by Kerena Swan
I’ve walked up and down this street so many times this week and am about to give up my surveillance as I don’t want to arouse suspicion, when a van turns into the drive. Not just any old van but one with writing all over it. I almost laugh out loud. Scene of the Grime, Cleaning Services.
I pull my phone from my pocket and connect to the internet. I love this phone and I love Mark for buying it for me. Yay! Here they are –a local domestic cleaning company operating in Milton Keynes and the surrounding area. Rex tugs at his lead and whines.
‘Give me a minute, Rex. This is important.’ I tap my screen and bring up a job vacancy page then screenshot it. These sorts of companies are always looking for staff. I’ll apply for a job with them and I’m sure they’ll snatch my hand off when I tell them about my knowledge and experience of thorough cleaning. I wait another few minutes to make sure the van doesn’t come straight out again, then return to my car.
I drop Rex back at Derek’s house and politely decline a cup of tea, saying I need to get to the kebab shop, then I drive over to the internet café to complete a simple online application form. On impulse I call the company when I’m back in my car.
‘I’ve just sent you an application form and I wondered what area you need workers for as I see you cover all of Milton Keynes. Would I have to travel around or would I be allocated a few regular customers?’
‘We’re delighted you’ve applied,’ a smooth female voice says. ‘We try to give each worker a small portfolio of customers so they can build up an understanding of their wishes and needs. People prefer consistency in their lives.’
‘Sounds good,’ I say.
‘We need people in the Stony Stratford and Linford Wood areas at present.’
‘I was hoping for South Milton Keynes – Bow Brickhill, Little Brickhill and Woburn Sands sort of area. Do you cover those?’
‘We do, but we recruited someone to that area a week ago. We can look at the situation when we’ve interviewed you, if you’re successful.’
Bloody hell. I’m a week too late. I’ll still take the job though, if they offer it to me. I can easily find out who this new recruit is. I’m sure an anonymous phone call from a disgruntled ex-customer will soon sort her out. No one wants a thief in their house.
‘What’s your name again? I’ll look out for your form.’
‘Grace Cavendish,’ I say, pleased with the image the name conjures up. Far classier than Sarah Butcher.
I can’t wait to get inside The Old Hay Barn to see the home I should have had. As I drive back to Mark’s house my stomach flutters with excitement at the thought of meeting my real family at last – my mother, my father and, according to Fiona’s letters, Lucy, my sister. Have I got grandparents alive? Aunties and uncles? Maybe I’m an auntie? I imagine being at a zoo with a lively six-year-old boy, tapping on the glass wall of the lion enclosure.
I wonder if I look like my family. I must resemble Mum and Dad to a certain extent because doesn’t everyone? My sister might even have the same characteristics as me. I’ve got naturally blonde hair so I think I should dye it brown and get it cut shorter. I want my family to get to know me and like me before I reveal who I am. Well, not entirely who I am.
There are parts of me that must never see the light of day. But that past isn’t my fault. I was driven to it with Robert treating me like his personal sex slave before rejecting me, and Rosemary denying me the happy life that should have been mine. Neither of them gave a damn about my happiness. They used me. Wronged me. They treated me as though I had no more value than a used tissue, and I couldn’t let them get away with it. They needed to be taught that people matter. That I matter.
It won’t be like that with the Winterbournes. I’ll matter to them because I’m their daughter and they’ll love me. Just the thought of it makes me feel warm inside. Happier. A kinder person. The person I always should have been.
There’s the other Jenna to think about, of course. The fake one. The imposter. The cuckoo who pushed me out after only three days in the nest. She needs to know that it’s my nest and I’m back to claim it. Cuckoos are hateful birds anyway – selfish and greedy. No better than vermin. She can keep the name, though. I want my life back but I don’t want to be called Jenna now she’s tainted it.
One day soon I’ll be Grace Winterbourne.
Chapter 54
April | DI Paton
The investigation into the murder of Robert Nash and the whereabouts of the main suspect, Trina Hodges, had progressed as slowly as a learner driver on the first lesson. Paton could feel his impatience and frustration mounting as he sat at his desk and waited for news from the Milton Keynes police force. He had contacted them straight away to find out if there were any known forgers or dodgy car dealers in those areas but so far they hadn’t called him back. He barely remembered now the feeling of excitement when Mitchell had relayed his findings over a week ago.
Paton walked over to Mitchell’s desk. ‘Can we go through that ANPR report again? I’d like to see it in more detail.’
Mitchell closed the file he was working on and pulled up different data on his computer screen. ‘The cameras only cover some of the main grid roads, but we can see which estates the car entered – Central Milton Keynes, Kingston, Netherfield and Bletchley. But this was all over four weeks ago. The number plate hasn’t been picked up since.’
‘Either she’s changed the plates again or she’s got a new car.’
‘Or the car’s off the road,’ Mitchell suggested.
Paton had another meeting with the SIO in ten minutes and nothing new to tell him. He returned to his own desk and drummed his fingers on the edge of his mouse mat then picked up the phone and called Milton Keynes again. He didn’t like to keep hassling them as he knew how stretched everyone was, but he was getting desperate. The trail couldn’t fizzle out now. He asked to speak to a detective inspector and waited while the call connected.
‘We’ve got nothing for you at the moment,’ the DI said, ‘but we do have an investigation underway that’s focusing on car thefts in the area. If we can nail that gang, we might find a link to your fake number plates and forged documents. We’ll be in touch as soon as we have any news.’
Paton thanked him and ended the call. He pulled his jacket from the back of his chair, smoothed his hair down with the flat of his hand and made his way along the corridor.
‘Any updates?’ Metcalf asked, as soon as Paton entered the room. Paton relayed his conversation with the Milton Keynes detective and was acutely aware of the lack of progress.
‘I’d like to visit Milton Keynes if possible, sir. I admit we don’t have any leads to follow, apart from knowing that the woman drove into certain estates, but I’d like to ask around. See if anyone recognises her E-Fit photo.’
‘That could be time-consuming and your skills would be better spent here. We’ve got other serious crimes needing attention.’
‘Visiting Manchester worked. I think it’s worth a try with Milton Keynes. Just for a couple of days.’
‘What if I send Mitchell instead? He’s bright and keen, and you could take on the attempted murder case that’s just come in.’
Paton tried to hide his disappointment. He wanted to find this woman himself. He was the hunter and she was the hunted. It was of great importance to him that he caught her personally. He wanted to see the case through to its conclusion and prove to the chief inspector that he’d got what it took to be an SIO. He also wanted to show Tommy that his dad was a great detective. Someone else finding the woman wouldn’t give Paton the same satisfaction.
He was frantically trying to think of a reason why he should go instead of DC Mitchell Tomkins when Metcalfe relented.
‘Okay, Dave. You look like a dog that’s had his dinner snatched away. Two nights. That’s all we’re paying for.’
Chapter 55
The Following September | Grace
I sit on the chair next to Jenna’s hospital bed and stare at her features. Her curled da
rk eyelashes rest on soft rounded cheeks and her dark hair, rolled into unwashed dreadlocks, coils on the pillow like a nest of vipers. Her profile is obscured by the oxygen mask but I’ve studied her before when she wasn’t looking. I can recall in exact detail her straight nose and wide, full-lipped mouth. She is unmistakably Rosemary Butcher’s daughter.
And I hate her.
It was relatively easy to gain access to my real family. I only had to work for the cleaning company for a couple of weeks before I managed to get the other girl, Dionne, sacked. It never fails to surprise me how people believe anonymous phone calls over their employees – always too afraid to take a risk. They didn’t even carry out a full investigation. They just told her that her cleaning wasn’t up to standard and she failed her probation. I was right there, of course, to offer extra hours to cover Dionne’s area.
It’s been unnerving at times, catching sight of Jenna and seeing my mother in her features. No, not my mother. Her mother. I try to remember if Rosemary was ever fun-loving and warm as I was growing up, but all I see is a weak husk of humanity marinated in alcohol. She’d hidden the drinking at first but Dad – John Butcher, rather – and I had known about it. She was always asleep on the sofa when I got home from school, always withdrawn and neglecting my physical needs, always allowing John Butcher to bully me without once fighting my corner…
I wonder what sort of person fake Jenna would have been if she’d lived my life. I wish I could show her a film of how I suffered. By the age of ten I was doing most of the laundry, cooking the meals and fetching the shopping. No one praised me or thanked me; rather they accepted it as my fate.
I know Jenna wasn’t responsible for the swap but I can’t help resenting the way that my pain has been her gain. And what’s she done with it? She prances around with that stupid hair and terrible clothes that shriek, ‘Look at me, aren’t I amazing?’
She smiles and smiles but what’s she achieved? Nothing. She’s no career to speak of. She just works in a bar and faffs around with that damned horse. Even the twins’ mother didn’t hesitate to get rid of her when I phoned to say Jenna had hit the boy. At least I gave her a taste of what it feels like to be rejected and to worry about having no money. Not that she’ll ever know what real poverty feels like. No doubt Mummy will bail her out of any financial fixes.
If I’d had my own life, I’d have read more books, studied, become someone. But Jenna… She’s squandered my life. Wasted opportunities. I can’t think of her without feeling as though my stomach is being burned with battery acid. She’s too stupid to see it, though. Too stupid to see beneath my show of kindness and patience. She’s not only a parasite, she’s thick, and it maddens me to think that such a superficial, unworthy person has lived my life for all these years.
A plump, young nurse bustles into the room and smiles at me before checking the contents of the drip bag attached to a cannula in the back of Jenna’s hand. Jenna stirs and slowly opens her eyes.
‘Hello, lovely,’ the nurse says. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired.’ Jenna yawns, revealing her perfectly straight, white teeth.
My teeth could have looked like that if I’d had regular visits to the dentist and been reminded to clean them every night. I might have had an expensive brace to straighten out my wonky bottom teeth. Instead, I have a mouth full of grey NHS fillings, crooked incisors and a gap halfway back where I had a molar removed.
‘We just need to make sure your symptoms won’t return and take a blood sample, then you should be able to go home,’ the nurse says in a bright, sing-song voice. ‘The fluids are nearly finished so your blood pressure should have reduced. I’ll do your observations now.’ She clips a gadget onto Jenna’s forefinger and pulls a blood pressure cuff up her arm.
I watch Jenna being fussed over and nursed back to full health. I should have put more peanut butter in the pâté but I was worried she’d recognise the taste. I can’t believe the luck this cuckoo has. I thought feeding her horse carrots and oats would have hyped it up enough to make it unmanageable when I spooked it with the carrier bag but I have to admit, she’s a better rider then I expected. No doubt her childhood was filled with lessons and small ponies.
I desperately wanted a horse as a kid. My old memories are as clear as yesterday’s. A girl at school once said I could ride her pony and I walked two miles in the biting wind to her farm and waited by the gate, too afraid to open it and walk past the snarling dogs. My excitement dwindled as the chill seeped into my bones and ears, making me ache like I had the ‘flu. My friend didn’t appear and after what seemed like hours of waiting I gave up and had to walk the two miles home. She never invited me again, the bitch. I bet Jenna didn’t even get cold travelling to her lessons. She’d have had a private instructor come to her own paddock or been driven to a riding school in a warm, comfortable car.
‘Thanks for staying with me, Grace.’ Jenna reaches for my hand.
I let her take it and give her a big, false smile.
The nurse leaves the cubicle, promising to bring the doctor back to organise Jenna’s discharge home. As soon as she’s gone Jenna’s smile fades and she turns to me.
‘It was Lucy,’ she whispers, glancing at the curtain. ‘She must have put something in the pâté. She’s trying to kill me.’ Her eyes are wide and her grip on me is painful.
I twist my hand to relieve the pressure and she lets go. ‘Sorry,’ she says.
I lean forward, deciding to maintain the image of me as a peacemaker. ‘Lucy doesn’t want to hurt you. She’s your sister and she loves you. The pâté could have been contaminated in the factory.’ I’m the one who wants to hurt you, moron.
‘It was Lucy. I’m scared, Grace. Do you think I should tell the police?’
‘No,’ I say sharply. ‘You have no proof, and it would upset your mother.’
‘But I don’t know what she might do next. She wants me gone. She wants to inherit everything.’ Jenna leans back against her pillows and closes her eyes again, exhausted by her outburst of emotion.
Moments later the nurse returns with the doctor who studies the notes on the tray table and asks Jenna questions. ‘What might you have eaten to cause this episode?’
I tense, waiting for her to mention the pâté, but when she doesn’t I relax again. I need to dispose of it before she asks to have it tested.
‘Nothing I shouldn’t have done,’ she says.
The doctor scribbles on a pad. ‘What did you eat for l ―’ The doctor’s pager interrupts him and he glances at it. ‘Sorry, I have to go. Here’s a prescription for some more EpiPens. Make sure you have two with you at all times.’
He mutters to the nurse that the patient can be discharged, then he nods at Jenna and leaves. Jenna looks perplexed and opens her mouth as though to speak.
‘I’ll bring the car to the entrance,’ I tell her to distract her.
She nods and swings her legs over the side of the bed then slowly gathers her clothes together.
I pay an hour’s wage for the car park, which Jenna won’t think to reimburse, and drive to where she stands waiting. I see her nose wrinkle in disgust at the smell in my car. It’s not my fault the previous owner was careless with his shopping.
‘Sorry, it smells like a dead body in here,’ I say.
‘Have you murdered someone?’ Jenna laughs then her smile slides away as she considers her own fears.
‘Spilt milk,’ I say quickly, thinking how right she is to be afraid. ‘Do you want me to stop anywhere on the way home?’
‘The pharmacy, please.’ She waves her prescription in the air. ‘Then let’s get back to Mum. She’s been on her own too long.’
We walk into the lounge together and Fiona looks up. I study her beloved face to follow the direction of her gaze. It lingers on Jenna with a warm smile before I even get a glance.
‘Jenna! You look so much better.’ Fiona gets off the sofa and wraps Jenna in a tight embrace. ‘Come and sit with me. Perhaps you could read to me.’
They’re so wrapped up in each other that, after a brief thank you, they’ve forgotten about me. It hurts. I’ve been more than patient these past four months, trying to gradually build a relationship with my real mother. Trying to earn her trust and respect. I’ve worked hard to become indispensable to this family so that when I finally reveal who I am they won’t reject me.
I should have told Fiona that she’s my birth mother before, but the right moment never seemed to present itself. We got interrupted or I lost my courage at the last minute. What if I don’t match her expectations as a daughter? Jenna is prettier, more outgoing, confident, bright and funny, but who wouldn’t be after the gilded life she’s led? It’s so bloody unfair.
Jenna sits with my mother’s arm around her. I clench my hands and dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from dragging Jenna off the sofa. When I next get Fiona on my own I’m going to find the courage to tell her the truth. Her illness is stealing our future and time is running out for us. Next time, I promise myself. Next time I’ll do it.
Chapter 56
The Previous May | DI Paton
‘Can I come with you, Dad? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll stay in the hotel room and watch TV while I wait for you to come back.’ Tommy crossed his heart, tilted his head to one side and gave his dad a cheeky grin. ‘I can help you solve the clues. I helped before, didn’t I?’
‘You certainly did, lad and I’d love you to come, but I wouldn’t be allowed to take you.’ Tommy had given Paton some crucial information during his two weeks’ work experience placement that had been pivotal in the case he was investigating. Paton folded a shirt and added it to his small suitcase. ‘The police are paying for the room and you’re not an employee so you’d be trespassing.’
