Chapter Thirty-Five

Bright lights drill through my eyelids. My mouth is sore, my head banging. ‘Where am I?’ I croak at a figure hovering in the corner of the room.

As she approaches she says, ‘Poole Hospital. It’s good to see you awake, love. How are you feeling?’

‘Tired. Sick,’ I tell the nurse. ‘What day is it?’

‘Monday morning.’

I try looking out of the window at the light streaming in between the blinds. Piece by piece the night comes back to me. ‘Annie,’ I say, ‘the woman I was with.’

‘She’s fine, dear, don’t worry about anyone but yourself at the moment.’

‘No.’ I try shaking my head but it hurts too much. ‘She drugged me.’

‘Oh.’ The nurse looks perplexed. ‘Actually, there’s a detective waiting to speak to you. I can keep him at bay—’

‘No,’ I say again, ‘I want to talk to him.’

‘Well, only if you’re up to it.’ She hesitates. ‘Your memory will be patchy and you need to take it easy.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘And I’ll be keeping an eye on you,’ she says sternly, as she leaves the room.

Moments later Detective Harwood appears. ‘Ms Harvey.’ He smiles grimly as he walks over to the bed. ‘It’s been a bit of a night for you by all accounts.’ He pulls out a plastic chair. He looks worried. There’s a thick crease in his forehead where his eyebrows are pinched together. ‘Are you okay to talk?’

‘Yes. What’s happening with Annie?’ I ask.

‘She’s in the hospital.’

‘She drugged me. You can’t let her go.’

Harwood nods. Still his eyebrows are knitted together. His gaze roams my face, trailing down to a tube I’ve only just noticed is attached to my arm. ‘We’re going to need to take a statement from you. Are you up to doing that?’

I sense his impatience but there are too many things I don’t have straight in my head. Not least the fact that as soon as I start talking I’ll expose my family for what they’ve done. I need to speak to Bonnie first. ‘I’m not sure.’

He nods, squeezing his lips together, and I can see he’s weighing how much to push me, which immediately makes me think of Danny. If I don’t speak now, will he be charged with murder?

‘Oh God,’ I groan, closing my eyes.

‘Do you need the nurse?’

‘No. I just— My brother didn’t kill Iona.’ When I open my eyes again he is staring at me, his mouth parted. ‘I’ll make a statement now if I have to.’

Harwood’s face relaxes. He tells me he’ll need to record the interview and, as he sorts out the equipment, my mind is plagued with visions of my dad being arrested, Bonnie falling apart at the truth, my relationship with my sister irrevocably breaking.