Her Deadly Secret. Chris Curran

      Her mother let out a small groan. ‘He didn’t do it. I know that now and I can’t forgive myself for not sticking by him.’ She glanced round and lowered her voice. ‘It was dreadful for him in there. He won’t tell me much, but he has nightmares and … Oh, Rosie, to think we let him go through that alone for all those years.’

      ‘He deserved it. Deserved much worse for what he did.’

      Marion leaned forward, whispering so fiercely her breath tickled Rosie’s cheek. ‘But he didn’t. He loved Alice; he could never have killed her. I don’t know how we could have let them persuade us. And as for the rest, what they suggested, I never believed that. It was too horrible. I would have known if he was interfering with her.’ She twisted to look into Rosie’s face. ‘You’ve said yourself: he never touched you like that. Well, that proves it, surely.’

      ‘Maybe I was too young. Or not pretty enough.’

      Her mother’s shudder made the plastic table shake. ‘You don’t believe that.’

      Rosie felt like screaming at her to shut up, but she took a deep breath and made herself speak. ‘What I know is that, if he was innocent, he could surely have made a better job of defending himself at the time. Even I could see his story didn’t hold up properly and I was desperate to believe him.’ Her voice was shrill enough to stop a small boy in his tracks. He stood staring at them, a red ice lolly sticking from his mouth.

      ‘Billy, come on, Billy.’ He continued to stare, crimson juice dripping onto his white Tshirt. A woman was beside them now, taking his hand. ‘Oh, Billy, look at you. Come and sit over here till you finish that.’ She shot a glance at them that said very clearly it was their fault.

      Rosie looked towards the play area and her mother followed her gaze. Fay and Harriet, running through a maze of foam shapes, waved and laughed at them. Rosie waved back then turned to Marion again, lowering her voice. ‘Just because he’s convinced you – made you believe what you want to believe – that proves nothing.’

      ‘He has evidence but he wants to let it lie. Can’t face any more police or lawyers.’

      Rosie stood up. She needed to get away. Couldn’t hear this. ‘I’ll go for those teas.’

      At the counter, she was able to talk and smile as if nothing was happening. But her hands were shaking and the teacups rattled in their saucers as she put them on the table.

      Her mother said: ‘I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry. Dad told me not to say anything. Said it would do no good raking it all up.’

      The words came out in a rush. ‘This so-called evidence proves someone else killed Alice, does it?’

      ‘No. Just that Dad didn’t.’

      It was rubbish, of course. As she’d known it would be. ‘So why did he admit he did it then, after all this time?’

      ‘Because his lawyer said it was best to go for parole. He could get out almost immediately if he accepted his guilt. If he hung on hoping for a new trial, he’d be in there much longer. And he couldn’t have survived that. All he cares about now is getting his family back.’

      ‘So he doesn’t want to find out who really did it?’ It was difficult to get the words out.

      ‘He said he couldn’t make us go through all that again. It would do more harm than good. But he showed me the new evidence and it convinced me.’

      A spurt of anger made Rosie grit her teeth and take a heavy breath. ‘But it was you who told me we must accept that he did it.’

      ‘I know and I’ll never forgive myself for that, Rosemary. And it was partly my fault he was convicted.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’

      Her mum closed her eyes, swaying back and forth, her voice very soft. ‘I was so angry with him. You remember what it was like when he got ill and had to give up work. Our lives changed so much. You and Alice were arguing all the time and so were Dad and I.’

      Rosie swallowed a gulp of tea. She didn’t want to think about any of this. Their dad had been forced to give up his job when he developed rheumatoid arthritis. He was a violinist, and an important one too – leader of the Eastbourne Philharmonic Orchestra – but it was soon impossible for him to play at that level.

      They just about managed to keep hold of the big house in the village outside Hastings, but could no longer afford the fees for the private school both girls went to. Somehow, they wangled Alice a scholarship so she could stay there, but Rosie had to move to a state comprehensive.

      Her mother was still going on. ‘I knew it wasn’t his fault that he was ill, but he seemed to accept it all so easily. Almost as if he was happy about it. I think it was a relief to have less responsibility and to stay at home. But it damaged us as a family and that didn’t appear to bother him at all.’

      Rosie put down her cup so heavily that tea slopped into the saucer. ‘I know all this, Mum.’

      Marion’s eyes flicked open. She looked surprised. As if she’d forgotten anyone was there. ‘That last week, when you were at school, we had a huge row and he was going to move out. That was why I went away that weekend. I think I wanted to believe what the police said about him. And I’m sure it was me turning against him that helped sway the jury.’ Marion had refused the defence’s pleas to turn up to the trial, and the papers had highlighted her absence, suggesting it meant she thought he was guilty. Which, of course, it did.

      There was no avoiding it. ‘So what exactly is this evidence then?’

      ‘I can’t tell you. You have to speak to your father.’

      Rosie shook her head and turned away. She might have known. It was just some madeup story from her dad, an excuse to get her over there. Nothing had changed. Except that now she knew better than to trust anything he said.

      She took a deep breath, and beckoned to the girls. As they came running back she said, without looking round, ‘I need to get these two some food and then take them home.’

      Her mother tried to grab her hand. ‘Please, Rosemary,’ but she pulled it away.

      ‘Oh no. That’s not going to happen. Nothing you’ve said makes any real difference. So, if you want to keep seeing me and Fay, you’d better accept it. I don’t ever want to hear about that man again.’

       Joe

      Joe watched Loretta in the back garden on her mobile, walking back and forth as she talked. She had come straight in from talking to the girls outside, taken a quick peep at Hannah and then gone out the back. Joe wished he could get out of the house too. Didn’t think he could stand being cooped up like this much longer. Longed to escape. To go back to work. Away from all the questions. But he knew what they would think.

      Loretta looked smaller out of uniform, and he registered for the first time that she was a good-looking woman. The call seemed important, although she might just be ordering a pizza, but he wanted to know what she was talking about, so he went down and put the kettle on.

      When she came through the back door, he had two mugs of coffee ready. Handed one straight to her so she couldn’t refuse.

      She smiled and sat at the table, taking a big gulp. ‘Thanks, Joe. I needed that.’

      ‘Was that Monique you were talking to out the front?’ He couldn’t even try to be subtle.

      ‘Yes. She says she was Lily’s best friend. Seems like a nice girl.’

      He found himself smiling, remembering. ‘Oh yeah, they were always together since they were little. That was all Lily worried about when she went to the secondary. She had to go to the same one as Monique and they had to be in the same form.’

      ‘And were they?’

      ‘Yes. And if they hadn’t been …’ He shook