His possessions seemed to move in on us, as devastating symbols of his grief. I was overwhelmed and the tears began to stream down my face. I was crying for John’s loss, I was crying for my mother’s, and I was crying for mine. While John held me in the embrace that I had needed from my mother all those years ago, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to stop the tears from coming. The well of sadness in the pit of me felt bottomless. How I had held on to that wealth of emotion for so long, I didn’t know. As a child I must have existed with my fists permanently balled up. Now I felt like I was rolling sideways down a hill, letting the grassy hillocks and dips do their worst while I gathered speed and waited for the nasty bump at the end.
‘Poor Gemma,’ he soothed.
‘I don’t know why I’m acting like this,’ I said, trying to talk through the subsiding sobs.
‘You’re going through a lot.’
‘Did Mum tell you?’ I sniffed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
‘She tells me everything.’
‘I made her swear not to,’ I said, angrily, before I remembered that actually I had made Mum swear not to tell my father, rather than John.
‘It’s not like I’d tell anyone. I never go anywhere.’
It was true. Somehow, it was a relief he knew.
‘What am I going to do, John?’
‘When’s the CPS thingy?’
‘The hearing. Fourth of December.’
‘What exactly happens at a hearing?’
‘I’d plead not guilty and then we’d all go away again to prepare my defence.’
‘It beggars belief,’ John said, letting out a loud sigh.
‘But I’m hoping it won’t come to that.’
‘Isn’t it inevitable now?’
‘The whole thing can be dropped if Rosie changes her statement.’
‘You need to go home.’
‘If I stay away, maybe she’ll come round.’
‘I don’t think it works like that.’
‘But when I’m around her I’m making it worse,’ I cried, breaking down again, into my hands, pressing away the terror, gulping into the hole that was forming in my stomach when I thought of losing my three children.
‘If you run away, you’ll definitely make it worse.’
I wiped my face and stared at him wide-eyed. ‘But she hates me.’
‘Because you’re lying to her.’
His words were like a slap in the face.
‘She doesn’t know that.’
‘Children pick up on much more than you think. When Sarah was dying, Imogen and I tried to fob Evie off by saying she was going to get better and Evie turned her little face up to us and said, “It’s okay, Grandad. When Grandma goes to heaven, she can look after Hammy,” who was her hamster who died. She was only three.’
‘Mum doesn’t think I should tell her.’
‘Helen’s wrong,’ John said casually, confidently, as he refilled my glass.
I gulped thirstily, feeling a charge of courage build in my chest.
‘But the timing is really bad.’
‘It might be why she’s lying to the police. Not consciously, obviously,’ he added, taking another sip before continuing, ‘Deep down she might know something’s not as it seems but can’t work out what.’
It sounded right.
‘Today she told me she thought she was adopted,’ I said, pained by the reminder. I ached with remorse.
‘What does Peter think?’
‘Peter doesn’t think she’s lying about me slapping her.’
‘Rubbish,’ he spluttered.
‘Seriously, he’s starting to doubt me. I know it.’
‘Perhaps you’re doubting yourself.’
I couldn’t talk for all the air that I had sucked into my lungs too quickly.
‘I do think I’m a good mother, you know.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘I try my best.’
‘That’s all that matters.
‘It’s not like I’m trying to be perfect or anything,’ I said, tears spilling down my cheeks.
He paused mid-sip. ‘Perfect’s a tall order.’
‘Impossible,’ I groaned.
‘Good enough is more achievable.’
‘Mum always told us to strive to be the best in life.’
‘And she was the perfect mum, was she?’
I couldn’t answer him.
‘Don’t you dare believe your mother’s hype.’
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and stroked my father’s song-sheet. ‘She was so brave when he left.’
‘She is a formidable woman, and always has been, but she was also vulnerable and sad and angry when your dad left, as anyone would be. Her heart was broken in two.’
‘She protected Jacs and me from all that.’
‘That’s what parents do.’
‘Somehow I thought of her as a superwoman.’
‘Who you could never live up to?’
‘Kind of.’
‘That’s her competitive spirit, Gemma. I love your mum, but, Jesus, nobody is ever better than her at anything.’
‘So true,’ I grinned.
‘If you Campbell women are all so intent on being so bloody perfect all the time, why don’t you sell Rosie the fairytale, like, um...’ He looked up to the ceiling as I imagined he would when he was writing his books. ‘Okay. Here’s one. Ready?’
I nodded.
‘There was once a little baby who was only a twinkle in her parents’ eye. Even before she was born, they loved her so much that they wanted to find her the perfect mother, so they searched the whole world, far and wide, through dark tunnels and busy cities, risking everything on treacherous journeys across the oceans, meeting tall mummies and short ones, kind ones and mean ones, rich ones and poor ones, until they found her one mother who they knew was just perfect to bring her to life. When she was born she was the most beautiful baby girl in the land and they knew they had chosen right. And they lived happily ever after. The End.’
I was moved, in spite of his tongue-in-cheek delivery. ‘That’s lovely.’
‘Yes, it is lovely, so stop stamping down on it in a panic,’ he said, slapping his hand down emphatically on top of the pile of newspapers that was nudging at our thighs. ‘Or you’ll end up fucked up like me.’
‘You’re not doing so badly,’ I smiled, so sorry for him, wondering if his hoarding was a natural reaction to the loss of Sarah, the love of his life. He was literally filling the gaping hole that she left when she died.
He pushed his glasses up his nose in the nick of time. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take my own advice one day, when I’m feeling brave enough.’
‘When you do, I’ll help you through it.’
He smiled at me. ‘You know you haven’t changed a bit since you were little. You were always so polite when you came round and you always helped Sarah wash up the cups while Jackie and Imogen tore the place up. You were so keen to do a good job for her.’
‘I remember feeling like a burden on her.’
‘You weren’t, believe me. She thought you were an angel.’
‘That’s nice to hear.’
‘But now I think it’s time to throw the halo off and be really rubbish, just like the rest of us.’
‘Okay,’ I laughed, through a spring of new tears. ‘Here’s to being really rubbish!’
And we clashed our glasses so hard in agreement that they almost shattered.
* * *
The following day, I went into work feeling upbeat, refreshed after my night away. In my head I was phrasing how I might tell Lisa that I was going to put a request in for a few weeks’ leave. I was going to take John’s advice, and head back home.
But then Miranda Slater called me.
She informed me that a Child Protection Conference would be held the following week, which I was obliged to attend along with representatives from the Police, Health and Education, and any other agencies involved in the investigation.
I didn’t know why they had called this meeting and I called Philippa Letwin to find out.
Philippa had not hidden her disappointment when I had called her to pass on the news. Apparently, the meeting was a crucial, and unfortunate, turning point; somewhere she had hoped we would never be. If, in this meeting, it was decided that the children’s names were to be put on the Child Protection Plan – which was basically a list of ‘at risk’ children – the prospect of my prosecution at the CPS hearing would be a foregone conclusion.
‘Did you call Miranda?’ I shouted at Peter down the phone.
‘Calm down.’
‘Don’t tell me to calm down, you fucking bastard.’ I was hysterical, beyond terrified.
‘I didn’t call Miranda, Gemma.’
‘Did you tell her I caused Rosie’s head injury? Is that what you told her?’
‘No. You’re being paranoid.’
‘Are you fucking surprised?’ I yelled.
‘Look, let’s sort it out after the meeting tomorrow.’
Panic shot through me. ‘I’m coming home.’
‘It’s not fair on the kids to come and go whenever you feel like it.’
‘I’m not “coming and going”. I’ve only spent one night out of the house.’
‘Rosie was much calmer this morning.’
My mouth hung open. I didn’t know what to say. I tried to swallow.
‘Are you telling me to stay away from my children?’
‘It’s not like that,’ he sighed.