‘Daniel said his mother won’t come to Gritton,’ I said. ‘And we know he had problems – he’s been done for death by dangerous driving. And we now know his younger brother died after apparently seeing the Pale Child. Then there’s this supposed secret that Gary told Violet. So, yes, I’m definitely interested.’

Donna blushed. ‘I thought you might be.’

‘Thank you, Donna. Can you print a copy of the statement out for me?’

Donna pressed a few buttons and a printer started whirring.

She passed me the statement. ‘There you go.’

I took the papers. ‘Thanks, Donna. Well spotted.’ But all I could think was, Please don’t let the secret be something bad about Daniel.

37

Bex – October 1999

It was a bright, cool day, and the light coming through the leaded windows of Bex’s aunt’s living room felt harsh. Bex’s dad and Kirsty had come all the way to Southampton to persuade her to do what they wanted.

Her dad sat on the large sofa, Kirsty beside him. Aunt Janet was next to Bex, but it wasn’t clear if this meant anything in terms of allegiances.

A pot of tea was on the low wooden table between them, and Bex realised she’d lined up the milk and sugar in front of her like a defence.

Her dad coughed. ‘You can’t have the baby, Bex.’

Bex touched her stomach. Did her dad not care that she felt destroyed? That him sending her away aged three had started the process, the rape had carried it on – demonstrating in the most compelling manner how worthless she was – and his lack of support afterwards had finished it. She was literally nothing. There was no reason to live now other than the baby.

‘So that’s agreed then,’ her dad said.

‘I don’t think anything’s agreed, Tony.’ Aunt Janet folded her arms and shifted in her seat as if squaring up. She was on home ground, surrounded by her chunky wooden furniture, her acres of dusty books, the wall-hangings she’d brought back from her travels around the world. She wasn’t about to be bullied by her older brother.

Bex’s dad hurled her an irritated look. ‘I don’t want the girl to ruin her life.’

Janet said, ‘Nobody wants that. But you haven’t been a parent to her since she was three years old. You can’t just storm in here and demand she does as you say.’

Silence around the table. A collective breath-holding. Bex felt as if she might float up and out through the window, away from it all. None of them would understand. But she couldn’t kill it. She needed to be one of two again.

‘I might want to keep the baby,’ she said.

Kirsty breathed out abruptly as if she’d been hit in the stomach. ‘You can’t have the baby of a rapist, Bex.’