by K. L. Slater
She pressed her foot a little more firmly on the accelerator, eager to put some distance between herself and Juliet’s house. But her respite was short-lived. Five minutes later, the car approached her parents’ house, and she took a sharp breath. The sight that confronted her was stark… shocking.
She forced herself to keep driving, past a much smaller group of locals, who seemed to have gathered for a chat outside the front gate. She’d expected more people, after her parents’ description of the ‘mob’ but the crowd outside Juliet and Tom’s place was much bigger. Still, what had happened here was more distressing and unexpected.
Again, the onlookers were too immersed in their conversations to notice her passing. Only when she had rounded the bend at the bottom of the road and was safely out of sight did she pull over and allow herself a minute to process what she’d seen.
The living room window had been completely smashed. She had clearly seen the cream leather sofa with her mother’s red fleece blanket folded over the arm. Without the filter of the glass, the framed photograph of Brianna on the wall was there for all to gawp at.
So many times she had read in news reports about people getting a brick through the window. It didn’t sound that bad when it was happening to someone else, but in reality it felt utterly violent and intrusive.
This was an act designed to expose their family shame to everyone. It encroached on their privacy and violated the safe space that was their home.
Billy from next door had been inspecting the damage with his builder son Kev as Chloe had driven past. He was a practical man, and she felt grateful that he’d be there to help put the mess right, probably even before her parents returned home later.
It seemed the locals had already held an unofficial trial and found the entire Voce and Fletcher families guilty. Maddy’s confession should set them straight, convince them that Brianna and Chloe were free of any blame. But these things didn’t always play out logically.
It had been unnerving to see how rapidly friends could become enemies. But could they turn back again… from enemies to friends?
Chloe wasn’t sure.
Her chest felt crushed with the realisation that things were probably never going to be the same around here for any of them. Chloe, her parents and Brianna were still Maddy’s extended family, and would be labelled accordingly by the other villagers.
People around here rarely forgave, never forgot. Old men were still getting abuse on the streets for breaking the 1984 miners’ strike in order to feed their families.
Something had to be done before it was too late for all of them. Maddy had confessed, and yet Brianna was still being held by the police. Once Chloe got back, she’d put more pressure on Seetal to get working on her release.
She glanced at her phone on the passenger seat to see if her WhatsApp message had been read yet. Sure enough, two little blue ticks had appeared, showing that it had been delivered and read.
That was something at least.
She continued her journey to Sutton-in-Ashfield and turned off at the reservoir, the tyres crunching over the gravelled car park. This had become their safe place for meeting. Squirrelled away from sight of the main road.
There were only four or five other vehicles parked up, their occupants probably running around the reservoir or walking their dogs, but Chloe took no chances and manoeuvred the Toyota over to the far side to wait.
It wasn’t long before another car turned into the car park, and she saw with relief that it was the familiar silver VW Golf.
She checked her face in the mirror and tucked lank wisps of hair back behind her ears. The passenger door opened and closed again, and the car filled with the soapy, clean smell of him.
Chloe felt her neck and shoulders relax a little.
‘Hi, Tom,’ she breathed as she reached for her brother-in-law’s hand.
Thirty-Four
Juliet
We’re transported to the new facility in a small minibus – me, Mum and Dad, the girls and DC Carol Hall.
Chloe has taken Dad’s car to go back to the house and when Tom got back from his meeting and I filled him in on Maddy’s confession, he abruptly made some excuse about needing time to get his head around it, and left again. The gulf between us seems wider than ever.
It’s all getting to Tom, I could see that as he left. He looks a shadow of his former self, wearing the worry about Maddy like a mask for all to see. I feel like I can’t touch him emotionally at the very time we should be pulling closer together.
During the journey, Maddy presses close to me and we hold hands. Brianna sits behind us next to Mum and Dad, so although I constantly whisper reassurances to Maddy, I don’t discuss her interview with Dana. There’s enough pressure on her right now, and I’m sure the detectives understand her confession was a knee-jerk reaction.
The stuff she said about someone pressuring her to do ‘bad things’ is bothering me but I try to remind myself it was just dreams. It didn’t happen in real life and there’s a big difference.
Maddy doesn’t say much, but she is talking. They both are. So I’m praying we’ll soon get the whole truth out of them and it will be proven that Maddy did nothing wrong after all.
When we first climbed into the minibus, I tried to catch Mum’s eye a couple of times. Whatever our girls say, there’s no point in us falling out about it. That won’t change or resolve anything.
But Mum makes a distinct effort not to look my way at all. There is this sort of distracted air about her, as if she hasn’t even got her mind on her granddaughters.
If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say there’s something else bothering her.
But what could be more important than all this?
The new facility is a single-storey prefab-type building on the outskirts of Mansfield. There are electric gates, and Maddy’s eyes widen as they swing open and a security guard waves us through.
‘Is this a prison?’ she whispers, and my heart leaps at the sound of her voice. Earlier today, I’d begun to think she might never speak again.
‘No, sweetie, it’s not a prison. It’s going to be much more comfortable here for us all while we sort out this mess with the police.’
I hear Mum say something to Brianna, but I can’t catch the words.
Inside the centre, we kiss the girls. ‘We’re off to get something nice to eat,’ Carol tells them. ‘You’ll see your mums again soon, OK?’
Brianna pulls away and tries to hang onto Dad’s arm, but Maddy just looks at me sadly and turns away.
‘I’ll see you in a little while, Brianna,’ Mum says tightly. ‘Come on, remember what I said. Be a brave girl and this will soon be over.’
As the girls walk away with Carol, I glare at my mum.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ She frowns back.
‘We’re far from home and dry,’ I say. ‘Brianna is obviously as confused as Maddy; they’re just reacting differently.’
‘Is that so?’ Mum says smugly. ‘Have you considered that Brianna might be telling the truth rather than just trying to save her own skin?’
‘Funnily enough, no!’ I snap. ‘I haven’t considered that because it would mean Maddy is cruel and violent, and as you know, Mum, that’s simply not true.’
An attendant shows me my room, a small but adequate space not unlike a private hospital room, with an adjoining bathroom, then leads me to the family room to wait for Tom. Mum and Dad are already in there. They’re both staring down at newspapers strewn over the floor.
Neither of them looks up when I walk in and close the door behind me.
I am invisible. I am on the outside looking in. My chat with Dana has opened up a chink in my coping defence and I have an overwhelming desire to be alone.
I have my handbag on my shoulder. Inside it is the phone I found in Maddy’s wardrobe. I need to turn it on and see what’s on there, but I’ve not been able to bring myself to do it. If there is anything incriminating – and according to Josh, there might w
ell be – I’ll put myself in a very tricky situation with the police.
‘It’s going to be all over the papers tomorrow, Juliet,’ Dad says eventually. ‘The nationals have got hold of the story good and proper now on their online websites.’
So this is how they want to play it. The elephant in the room: Brianna’s accusation, Maddy’s admission. Never to be mentioned.
Nothing gets talked about in this family. Nothing.
Opinions and judgements are made by my mother, and then the rest of us carry them like a torch. Questioning Mum’s reasoning has never been an option.
That’s how families work, isn’t it? Nobody actually sits down and says, ‘These are the family rules.’ We receive them subconsciously, we follow the example of others. Learning from childhood to turn a blind eye to the comments of a bigoted uncle because ‘that’s just the way he is’ and overlooking constant rudeness from a grumpy ‘but loveable’ aunt.
We willingly accept different standards of behaviour from different people and before we know it, the brainwashing is complete. We never think to question it when we become adults.
‘Are you all right, love?’ Dad narrows his eyes to get a better look at me. ‘You look a bit peaky.’ If the situation wasn’t so dire, I’d probably laugh at his comment.
‘Funnily enough, I feel terrible.’ I turn my gaze to look at Mum and Dad. ‘Seriously, think about it. I don’t hear you rushing to my daughter’s defence. If you think Maddy killed an old lady all on her own, that means Brianna was there and had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Does that make sense to you?’
The looks on their faces say it all: You are breaking the family rules, confronting us like this.
Mum’s hand flies to her throat. ‘What are you trying to say, Juliet? That Bree is lying?’
If the cap fits…
‘I’m asking you what you think of Brianna’s accusation and Maddy’s admission. I’m not trying to start an argument.’
‘Good, because there’s no point in us falling out,’ says Dad, eyeing Mum. ‘We have to stay strong for each other.’ He stands up and guides me to the chair next to Mum. ‘Sit yourself down there, lass.’
My thoughts feel indistinct, like I can’t quite grasp them. This room is so stuffy, I can’t bear it. But I don’t sit down.
‘This is my daughter’s life we’re talking about here. I’m not going to stand by and watch her be vilified on the strength of an accusation from her ten-year-old cousin, who may well be trying to save her own skin.’
Mum and Dad glance at each other, but nobody speaks.
DS March puts her head around the door and asks a little awkwardly if we can get everyone together as soon as possible.
‘DI Neary has some important news for you.’
Mum’s jaw sets and Dad pats her hand.
I feel heartened that they might have new evidence, or that they don’t believe Maddy’s confession.
‘I’ll try and contact Tom,’ I say. ‘I don’t know where he’s got to.’
‘Much appreciated.’ March nods and sweeps out of the room with an air of urgency.
Mum turns on me.
‘Tom should have stayed put.’ She fixes her dark eyes on me. ‘We’re all struggling to cope but we can’t just run off with our heads in our hands.’
‘Everybody has their own way of coping, Mum.’ I tell her. ‘If the business collapses and Tom loses his job, our problems will double overnight. We could lose the house and be declared bankrupt. It’s a heavy load to bear. And Chloe isn’t here either, don’t forget.’
‘Chloe’s daughter hasn’t done anything wrong.’ Mum can be so effortlessly cruel.
I feel a sudden urge to run out of the room. Anywhere that’s away from them.
‘Your mum’s just worried, love.’ Dad sees my face, immediately defaulting to his smoothing-over mode.
‘That’s always been the case though, hasn’t it, Dad? Mum’s worried so we’re all expected to keep our mouths shut and our opinions to ourselves.’
I turn away from her and call Tom, but it goes straight to voicemail.
‘He must have got delayed,’ I murmur, waiting for the beep so I can leave him a message. ‘Tom, it’s me. DI Neary needs to speak to us all. Can you come back here as soon as possible? Thanks.’
After ten minutes of sitting with my parents in near silence, DI Neary appears at the door. ‘No Tom or Chloe yet?’
‘Sorry. I’ve left Tom a message, but he’s not back yet,’ I say.
‘OK, well I’ve waited as long as I can, so I’ll just tell you and you can pass it on when he gets here. There’s been a development.’ He sounds a little breathless. ‘We’ve had a witness come forward.’
Thirty-Five
Chloe is the first to arrive at the juvenile detention centre. She is pale and shocked.
When I try to speak to her about Brianna’s accusation, she shrugs me off. ‘I need to speak to Mum and Dad about damage to their house first.’
I go back to my room. I don’t want to sit among them knowing they all support Brianna’s accusation.
Eventually Tom gets to the juvenile detention centre around ten minutes later. He texts me to say he’s in the lounge area with Chloe and our parents as he doesn’t know where my room is.
‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’ I rush over to him and then take in his expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
He looks at each of us in turn, as if he’s assessing the situation.
‘Have you got a moment, Juliet?’
Chloe sort of half gets up out of her chair as if she’s about to say something, and then changes her mind and sits back down again.
I walk out with Tom without saying another word to the others and close the door behind us.
‘Jeez, what’s the mood like in there? The atmosphere’s toxic.’
‘You don’t want to know,’ I murmur. ‘Just another dose of Voce family back-stabbing.’
In the brighter light of the corridor, I see that Tom’s face is grey. It’s scaring me, the way his mouth is turned downwards, his eyes bloodshot and troubled.
‘There’s been an incident, Juliet.’ He grasps at my arm as if I might run away. ‘A fire at the clothing unit.’
‘What? Is there much damage?’ An icy finger traces up the length of my spine and pincers the back of my neck.
‘Everything in there has been destroyed. All your existing stock, equipment, everything… It’s just a shell.’
I slump against the wall of the corridor. If the stock has gone, it means we can’t fulfil our existing orders.
‘The fire brigade are still there, but the fire is out now,’ Tom adds. ‘They’ve started investigating.’
‘But what happened? Was it a faulty cable or something?’ My mouth is dry, my mind racing through what we must have lost.
Tom looks down at the floor and shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry, Jules, they think… it might be arson.’
‘What?’ I whisper.
The poisonous graffiti on the garage door, the dog mess posted through the letter box, everything that’s being said online… I should’ve recognised the danger. Considered that it might escalate.
‘They don’t know for certain yet,’ Tom adds. ‘But the senior fire officer said there were possible signs of accelerant use. I’m so sorry. You’ve worked so hard at the business.’
Shit, shit, shit. And we just signed the massive new contract with Van Dyke’s. Thank goodness their clothes order hasn’t arrived yet though. It could have been worse.
My thoughts and words won’t seem to link up.
‘I don’t think Chloe will cope, Tom. She’s putting on a brave face, but there’s something wrong. She’s been acting weird for weeks now.’
He’s struggling himself, I can tell. His face darkens and I can’t bear to look at him. I feel so tired and have so many worries in my head, I just can’t seem to think straight.
He touches my cheek.
‘We�
�ll get through this, Jules, we will. But we can’t support Maddy and help the rest of the family if we fall apart.’ His tone is kind, but the words are spiked with the unthinkable. ‘Our needs take priority, remember that. We have to keep strong through everything that comes our way. Chloe will have to find a way of coping.’
My phone pings with a text from Beth.
Just heard about the fire. I’m worried about you. Tell me what I can do to help, pls call asap. B xx
When we signed the contract with Van Dyke, we put in a twelve-week order for all the stock to be made to our specifications. We paid a fifty per cent deposit via a temporary overdraft agreed with the bank on the strength of the contract.
Fulfilling orders with our other suppliers was going to go a long way to funding the remaining balance that’s outstanding… but now we have nothing left to sell because our existing stock has been destroyed.
‘We’re talking thousands of pounds, Tom. This could bankrupt us.’
I feel like I could cry for a week. Cry for my beautiful daughter, caught up in this terrible nightmare that won’t go away. Cry for the eighteen months of seventy-hour weeks I have put into the business to secure the future of my family.
I call Beth.
‘Anything I can do, just tell me, Juliet,’ she says urgently.
‘Can you meet me outside the juvenile centre in Mansfield?’ I ask. ‘I can get Tom to pick up the paperwork I have at home, and my memory stick. We may have lost everything else in the fire.’
‘Just let me have what you can, including your insurance company details, and I’ll start to piece things together. I’ll make a list of anything I need to ask you. The main thing is to fulfil that order according to the contract you signed. If we can do that, there might just be a way forward. I’ll be in touch later.’
‘Is Josh OK?’ I ask.
‘He’s absolutely fine. Glued to the TV I’m afraid, but I figure it won’t do him any harm, keeping his mind off stuff. He’s staying away from the Internet as people are saying some pretty rotten stuff.’
