Margot shuffles in her seat. Her back aches. She spent too long out with the horses after visiting Heather earlier, then that jaunt across the field. She turns sixty next year, and keeps forgetting she’s not thirty any more. She’d cleaned one of the static caravans, too, as a family wants to rent it this weekend. It smelt strongly of dog and there was a wee stain on the lino so Margot had had to get down on her hands and knees and bleach and scrub until it was spotless. During the summer months she has a cleaner, but in the off season she wants to save the money. And then the whole thing with Ruthgow. It’s too much. It’s all just too much.

She sighs. ‘Okay. Fine. Can you come over tomorrow? I’d rather do it face to face, if you don’t mind.’

Jessica sounds thrilled and Margot feels the familiar lurch in her stomach. Can she trust her?

They arrange a time for the next day and Margot hangs up. She sits for a while longer, staring at the phone in her hand, wondering if she’s made a huge mistake by allowing Jessica Fox back into her life.

Chapter 19

19

I’m feeling cold now. Too cold. It doesn’t matter how many blankets I’m swathed in, I can’t stop shivering. Your face flashes through my mind, as well as Dylan’s, Uncle Leo’s, Jess’s.

Jess.

In my mind she’s still the same fourteen-year-old. More or less neglected by her own mother and so desperate for attention from ours. I could never blame her for that. She thinks nobody knows about the secret she’s kept to herself all these years.

But she’s wrong.

Chapter 20

20

Jess

I hardly slept last night for worrying about what I’d told Jack. Could Wayne Walker really have found me here? I wasn’t imagining it last night when I noticed that light in the derelict building opposite. Was someone in there, watching my movements?

I have to be honest with Rory. Jack’s right about that. He’s been so good to me. He deserves better. Tonight. I’ll tell him tonight. I’ll cook dinner for a change. I’ll make an effort.

And in the meantime I need to see Margot.

Ted was ecstatic when I told him this morning that Margot had agreed to an exclusive interview. He didn’t show it, of course. That’s not his way. But I could tell by the shine in his eyes and the way his chewing slowed down, the gum moving around his mouth less frantically than normal. He told me to take Jack and get as many photos as possible. ‘And if you can get some of Margot’s personal ones of Heather growing up that would be even better.’