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  Mandy’s eyes and mouth widened. ‘He’s only a toddler.’

  ‘He won’t be when you’re eighteen, idiot. Shitting Ada, don’t you teach her anything, Jen?’

  ‘Watch your gob. I’m trying to make sure she doesn’t swear. She’s spending too much time with the ropey kids as it is.’ Jen turned from Mandy and whispered, ‘I caught a boy from her class in Mandy’s bedroom, showing her a porno mag. I soon booted his backside out the door.’

  Aware of Jen’s annoyance, Claire tried not to laugh. ‘He must be only six. Hey, can I interview Mandy about it?’

  ‘No, you flipping well can’t. Do you have any scruples?’

  ‘Isn’t that a game?’

  ‘That’s Scrabble, you donkey.’ Jen shoved her friend.

  As Claire fell off the kerb, a pained sound came from behind them. Mandy looked to Jen.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Jen asked Claire.

  Before she could answer, the door to the Easts’ house burst open.

  Lorraine East gripped the doorframe, displaying a ballooned belly. ‘Baby’s coming. Geoff’s taken the kids to the festival. This one’s in a hurry.’

  Jen ran to help. Mandy trailed behind. Claire chewed her cuticles.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lorraine reassured them. ‘I’ve done this seven times. The baby is breech though and it’s early.’

  Jen understood breech births were tricky. She’d read about labour but wasn’t ready to become a doctor or midwife yet. An adult needed to take charge.

  ‘Have you phoned anyone?’ she asked Lorraine.

  The woman clasped her stomach as a contraction took hold. ‘Geoff forgot to pay the bill. I told him to sort it out.’

  ‘Mandy, knock on doors and ask to use someone’s phone,’ Jen instructed, confident of her sister’s maturity for an eight-year-old. In their family, she had to be. ‘Claire, see if Scott Reilly is in.’ Jen figured an ambulance driver would have more of a clue than she did.

  Claire wasted no time darting towards Turner Road. She wasn’t keen on bloodshed and was glad to be far away from it.

  Jen guided Lorraine to the lounge. They chatted around each contraction. Mandy and Claire seemed to take forever. Eventually, voices came through the open front door.

  Kelly bounded into the room. ‘How are you doing, Lorraine?’

  Jen’s hope of rescue faded. What could this fellow fourteen-year-old do that she couldn’t?

  ‘Why did you bring her?’ Jen snapped at Mandy.

  Mandy cowered behind a chair, chewing her plait. ‘She’s the only person who answered. I did my best.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lip. Patricia had drilled into them the vulgarity of shedding tears in public.

  Jen was torn between a woman struggling and her sister hurting. She approached Mandy. ‘You did a great job. I’m so proud of you.’

  Mandy gave a beauty-queen grin.

  ‘Did you phone for an ambulance?’ Jen asked Kelly.

  Kelly focused on Lorraine.

  ‘Kelly,’ Jen yelled, ‘did you call 999?’

  Kelly broke from her spell. ‘Yes. I know what to do.’ She had never shouted at Jen before. The sight of someone in labour troubled Kelly. Jen attributed it to inexperience.

  ‘Will the baby be okay?’ Kelly asked. She sat beside Lorraine and stroked the woman’s stomach. Lorraine appeared unfazed even though Kelly’s blank-eyed stare gave the gesture a sinister edge.

  ‘Sure she will,’ Lorraine said with her Scottish lilt. ‘I’ve had a breech birth before. I can do it again.’

  ‘It’s a girl?’ Kelly’s hyperactivity made Jen wonder what she’d had for breakfast.

  Lorraine forced her words out through the pain. ‘I’m not certain but when you’ve had a lot of kids, you get an inkling.’

  ‘I’d like to have a girl,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Not yet I hope,’ Lorraine replied. ‘There’s plenty of time for that.’

  Kelly blushed. ‘Of course.’

  A contraction hit. As Lorraine gripped her, Jen hoped her hand would still be operational afterwards.

  Mandy sat on the front doorstep. There were things a young girl wasn’t ready to learn. Jen had told her about reproduction. Seeing it in action though wasn’t part of Mandy’s education.

  Claire appeared and took Mandy outside. Scott Reilly rushed past.

  Jen welcomed the cavalry. She had resigned herself to blagging it, but the prospect of delivering a baby was terrifying.

  Scott addressed Jen. ‘You’ve done a great job. You’ll be a brilliant doctor.’

  Jen hardly ever received praise. Few believed in her ambition. The words of encouragement from a man who helped the sick and needy gave her the validation she needed. She stood tall.

  ‘Ladies,’ Scott said, ‘can you go outside to wait for the ambulance? Lorraine and I can take it from here.’

  Lorraine grimaced thanks. Jen left, checking if Kelly was following. The girl seemed to be in a trance. Jen touched her shoulder. ‘Come on, Kelly, let’s go.’ They joined Mandy and Claire on the pavement.

  Claire punched the air. ‘I got my story.’

  ‘You certainly did,’ Jen said.

  ‘Some things are private.’ Kelly’s acerbic tone dampened the jubilant mood. ‘It should only be between the mum and her baby. Not everyone needs to know.’ She returned home, slamming the door.

  ‘What bit her arse?’ Claire asked.

  Jen couldn’t see the humour in the situation. Watching Lorraine in labour had disturbed Kelly. Jen ignored the ridiculous idea forming in her mind and began her star interview for Into the Woods Radio.

  49

  Present

  ‘Kelly was pregnant.’ A hush falls over Doreen’s lounge as Claire drops the bombshell.

  Ellen pales. Doreen lies back against the shock. I trawl through memories to when Lorraine East was in labour and how I’d considered if Kelly was pregnant. Back then I dismissed it as ridiculous. I’m sickened I attacked a pregnant girl, but how was I to know? Kelly hid it well.

  ‘I’m stunned,’ Doreen says.

  She can’t manage the stairs anymore so we’ve formed a semi-circle around the bed downstairs. There is a communal need to be close, like when animals die in the wild and their tribe stays with the body. I hope for Doreen’s sake the similarities end there.

  ‘Kelly was nine weeks pregnant when she died.’ Claire keeps her voice soft. ‘My contact from the coroner’s office showed me the files on her death. The pregnancy was on record. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No,’ Doreen says. ‘I should have gone to the hearing but I couldn’t face it. Graham went. He said the verdict was open, nothing else.’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t want to upset you,’ Ellen says.

  Doreen blanches. ‘Graham wouldn’t have spared me the grief. He enjoyed making my life a misery. Knowing him, he was ashamed.’

  ‘Or there may be another reason why he said nothing.’ Claire twiddles the bee pendant on her necklace around her fingers.

  I can see where she’s going. There’s an elephant in the room and Claire’s jumped on it, ready to charge through.

  ‘Like what?’ Doreen asks.

  ‘Maybe Graham had something to do with it?’ Claire holds up her hands, prepared for the backlash.

  We wait for Doreen to interpret the suggestion. A few beats behind, she forces herself up from the pillows. ‘So, you believed those disgusting rumours too?’ She regards each of us. ‘I expect you all did.’

  Knowing Claire and I have considered Graham’s violent history as evidence for being Kelly’s killer, I beg my cheeks not to tinge with shame. When other investigative avenues appeared, we put it to one side. Claire has pushed it back into the foreground.

  Doreen clenches the blanket. ‘Graham was an evil man. After he died, I vowed never to defend him again. I lied to the police when people reported him. For that, I was a fraud.’

  ‘Calm down, love,’ Ellen soothes. ‘You’ll make yourself ill.’

/>   ‘Ill? I’m dying, Ellen. If my husband had been sexually abusing our daughter, I’d tell you. I would never allow that to happen anyway. Confused as they sometimes were, I had boundaries. I was at home most of the time because he wouldn’t let me out. Not much passed me by in our house. Graham didn’t need to satisfy himself with Kelly.’ Doreen’s breathing hitches. ‘He raped me, not her.’

  Showing alarm isn’t an appropriate response to her bravery. Doreen has more strength than a herd of those proverbial elephants. She deserves praise, not pity. I give a nod to signify my admiration for speaking out.

  Claire is red-faced. ‘I shouldn’t have suggested it.’

  Doreen’s anger ebbs into acceptance. ‘I can see why people thought it, but physical violence doesn’t automatically lead to sexual assault. Graham violated me because he viewed sex as a husbandly right. It took years to accept it wasn’t my fault. His past actions don’t affect me anymore. I swear he didn’t rape Kelly.’

  ‘I’m so sorry for what you went through.’ Claire couldn’t look more distressed if she tried.

  ‘Let’s move on to what we should consider,’ Doreen replies. ‘Who was the father of Kelly’s baby?’

  None of us has an idea, let alone the answer. I’m still reeling that Kelly was pregnant. Even in the eighties, teenagers got themselves in the family way. Kelly though? It became a craze in my school to get up the duff and demand a council house. I was already living on a council estate and raising my sister. Much as I loved Mandy, I would’ve advised those foolish youngsters it wasn’t worth the hassle.

  ‘Why didn’t Kelly tell me she was pregnant?’ Doreen says. ‘I prided myself on how open we were with each other.’

  Ellen touches Claire’s knee. ‘Daughters often keep things from their parents. I bet this one has.’

  Claire looks at me. ‘So do best friends.’

  I let the comment pass, knowing it will take time to regain her trust.

  ‘What a secret for Kelly to have,’ Doreen says.

  ‘Why didn’t you go to the inquest, Mum?’ Claire asks.

  ‘Out of respect to Doreen, I wouldn’t report on Kelly’s death. I asked the paper to give the story to someone else. The reporter must have omitted Kelly’s pregnancy as a kindness to the family. I wish I’d gone, Doreen. You would’ve known.’

  ‘Her death wasn’t in any other newspapers. I checked.’ Claire squirms at the small impact Kelly’s death had on the world.

  ‘We must find out who got Kelly pregnant,’ Doreen says. ‘It may help us understand how she died. I know for definite she wouldn’t have killed herself. Although she respected people’s right to choose, Kelly didn’t support abortion, let alone doing that to her child. Not only have I lost my daughter but my grandchild too.’

  Claire clears her throat. ‘We have to consider if Kelly got pregnant because she consented or if it was…’

  ‘Rape.’ I complete the sentence, refusing on Doreen’s behalf and for those who’ve shared with me at Listening Ear, for it to be taboo.

  Doreen mouths her thanks.

  ‘Kelly’s pregnancy could be linked to why she died,’ Claire says.

  ‘Do what you need to do.’ Doreen presses the button on the control pad to lower the bed. ‘I’ve had enough for one day. Would you mind if I sleep?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Ellen replies. She stays to check Doreen has what she needs. Claire and I go into the hallway.

  ‘I hate my job sometimes,’ Claire says.

  ‘Try being a counsellor.’

  ‘Must be tough. You’ll be great though.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Nut sacks.’ Claire’s range of swear words are vast. ‘I forgot to say, I’ve tracked down Priscilla.’

  ‘Who’s Priscilla?’

  ‘Priscilla Staines, the scrawny kid who lived next door to the Pratts. Her mum, Deirdre, kept her locked away, like some kind of fairy tale witch. Priscilla used to talk to Kelly.’

  I visualise a thin girl with dishwater brown stringy hair. ‘Oh, yes. She was born with a hole in the heart. Deirdre believed if Priscilla got excited playing with other kids, she’d die on the spot.’

  Claire slaps me on the back. ‘Maybe you should be the reporter.’

  ‘No thanks. I was interested in other people’s medical issues. The Rembrandt Estate provided plenty of interesting case studies.’

  ‘I never saw Priscilla outside the garden,’ Claire says. ‘She’s finally free. I found her online and we were messaging last night.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘Deirdre is dead. Priscilla stayed on the estate until her mum snuffed it. Her dad’s still there. Priscilla’s working at Mabel’s Parlour in Troddington and lives in the flat above.’

  ‘Mabel’s Parlour?’ It’s a long time since I’ve been to Troddington.

  ‘It’s a tearoom. We’re going to see her tomorrow.’

  I consider making excuses for how I can’t duck out of work. Since this investigation began, I’ve taken quite a few days off. Nicole’s been tolerant as I never use all my annual leave. Claire will only reschedule if I refuse.

  ‘Fine,’ I say as my stomach knots.

  I’m returning to Troddington. For decades I’ve vowed never to go back. Now, I must.

  50

  27th November 1987

  St Peter’s Church was full. Doped up on tranquillisers, Doreen saw only a sea of blurred faces. A cry of hysterics escaped from her mouth. Kelly would love this. She was finally popular and Doreen couldn’t wait to tell her. Since Kelly’s death, Doreen had moments when she forgot her child’s absence. She wondered if a breakdown was coming, then decided she didn’t care.

  Graham pinched her thigh. ‘Don’t show me up, woman.’

  She ignored him. Even if he tried to kill her, she wouldn’t fight back. At least she’d be with Kelly again. Graham hadn’t struck Doreen since Kelly died. He vented his fury on inanimate objects instead, trashing their house. Graham was a pressure cooker, waiting to go off. When he did, Doreen knew she’d be incapacitated for weeks.

  Graham regarded the gathering. How dare they pretend to care after making his family’s life unbearable? He loathed their smart clothes and fake sorrowful expressions. Later, after a few pints, he’d take them down a peg or two. This he would do for his daughter.

  Doreen stared at the Order of Service, stroking Kelly’s sunshine smile radiating from the front cover. The photograph was taken a few months earlier. Kelly had laid out a spread of sandwiches, scones, jam, and cream, on the lawn as a treat for her mum. When she revealed the feast, happiness danced across Kelly’s face. It became Doreen’s most treasured photo. She kissed the paper cheek of her thoughtful girl.

  Ellen sat in the pew behind and squeezed Doreen’s shoulder. Graham’s warning glares didn’t deter Ellen. No one knew what had happened to Kelly. Under loud speculation, the truth remained silent. Ellen decided to no longer be quiet about Graham’s violence. If she learned he’d so much as raised his voice, she’d call the police. Ellen would be a better friend to Doreen.

  Seated next to her mum, Claire wriggled. The wooden seat and crushing remorse made settling impossible. The hypocrisy of kids who’d bullied Kelly and were acting up in the back rows annoyed her, along with the adults who gossiped about the Pratts. With each of Claire’s stares, they looked away. Let them feel ashamed, she thought. I do.

  Claire couldn’t forgive herself for leaving Kelly alone on the track. Ellen tried to reason she’d done her best, but Claire refused to accept it. Alex took her to lunch as a ruse to extract what troubled her. Considering his lying tendencies regarding his affairs, he was the last person she could confide in.

  Claire legitimately wore Ellen’s cashmere jumper to the service but she felt no joy. Shame twisted her gut. She had no right to nice things. Kelly would never experience goodness again. Guilt gnawed at Claire throughout the day. It manifested as an ache in the evening. Every night she awoke, screaming. Ellen’s hugs and soothing words to eradic
ate nightmares of a mutilated Kelly helped.

  The vicar began the eulogy. Patricia tuned him out. She’d never been interested in “religious clap trap”. The only time she attended church was for weddings, christenings and funerals.

  She checked her skirt, hoping the spillage didn’t show. Amanda chose to have a tantrum the moment they were leaving. Patricia swallowed anger at her now-cherubic daughter. Amanda’s punishment would be severe. Why the brat behaved like her sister was beyond Patricia. Jen refused to attend the funeral. Even when threatened with discipline, Jen didn’t budge. The stricken expression at mentions of the funeral confused her mum.

  Patricia told her to stop being a sissy. People died every day. Jen asserted she wasn’t going. In response, Patricia proposed three weeks of grounding. Catching Patricia unprepared, Jen accepted the fact. The threat of not seeing the dreadful Rose boy usually made Patricia’s daughter obedient. Patricia scowled at him for daring to look at her across the church.

  Jennifer was God knows where. Patricia sniggered at her blasphemy, bold at being a bitch to the man upstairs on His patch. God was for losers. She didn’t need an emotional crutch. Patricia had it covered.

  Jen’s defiance had unnerved her though. To reassert authority, Patricia had threatened to punish Mandy instead. Jen kicked a wall and dictated Patricia would pay if she touched a hair on Mandy’s head. Patricia enjoyed Jen’s feistiness. It confirmed her belief of her daughter’s hidden violent streak. Unable to concede defeat, Patricia stated Mandy had to attend. Having the family at public events was important. Two out of three children would do. Jen left. Patricia made plans for how to deal with her later.

  Bored with the service, Liam yawned and pushed away his mother’s incoming hug. The female need to be tactile was irritating. He was seventeen and no longer a mummy’s boy. As the vicar continued his speech, Liam gave a louder yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth.