Eventually, when Conor sits on the sofa looking like he’s never going to leave the room, Amanda asks me if we could go for a walk. I look over at Conor.
‘Fire away, I’m not going anywhere.’
Out in the garden, I feel a cold chill cloak my body so I tuck my hands tightly into the pockets of my jacket. I tell Amanda about the card as we make our way towards the forest at the far end. Amanda is as shocked as I was. Even though she has makeup on I can see she’s turned a different shade of pale. She hasn’t said anything yet. I hope she’s trying to digest the news and come up with a resolution. Eventually she speaks. Asking all the obvious questions: when, where, am I sure I couldn’t have imagined it? But I’ve been there, hoped that, and kept on coming up with the same answer. Laura, you held that card in your hands. You read those words. Your husband is a murderer. This is not in your imagination. You did not hallucinate.
On reaching the edge of the forest, Amanda continues to walk in through the thickening terrain. Her high-heeled shoes crush the dry golden leaves below her feet. For as long as I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Amanda in flats. ‘When you’re an inch short of five feet tall you learn to deal with the pain,’ she used to say. Until a few years ago when she said, ‘I think I’ve finally done it. My feet are now numb.’ We laughed that night. We laughed for the first time in a long time.
‘I don’t think you should tell him yet,’ she says, her head turning towards me. My cautious footwork has me straggling in her wake but I quicken my step to catch up with her.
‘Why?’
‘You need to find out more. Are there any suspects yet? I know it’s only been a few days but I bet there’s plenty of local gossip. Get down to the shops or something – the butcher’s maybe? Everyone talks in the butcher’s in these places, or better again, the hairdressers? Go get a blow-dry. Find out what the local take is on this murder.’
I’m listening intently. Amanda has a point. I know nothing about what happened; the news broke the same day as my waters, so I never got to hear much of the gruesome detail, let alone the gossip. I brace myself, taking a deep breath before I ask the question.
‘Do you think it could be true?’ I say.
‘What?’ Amanda stops abruptly and turns to look at me, the earlier excitement on her face nowhere to be seen. ‘Do you?’
‘No, God no, I’m just asking… I – I’m scared, Amanda. Someone is trying to hurt me. What if someone knows?’
‘Look at me.’ Her hands grab hold of my face. ‘No one knows anything, okay? This is a prank, one that you’ll figure out when you get a bit more information.’
Tears are trickling down my face. It feels good to cry. To be with someone I trust. I know I can tell Amanda anything and she will always try to help me.
‘You need to find out what you can and keep me posted. Together we will figure it out.’
‘And you’re certain I shouldn’t tell Conor?’
Amanda stalls for a moment, looking away from me towards the forest. ‘No, not yet. You will have to tell him at some point but not now.’ Moving her gaze to the sky, she inhales a deep breath before looking back at me. ‘Hopefully you’ll be able to tell him with a full explanation… who sent the card and why.’
Amanda’s right. There’s nothing to be gained by upsetting Conor yet. Things are lovely at the minute and I’m not going to let the crazy person who sent the card ruin it.
I hear the crunching of dry leaves. It can’t be us; we’re standing still.
‘Someone’s coming,’ Amanda whispers, adding to the covert atmosphere we’ve created. My heart speeds up for a brief moment before I see him. Pat shuffles past us, his hat tilted on his head. His eyes shift sideways to look at us, but he doesn’t say anything. I nod a hello.
‘So that’s the famous Pat?’ Amanda says.
‘Yep, that’s him. The old man who came with the house.’
We laugh before making our way back towards the house. Conor is standing at the window looking out at us. He turns away when I notice