‘Tell me. What is it?’ he asked, terror in his voice.
‘Your father,’ she sobbed. ‘He wasn’t the man you thought he was . . . he abused me.’
‘Mum . . . I know,’ said James quietly.
She looked up in shock. ‘But how . . . ?’
‘We both knew. Adam and I used to sit at the top of the stairs, trying to think of ways to make it stop, but we were too scared.’
She reached out for his hand. ‘One night, he came towards me and . . .’ The words caught in her throat. ‘It was an accident. You have to believe me. He was drunk, and he was coming for me. I was so scared. I backed away, but he had me cornered. He raised his arm, and I pushed him. So lightly, but it was enough to knock him off balance. He lost his footing and fell backwards, hitting his head on the hearth as he went down.’
James bit down on his lip and tears sprang to his eyes.
‘He was so quiet as he lay there,’ Pammie went on, ‘and I didn’t know what to do. I knew he’d kill me when he came round, so I had to get away. I had to get us all away. I ran out of the kitchen, but there he was.’
Her eyes glazed over.
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘Adam,’ she cried. ‘Sitting at the top of the stairs, watching through the banisters. He was there one minute, and then he was gone. In a blind panic, I ran up the stairs, but he was back in his bed, pretending to be asleep. I reached out to touch him, but he shook me off and turned to face the wall.’
‘It was an accident, Mum,’ said James, pulling her in to him. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
She allowed herself a small smile. ‘You’ve always been such a good boy,’ she said to him. ‘Even that night, when I came in to check on you, you woke and said, “I love you, Mum.” I’ll never know what I’ve done to deserve you.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he said again softly.
‘It is!’ She was sobbing now. ‘I’ve turned him into the monster he is. He’s never said a word, but he knows what I did. It’s why he did what he did to Rebecca. It’s why I feared he was going to do the same to Emily. I had to get her away from him.’
I sat there, numb and open-mouthed as the realization of what she was saying sank in.
‘I need to tell the police,’ she said, shaking herself down. ‘I have to tell them what I’ve done before Adam does. He was so young, he won’t remember events clearly. He’ll just say that I killed his father. I need to be there to give myself a fighting chance.’
James took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. ‘Adam won’t say anything.’
She tried to pull away from him. ‘I have to go,’ she said impatiently. There was a sudden urgency about her, a need to get her story across.
‘Adam won’t say anything,’ James repeated.
‘He will, I know he will,’ she said, panicking.
‘He won’t, because it was me,’ he said.
A sob caught in her throat as she looked at him, confused.
‘It was me, not Adam, sitting at the top of the stairs.’
‘But . . . but it couldn’t have been,’ she stuttered.
‘I saw what happened, and it wasn’t your fault.’
‘No . . . it was Adam. It had to be, because you told me you loved me.’
‘I still do,’ said James, and Pammie fell into his open arms.
EPILOGUE
The daffodils are in bloom and Poppy is crawling in amongst them, much to the chagrin of her mother. She catches my eye as she scoops her up, and we laugh at her muddied knees. Poppy giggles as Emily hoists her into the air and blows a raspberry on her tummy. She looks like her mother when she smiles, she has the same kind eyes and button nose.
‘You’ve got all this to come,’ I say, as I pat Kate’s hand, who instinctively rubs her rounded tummy and smiles.
‘I, for one, cannot wait,’ says James, as Emily puts Poppy back down on the grass and she immediately heads to the beckoning land of yellow again. We laugh as James crawls after her, making a roaring noise, and she doubles her speed.
‘He’ll make a wonderful dad,’ I say after him.
I think of all those letters from a dad that Poppy will never know. I don’t know what they say because I’ve never opened them, but he must know what he’s missing. She’ll be a teenager before he’s out, and by then, Emily will have moved on, will be living the life that she deserves.
I hope she meets someone who will love her and Poppy the way I do.
Who will care for her in the same way she cares for me.
Not a day has passed without her coming to see me, not even when the court case was on and I was too weak to go.
‘You okay?’ she asks as she puts her hand gently on my shoulder.
I smile and reach up to hold it.
Yes. I am okay.
I’m free of the fear I’ve lived with for so long.
I just wish I had longer to live.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A huge thank you to my agent Tanera Simons, who had to endure me hyperventilating when she told me I had a publishing deal. She has also had to convince me (several times since) that it wasn’t a wind-up. Thank you Tanera and everyone at Darley Anderson – I feel very lucky to have found you.
My incredible editors, Vicki Mellor at Pan Macmillan and Catherine Richards at Minotaur Books, who both ‘got’ The Other Woman from the word go. It has been a pleasure to work alongside you to make the book the best that it can be.
To the fabulous Sam, who was my soundboard and kept pushing for more pages, before I’d even written them. And to my very special friends who will all, no doubt, find something of themselves in The Other Woman – be it a shared memory, a familiar character trait or a hidden meaning. Thank you for the inspiration, support and encouragement.
To my much-missed mother-in-law who couldn’t have been further from Pammie if she tried. And to my own mum – well, you’ll have to ask my husband!
To my wonderful husband and children, who had no idea that I was even writing a book – thank you for just letting me get on with whatever you thought I was getting on with! This is what I was doing!
And finally to everyone who has read The Other Woman – thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoyed it.