The Bad Things: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns. Mary-Jane Riley

      ‘And?’ Doctor Bones prompted her gently, her head cocked to one side.

      ‘And I’m not sure I can.’

      The doctor nodded. ‘Okay. So you’re…what —?’ She looked at her computer screen, ‘Thirty-eight and on the pill. No reason why you shouldn’t get pregnant, you know. A lot of women are having children later these days—’

      ‘It’s not that,’ Kate said. ‘Sometimes I think that if you’re not meant to have children then you shouldn’t go down that route.’

      Doctor Bones nodded. ‘That’s certainly a view.’ She was waiting, wrists resting on the edge of her desk, for Kate to give her more.

      What else? ‘I think there is so much misery in this world that I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.’

      ‘The right thing?’

      Kate looked at the walls, avoiding the doctor’s eyes. Saw the brightly coloured children’s paintings stuck up with Blu Tack, the height charts, the posters about healthy eating, even a chart to test eyesight. She gazed around the surgery, at the box of children’s toys in the corner, a child’s chair, everything catering for children. She refused to let the tears reach further than the back of her eyes.

      ‘You know, getting pregnant just because I…we…want a baby. It seems a bit selfish, you know.’ She shrugged, aware of how useless she was sounding.

      ‘And what does your husband think?’

      ‘Chris? Oh, he’s desperate for them. I mean, he doesn’t put it like that, obviously, but I know that’s what he thinks.’

      ‘But you’re not sure?’

      ‘No.’ Her eyes began to fill with tears. For God’s sake. She blinked furiously.

      ‘Kate,’ the doctor started gently, ‘I’m not sure what I can do for you.’

      ‘I only came because Chris…’ She tailed off and stood up. ‘Sorry, I don’t know why I came really, I—’

      ‘Sit down, Kate.’

      ‘No. I’ve got to go back to work. Thank you for your time.’

      Dr Bones looked at her computer screen. ‘You have a stressful job, Kate. Are you coping?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Look, I’m going to give you some very mild antidepressants. You don’t have to take them, but they could help. And I’m going to put you on the waiting list for some counselling.’

      Kate opened her mouth to object.

      Doctor Bones held up her hand. ‘It’s just a waiting list. Have a think. It might be good to talk to someone other than your husband. An outsider. Okay? And I want to see you in a month.’

      Kate could only nod.

      Outside the doctor’s room she leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. The air was stifling. It had been a mistake to come here, but at least she’d done it and she would be able to tell Chris. And she would tell him that the doctor thought she was a bit down about things. It would buy her some time. Things would resolve themselves, wouldn’t they?

      She hurried along the corridor and out into the waiting room. Luckily the woman and her baby weren’t there. She made her way to the swing doors at the back.

      ‘Ms Todd?’

      Kate turned round. It was the pharmacist.

      ‘I’ll have your prescription ready in a minute, if you’d like to take a seat.’ The pharmacist smiled at her from through the hatch.

      ‘Right, thank you.’

      Kate stared at the television still murmuring in the corner, sitting up when she saw the breaking news headline running across the bottom of the screen.

       Jackie Wood wins High Court appeal.

      She watched the pictures – Jackie Wood on the steps of the court, reporters waving microphones, cameras, people jostling one another, a self-satisfied man standing next to her, opening his mouth, talking, but Kate couldn’t hear what was said. She hardly needed to, the inference was clear. Jackie Wood, one of two people responsible for the deaths of two small children, had finally won her appeal.

      ‘Ms Todd? Your prescription is ready.’

      Kate stood up automatically, walked over to the hatch, and took the paper bag handed to her by the pharmacist.

      Then she went outside, got into her car, and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

       3

      Sasha had always been the troublesome one. The needy one. The daughter their parents worried about. The one they spoke carefully to, treated with kid gloves. Alex had learned from a young age that Sasha had to be indulged. She was ten months younger than Alex, but when they were growing up Alex had often felt ten years older. ‘Look after your sister’ had been drummed in to her. The ‘poor me’ attitude Sasha cultivated had annoyed Alex all her life. Sasha was willowy, with fine blonde hair that curled attractively around her heart-shaped face. Whenever people saw the two of them together, they’d never believe they were sisters barely a year apart in age, because Alex was short with dark hair that was poker straight. She had also inherited her father’s sallow – if she was feeling kind towards herself she’d call it olive – complexion. Sasha was the beauty and Alex was not. Or Sasha had been the beauty. That was the thing. Nowadays, she was still thin, still had blonde hair and the heart-shaped face and the blue eyes, but her thinness was of the bag of bones variety, the blonde hair was unkempt, her glacial features sharp and her blue eyes empty. She also had to wear long sleeves to cover up the scars.

      Sasha had never got over the loss of her twins. They were four years old when they went missing. One boy, one girl; the complete set, and both with her blonde hair and blue eyes. Harry was a typical boy: loved rough and tumble and was always grubby. Millie was much the same, but with that cute girlishness that made everyone want to hug her. She smiled all the time. They were adventurous children; curious, inquisitive, loving. It was Harry who turned up a few weeks later; Millie was never found.

      Harry’s funeral was unbearable. The little white coffin balanced on the shoulder of Sasha’s husband, Jez, and all the mourners; each and every one of them thanking whatever God they worshipped it wasn’t happening to them. Alex had vowed to keep her own little boy safe. Unusually for that summer, the sky was grey and the drizzle didn’t stop. God’s tears, she heard someone say.

      Alex wasn’t sure that either she or Sasha believed in God anymore.

      Their parents were there; shocked and bewildered that something like this could be happening to them. The church looked beautiful; a medieval place of worship in the Suffolk countryside. St Mary Magdalene. Sasha and Jez had chosen to bury Harry in their parents’ parish because Sasha couldn’t bear to be in Sole Bay at the time. And she wanted somewhere quiet for him, somewhere the birds would sing and the sunlight would dapple through the trees and warm the earth beneath. So she chose the next door village, where their parents had moved to when she and Alex left home. Someone – the good ladies of the parish, Alex supposed – had decorated the church with roses and willow and honeysuckle that scented the air. Harry was buried in the little graveyard at the back and it was overwhelming to see the tiny mound of earth that was going to hide his coffin forever.

      But at least they were able to bury Harry; not knowing Millie’s fate was unbearable.

      And now Alex was on a mission to get to Sasha before she hurt herself again. Her sister had stayed in the house she had lived in with Jez and the twins. Couldn’t bear to leave it, she said. Alex thought it was unhealthy, but despite her attempts to get her sister to either move in with her or find somewhere that wasn’t jam-packed full of memories,