Red flashed in front of my eyes. It happened in one swift movement. I grabbed the kettle, the cast-iron one we used for the hob, and swung it against the rear of her lovely head. She fell backwards, as though in a faint, her eyes open in surprise as she collapsed in my arms. Too late I realized what I’d done. And I held her as she died. I held her and I cried and I told her I loved her. Over and over again. Because it was true. And apart from Lolly, and then, years later, Saffy, I never loved anyone else.

When I’ve finished talking Lolly is staring at me in horror, her mouth hanging open and tears rolling down her cheeks. And I realize I’ve said it all out loud. I’ve told this lovely woman, this amazing person, whom I love like my own daughter, that I killed her real mother.

Saffy – my kind, thoughtful granddaughter – is holding my hand. And despite everything I’ve just told her she doesn’t let go. I can see Rose in her. The same guile and innocence and faith. And I hope that I haven’t destroyed that in this sweet child.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my mind painfully, awfully lucid in this moment.

Because the truth of it is, my mind has always been more lucid than I gave them reason to believe. Don’t get me wrong, I have dementia: my brain is foggy and forgetful, and I don’t recognize people I know, people I love. But when I do have those clear, perfectly sharp moments, I remember a lot more about the past, about what I’ve done, than any of them have ever given me credit for.

And now they know. They know the truth – my truth – before I slip further into myself, because one day I won’t have control over how I reveal it. And I wanted them to know I’m not a cold-hearted killer, I’m not a psychopath, that the judge was wrong about me all those years ago. I was a good mother and grandmother.

And that, despite everything, I loved Rose.

I really, really did.

60

Epilogue

One year later

LORNA OBSERVES HER FAMILY, GATHERED IN THE GARDEN of 9 Skelton Place. The bi-fold doors to the new kitchen are flung open and Snowy sits just inside, in the shade, enjoying the cold of the new slate tiles, his head resting on his paws. Sometimes, especially on hot summer days like today, it’s hard to believe what went on here nearly forty years ago.