by Roz Watkins
36.
I turned to look through the frost-covered trees. Mum had fallen behind. I waited for her to catch up. She was breathing heavily. ‘You’re fast,’ she said. ‘Despite your ankle.’
‘That ankle may have saved my life. It’s still a bit sore though.’ I reached and gave it an affectionate rub.
We carried on, and arrived at the statues.
Mum stepped forward towards the screaming child. ‘Terrible. To think that really happened only a few hundred years ago.’
‘You know the story, then.’ I led Mum to the bench and we sat down. The wood was damp and I could feel the cold even through my thick coat. ‘And what if it’s still going on, Mum? I know what Tom did was appalling, but for God’s sake, what if his sister really was murdered for her organs and they got away with it?’
Mum touched my arm. ‘You have to focus on the things you can change,’ she said. ‘Or you’ll go mad. The world’s full of terrible things. Horrific things. But you work hard here and you right some wrongs and you do your best.’
‘I suppose I try. But I am going to see if there’s anything I can do to help with the campaign for the Falun Gong. Everyone’s talking about it now. Maybe something good can come out of Tom’s horrific behaviour.’
‘What’ll happen to him?’
‘He’ll be locked up for a long time. Probably in a psychiatric unit. They’ll go for insanity. We’re okay with that.’ I stared into the trees. Wisps of mist touched their tops. ‘I understand why he was so angry though. Imagine if Carrie had been killed so someone could have her organs. How can people let that happen? How could Phil Thornton let it happen? He knew they were going to kill someone to get him a heart and he went ahead with it anyway.’
‘People can be good at deluding themselves,’ Mum said. ‘And don’t we make these decisions all the time? Children on the other side of the world are dying for want of cheap antibiotics. And yes, we send them money from time to time, but not enough to significantly disrupt our lives. Phil Thornton just took that a step further.’
‘I see what you’re saying, but I still think it’s different. And look how poor Abbie suffered. All she went through, because of this. All the misery.’
‘How is she now?’
‘She’s okay. Her mother explained everything to her. It was hard for her to understand what her dad did. But she’ll be alright. And I’m pretty confident she didn’t kill her sister. It seems the sister fell and Abbie pretended she’d pushed her because she thought it would make her dad happy.’
‘Good heavens. The poor child.’
‘At least she knows now that she’s not going mad, and there’s nothing wrong with her heart.’
‘Thank goodness. And I’m very glad you’re not paralysed. I wouldn’t want to be looking after you as well as Gran.’
I put my hands on my knees and said a few silent words of thanks for my legs. I turned to Mum. ‘Actually, what Tom said made sense. Gran would have suffered less if she’d never come round. But I couldn’t seem to let that happen. Bloody stupid really. A bit like that thought experiment where you have to chuck a fat man off a railway bridge to save ten workers on the line below and you can’t do it.’
‘You were very brave,’ Mum said. ‘And a little silly.’
I sank back against the freezing bench. ‘Are you okay about Gran’s decision not to go to Switzerland?’
Mum nodded. ‘Relieved actually. It would have been such a difficult trip. And we’ll just have to manage it. I know it won’t be easy. But she’s so happy that she was able to help you, it seems to be making it easier for her to cope.’
‘She was fab,’ I said. ‘The way she pushed Tom’s hand out of the way. To be honest, I think she just keeled over, but it did the trick. She’s in all the papers. SuperGran.’
‘It’s going on her gravestone.’
I looked up to see Jai walking towards us through the trees. ‘You came,’ I said.
‘Wanted a look at these statues I’ve heard so much about.’ He stepped over and read the plaque. ‘Nice. It was Thornton’s biggest charitable donation in his will, you know. To the Falun Gong.’
‘He was tormented by what he’d done,’ I said. ‘It saved his life, but it also destroyed him and ultimately got him killed.’
The breeze dropped and I felt the silent presence of the statues.
‘Rachel Thornton got in touch,’ Jai said. ‘She finally heard back from Abbie’s real donor.’
I jerked my head up. ‘Oh? Who was it?’
‘A little boy. No similarities to Abbie’s dreams. There was one weird thing though.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘He was very artistic – absolutely loved to draw and paint. Horses and dogs mainly. Apparently he was pretty good.’
A tiny shiver went down the back of my neck. ‘Abbie started drawing horses and dogs, after her transplant.’
‘I know,’ Jai said. ‘Not that it matters now, but I thought you might be interested. Anyway, do you both fancy a drink? There’s a pub on the main road. My round.’
I grabbed Mum’s hand and pulled her up off the bench. ‘Come on. Quick. The statues have put a spell on Jai.’
Mum jumped up with uncharacteristic sprightliness, and set off for the main road with Jai. I waited a moment in the cold gaze of the statues before following them through the trees.
Acknowledgements
Writing the acknowledgements plunges me into a state of extreme anxiety, and I’d first like to thank anyone I’ve forgotten to thank. You know who you are – please don’t hate me too much.
Huge thanks to my fantastic agent, Diana Beaumont – as happy dancing to the Fun Lovin’ Crime Writers as she is negotiating a deal. I feel very fortunate to have her on my side.
Thank you to my brilliant previous editor, Sally Williamson, and my equally brilliant new editor, Emily Kitchin, my excellent copy-editor, Jamie Groves, and proof-reader, Anne O’Brien, and to the whole HQ team, including Lisa Milton, Lucy Richardson, Lily Capewell, Joe Thomas, and all the others who work tirelessly to support our books.
Again, Jo and Ducky Mallard were indispensable and coped admirably with my disturbing questions about arterial spurt and blood spatter, and other gunky things that are lovely to chat about over a drink or two.
Since I wrote my first book, something wonderful has been created – the Doomsbury writing group, including Sophie Draper, Fran Dorricott, Jo Jakeman, and Louise Trevatt. Thanks guys for all your support and general loveliness. Other critiquers for this book included Gemma Allen, Fay Gordon, Katherine Armstrong, Alice Hill, Robyn Arend, and Hjordis Fischer. Thank you so very much.
All my friends have been brilliantly supportive, including Ali Clarke and all the Alderwasley crowd, Sally Randall, Sarah Breeden, Ruth Grady, Emma Goodchild, Catherine Hodgetts, Susan Fraser, Estelle Read, Lucy Padfield, Keren Hill, Helen Chapman, Beccy Bagnall, and the members of White Peak Writers, including Tina, Pam, Isobel, Angela, Rachel, Mary, Tom, and Alex, plus Alex Davis and the people I met on his course, including Glenda, Peter, Ray and Carl. Also the patent attorney community, who have been very enthusiastic, despite (or possibly because of) me killing one of them early in proceedings. The crime writing community is also incredibly supportive and generally wonderful (and a little bit drunk). Thank you to all the writers who took the time to read and comment on my first book – there are too many to mention but I hope you know who you are. I was overwhelmed by the support I received. Likewise, the book bloggers and those who run book groups on Facebook, and those who take the time to post reviews – it really does make a huge difference. Also, my local bookshops, especially Waterstones Derby, Sheffield and Chesterfield, and Scarthin Books – I love you all. (This is becoming too much – I’m almost making myself cry. I can hear the cat saying, ‘Get over yourself – it’s just a book and it sent me to sleep’.)
Thank you to Rob, my mum (who has the eyes of a hawk when it comes to proof-reading) and dad, and Julian and Marina, for putting up with all
this author stuff, and to Katia and Maxim for periodic sidewaysing of my book.
Finally, thank you to my readers, who’ve been so enthusiastic and encouraging. As a debut author, that means the world. Thank you for choosing to read this book – I really hope you enjoyed it.
About the Publisher
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