but was later identified by a friend who had reported her missing as Joanna Weatherall, from Hampshire. Police are appealing for anyone who might know the victim or think they saw anything suspicious to come forward.
My heart was battering by now. Hands to my knees, I made myself breathe.
‘Oh God,’ I whispered to no one. ‘Oh my God oh my God oh my God.’
A flash: a knife tip pressed against skin. Breakthrough, the sudden pooling of red blood, the soft plunge of blade into warm flesh.
I knew it was her. Jo. Joanna. She hadn’t told me her last name, but I knew. My leg shook. I planted my foot down flat to stop it. Read the whole article again before sending it to the printer. I tried to sip my tea, but I hadn’t the strength in my hands to lift the mug. After a few minutes, I walked at the speed of a pall-bearer into the living room and pulled the article from the printer tray. I didn’t read it again. Only the headline. Back in the kitchen, I fetched my clip file from the dresser, slid the article into a clear plastic sleeve and clipped Jo inside with the other stories before sitting down again. My head was in my hands but I had no memory of putting it there. I was shaking from head to toe, crying, but it seemed to me that I’d been crying for a while. It was her. Who else could it be?
‘I’m so sorry, Jo,’ I whimpered. ‘I’m so, so sorry, love.’
13
Ingrid
Transcript of recorded interview with Ingrid Taylor (excerpt)
Also present: DI Heather Scott, PC Marilyn Button
HS: Ms Taylor, can you tell us how you first came to be in Rachel Edwards’ house?
IT: I’d just moved into the close. I couldn’t find the teabags so I asked if she had any spare. She invited me in.
HS: Is there any reason why you asked Rachel Edwards specifically?
IT: It was early. I could see that her lights were on. That she was up. Awake, I mean.
HS: And what about Mr Edwards?
IT: Mark? He was there that morning. (Pause) Look, can I just say that the only reason I’ve ended up getting involved in this stuff is because my ex left me practically penniless. Without that, I’d never have had to move and I’d never have asked Mark about a job. Honestly, apart from him, I wish I’d never met that family.
HS: So you have no income other than your salary from your clerical job at ICI?
IT: A pittance. Yes. What’s that got to do with anything?
HS: Nothing, just building up a picture. And that’s the job that you get a lift with Mr Edwards to each day, is that right?
IT: Yes.
HS: How would you describe your relationship with Mr Edwards now?
IT: Mark and I are… well, we’re close. You know, we get on really well. We make each other laugh. We just… clicked, I suppose. But that’s it. He was really kind to me, he’s so sweet. He practically got me that job and I guess on our car trips together I realised he needed someone to talk to, you know with Rachel being as she was. I could have driven in my own car obviously but that would have been a waste with us going to the same place every day, and I suppose I felt like I could pay him back by offering a sympathetic ear. I mean, I think he wanted more. You get a sixth sense for these things as a woman, but we were just friends. We are friends still, I hope. I mean, I’m not a husband stealer or anything. I’m not some sort of Jezebel home wrecker. I’m a feminist.
HS: Ms Taylor, if we could go back to the evening of Saturday the twenty-ninth of June this year, the night Joanna Weatherall was attacked. Did you have any suspicions with regard to your neighbour, Mrs Edwards?
IT: Well, obviously I’d seen Rachel’s weird file by then, but I didn’t leap to any conclusions other than perhaps having doubts about her mental health. I knew she went out every night. I would see her sometimes from my front window, either with the dog or coming home with a takeaway of some sort. So many takeaways. I used to wonder why people got them. I mean, why not go out for a meal? Be civilised instead of troughing down luminous MSG in your jogging pants? Sorry, I don’t mean to sound