‘What I think? You mean what I know. But I don’t have enough evidence, Johnny. She’d walk free.’
‘She told you she’d encouraged others to die.’
‘But she didn’t give me any names, did she? She didn’t mention Charlotte. She could just claim she was playing along with some fantasy we had going. And what proof do I have that she was ever at the cottage or stabbed me?’
‘Then I’d have made an appointment with whoever is in charge of End of the Line and alerted them to her. Even if they can’t do anything about it, at least Laura will be on their radar. But I wouldn’t tell them everything, like the Effie stuff, or they’ll think you’re a danger.’
‘And what about you? Do you think I’m a danger?’
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I think you’ve reacted to Charlotte’s death in a way that’s putting yourself at risk. What you did to that girl . . . how you led her on . . . it’s the first time I have ever been ashamed of you. Now it’s time to stop blaming Laura for your actions and start taking some of the responsibility. Neither she nor Charlotte have put you where you are right now. You have. Charlotte chose to die and you chose to respond to it in a way a rational person wouldn’t have.’
He prised the tops from two more bottles of beer and slid one towards me.
‘Obsessing about this woman has become your whole life, hasn’t it?’ he continued. I nodded. ‘When did you last read a book or watch a series on Netflix? Have you got your washing machine repaired yet? When did you last go to the cottage? That hammer’s been on the sideboard for months waiting for you to put that picture back up on the wall. You need to start getting on with real life. You’re never going to move on if you don’t.’
‘How do I even start moving on?’
‘Begin by drawing a line under things tonight. And then we’ll take it from there, you and me.’
For the first time since the police had turned up at the flat to tell me of Charlotte’s death, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen a little. Not much, but enough to help me breathe.
CHAPTER NINE
LAURA
It was all too much for me to take in at once. I didn’t know how to even begin processing the day’s events.
Ryan and Janine. Both hidden enemies conspiring to tear me to pieces, and both completely independent of one another. I sat cloaked in the darkness of the house that I now understood to be empty of my family. It had been like that for almost two years, according to Tony. Subconsciously my brain had refused to accept that he and the girls had left, and I’d convinced myself we might be living separate lives but at least we were all under the same roof. Now I knew the truth of the situation and I felt desperately lonely. I kept forcing myself to think about Henry but he still couldn’t anchor me. The more tired I became, the more confused I was about what was real and what I’d imagined.
There were two things I could be sure of, however. Ryan wasn’t just toying with me anymore; he was also toying with my daughter. And I couldn’t let that continue.
Janine was doing exactly the same thing, but in her own twisted little way. She’d been playing a behind-the-scenes role in my life that I hadn’t been aware of. Her affair with my husband explained the constant disdain she showed me, why she watched me from her office and took every opportunity to belittle me in front of the other volunteers. Now, like a cuckoo, she’d made a home in my nest, but instead of ousting my eggs to make room for her own, she was ensuring there was no room left for me when I returned. She was the reason why Tony and the girls weren’t upstairs in their bedrooms right now, not me.
What has Tony told her about me? What does she know that she has no right to? What can’t I remember that made everyone leave me?
I stepped into the back garden for another cigarette. I’d given up monitoring how many I’d smoked since I’d returned from Tony’s. I replayed certain moments in my head, like when we were hurrying through the school car park and he was discreetly trying to text someone. He must have been asking Janine to leave the house because I was coming. I bet she left her bag there on purpose for me to see. Or perhaps she was hiding somewhere in a different room, laughing at me. While I was worrying about our daughter’s safety, Tony had known all along that Janine had been there with Effie.
I couldn’t tell him why I feared for my girl and he couldn’t tell me why I had no reason to. He was too afraid to admit the truth about what had been going on behind my back.
How could you, Tony? How could you do this to us?
For much of my life I’d been a survivor, but it was only now I realised that somewhere along the line, the role of victim had taken precedence. I desperately needed the strong, confident Laura I used to know, to take charge. I inhaled one last long drag from my cigarette and then stamped on it. Ryan and Janine, Janine and Ryan. They didn’t have the first clue who they’d taken on.
But who should I target first? My heart told me Janine, my head told me Ryan. Yes, it had to be Ryan because I knew the least about him and he was the biggest threat to my stability. He’d met with my husband, targeted my daughter, knew where I lived and visited my son. Now it was my turn to discover who the enemy was and to make him suffer like he had me. And I knew who to ask first.
I gazed across the playground, searching for Alice before the school bell sounded the start of her new day.
In these daily snapshots of her life each weekday morning, I’d see just how tall she was becoming, that her hair was getting longer and her body more agile. She was growing up, five minutes every morning at a time. I couldn’t recall what her last memory of me was, but from what Tony had suggested, it hadn’t been a good one. Once my enemies were out of the way, the rest of the pieces would all fit into place and I’d be walking her to school every day again.
Suddenly, Alice spotted me and her face lit up. I let out a sigh of relief. She still loved me. She began to run towards me just as the school bell sounded. ‘It’s okay,’ I mouthed, and pointed towards the door, telling her to go inside. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ She waved and skipped into the building and out of sight.
I saw Beth Griffiths before she turned her head and noticed me, not that she had the faintest clue who I was. She’d either gone to bed wearing a full face of make-up or she’d set her alarm for the crack of dawn, because no parent looked like that on the school run without a lot of preparation.
I’d see her most days at the school gates with her son but hadn’t realised until she passed Tony and me as we left Effie’s school that she also had a child there. I noted that she wore a sticker with her name handwritten across it and the words ‘Parent–Teacher Association’ underneath.