I wish she hadn’t hidden all this from me. I nearly say it, then realise there’s no point. It’s not going to make her feel any better to think that if she’d told me everything then, all those years ago, Georgina might …
Might still be alive? Why?
I’d have told her to take the kids and get as far away from Lewis as possible. Would that have worked, though? Or would he have made a different plan to punish her? ‘His whole plan’, she said.
‘Flora?’ I can’t put off asking any longer.
‘What?’
‘Did Lewis murder Georgina?’
She looks away.
‘Flora?’
‘It was my fault.’
‘Georgina’s death was your fault?’
She nods.
‘The story you and Lewis told me about the wine and the argument you had, how it led to Georgina’s death – that was true?’
‘No.’
‘Tell me what happened. How did Georgina die?’
I wait.
‘Flora? I think Lewis killed her. I think he’s the one who belongs in HMP Peterborough. Not you.’
She shudders. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. Daily Responses.’
‘How do you …’ Her mouth gapes open.
‘Lewis took a phone call this morning on the way into work. He didn’t know I was behind him. I was about to call his name, but then his phone rang, so I didn’t. I eavesdropped instead. He spoke very briskly, as if to a business associate, and said “Are you ready for Daily Responses?”. It sounded kind of religious, like a ritual. Then I went inside and all the VersaNova receptionists were wearing badges with cheesy new-age mottos on them. Stupidly, I assumed Daily Responses was some kind of corporate mindfulness bullshit, but it isn’t. Lewis wasn’t talking to a colleague on the phone. He was talking to you.’
She stares at me blankly.
I go on, telling her what she already knows. ‘It is a ritual – I was right about that part. A daily ritual, I assume, if it’s called Daily Responses.’ Lewis giving it a name makes it even sicker. ‘I only realised later that the questions I heard him ask fit perfectly with the things I heard you say just over a week earlier, when you got out of your car in Hemingford Abbots in the middle of a phone call. No wonder you were crying. It’s a form of torture. Has it been going on ever since Georgina died?’
Flora nods. ‘Some days I can get through it fine. Others, I go to pieces. You must have seen a bad day.’
‘Daily Responses: three questions and three answers, the same each time. I heard Lewis ask you the questions this morning: “Where are you? Where should you be? And what are you?” And that day on Wyddial Lane, the first time I’d laid eyes on you in twelve years, I heard you recite the replies.’
Question 1: Where are you?
Answer: Home.
Question 2: Where should you be?
Answer: HMP Peterborough.
Question 3: And what are you?
Answer: Lucky. I’m very lucky.
‘He must have recorded you saying it at some point,’ I tell her. ‘When he rang me the first time, I heard your voice in the background saying answer number three.’
Flora turns on the tap and pours herself more water. She doesn’t offer me any.
‘Maybe he records it every time.’ I wouldn’t put it past Lewis to collect Flora’s Daily Responses and file them away. ‘He didn’t this morning, though. The thing is … I don’t think you do belong in prison, Flora. I don’t think you killed Georgina. Lewis did, didn’t he?’
‘I think so,’ she says.
‘What does that mean?’
She opens her mouth and lets out a sigh, long and loud. ‘It’s a relief to say it after so many years. I’ve never said it before. Yes, I think Lewis murdered Georgina. The story he told you about me and the wine was a lie. Not the wine part – that was true. I did have a couple of glasses. By then, I needed at least a glass a night just to keep me from screaming and falling apart. I kept thinking “There must be something I can do” but I had no idea what it might be. My husband hated me and one of our children, and had no intention of relenting. I couldn’t leave him. That would have meant leaving Thomas and Emily too – he’d never have let me take them away from him, I knew that. What I didn’t know was that he’d made a foolproof plan to take them away from me. Forever. And then make me suffer, forever. Killing Georgina was only stage one. There was plenty more to come.’
We stare at each other in silence. Now I see what she meant. To say, ‘That’s horrific,’ or ‘That’s evil,’ could never be enough.
‘Tell me about the night Georgina died,’ I say, though I’m not sure I can bear to hear it.
‘I started to feel unusually sleepy. I felt so bad, I had to mention it to Lewis, who accused me of drinking too much. Now it seems so obvious that he drugged me, but it didn’t occur to me then. However grim things were between us, I wouldn’t have suspected he’d do that. I thought I must be coming down with something. Lewis told me to go to bed and said he’d look after the kids. I didn’t want to leave Georgina with him, but I could hardly keep my eyes open.’
‘Did you fear he’d hurt her?’
‘Not in the way he did. I thought I knew exactly what he’d do. It was what he’d been doing since she was born: being Wonder-Dad to the other two and ignoring Georgina completely. Since I’d told him I was pregnant with her, he’d shut out both of us as much as he could. The only time he turned on the charm was if he thought Thomas or Emily might notice something was wrong. He still wanted to preserve the illusion of the perfect family for them, so he’d make a point of being nice to me when we were all together, and sometimes he’d cuddle Georgina too, though he never looked at her. The second Thomas and Emily left the room, the act would end and the coldness would resume.’
I want to kill him. I’ve never had this feeling before, about anyone.
‘I remember just before I fell asleep, worrying that he might leave Georgina unchanged and unfed,’ says Flora. ‘She would always cry if she was hungry or uncomfortable, though, and there was nothing wrong with her lungs. She could scream loud enough to make your hair stand on end. But she never did, or if she did, it didn’t wake me, thanks to whatever Lewis put in my food. I know he drugged me. I know exactly how much I drank that night – two glasses of wine, same as most nights. There’s no way that would have knocked me out. If wine was all I’d had, I’d have woken up when Lewis came into my room and … stopped Georgina breathing.’
‘I’m so sorry, Flora.’
‘He probably used a pillow.’ Her voice shakes. ‘I woke up in the middle of the night to find him shaking me and telling me the same lie you’ve already heard, the one he made me tell too: I drank too much wine, took Georgina up to bed, rolled over and smothered her to death by accident while in a drunken stupor. All a lie. When I dragged myself up to bed, she was still downstairs with Lewis. But he said my memory couldn’t be trusted, because I’d drunk so much. He sneered at me. Said how could I deny I’d taken her up with me when he’d seen me do it. Even if I had, I’d never have put her in bed with me, not when I felt as bad as I did. I’m not an idiot. I was a good mother.’