The Vow - Debbie Howells Page 0,80

hunch. But as far as I can see, there’s a pattern. It seems to fit.’

She frowns again. ‘I wanted to ask you about your mother’s workshop. Do you know what she keeps in there?’

‘Mostly her herbs in labelled jars. It’s the most potent form, from which she dilutes them. It’s very precise.’

‘I need to take another look.’ Then as we start walking back towards Cath’s car, I ask her, ‘How much longer will this be cordoned off?’ I want the plastic tape gone, my freedom back.

‘I can’t say, Jess. But I’ll let you know as soon as we’re done. I’m going to look into the Facebook thing. I’ll let you know if I find anything.’

As Cath gets out of her car and walks towards us, her face is anxious. ‘Are you OK, Jess?’

I nod. ‘Yeah. We’re done here.’

‘You want to go?’

Nodding, I walk over to her car and get in. After a brief exchange with PC Page, a couple of minutes later, she joins me.

‘Did you find out what you wanted to?’

‘Not really.’ My voice wavers, while a tear snakes its way down my cheek. ‘She said they have evidence, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. She also said they have a clear picture of how things were between Mum and Matt. I don’t know how, exactly. And after the way Matt’s treated her, then met someone else, they probably think she has a motive. It’s completely and utterly shit.’ My voice is bitter, my brain desperately casting around for other answers – the right answer, because at the moment, the police are missing something.

1996

After. Grief. Sadness. Ripples multiplying. One death leading to another death – the boy you wanted for your own. Not one, but two devastated families, all because of you.

How long before you shrugged it off? Telling yourself it was an accident – how many hundreds of times, until you believed your own lies? I wonder if when you look back now, how you’d tell the story of what happened that day. Who you’d blame. Knowing your mind has distorted it and turned it into something more palatable; because even a heart as twisted as yours has become, somewhere deep inside you must know the truth.

And when it comes out, the whole world will know your game and it will be over. The pretence, the lies, the hiding behind false names. Because I know who you are. I’ve always known. And I’ll make sure you pay for what you did.

Amy

Chapter Thirty-One

Each session of questioning conspires to lower me further. Maintaining my composure in the interview room, it’s only when I’m back in my cell that I allow my tears to fall, holding on to the only fact I’m sure of: that I’m innocent. None of this should be happening to me.

When I’m next taken to the interview room, instead of DI Lacey, there’s another woman with PC Page.

‘Amy, this is Dana. She’s a police psychologist. She wants to talk to you about …’

My frayed nerves already stretched to breaking point, I snap. ‘You think I’m mad, don’t you? I’m not. I know I’m not. I won’t let you section me. Please.’ Agitated, I turn to my solicitor. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side. Can’t you do something?’

But he doesn’t respond. For a moment, no-one speaks. ‘Amy?’ PC Page’s voice is calm. ‘Please sit down. No-one’s accusing you of being mad or trying to section you. We know you’ve struggled with depression before – we’ve spoken to your GP. We’ve also been talking to your daughter and your therapist, Sonia Richardson. The point is we think Matt’s been playing mind games with you.’

My eyes flit between PC Page’s and the psychologist’s, as I take in what she’s saying, frowning as I wonder why they’ve spoken to Sonia.

Dana looks at me. She’s pretty, with reddish hair and pale skin, the kind of looks no doubt Matt would have found attractive. ‘Have you heard of gaslighting, Amy?’ When I shake my head, she goes on. ‘It’s when a man – usually it’s a man – starts altering the reality of the woman he lives with. It starts in small ways, such as him telling her she’s forgotten something he never asked her to get, or reminding her about a conversation they’ve never had. Gradually it escalates, until she starts to doubt herself. Eventually she thinks she’s going mad.’

As I listen, there’s an uncomfortable familiarity to what she’s saying.

‘Your daughter gave me an example.’ PC Page speaks slowly.