‘We’ll do it together, Jacob.’ My voice was soft but steady. I was amazed by the certainty that I felt, despite the pain. But even that was a facade, and suddenly I was shaking too. My face was soaked, the words choking me. ‘We’ll draw strength from each other, for Beth. We… we have to do this right. We can’t let her suffer any longer, because God knows she has suffered enough already.’
He held me then. Kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair. When you were tiny, he’d stroked your hair to help you go to sleep. But every time he had tried to stop, you had stirred and woken. Sometimes he had been at it for hours. At the memory, my hands fisted in his jumper, pulling him even closer.
‘Do you think she is suffering?’ His voice was so tiny that only I, with my ear so close to his mouth, would hear it.
‘I’m scared she is. I can’t stand that thought. We need to set her free.’
‘What, to be on the marsh?’ He asked with no recrimination.
‘If that’s what she wants. Her soul can, I don’t know, go on. Go to something better. I truly believe that.’
‘But she might improve…’ There was no hope in his voice.
I pulled back and looked into his eyes, at a soul as broken as my own.
‘I’d kill for her if I thought it would bring her back. But nothing will.’
Minutes passed. Jacob wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Lifted us both off the floor, then sat down and took your hand again.
Suddenly I had an idea. I climbed up onto the bed and lay alongside you, carefully hugging you. A proper, full hug, only possible now that all of the machinery, wires and tubes had gone.
‘Oh, I’ve been longing to do this for a month. You love your hugs, don’t you, eh? Yeah…’ I sighed, breathing you in, marvelling at how soft your cheek was. Would I always be able to remember the exact feel of it? ‘Beth, my love, we’ve called everyone – your aunts and uncles, and your grandparents – they’re all on their way. But if you can’t hold on for them, don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. It’s okay to let go.’
Your chest trembled rather than rose and fell.
‘We’re here, so there’s no need to be afraid. We’ll always, always be here for you, my love. But it’s time for you to leave us.’
Jacob lay his head on your chest. ‘All the pain will be over soon. And you’ll be free.’ His voice gave the slightest hitch at this last. ‘Don’t you worry about us. We’ve got each other, and we’ll think of you every single day. Every day.’
‘We love you to bits and whole again,’ I whispered.
*
Time slipped by. Relatives came and went. Shuffling past, bending over you, crying, whispering farewells, patting us. Your dad and I didn’t move, too hypnotised by your breathing.
We were alone when Jacob lifted his head from your chest. His eyes were devastated hollows, his pupils huge. I cupped my trembling hand under his chin and nodded.
You had gone.
I settled back to holding you. I didn’t want you to get cold. You always hated the cold.
Seventy-Eight
BETH
FRIDAY 22 JANUARY
The pain in her head shattered through her whole body. Her teeth chattering with it. Her legs gave way. Body folding.
Starbursts of information broke through the agony.
Chloe leaning over her. ‘Shit, fuck, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Fuck it, Beth. Get up!’
Blink.
Chloe lit up by the light of her mobile phone. ‘Help me! I… I don’t know what to do! I’m so s-s-sorry. She isn’t moving, Mum!’
Blink.
Ursula’s perfectly manicured hand trembling as it touched Beth’s neck. Voice floating towards her on treacle.
‘… can’t find a pulse. Nothing…’ Swearing. Crying.
Blink.
A sensation of movement. The sound of grunting and tears.
Blink.
She was so, so cold.
The full moon looked down on her, all-seeing, all-knowing, timeless and patient. The wind caressed her skin, as gentle as her mother when she used to check for fever.
Hush, hush, everything will be all right. You’ll feel better soon.
Let go.
I love you to bits and whole again.
Bits.
Beth could feel herself breaking apart and floating away on the wind. Cradled. Loved. Warmed. Cherished.
Gone.
Seventy-Nine
The village grapevine was fast and efficient. News of the arrests spread quickly. People pretending to be in shock when secretly they had known at least part of it all along. Bunch of lying bastards – they deserved to have someone like me living among them.
The criminals got their comeuppance, though. They were amateurs, with no idea they had a professional in their midst.
I’d have to wait a little while for the furore to die down, but then I’d be free to strike again. These country bumpkins were no match for me.
Not long before I could finally kill.
The smash of a skull. The huff of breath. The mottling of skin.
I couldn’t wait.
Eighty
Beth, you died at 5.03 a.m. on Thursday 18 February. I will hate that date, that time, for the rest of my life.
There should be a special word to describe the weariness of the bereaved. It was far beyond exhaustion, yet I couldn’t rest. No sleep would come, apart from snatched moments which left me fuzzier-headed and more exhausted than before. Eyes hurt, muscles ached, stomach churned.
Time meant nothing. Doing the simplest of tasks, such as making tea or cleaning my teeth, seemed to take an eternity. Other times I stared out of the window and realised that a couple of hours had disappeared in a blink. People came to visit, talking in low voices, patting my hand.
Mostly, Jacob held me, and I held Wiggins. Our little family of three, no longer four. But together we had more strength than apart, and it was a revelation to me. How had I managed for so many weeks without my husband?
The rare times I did glance at the clock I found myself thinking: this time yesterday Beth was still alive. This time last month Beth was up and about and… what? What exactly were you doing? I didn’t even remember, and panic flooded through me. You see, I hadn’t realised I needed to memorise every second. I’d had no clue that time with you was running out.
Did you know, Beth?
I ran to the calendar on the wall, and flipped back to the date exactly one month ago: 18 January. A Monday. The Monday before you were hurt…
Think, think, think!
All that came was routine: getting you up; you getting ready for school and running across the road for the bus out of the village and into Wapentake; you coming home at night. Nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Was that the night you ranted about how people should make holes in their fences, to help hedgehogs?
‘It’s so easy. Just a tiny five-inch hole so that the hedgehog can travel around. Why don’t people do that, Mum? It wouldn’t make any difference to them, and they could help save hedgehogs. They’re dying out, you know!’
You had emanated fury at the injustice of it.
‘Well, maybe they don’t realise…’ I’d offered, reasonably.
Your eyes had boggled at me. ‘Well, I’m going to make a hole in our fence right now.’