‘Four,’ she whispers.
‘That must have been expensive.’
‘It almost broke us. Bryan didn’t want to keep paying. “If it happens, it happens,” he said.’
‘That must have been hard. Being around Maggie made it worse because she had Felix. Every day you were being reminded of what you couldn’t have . . .’
She gives a hiccupping sob.
‘In your desperation to have a child, you slept with your brother-in-law. Dougal is Aiden’s father, not Bryan.’
Felicity groans.
‘Nobody could ever find out – not Maggie, or Aiden, or your husband. That’s why you couldn’t let Aiden fall in love with Jodie. You couldn’t let them sleep together or have a baby.’
‘It was incest. It was wrong,’ she whispers.
‘When Bryan told you that Jodie was pregnant, you didn’t know that Aiden was the father until you overheard them together in the caravan that night. You confronted Jodie. You begged her to have an abortion.’
‘I wanted her to understand,’ says Felicity. ‘Why wouldn’t she listen?’
‘You followed her.’
‘She was being foolish. She was risking Aiden’s future and her own. He’s going to Cambridge. She’s going to the Olympics.’
‘Did you tell her that Aiden was her half-brother?’
I hear another stifled sob. ‘She wouldn’t have believed me.’
‘What happened?’
‘I wanted her to hear what I was saying . . . to listen. She was ruining everything.’
‘You tried to stop her.’
‘I didn’t hit her hard.’
‘What did you use?’
‘A piece of iron – a fence post. It was lying on the ground . . . near the bridge. I only hit her once. I thought she was pretending, you know. I shook her. I said her name. I put my hand on her chest . . .’
‘You pushed her body into the water.’
‘I thought she was dead. I thought I’d killed her.’
‘She was still alive.’
Felicity moans.
Lenny is signalling me from the road. Aiden is with him.
‘He’s here,’ I say. ‘The police have brought Aiden.’
I hear the floorboards creak as Felicity stands. Moments later, the library curtains twitch and open a crack.
‘I want to talk to him,’ she says. ‘I need to explain.’
‘Come out and you can talk to him.’
‘No! Send him in.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
Her voice changes: ‘SEND HIM IN, OR I’LL KILL HER!’
‘Please stay calm,’ I say. ‘If you lose your temper the police will storm this place.’
‘Let them try.’
‘You don’t want that. Let me come inside. Swap me for Evie. I can make them understand. I can get Aiden for you.’
There is a long pause before the lock turns. The door swings inwards. Felicity has her arm around Evie’s neck.
‘Let her go.’
‘Not until you’re inside.’
‘Don’t believe her,’ yells Evie. Her eyes are swollen and almost closed, and vomit stains the front of her pyjamas. I slip past them into the hallway, which reeks of turpentine, gas and alcohol.
Felicity keeps her distance, holding the cheap plastic cigarette lighter to Evie’s cheek.
‘Put your hands through the railings,’ she says, pointing towards the stairs.
Felicity kicks a roll of packing tape across the floor and tells Evie to bind my wrists. Evie struggles to unspool the tape because her own wrists are bound, but manages to secure my hands while Felicity stands over her.
‘Turn off the gas and open the windows,’ I say. ‘We have to air the house.’
Felicity ignores me, jerking her thumb towards the door, telling Evie to get out.
‘I’m not going without Cyrus.’
‘Please, Evie, just go,’ I say.
‘She’s going to set the house on fire. She’s poured stuff all over your books.’
Felicity waves the lighter in front of Evie’s face, threatening to flick at the flint-wheel. ‘Last chance.’
Evie seems to react instinctively, spinning around and scrambling up the stairs. Blindly, she collides with a wall and bounces off, but keeps going, disappearing into the upper floors. This is madness. She has to get out.
‘Stupid little cow,’ curses Felicity, climbing past me on the stairs.
‘Leave her,’ I say. ‘You have other things to worry about.’
Lenny’s voice interrupts me, projected through a loudhailer.
‘Mrs Whitaker . . . we have your son.’
67
Angel Face
I squeeze between boxes in the turret room, navigating by touch. I slide my hand beneath a pillow until my fingers close around the oily rag. The pistol. I rack the slide, putting a bullet in the chamber, pointing it towards the door. There are no footsteps on the stairs. No blurry shadows in the doorway.
I put down the handgun and pick up the knife. Jamming the handle inside a closed drawer, I lean my hip against the front panel to keep the blade steady. I run my wrists back and forth against the sharpest edge, cutting the masking tape before ripping it with my teeth, spitting out bits of torn plastic.
I can hear Cyrus yelling my name, telling me to get out, until another voice drowns him out. Coming from outside.
Feeling my way between boxes, I stand on tiptoes at the window. Through watery eyes, I see two figures standing near the front gate.
I recognise Aiden’s voice. ‘Mum? It’s me.’
Mrs Whitaker answers, repeating his name, as though wanting to be sure.
‘What are you doing, Mum?’ yells Aiden.
‘I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean . . . I need to explain.’
‘OK. Are you coming out?’
‘Listen, baby.’ Her voice seems to break. ‘You’re going to hear some things about me, but you have to believe that everything I did was for you.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I tried to protect you. I wanted you to be happy.’
‘I was happy.’
‘You and Jodie . . . it was wrong. You couldn’t be with her – not like you were.’
‘Why?’
The question brings silence. Aiden asks again. ‘Mum? Why couldn’t I be with Jodie?’
Felicity answers in a wheedling, sorrowful voice. ‘She was your half-sister.’
‘You mean my cousin,’ says Aiden, less certain now.
‘No.’
‘How can she be my half-sister?’
‘I couldn’t get pregnant . . . not with your Dad.’
‘So, who is my father?’
Felicity answers hoarsely. ‘Your Uncle Dougal.’
Aiden doesn’t respond.
‘Are you there, baby? I know it’s a shock. I know I should have told you.’
Aiden’s voice changes. ‘Did you hurt Jodie?’
Another pause followed by a defeated moan. ‘It was an accident. I didn’t mean it. You have to forgive me.’
He says nothing.
‘Aiden?’
Without a word, he turns and brushes past the shoulders of the detective, walking past the police cars and the barricades and the watching crowd. Mrs Whitaker is calling after him. Begging him. He doesn’t stop.