know. The police were satisfied at the time that it was a straightforward suicide, if you can ever have such a thing.’
‘I’m not saying that Celia killed her—well, not Celia, but you know who I mean. I can’t think of her as anybody else. I just wondered if she might have had good reason to want Lizzie dead—she was a link with the past, after all. She might have seen the real Celia Bannerman.’
‘She was four years old, Josephine. I doubt she’d have remembered anything that could threaten Vale’s lie.’
‘I was thinking about what you said on the way to Suffolk, though, and you were right: the natural thing for Lizzie to do when she first heard about her mother was to seek confirmation from the woman who had shown such an interest in her life—not take every detail on trust and hang herself in the gym. Wouldn’t you ask questions before you did something like that? What if Celia knew what she was going to do and didn’t try to stop her?’ He said nothing, but Josephine could see that he agreed. ‘Archie, Gerry’s life will never be settled as long as she believes that it was her fault, and only her fault, that Lizzie died. If there’s the slightest chance that Celia was in some way responsible, couldn’t you at least question her about it?’
‘I can’t guarantee I’ll be questioning her about anything else with the state she’s in at the moment,’ he admitted. ‘And the three recent deaths have to be my priority. I’m not even sure that I can get her for the murder of Celia Bannerman after all this time.’
‘I thought you said she’d confessed?’
‘She has, but we still need corroborative evidence if we’re to get a conviction, and she knows that.’
‘So what you’re trying to tell me, in the nicest possible way, is that you can only hang her once.’ She was quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of everything in her life that had been thrown into doubt over the last few days. ‘How far would she have gone, do you think?’
‘She’d have done whatever was necessary to protect the lie,’ he said. ‘I’m sure of that, at least.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. Can I get Bill to drop you back at the club?’
‘No, I’d rather walk. I’ll be stuck on a train for long enough later.’
Archie looked surprised. ‘I thought you were staying until the weekend?’
‘Not any more—I’ve managed to get a sleeper for tonight.’ She stood up, hoping to avoid a long explanation. ‘London’s lost some of its loveliness for a bit, and I need to get away.’
He knew better than to try to change her mind. ‘Do you know when you’ll be back?’
‘Not at the moment.’
‘But you’ll call me when you do?’
