‘Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? You didn’t onlyhurther. You fuckingruinedher.’
Another attempt by her to get a reaction. I don’t respond.
‘Once you told them what you’d done with her body, he drove there and put her in his car to hide her somewhere else. Took her clothes off in case your DNA was on them. He didn’t spot the security cameras recording him from a building nearby. That’s why he was arrested a few weeks later and her hair and blood was found in his car.’
I return to something my grandmother said earlier. ‘You said it was Mum who wanted to call the police?’
She glares at me through a grey plume of smoke. ‘Bobbi had a total fucking meltdown. Started believing what some old alcoholic neighbour told her about seeing you chasing that Callum kid shortly before his body was found. Refused to believe it at the time, but couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. Convinced herself you battered him because you were jealous. She couldn’t handle having a kid capable of not just one murder but two. Your dad said he’d get you help. But she didn’t want you anywhere near her. He wanted to bring you to mine, but I wasn’t having any of it either. I said you should be locked up, that it wasn’t safe for you to be out on the streets. Turns out you weren’t safe to be indoors either.’
‘I don’t understand?’
My grandmother takes a last drag on her cigarette before stubbing the remainder of it out in the footwell. She gives me a hard stare.
‘You really don’t remember, do you?’ she asks.
I shake my head. It feels heavy. She makes me wait for what she has to say next. The mean old cow is loving this.
‘’Cos indoors was where you killed your mum,’ she adds.
Chapter 87
Damon
My grandmother’s unwavering gaze tells me she believes she’s telling the truth. I don’t doubt there’s a lot she remembers accurately, but this isn’t one of those moments.
‘Mum killed herself,’ I say. ‘I was there. I ...’ The words catch in my throat. A hint of emotion for the first time in our face-off. ‘I saw her jump from the window. I remember it.’
‘Have you asked yourself why you were watching her from outside?’ she asks. ‘Why you weren’t in the flat with her?’
I recall again what I saw when I drowned. My mum jumping to save herself from the flames. But I remember nothing of the moments leading up to the fire and how I ended up standing outside. ‘I was probably out playing on my bike or something.’
‘You were the first person on the scene,’ she says. ‘Some of your neighbours saw you staring up at the window as the heavens opened, even before the fire alarms rang. But you didn’t call for help.’
‘I was only a kid. I must’ve been trying to make sense of what was happening.’
‘You weretwelve. Old enough to know what a fucking fire looks like and what you should’ve done. So no, son, don’t kid yourself. You were watching and waiting. You knew what was happening.’
I shake my head. ‘She was my mum. I loved her.’
‘You tried to lie your way out of it at first, telling your dad it was probably some old woman who was staying with your mum who started it. But none of us had ever heard or seen hide nor hair of this Maud bird. Then your dad found in your pocket the Zippo lighter you used. Recognised it straight away because it belonged to him before he lost it.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything.’
‘It was half-full of lighter fuel when he last saw it. When it came out of your pocket, it was empty.’
‘Then I’d probably been playing with it. It still doesn’t mean I set fire to my home.’
‘You had form. Tried torching something else in the flat once and almost burned the place down.’
She means Callum’s football shirt and homework in the bath. It still doesn’t prove anything.
‘What you haven’t told me is why I’d want to hurt her,’ I continue. ‘I had no reason to. She was all I had. It’s not like your beloved son was banging on our door wanting to play dad, was it?’
It’s a deliberate provocation that has the desired effect.
‘Because she was giving youup,’ my grandmother growls. Spittle flies from her mouth like small white rockets, landing on the lapels of my jacket until the tiny bubbles burst. ‘She’d met with social workers to talk about putting you into care.’
I hesitate, processing what she’s just said. She gauges my stunned expression before she further twists the knife. She couldn’t be getting more pleasure from this if she tried.
