‘Don’t drag me into it,’ Madeline replies, unwrapping my blue china teapot.
Dad smooths out a sheet of newspaper and places it into an empty box on the floor. ‘We can get the kids to make firelighters with this newspaper later,’ he adds.
Madeline’s and my children are currently out in our shoebox garden playing Jenga, but I’m not sure how long that will keep them occupied.
‘We’d drive you mad if we lived with you full-time, Dad.’ More like we’d drive each other mad, but I think he knows that.
‘Hmph,’ he replies.
Our cottage at the bottom of Gold Hill sold the very same day it went on the market. After all my years of resistance to selling up, it turned out I couldn’t wait to be shot of the place. A young couple bought it fully furnished. They’re expecting their first baby next month and were thrilled to have found the house of their dreams for a bargain price. I didn’t stay for the viewing and I never met the couple – I couldn’t face seeing their hopeful optimism. It would have reminded me too much of how excited Toby and I were back when we first bought the place. I try to turn my mind away from all that.
‘Are you really moving away, Madeline?’ I stack some dinner plates in a high cupboard. They were a wedding gift from Celia’s sister, and I resist the urge to put them back in the box and take them to the charity shop. I can’t afford to give away all the items I own, just because of the memories they evoke.
‘I can’t stay in Shaftesbury anymore,’ Madeline replies. ‘I tried, but it’s too difficult. I need a fresh start. So do the kids.’
‘I think you’re really brave, starting over. But we’re going to miss you so much.’ I turn to her, but she’s focused on unwrapping the next item.
‘It’s only Salisbury – not too far at all. We’ll still see each other.’
My heart lurches once more at the thought of her leaving. She and Dad have been my rocks over the past nine months.
My children don’t know all the details about what happened. But I couldn’t shield them from everything – especially not Alice. Ten-year-old girls are pretty sharp when it comes to working out the truth. She knows her dad is in prison for killing her aunt. And she knows that her uncle Nick and her grandparents are also in prison for helping him cover it up (I’ve managed to keep from them that their grandparents were also sentenced for my attempted murder as well, but I’m sure they’ll find out in the end). I’ve also tried not to bad-mouth their father within their earshot. But I can’t change the facts of what he did. I just have to hope that it doesn’t scar them too much. It’s too late for me – I have scars on top of scars.
Perhaps Madeline has the right idea, moving away to get a fresh start. Goodness knows I’ve thought about it. But this is my home. It’s where I was born and raised. It’s where I work at the job I love. Where my friends live. I don’t want to leave my support network behind because of Toby. It would feel as if he drove me away. Besides, how can I leave my dad? Especially after what he did for me. I look across at him and he catches my eye and winks.
Dad was my hero that day. He saved my life. Before he came into the room, he had no idea that Celia and Malcolm were in there with me. He was worried because he’d tried phoning, texting and knocking on the door throughout the day but hadn’t had a response. He had the sense that I might have fallen ill and be in need of help. He’d tried looking for Toby or one of the others to get an update but hadn’t been able to find anyone.
In the end, he spoke to the assistant manager and asked him to unlock my room. He said it was an emergency. The assistant manager tried calling my room first, but when there was no reply he did as Dad insisted and opened my door. Dad took in the situation and ordered the assistant manager to call the police, fetch a doctor and summon more staff to help out. My father was calm, cool and efficient. If he’d arrived a minute later, I would probably already have been dead.
I was hospitalised, but thankfully the blocker was already wearing off. I could move and speak once again, despite my whole body aching and cramping from its after-effects. Celia and Malcolm were taken into custody at the scene, thanks to Dad ensuring they didn’t do a runner. But it wasn’t until my testimony some hours later that the police also came for Toby and Nick.
The weeks and months following were a hellish blur of visits from police officers, lawyers, social services and journalists. The worst part was trying to protect my children from the fallout. The second worst part was the one and only conversation I had with Toby afterwards.
I went to visit him after he was sentenced. He looked about as bad as I was expecting him to look – pale and gaunt with bloodshot eyes – but I didn’t remark on his appearance. I didn’t even greet him. Just sat down and waited to hear what he had to say. I wouldn’t have gone at all, only I’d been told that it might help me with the healing process. It didn’t.
I had to sit there and listen to him tell me that his fling with Dina meant nothing. That it was simply a last-minute act of madness before the wedding day. He insisted that Dina’s death was an accident. Self-defence when she attacked him. He seemed to forget that I was there. That my memories of that day had returned intact. And his actions had definitely not been self-defence.
He said that the only reason he had covered it all up was because his mum had told him to. Apparently it was Celia’s idea to sweep it all under the carpet. Toby had wanted to come clean, but she had forbidden it. He said he was scared of her. That while she was his mum and of course he loved her, she wasn’t a person to argue with. He, Nick and his father all knew that you didn’t cross Celia unless you wanted a whole load of grief. How did I not know that about her?
I told Toby he was a grown man and should have made his own decisions. He should have stood by his wife. Should never have cheated on me in the first place. If he’d kept it in his pants then none of this would have happened.
Toby didn’t reply to that. Instead, he said he loved me. That he’d spent the past ten years of our marriage trying to make it up to me. That a day hadn’t gone by when he wished he hadn’t done what he had. But I didn’t believe a word. After all, when he thought that Nick was about to spill the beans to me, he had lied again, this time telling me thatIhad killed my sister. No. The only comfort that prison visit gave me was that I was lucky to be rid of him.
But it didn’t stop me mourning the loss of the husband I’d thought he was.
Back then, I didn’t have time to process what had happened to me. To mourn my sister. To grieve the death of my sham marriage. To accept that Toby had cheated on me with my own sister. To realise that a woman I thought of as a second mother had tried to kill me. It was all too much, so I buried it. Instead, I attempted to get on with regular things such as work and raising a family while dealing with the aftermath. At least I had Madeline and my father as support.
Madeline found herself in a similar position to me. Although she didn’t have a cheating husband and a dead sister, she did have a husband who had helped to cover up a murder and was facing a long prison sentence. It was more than enough to destroy their marriage and leave her on her own with two children. Consequently, we sought one another out.
Strangely – after our initial distress and anger – whenever we got together socially we avoided talking about our husbands and their parents. Instead, we concentrated on practicalities, such as divorce, house sales and children. Right now, Madeline feels like more of a sister to me than my own ever was.
We held a small private funeral for Dina with just Dad and I in attendance. It was a sad and depressing affair. I didn’t cry, but I noticed Dad wiping away a few tears. Neither of us comforted the other. In fact, we barely spoke. There wasn’t anything to say that didn’t involve a world of painful memories. And neither of us were ready to confront those. Dina had betrayed me, but she had paid the ultimate price. I didn’t want to spend the funeral thinking about our corrosive relationship, so instead I tried to focus on the times before Mum died. Back when we were proper sisters who played together and laughed and shared silly secrets. Before it all crumbled away.
And yet… despite Dina’s and my broken relationship, I can’t help thinking about those two instances in town where I saw my sister days before the party. First wearing that beautiful red coat, walking along the road with a man. And second when she locked eyes with me through the salon window. Both times, I had been so certain it was her. Even now, months later, I can recall each incident clear as day. I know it’s silly, but I almost believe itwasher. Warning me somehow that nothing was as it seemed. That she had been the victim of foul play. A last attempt to somehow make amends, or at least connect with me in a meaningful way. I shiver and force my thoughts back to the present.
Madeline places the final empty packing box on the floor. ‘All done,’ she says, getting to her feet.
I put down the stack of bowls I’m holding. ‘You don’t have to leave right away, do you? Stay for tea, if you like.’
