Ellie, who has been standing frozen in the centre of the balcony, sways at the sound of the sirens and her face morphs into an expression of abject terror. Taking a couple of unsteady steps backwards, she flattens herself against the rotting guardrail. The rail gives an almighty screech and folds like a paper concertina, sending the girl plunging downwards, followed by my despairing screams.
100
PL: Interview with Mary Jefferson. Ten fifty-four a.m. Present are Detective Inspector Petra Leigh, Detective Inspector Carl Younis, Maxine Erskine from legal aid, Tony Vine from social services and Mary Jefferson.
PL: Mary, do you know why you’re here today?
PL: For the benefit of the tape Mary has shrugged. So it hasn’t been explained to you why you have been bought here?
MJ: You want to ask me about what happened to Ms Gilbert.
PL: Okay, good. So can you tell us where you were the night Ms Gilbert died?
CY: Again, Mary is shrugging. You see, Mary, we’ve spoken to Imogen Reid, and she’s told us that you admitted to luring your teacher to the block of flats where she died, and that you were there it happened. Is that true?
MJ: *Inaudible*
PL: Could you speak up for the tape?
MJ: I said yeah.
CY: Thank you. Can you tell us why you left Ms Gilbert the note telling her to go to the flats that night?
MJ: It was just a trick.
CY: And what was the point of the trick? To embarrass her? Inconvenience her? Blackmail her?
MJ: I just wanted to scare her. Freak her out a bit.
PL: So you didn’t go there to tell Ms Gilbert that you knew about her affair with your maths teacher, Mr Hawker? For the benefit of the tape Mary is shaking her head.
MJ: No, I wasn’t even going to show my face. I wanted her to think it was Ellie who’d set her up.
PL: That’s Ellie Atkinson, your foster sister? For the—
MJ: Yes, my foster sister. For the benefit of the tape. Ms Gilbert already hated her, I was just trying to get her in a bit of trouble.
CY: Why did you want to get Ellie in trouble, Mary?
MJ: Because I wanted to get rid of her. I wanted them to stop taking in any more kids.
PL: You wanted to get rid of her. Is that why you did those other things? The things at school?
ME: If you are asking Mary to admit to something she may later be charged with you need to be more specific with the question.
PL: Is that why you attacked Naomi Harper in the lunch hall?
MJ: I don’t know what happened then.
PL: What do you mean, you don’t know what happened? You did attack Naomi, didn’t you. Imogen Reid stated—
MJ: I know what Imogen stated. I did whack Naomi, and I chopped a chunk out of her hair but there is no way I hit her hard enough to put her in hospital. And I only cut off a chunk, not half her head.
PL: Are you suggesting someone else hurt Naomi at the exact same time as you?
MJ: I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying I didn’t hit her that hard. I’m not Anthony Joshua.
CY: And the night Ms Gilbert died, Mary, did you kill her but not that much?
ME: Detective. Mary that was the detective being facetious and you don’t have to answer that.
CY: Sorry Mary, Mrs Erskine is right. So can you answer me this; did you push Ms Gilbert down the stairs?
MJ: No.
PL: You sound pretty certain of that. Are you sure you didn’t bang into her by accident?
MJ: No, I didn’t touch her.
PL: Or that the pair of you didn’t argue when she caught you in the flats? Perhaps you threatened to tell her husband about her affair and you fought? Maybe you were just defending yourself?
ME: I’m fairly certain that Mary made it clear she didn’t make physical contact with Hannah Gilbert.
PL: Of course. Did you see Hannah fall, Mary?
MJ: Kind of.
PL: What do you mean by kind of?
MJ: I’d made some noises, footsteps and stuff. I put the radio on in the flat and she went and turned it off but she must not have done it right because it came straight back on. Next minute she was freaking out as though she was being chased. Then I heard her fall.
PL: But you were nowhere near her when she fell?
MJ: No! I swear. She just went a bit mental. I didn’t even think I’d been that scary.
PL: And what about Imogen Reid? She claims she was pushed into the canal on—
MJ: I didn’t push Imogen into the canal. I wasn’t even there. We’re not supposed to go there because people get robbed.
CY: So are you saying Imogen fell into the canal?
ME: You don’t have to answer that, Mary. She’s just told you she wasn’t there, and therefore can’t speculate what happened to Imogen Reid.
PL: So you honestly expect us to believe that you had nothing to do with Hannah Gilbert falling down the stairs, despite being there when she fell and admitting you lured her there in the first place, and you aren’t responsible for Naomi Harper’s injuries despite having . . . ‘whacked her’?
MJ: Yeah I do. I don’t know what happened to Gilbert or Naomi, I’m telling you—
CY: Mary, sit down please.
MJ: But I’m telling you and you won’t listen, that wasn’t me! I wasn’t trying to hurt them, it was just . . . I was just . . . I didn’t push her, that’s all. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know.
TV: I think that’s enough for now. Clearly Mary is distressed and she’s answered your questions. We need to take a break.
MJ: But I didn’t do it! You need to make them understand! It was . . . I just didn’t kill anyone, all right?
PL: Interview terminated at eleven twenty-three.
Epilogue
Six months later
The young girl sits with her back to us at the bottom of the long sloping garden. She is sitting in an electric wheelchair, a large sketch pad resting precariously on her knees, and she seems to be focusing all her attention on whatever it is she’s drawing,
‘How’s she getting on?’ I ask, turning away from the kitchen window and taking a sip of my coffee. Pammy smiles.
‘She’s doing great. The doctors have said she’ll be walking again fine in no time. She’s a fighter. She doesn’t even use the chair half the time now. Don’t me get wrong, she’s too clever by half and can be a stroppy teenager already, but so far she’s not turned anyone into a frog or cursed us to live for all eternity as a tea set. Sooo . . .’ she shrugs, ‘so far so good.’
I let out a laugh, and it feels good. ‘Very funny.’
‘Oh, and don’t ask me how, but she can get that log fire roaring in minutes. Takes me a good hour to get a spark.’
‘All right, stop it.’ I cross to where my friend is sitting at the kitchen table and join her. ‘I’m so glad you and Richard took her in, Pam. I was worried that after what happened, people round here would want her out for good.’ I still have nightmares where I see Ellie plunging to the ground, but instead of landing on the balcony below as she did that night, in my nightmares she keeps falling, and falling, and falling . . .
‘People here aren’t that bad,’ Pammy says, her quiet voice pulling me back into the kitchen. ‘Yes, it can be a bit League of Gentlemen if you aren’t from around here – and yes, before you say it, I remember full well that you grew up around here, thanks, but all those years in between, well, you’ve forgotten that this can be a good place too. That for all their idiosyncrasies—’
‘Oh, that’s what you call accusing a child of witchcraft?’
Pammy ignores me, and to her credit doesn’t mention those few crazy days when I took leave of my senses. ‘For all their idiosyncrasies, people here really do stick together when it comes to it. Look what happened when Mary went postal. You should stick around a bit longer. Sell your mum’s place, buy somewhere else, start again.’
‘I’m not so sure, Pam. We’ve been here almost a year and literally all we
have are bad memories. The baby, the fire . . .’
At least work is going well. When I went back after the fire, there were two huge bouquets of flowers waiting for me, and Lucy took me out to lunch, where she told me all about Emily’s affair with Edward – the real reason she left in a hurry. It seems all you need to be accepted into the inner circle is a near-death experience.
‘You can’t just keep running every time something goes wrong. And she’ll miss you.’ Pammy inclines her head to where Ellie is still deeply engrossed in her task. ‘You were the only one who believed in her. You saved her life. Isn’t that a good memory?’
‘I shouldn’t have had to. I should have seen sooner what Mary was up to. When the chips were down, I treated Ellie exactly the same as everyone else did. I was ready to crucify her too, although thank goodness she doesn’t know that. I’m not proud of the person I’ve been since I got here. I owe Dan, and our baby, a better person than that.’
Pammy shrieks. ‘You’re . . .?’
I shake my head. ‘No, not yet. But we’re trying. The doctors say it might never happen again, so we have to prepare ourselves for that. I suppose one good thing has come out of what happened, though: me and Dan have never been stronger. I finally told him everything, about my mother, and what life was like here for me. I’m not sure he understands why that makes me so afraid of having children – in his eyes, I just have first-hand experience of how not to do it – but at least now if I freak out he knows why.’
‘I did try and tell you to be honest with the poor bloke. And while we’re on the subject of babies, and honesty . . .’ She picks up the two empty coffee cups and takes them around to the sink so her back is to me. I realise what she’s getting at and gasp.
‘You’re not? But that’s wonderful!’
Pammy spins around, a huge smile lighting up her pretty features. ‘I am. Eight weeks. You’re the first person I’ve told, apart from Richard,’ she adds, seeing the frown cross my face. ‘We have our first scan in three and a half weeks. I’m shitting myself. Actually, I’m literally shitting myself – does pregnancy make you poo more?’
I laugh, but a heavy feeling settles in my stomach. ‘What about Ellie? I know the fostering was only supposed to be temporary, but I’d so hoped . . .’
‘We’re going to start the adoption process as soon as possible,’ Pammy says. She looks over her shoulder at where Ellie has stopped drawing and is gazing out across the fields at the back of the garden. ‘If she wants us to, that is. I thought she’d want to leave Gaunt altogether, but she seems to like it here, and we love her. We have an appointment with social services next week, though Ellie doesn’t know yet. We want to get a feel for whether they think it will be possible, how long it might take before we should speak to her.’
‘Pammy, that’s wonderful.’ I envelop my friend in a hug. Although I’m genuinely pleased for her, I can’t help that tiny nugget of jealousy – no, sadness at my own situation – blooming in my stomach. The doctors warned me and Dan just how difficult it will be for me to carry a baby to full term; we are in for a tough time. And I know Ellie expected me to request to be the one to look after her following the fire, but despite knowing that she isn’t to blame for the things that have happened since we arrived in Gaunt, I can’t help but associate her with heartbreak and death. I know it’s not fair, but every time I look at her, it all comes flooding back. I couldn’t have been happier when Pammy offered to go through the various classes and security checks to make sure Ellie has a safe, calm environment to live in.
‘Thanks. I felt bad about telling you because . . . you know . . .’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say. ‘It’s fantastic news. And Ellie will be over the moon. She’ll have a family of her own again.’
‘I hope so,’ Pammy says, gazing out at her new daughter-to-be. ‘We just want her to be happy here.’
Ellie sits with her sketchbook balanced on her knees, the picture nearly finished. She’s certain this one is her best yet; it’s a bit of a shame that she can’t show anyone. The lilac and pink of the moth as it takes flight against the cornflower blue of the sky really works, and the bright orange and red of the flames that envelop its wings, the ash from the burning moth trailing in the air behind it, the insect not yet realising that it is seconds from death . . . She’s really caught it all this time.
Everyone thought she would want to move away after the fire, start again somewhere else. Imogen, the social workers, they were all ready to ship her off somewhere completely new, until she asked if perhaps they wouldn’t mind finding her a foster family closer to where she was now. They don’t realise how much work she’s put in, how much things have changed since she arrived. She doesn’t want to start over again somewhere else.
And then there’s Pammy and Richard. They have been so kind to her, taking her in when Imogen refused, treating her like a real daughter. Ellie looks at the lighter in her hand, pushes her thumb against the flint.
Flick, flame. Flick, flame. Flick, flame.
And now Pammy’s gone and got pregnant. They think she doesn’t know about the baby, about how excited they are to have a real child of their own. Ellie wonders how long it will be before they send her packing, like the Jeffersons planned to do. But they aren’t taking in any babies now, are they? The police think Mary pushed Hannah down the stairs and that Ellie was just an innocent victim. It has all worked out better than she could have planned. And now she’s going to be replaced by a baby, just like with her mum and dad, just like the Jeffersons.
She removes her thumb from the flint and the flame continues to spring from the lighter by itself.
Flick, flame. Flick, flame. Flame, flame, flame.
She can’t let that happen again.
Acknowledgements
There are a million people who bring a book to life, and it’s at this stage I’m crippled with the overwhelming fear that I’ll forget to thank one of them. So please be assured that if you helped in any way – however small you think it might be – with this book, I am forever grateful.
There are some people that I must thank individually. As always, my amazing agent Laetitia Rutherford. How you put up with me at certain stages I have no idea, I can only assume you have my breakdowns scheduled into your calendar by now. To Megan and all at Watson, Little: you rock.
To everyone in the Headline family, but in particular my editor, Kate Stephenson. Also Millie, Jo, Ella and Siobhan – it is a pleasure to work with such wonderful women.
For those at my day job I can only imagine I have been an absolute nightmare, so a deep thank you to all at Shropshire Fire and Rescue Service. I know you will be furious at me for the liberties I have taken with the effects of fire. (Now you know why I left before release date!) I have been lucky enough to have had two amazing managers, Maxine and Yvonne, and I shall miss my SFRS family immensely. Also to Pammy for the loan of her name and her colourful language.
Thank you to Mr Maxwell and his wife Florence for their generosity at the charity auction, and also to Nicky Black for hers. That my books can help raise money for such worthy causes makes me happier than anything that has happened to me on my publishing journey.
To all my friends, family and the hilarious bunch of cock-blankets on the crime scene. You all keep me sane. Ish. And thank you most of all to my mum and dad, to whom this book is dedicated. You are the most wonderful people and I am so lucky to have you to lean on.
Ash. You have put up with more from writer me than I would imagine possible. A writer is a hellish creature to live with, and you do an admirable job of not using any of the various means of killing a wife and destroying the evidence that I have so unwittingly taught you. You and the boys are my world, and if it were time it would be forever. To Connor and Finlay, I promise to buy you all the sweets when this is done.
And of course, my most important thank you goes to you, wonderful buyer of books. To the bloggers who support authors constantly with no reparation, to the casual summe
r reader and the voracious devourer, to the audio-book addict and the first time dabbler. Without you my books would be no more than mutterings into the abyss. I hope you enjoy this one.
If you enjoyed THE FOSTER CHILD, don’t miss Jenny Blackhurst’s other gripping, twisty thrillers . . .
Available now from
Headline
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
About Jenny Blackhurst
Praise for Jenny Blackhurst
Also by Jenny Blackhurst
About the Book
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: Ellie
Chapter 2: Imogen
Chapter 3: Ellie
Chapter 4: Imogen
Chapter 5: Imogen
Chapter 6
Chapter 7: Imogen
Chapter 8
Chapter 9: Imogen
Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Imogen
Chapter 12
Chapter 13: Imogen
Chapter 14: Ellie
Chapter 15: Imogen
Chapter 16: Imogen
Chapter 17: Ellie
Chapter 18: Imogen
Chapter 19: Ellie
Chapter 20: Imogen
Chapter 21: Ellie
Chapter 22: Imogen
Chapter 23: Imogen
Chapter 24: Ellie
Chapter 25: Imogen
Chapter 26: Imogen
Chapter 27: Ellie
Chapter 28: Imogen
Chapter 29: Ellie
Chapter 30: Imogen
Chapter 31: Imogen
Chapter 32: Imogen
Chapter 33: Ellie
Chapter 34: Imogen
Chapter 35: Imogen
Chapter 36: Ellie
Chapter 37
Chapter 38: Imogen
Chapter 39: Ellie
Chapter 40: Imogen
The Foster Child Page 31
