At least you had been found now. Mum stared at me, eyes wide and wary. ‘It’s bad,’ she had said. I needed to stop imagining and see for myself exactly what had happened. Surely nothing could be as bad as what was going on in my head.
‘I… I need to get to the hospital.’
‘Just… just wait a little bit.’ Mum’s restraining hand was once again on my arm.
‘I need to see my daughter.’
‘Let’s have a cup of tea first, let the police sort a couple of things out.’
‘No, I need to see her now.’ I pulled away from your Granny Heather’s grasp as tyres crunched on the drive. My dad’s car pulled up. But he didn’t get out. I saw him put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. John was crying.
Big brothers don’t cry. Your Uncle John was a tough fireman, and I hadn’t seen him shed a tear since he’d broken his collarbone when he was ten, after showing off jumping from a tree.
So there was only one explanation for his tears. You were dead, Beth. You were exactly two weeks short of your fourteenth birthday.
Another scream ripped through the air. This time, it was mine.
Six
My triumph, the moment I committed murder, was a film in my head I revisited. I knew it so well that it could be fast-forwarded through the dull bits and rewound to watch the interesting bits over and over again.
The sound of the girl’s head being hit was like a watermelon smashing open. That wasn’t a metaphor, because when the thought first occurred to me I bought a watermelon to compare the sounds. It gave me a rush to hear it, and so I’d done that again and again too.
Of course, the watermelon didn’t make the helpless little huff of breath that she had given. Remembering that was one of my favourite parts.
The real highlight had been watching her skin turn from a pink glow to a corned beef mottle to grey then finally blue. That was amazing, and each time I replayed the memory I felt a warm glow of satisfaction.
Seven
I felt a touch on my shoulder, but I didn’t look up. I stayed curled on the floor of the hallway, Wiggins whining and trying to get to my face to lick away my tears.
You were dead. My daughter was gone.
My chest tightened horribly. I couldn’t breathe. Maybe I’d die. That would be good.
Voices surrounded me; Mum, Dad and John hunched over me. Jacob’s voice broke through, pulling people away. A strong hand under my chin forced my face up to meet his.
White face. Wide eyes. Pupils like bottomless wells. He was as stricken as me. I stood and threw my arms around him, clinging on, a drowning woman to a life preserver.
Not a word was uttered between us. Just pain screaming silently.
Everyone stood back, watching, hands over mouths. In a separate world to us now. Mum’s hands fluttered around us, weak as butterfly wings in a gale.
Jacob cradled my head in one hand, protecting me and holding me safe against him as he turned and looked at someone.
‘Mick, what happened?’ His voice rumbled through his chest against my ear, distorted, as he questioned my dad.
‘There’s CID on their way. We should wait for them. The new lead officer, Detective Sergeant Devonport, she’ll be able to explain things better,’ said a muffled voice. A woman’s. Must be that Family Liaison Officer, Britney.
‘Mick.’ Jacob’s urging tickled my ear. I buried my face further into his jumper. Wanting to escape. Desperate to hear.
‘We were on the marsh.’ My dad spoke, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. ‘We, er, we heard a shout. Saw police running.’
‘Yeah, everyone ran,’ John confirmed.
My fingers dug further into Jacob’s jumper, feeling the taut muscles of his back.
‘We ran too. Jill’s youngest, Davy, was pointing at something. There…’ Dad’s voice broke. ‘Beth was there. Floating in a mere.’
‘No. I don’t want to hear.’ Jacob pulled me tighter as he protested, trembling against me.
But I raised my head.
‘I do.’
Dad looked at me, shocked. Shaking his head. But I didn’t agree with Jacob. I needed to know what had happened to my daughter, no matter how hard it was. I had to do it for you, Beth.
He and John looked helpless, but John took a deep breath, carried on speaking. ‘Right, so… the, umm, the one officer felt for a pulse. And shook his head.’
Seismic shocks ran through Jacob’s body. I held him close, each of us stopping the other from falling apart. There was something that had to be asked…
‘What did she look like, Dad? What had happened to her?’
‘I didn’t see too close, duck. I don’t know. Pale. She looked very pale. I didn’t really see anything else.’
‘What was she doing on the marsh?’
My question went unanswered, along with a million others. Perhaps you had gone there in the dark to do some bird-spotting. Slipped and hurt yourself. Had hypothermia killed you? Or had you hit your head when you fell? Why the hell were you there in the first place?
Jacob and I were too stunned to cry. Wiggins pressed against us, trembling, because he knew something was terribly wrong, the way animals always do.
‘Love, love, let’s get you onto the sofa,’ sniffed Mum, her own face wet with tears.
I nodded. Because what else could I do? I let myself be urged gently along, supported, to the living room. Murmured talk. A hot drink pressed into my hand, which was held only because I couldn’t think of anything else to do with it. More staring at the carpet.
I wouldn’t get to hold my daughter again. You loved your cuddles. As a youngster you’d asked for them so often that I’d even had to stop in the middle of washing up, suds dripping on the floor as we’d hugged. Do you remember, Beth? You hadn’t changed a bit; even as a teenager you were always asking for a hug.
Another knock at the door. I didn’t move. More voices; this time urgent.
‘Mr and Mrs Oak.’ A woman with a low, calm voice but with such authority that my head rose in spite of itself.
‘Mr and Mrs Oak,’ she repeated, to be certain she had our attention. ‘My name is Detective Sergeant Ellen Devonport. I have an urgent update about your daughter.’
‘We know.’ Call herself a detective? I shrugged helplessly at the scene in front of her.
‘I believe you’re aware that Beth has been found on a section of marsh a couple of miles from the village boundary. An officer couldn’t find a pulse—’
‘We know.’ Jacob spoke to the floor, head in his hands. Voice dead.
‘What you don’t know is that a paramedic did detect a faint pulse.’
What! Invisible strings jerked everyone to their feet. We all stared at the CID officer.
‘She’s alive? Beth’s alive?’ I demanded.
Jacob’s nervous laugh sounded.
DS Devonport gave a cautious hint of a smile. ‘She’s being taken right now by air ambulance to St James’s Hospital in Leeds.’
‘But she’s all right? She’s alive?’ I had been drowning and now rushed up to the surface, dizzy, gasping, euphoric. ‘Can we see her?’
‘We can drive you to Leeds now, if you’d like.’
Jacob and I clung onto each other, grinning.
‘You must understand: Beth is very poorly,’ DS Devonport added.