And just like that she felt she was taking control of her life again. Baby steps, maybe, but she could do this.
Chapter 33
Carla
NOW
Margo is kept in hospital overnight, but the following day, after the doctor has done his rounds, Daniel and I are allowed to take her home.
Her tests have come back negative. No traces of flunitrazepam or any other benzodiazepine. But I’m not convinced. I go to find the head nurse – or ‘ward brother’, as I’ve taken to calling him in my head – and bombard him with questions.
‘How long does it take for Rohypnol to become undetectable?’
‘It depends. It varies from person to person and according to the quantity consumed,’ he says.
‘Do Margo’s negative test results mean she definitely wasn’t given any Rohypnol?
‘It’s possible, despite the negative test results, that Margo did swallow some Rohypnol. The test results just show that there was none in her system when we checked for it. She’s young, so she has a high metabolism, and if she had only a small dose, she would eliminate it fairly quickly.
‘Will she suffer from any lasting side effects?’
‘If we assume she swallowed a small amount of the drug, she may have a slight stomach ache or headache for a day or two, but she probably won’t have any adverse effects at all. Was there anything else?’ His tone is patient, but he looks harried.
‘No. I’ll let you get on. Thank you.’
I remember when I got pregnant with Iris. Ash and I would have preferred to have a little more time with Olly before another baby came along, and I was breastfeeding Olly at the time, so my second pregnancy was a bit of a shock-slash-surprise. IknewI was pregnant, but the test was negative. Ash was relieved; I was so disappointed. I’d been so sure. But a few days later, I took another test. This time, it was positive and we were both delighted, although that’s beside the point. The point is, I’d taken the first test too soon.
Margo’s urine test results remind me of this. A negative pregnancy test doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not pregnant. Margo’s negative drugs test doesn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t drugged. I wince at the double negatives in my head and rephrase.Margo may still have been drugged.But it doesn’t sound any better. In Margo’s case, the test was too late rather than too early. I know she was drugged, just as I knew I was pregnant.
Daniel drives Margo and me home, back to Crooked Oak Cottage. It’s spitting and the windscreen wipers are on too fast. They squeak back and forth. Margo chats to him non-stop from the back seat – it hasn’t taken her long to bounce back to her usual self – and Daniel sounds upbeat when he can crowbar a word in. But I can tell he’s upset by the way his jaw is set.
Their conversation doesn’t need my input and I’m left alone with my thoughts. I glance over my shoulder at Margo and smile at her. She grins back, sending a mixture of relief and guilt through me. Relief that she’s OK, that she’s coming home. Guilt because I’ve failed my stepdaughter in much the same way as I failed my daughter. What should I have said to protect her? I’ve told her not to talk to strangers, not to trust anyone she doesn’t know, but Jordan and Jasper aren’t strangers and sometimes the people we know best are the least trustworthy. So, what should I have said?Stay away from the Knoll boys. With hindsight, that’s the advice I wish I’d given both Margo and Iris.
It all comes back to the Knolls. Again. A thought strikes me and as soon as it enters my head, I know I won’t be able to get it out. Did Yvonne know that Jordan and Jasper had spiked the Red Bull drink they gave Margo? Did Yvonne find Margo in that summerhouse and then deliberately keep her for as long as possible at Hilltop House, playing for time, until the drugs were likely to be out of her system? A growl erupts from my throat, which I quickly convert to a cough so as not to alarm Daniel or Margo.
Once we get home, we make Margo comfortable on the sofa. Iris tucks the throw around her and Olly fusses over her. Daniel fetches drinks and biscuits for everyone from the kitchen. My face is hurting from stretching my lips upwards. It probably looks more like a rictus than the smile I’m trying for anyway. I can’t relax.
Daniel doesn’t look relaxed either. I watch him as he studies Iris. He seems awkward around her. He speaks when she speaks to him, but with sardonic answers. Perhaps it’s my imagination. He probably still wonders if she had something to do with Joshua’s death and I can’t really blame him for that. After all, I’m sure my daughter had something to do with it. But if that’s what’s going through his head, he’ll have to let it go and be firmly on our side now he’s home.
‘I need to pop out,’ I tell Daniel.
He raises his eyebrows, but his tone is gentle. ‘What, now? Where are you going?’
I give him a kiss and answer a different question. ‘I won’t be more than an hour,’ I say.
His eyebrows invert, almost joining above the bridge of his nose. I repeat my promise not to be gone long and hightail it out of there before he can ask any more questions and I have to lie in reply.
It’s getting full in the driveway now with Iris’s car, too. With her permission, I take her car – the powder blue Twingo – as it’s parked behind mine. On the short drive to Hilltop House, I try to work out what I want to say to Yvonne, but it’s still raining and I’m concentrating really hard. If I prang or scratch Iris’s car, she’ll be livid. She loves her wheels. Anyway, I don’t have anything to say. I just want to hear Yvonne’s version of events. I’ll have to make a superhuman effort to be polite because if I get there and start shouting or bandying around accusations, she’ll clam up and slam the door in my face.
The gate is open. I park where I stopped the other day, across the road from the house, and force myself to walk rather than storm up the driveway. It’s only as I press on the ‘smart’ doorbell and look shiftily into the eye of the camera that it occurs to me she might not be in. Her car is in the drive, though, so I may be in luck.
But Richard answers the door.
‘Hi,’ I say, hearing the timidity in my own voice in that one syllable. I clear my throat. ‘Is Yvonne there, please?’
He barely turns his head, maintaining eye contact with me, and yells his wife’s name.
She takes her time to come to the door. When she sees it’s me, she puts a hand on her husband’s arm and says calmly, ‘Thanks, Rich. I’ve got this.’
