‘Are you for real?’

‘Joanna, she wasn’t my child. It was a business transaction. A long-term babysitting arrangement. And when you gave her that insulin, you cut off our income.’

‘Jesus Christ. How can you say that? A child died!’

‘Oh, believe me, I know it.’ She lifts the glass to her lips again, and pauses. ‘You know, on some level, I think Ines was relieved. So maybe you did her a favour.’

62

June 2018

I’M GOING THROUGH THE motions.

Up. Breakfast. School drop. Smile.

Inside, I can think of nothing but Lila. Not Lily, Lily’s OK – wherever she is – but Lila. Left to the monster that is my mother, a woman who thought it perfectly fine to leave a ten-year-old in charge of a four-year-old. A woman who had no compunction about reminding me, over and over, that I’d killed my sister. I wondered, on Saturday night and all day yesterday, if that changes anything – is it any less awful now that I know she wasn’t my sister? It’s not. Somehow it’s worse. She wasn’t even born into our family, and irrational though it is, that makes it seem more unfair. What chance did she have with someone as inept as Cynthia Kirk looking after her? Cynthia Kirk, and me. How could Ines do it? I think, as I wave Ben off in the school yard. Smiling and waving, like my world hasn’t been turned upside down, yet again.

Liz Landry sees me from across the yard and raises her hand in a gesture that means hang on. As she approaches, neat in her work dress and heels, I can see there’s something wrong.

‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘I was wondering if you heard anything more about Cora?’ A strand of hair has caught in the chain around her neck and she works to undo it, frowning. ‘About what happened to her?’

‘No, why?’

She lowers her voice. ‘Adana was telling me she heard they’re saying it was suicide.’

My throat tightens. ‘Oh God. Who’s “they”? The police?’

‘No, not the police. It’s just word that’s going round. People who were in the DART station that morning, saying it was busy but there was no “surge” when the train arrived. That it was just Cora. That she must have jumped.’

‘Oh no.’ I think I’m going to cry now, right here in the middle of the school yard.

‘I can’t stop thinking about it,’ Liz is saying, ‘wondering if there was something I could have spotted.’

‘Me too. God. Liz, I was asking her all sorts of questions about Lily and about her dad.’ I swallow. ‘Do you think …’

She puts her hand on my arm. ‘Stop. There’s no way that was it.’

We both know she’s just being nice. There’s no way to know that wasn’t it either.

I dial the number. I can’t believe I’m doing this but I need to know. Someone puts me through to DS McCarthy and I ask outright if it was suicide.