Chloe raised her hands in mock surrender. ‘Thursday it is then.’
She saw him from the house and went into the kitchen.
Alex was sitting at the table, her laptop opened in front of her and her chin resting in her hands. ‘He seems lovely,’ she said, without turning. ‘Really lovely.’
Chloe stood behind Alex, reluctant to sit down. Since Alex had arrived back from the station she had been quiet, withdrawn. Just as Chloe had thought the worst to be over, there always seemed to be something else, something just waiting to disturb any chance of peace and normality.
‘Has something happened?’
Alex turned to face her. She gestured to the seat beside her. Chloe sat, her focus fixed on Alex. She had always thought herself so good at reading people, but the past week had proven her skills in that particular area less than impressive. She had no idea what the other woman was thinking, no idea of what could now be bothering her.
She took a seat. ‘Oh, God.’
How naive she had been, she thought. There was only one thing left: one vast and gaping question to which she had for so long sought an answer.
‘Chloe—’
‘It’s about Luke, isn’t it?’
She saw the answer in the other woman’s eyes, her hesitation over the words she had to speak. Chloe had the urge to run from the room. The child still in her was there once more, yanking at her side, begging her to run away with her. She wanted to put her fingers in her ears, to sing as loudly as she could and not have to hear what Alex was about to tell her.
Chloe’s hands moved to the edge of the table, her fingers clinging to it. She looked at Alex. Her jaw was taut, tensed around the words she was seemingly as reluctant to speak as Chloe was to hear.
‘Was it him?’ she asked, her words barely audible.
Alex shook her head. She reached for Chloe’s nearest hand, prising her fingers from the edge of the table. ‘Listen to me, Chloe. You’re going to get through this, OK? I’ll help you, I promise. You’ve got this far. You’re going to be OK.’
‘Just tell me,’ Chloe said, her eyes filling and her fingers tightening around Alex’s.
Alex told her everything: the argument between Luke and her mother; the emails from their mother to Chloe that Luke had forwarded to the elders of their church; the excommunication of her parents that, until now, Chloe had been ignorant of. She told her about her father’s involvement in Luke’s death; of the ways he had persuaded his wife justice had been served. Alex held Chloe as she cried and wished she could somehow make things different.
‘Do you ever delete the sent items in your email account?’ she asked, when Chloe’s tears had begun to subside.
‘No.’
‘Can you log in for me?’
Chloe reached for the laptop and logged into her email account with shaking hands. Alex took over from there, typing the email address Chloe’s mother had given her into the search bar. A short list of results was thrown up.
‘It was the night Luke came to my flat,’ Chloe said. ‘It must have been. The night he’d argued with my parents and they’d accused him of Emily’s murder. He asked if he could use my laptop. He must have gone into my emails then. He always said he’d make her pay, but I thought it was just anger talking.’
Alex stared at the screen. Chloe hadn’t yet seen what she was looking at. Seeing it would change everything.
‘Did you ever reply to any of your mother’s emails?’
Chloe shook her head. ‘There was too much damage done. She didn’t mean anything she wrote – she just wanted to get back some sort of control.’
Alex looked again at the laptop. Whether or not that was true, they would never know. She thought it might be better now – less painful for Chloe – if that had been Susan Griffiths’s only motive. Chloe hadn’t replied to her mother, yet a message sent to Susan was in her email outbox. It had the same date as the email that was forwarded to the elders. When Alex looked at the times each had been sent, this one had been sent just minutes later. She watched as Chloe read the email and as tears coursed down her face again.
Mum, I know you hate me and I understand why, but we’re not all the same. I am not like the men at church and I am not like dad – I wish you would stop punishing me for all the ways these men have treated you. You’ll be mad at me for sending that email to the elders, but I hope one day you’ll understand. It’s not too late, Mum. If you leave, you, me and Chloe can be a family again. I know Chloe still loves you, no matter what she says. Please don’t hate me. Luke.
Alex put a hand on Chloe’s arm, knowing nothing she could say now would relieve the agony of what Chloe was reading. Luke hadn’t sent those emails in an act of revenge against his mother’s cruelty; instead, it had been a desperate attempt to hold together a family that had been falling apart around him.
Just like Chloe, he had longed for the affection of a parent who had continually mistreated him, ever-hopeful that one day things would be different. Alex still believed there had existed a time when they might have been.
‘Did she mention this email?’ Chloe asked through her tears.
Alex shook her head.
‘He just wanted her to love him. He just wanted her to be a normal mother. What sort of God allows a woman like her to be a mother when someone like you can’t?’ She ran the end of her sleeve across her eyes, smearing her mascara. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘How do you do it?’ Chloe asked, turning to face Alex. ‘How do you keep going despite everything being thrown at you?’
Alex gave Chloe a smile and squeezed her arm gently. ‘What are you asking me for? You already know.’