Extending her hand, her smile frozen on her face, Jade waited.
Obviously realising there was no way to hide, Poppy reluctantly emerged, plugging her thumb into her mouth and nervously taking Jade’s hand. Was the poor little mite worried about her mum, Jade wondered, or her soon-to-be-boiled goldfish? Her goldfish, more than likely. The child was just like Melissa, self-centred, no thought for anyone but herself.
‘Good girl.’ Squeezing her hand, Jade led her across to the sofa, where she could keep an eye on her while she attended to the business of cleaning up. ‘Now, you stay there while I get a nice warm fire going, and then we can go for a little walk in the fresh air. How does that sound?’
Poppy didn’t answer. Jade let it pass. She was obviously tired. It was way past her bedtime.
‘She really is a careless cow, your mum, leaving all these hazardous materials lying around in her workshop.’ Jade chatted companionably to the girl, sprinkling liberally as she did. ‘Lord knows what she was thinking. I mean, white spirits, on a low shelf? Honestly, it’s a wonder social services didn’t cart you off years ago. Being a drink-addled druggy’s no excuse for child abuse, is it?’
The first armchair thoroughly doused, Jade walked across to the other, smiling reassuringly at Poppy as she went. ‘You’re better off without her, my love, and that deceitful father of yours. Trust me, having no parents is better than having abusive parents. They scar you for life.’
The second armchair wet enough for purpose, Jade ditched the bottle, picked up another containing heating oil, and headed for the sofa. ‘Almost done,’ she said cheerily, unscrewing the top, and then pausing. Cocking her head to one side, she looked the quaking girl over. No, she decided. It was tempting, but she needed the brat for insurance purposes, at least for now.
‘Come on, sweetheart,’ she said, offering Poppy her hand. ‘Let’s get you out in the fresh air. These fumes really aren’t any good for you.’ Tsk-ing at the irresponsibility of a mother who would expose a child to this, let alone the clay and glaze dusts, which must surely be highly toxic, Jade poured out the last of the oil and led the little girl to the safety of the hall.
‘Stay,’ she ordered. ‘If you move, I’ll saw your feet off.’
The girl let out a ragged sob. Jade sighed, pulled her matches from her jeans pocket, and held onto her patience. It wasn’t her fault she was the product of her dysfunctional parents, she supposed.
‘Here we go,’ she said, bending as she struck the match, watching the flame dancing in the little girl’s watery eyes.
Mesmerised for a second, Jade jumped to her feet before the match burned down, and then, tingling with anticipation, she tossed it into the lounge. ‘Whoosh,’ she whispered, closing her eyes, a thrill rushing through her as it caught.
Jade hesitated, making sure the flames leapt and furled before pulling the door to. ‘It’s going to be the most beautiful bonfire ever. Much bigger than the others I made. There’s lots of wood in your house, you see,’ she confided conspiratorially to Poppy, taking her hand firmly in her own. ‘I’ll let you get closer to the next one,’ she promised.
The girl was crying in earnest now, gulping back huge snotty sobs as Jade led her to the front door.
She’d feel better after a good cry. Not that Jade ever had. She’d stopped crying once she’d realised tears were pointless when there was no one who cared enough to hear them.
‘You really need to feel the heat of the fire on your face to realise the true cleansing beauty of it,’ she said, attempting to mollify the child as she pulled the front door open – and then stopped, fury uncoiling inside her as she saw several blue lights rotating outside. The interfering bitch upstairs had got her call through.
Jade’s faced darkened as she watched another squad car screeching towards the house, her supposed hero spilling from the passenger door as it careered to a halt halfway across the lawn.
‘Too late, copper,’ Jade spat, clutching Poppy’s hand tighter and stepping back.
Seventy-Eight
MARK
Undiluted terror gripped Mark’s stomach as he took in the scene before him in surreal slow motion. Splintering wood. He could hear beams falling. Hear his house burning.
Windows shattering. Flames crackling. People shouting. Sirens screaming. His daughter’s cries – he sucked in a breath, couldn’t breathe out – they reached inside him and ripped his heart right out of his chest.
He tumbled forwards, his emotions colliding, his world exploding.
And then he ran.
Wrestling free of the arms that tried to hold him back, ignoring his DCI yelling behind him, he ran.
He kicked at the door, ramming his shoulder, his whole body weight against it – ‘Give, you fucking thing!’ – and then he was in. Falling into the hall, choking back the fumes that seared the back of his throat, he righted himself, pressing his arm to his mouth as he made his way through the smoke to the stairs.
Noting the open doors on the landing, he didn’t pause, but he prayed, a prayer that came from his soul, as he crashed into the main bedroom, his lungs raw from the effort of trying to breathe. Needing to assess the situation, to think strategically through the debilitating panic, Mark closed the door to buy some time, and registered the horror in front of him.
Lisa, face down on the floor, bleeding from a head wound, unconscious at best.
Poppy… alive. Mark silently thanked God. She was sobbing, tugging hard on Mel’s arm. ‘Mummy, please, you have to get out of bed.’
Mel was barely responsive.
A potent mixture of fear and fury raging inside him, Mark snapped his gaze to the tall casement window where, standing precariously on the ledge, her back to the concrete drive twenty long feet below, was Jade. The smile on her face was triumphant, her movements controlled. She knew that Mark knew he had a decision to make: her or his wife? If she fell, if she died, his baby’s whereabouts would die with her.
Mark took a faltering step forwards. She edged dangerously back.
‘Don’t do this, Jade,’ Mark begged her, his voice hoarse. ‘Please, don’t do this.’
‘Why?’ she snarled. Her face, illuminated by the sweeping blue lights outside, was twisted with rage. ‘Because you care?’
‘I care.’ Marked took another cautious step. ‘I care very much. You need help, Jade. Please, let me—’
‘Liar! You pretended you did, but you didn’t! You promised me you’d always be there. Made me an absolute promise. And you weren’t!’
‘When? Talk to me, Jade.’ Mark moved closer. ‘Tell me, I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, here we go.’ Jade laughed. ‘The “I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you” crap.’
‘I am sorry!’ Mark said, fear slicing through him afresh as she teetered. ‘If I did something—’
‘I’d lost everything! My whole life burned to ashes! You told me it was going to be all right. You held me and you told me, and it wasn’t! You lied to me! You left me. You left me to be with that slut of a wife because she was pregnant!’
Mark stopped, bewildered. There was no reasoning with her, no talking to her. She was utterly insane.
‘I was pregnant! Made pregnant by him!’
‘Who?’ Mark shouted, groping desperately for some comprehension, some inkling of what she was talking about.
‘It was her fault! That spoiled brat of a sister, always whining and seeking attention.’
Mark ran a hand over his face. No idea what to say. What to do.