‘What you did was defend someone while they were being attacked,’ I tell her. ‘No one is locking you up for that. Logan will tell them the truth, too.’
While we are speaking, Dr Evan arrives. Serena lets him and Verity in, and he is upstairs in seconds, crossing the room quickly and without ceremony. We all stop to watch him work as he pulls back the covers, begins the process of checking Howie’s wounds.
We stand there, waiting to hear what he has to say; if he thinks Howie will be all right. I’m not sure about anyone else, but I am holding my breath, desperate for him not to say it’s too late.
Verity hangs around in the doorway, wringing her hands and moving from foot to foot in a dance born of pure fear and anxiety.
‘He’ll be OK if we get him to hospital now. And I mean now. I’m not quite sure how he’s survived nearly six weeks like this,’ Dr Evan says and leaves the room to call an ambulance.
Verity rushes in to take her father’s place. She grabs Howie’s hand and he lights up at the sight of her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says to him. ‘So very, very sorry. I had no idea he would do that to you.’
‘Not. Your. Fault,’ he falteringly replies.
‘I’m still really sorry, though.’ She shakes her head, bites her lower lip, I think, to stop from crying. ‘This is his fault, Logan’s fault. But it’s also hers.’
My fault? Does she mean me?
‘If it wasn’t for you protecting Beccie when she hurts you, you would have been able to tell everyone your side of the story. You have to leave her.’
‘Vee . . .’
‘I said she was going to kill you and she almost did,’ Verity says sternly. ‘I will come with you, but you have to report her. You have to report everything she’s done to you. You have to get them your hospital records and everything. You have to make them see that she’s the abusive one, not you. That’s the only way.’
Howie just reclines against the bank of pillows and says nothing.
‘You have to do this, Howie. I will stay with you. For as long as you need, but you have to do this to save your own life.’
He doesn’t react for a long time and then slowly he nods. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘OK.’
Dr Evan returns and takes Howie’s pulse and we all stand around in silence again. No one knows what to say, but I know we’re all hoping and praying he lives.
Part 17
serena
Now
I’ve been sitting here on this road for a lifetime.
I honestly don’t want to do this, but I have to. I should have left it, but I couldn’t. Once I had hold of it, I honestly couldn’t do anything other than this.
Before I change my mind again, before I turn on the car engine and drive away from here as fast as is legally allowed, I open the car door and get out. This is a nice area, lots of privet hedges and net curtains. The neighbours pay attention to what is going on, so I won’t be surprised if someone already has my car registration noted down somewhere, just in case, you know, something dodgy happens.
This road I am crossing seems to be huge and I’m sure it’s getting wider as I walk, trying to keep me away from my destination. I have to keep going, I have to avoid all the mental tricks my mind is playing to stop me doing this. I have to. No matter how much I don’t want to do it, I need to.
The shadow that appears behind the door after I knock is oddly familiar and completely alien at the same time.
‘Hello,’ I say when he opens the door.
‘Serena? What are you doing here? How did you find me?’
‘Finding you wasn’t hard.’
‘Well, what are you doing here?’
‘I need your help, Jack.’
Jack Halnsley, Marcus’s son, frowns at me. If he has any idea what I need him for he doesn’t let on. Instead, he lets me into his home and then he just stands in his living room and listens as I tell him exactly what I need and how he can give it to me.
poppy
Now
Serena asked to meet me at the hospital.
I told her Logan was being discharged – to prison – tomorrow and could she wait until that was all sorted since it was bound to be traumatic for everyone.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘It has to be at the hospital with him and all your family. I need to tell you all what happened the night . . . the night he died. I know it’s difficult with your family right now, but do everything you can to get them all there, please.’
And here we are, crammed into his tiny room awaiting her arrival. The nurses have given up trying to ‘two at a time’ us because Logan is handcuffed to his bed most of the time and a police officer permanently stands outside.
We don’t speak as we sit in this room of machines; we can hear each other breathing, we can feel the heat of our bodies rising up together and creating an almost stifling warmth, but we’re all here because Serena is finally going to confess.
She must feel guilty, must have seen the devastation that keeping quiet has caused and has decided to come clean. Or maybe the memory loss that she told me about is improving. Maybe more has come back to her and, now everything is back, she needs to tell the truth. Enough of those lies; only truth now.
A little later than the three p.m. she suggested, the door to Logan’s room opens and a man steps over the threshold.
My heart stops when I see him.
Marcus.
Marcus.
I shoot out of my seat and rapidly back away until I can go no further and my back is literally against the wall.
Marcus is back. He’s come to finish what he started that night – to kill me. Behind him comes Serena. She is dressed all in black, something I’ve never seen her do before. Her hair is pulled back into a tight, slicked-down bun and her face is set in a harrowed, harrowing expression.
My eyes dart from her to him, from him to her. I think the others recognise him as well because I’m sure Mum and Bella gasp, but I can’t really take much in because of the apparition in front of me. I’m not sure if they’re gasping about Marcus or they’re gasping about Serena. But I am not able to get any further away from it, this thing that has come here to haunt me.
‘Thank you for meeting me here,’ Serena says, going straight into it. No hello or small talk. ‘I don’t know where to start, really, so I’m going to ask Jack to tell you what we talked about two days ago. Jack?’
Jack inhales and exhales very loudly. He stares at the ground for so long none of us expect him to actually speak by the time he raises his head. He looks sad, if anything. Not like Marcus at all now. The only time I recall Marcus looking sad was when he would talk about his son . . . Jack. My eyes widen in sudden understanding just as he says, ‘My name is Jack Halnsley. I’m Marcus Halnsley’s son. I know I look like him – enough people have told me so over the years.
‘I, erm . . . there’s no easy way to say this.’
My gaze goes to Serena, who is staring directly at me.
‘I’m going to tell you who killed my father, but it’s complicated. I made a bargain with Serena. I tell the truth, she agrees to spend some time with me, telling me about my father.’