And then, with a jolt of recognition, her face pales. And in that moment I can see that she’s unsure whether or not to slam the door in my face.

Chapter 3

3

Margot

The crunch of tyres on gravel makes Margot go to the window. Her heart leaps at first, thinking it’s Adam and little Ethan coming home. But no. Instead of their black saloon, there’s a small vehicle that looks like a replica of one of her grandson’s toy cars parked next to hers. She sees two people get out: a slight blonde girl and a lanky lad carrying a camera case. They look like they’re having a discussion and then the lad gets back inside the car.

Margot experiences a burst of rage that’s become more frequent since it happened. Bloody journalists. She’s sick of them. She’s already sent one lot packing with a flea in their ear. She can’t stand them. They’re like crows, the way they peck over the remains of other people’s misery. What sort of person would choose to do a job like that? Thank goodness Adam and Ethan aren’t home yet. They don’t need this, not when they’re facing the prospect of losing a wife, a mother. She reprimands herself. No. She mustn’t think negatively. Heather will not die. She’ll be fine. Margot’s already lost one daughter and she’s sure as hell not going to lose another. God can’t be that cruel.

If it is a journalist, she’ll give them a piece of her mind. Her anger propels her out of the room and down the hallway. She wrenches the front door open. This one is younger than the last and swamped in a coat that looks like it’s been shaved from a llama.

Oh, Margot enjoys the ticking-off she gives her. It feels good to vent some of her anger. But then the young woman looks up at her and her big doe eyes soften and she says, ‘Margot. It’s me. Jessica Fox. Heather’s old friend.’ And Margot’s stomach falls. Jessica. The Jessica. She remembers her daughter sobbing in her bed after Jessica’s betrayal. Margot had held Heather in her arms while her daughter tried to make sense of it all. Especially after everything she’d been through, the grief over her dad and losing Flora. It was cold and unfeeling. Margot had never forgiven her.