Matthew deserves everything he gets from now on, and there’s no way she’s going to cover for him any more. Her mum needs to see what he’s really like. All those little bowls of paper Matthew is always burning in his bedroom. One day it’s going to land him in a world of trouble and there’s no way Sophie is going to protect him any longer.
An idea drifts through her thoughts. What if Sophie leaves a bowl of burnt paper in the kitchen where her mum will see it? Her mum would have to react then, she’d have to do something. It’s not even like Sophie will be setting him up, not really. She’s just showing her mum what Matthew has been up to.
Sophie sits up, wide awake now. Her mum said Trevor had ordered a taxi for ten p.m. She’ll be home in forty-five minutes. Plenty of time to set things in motion. Sophie digs in her bedside drawer for the matches she took from Matthew ages ago.
Without making a sound, Sophie opens her bedroom door and listens to the noises of the house. The hot-water tank is clicking and she can hear the soft murmur of music playing in Matthew’s room.
Sophie slips downstairs to the kitchen and spots the vase of pink carnations sitting on the table. Her mum’s favourite. A gift from Trevor, no doubt. Sophie grabs Matthew’s school bag from the floor and pulls out a few loose sheets of paper.
She tears the paper into long strips and piles them in a china bowl just like Matthew does.
She drags the match across the box and touches the flame to the paper, watching it come alive, folding inon itself and turning brown, then black. Other pieces of paper catch the flame. Smoke starts to waft upwards, taking tiny pieces of paper with it.
Sophie grabs a chair and drags it across the floor until it’s beneath the smoke alarm. She leaps up and pulls out the battery before it can beep and tell Matthew her plan. At the last moment, she swipes the photo of them from the fridge – the one Matthew refused to smile for – and puts it in the bowl. Her mum will hate that. Then she hurries to the living room to turn on the TV.
‘Matthew was in the kitchen doing his homework the last time I saw him,’ she says, practising what she’ll say to her mum when she gets back.
There’s an oldFriendsepisode on the TV and Sophie curls up on the sofa to watch it, her ears primed for the sound of her mum’s key in the lock.
It’s ten minutes before Sophie notices the smoke. She blinks and rubs her itchy eyes. Where is it all coming from?
She stands too fast, knocking a glass from the table so it smashes on the floor. The smoke is everywhere. She swallows and tastes it in her mouth.
Sophie bites her lip, knowing she’s going to cry. This is bad. This is very bad. She didn’t mean for this to happen. It was only a small bowl of paper. She didn’t mean … Sophie coughs, doubling over and dropping on to all fours.
This is Matthew’s fault. He drove her to it. She only wanted to show her mum what he’s really like.
Chapter 60
Jenna
There’s a fire. Sophie has set a fire. My heart is beating so fast and I know I have to get Beth and Archie out of this house.
‘Sophie, please. My children are innocent. Let them go, I beg you. I’m the one you want.’
Sophie tips her head back and laughs again. It’s a horrible sound. More like a scream. Her eyes flick wildly around the room and she’s spinning the bat in her hands.
I risk a quick glance to Rachel. Tears have streaked two black lines down her face and she’s cowering on the floor just behind me. I was wrong about her on so many levels, but there’s a rage still burning inside me. She took my children. She put them in this position.
‘This is obviously about them, Jenna,’ Sophie says. ‘You must see that. It’s always been about them. It’s history repeating itself,’ she says again, rubbing one of her eyes.
Archie coughs from behind me and whimpers. The sound cuts deep into my heart. I turn and look atthem. Their arms are wrapped tightly around each other, and seeing their beautiful faces cements something inside me. I will get them out of this.
‘It’s OK, kids. Get down on the floor as low as you can,’ I tell them. ‘Cover your mouth and nose with your clothes.’
They move quickly to the carpet, and Rachel pushes herself closer to them, her face screwed up in pain as she reaches a protective arm around my children and whispers to them to cover their mouths. When I turn back to Sophie, the room is hazy with smoke.
I remember Sophie now. That first time we met. Her hair had been bleached blonde and cut short, and she’d seemed so nice, so sweet. I’d enjoyed our chat.
‘Are you a mum?’ she asked me.
‘Yes. I have two children. Beth is eight and Archie is five.’
‘My mum won’t talk to me any more. We’ve not spoken for twelve years.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame.’ I didn’t ask why. It was none of my business, but I remember the hand I put on her arm and the smile I gave her. ‘If you love your mum, don’t give up on her. There’s nothing that can’t be fixed, including your boyfriend’s appendicitis.’
‘Promise?’
