No more mollycoddling. ‘Think Maleficent kind of strong, when she gets her wings cut off in that Angelina Jolie film.’
Grace nodded, leaning her head on her mother’s shoulder.
‘Did Maleficent have a mum and dad?’ she asked.
‘You know what, I don’t know.’
‘Aurora was brought up in the woods with the fairies, right?’
Melissa nodded and Grace peered out of the window in the direction of Forest Grove. ‘If I’d got to live with Ryan,’ she said, ‘maybe I would be living in the woods with him. Maybe I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Why would you live with Ryan?’
Grace turned back to look at her mother. ‘He’s my dad.’
Melissa shook her head, grabbing her daughter’s hand. ‘He isn’t your dad, Grace. Where on earth did you hear that?’
‘Dad told me.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
Friday 3rd May, 2019
11 a.m.
Melissa walked up the drive to her house, still trying to process what Grace had said to her earlier. She’d considered going to Patrick right away, asking him what the hell he’d been playing at, telling Grace she was Ryan’s. But she needed time to think.
She put her key in the door, not quite believing it was just over two weeks since she’d done the same, expecting to be greeted by the usual chatter and calls for food. As she stepped inside, a bag with Lilly and Lewis’s dirty clothes in her hands, she felt as though her legs were filled with lead.
She paused and looked around her. Things felt different now. It no longer felt like a home. She walked through into the kitchen and sat on a stool, staring at the place where Patrick had lain. Over two weeks ago, just two weeks, and yet so much had happened to change the course of their lives here. She yearned for the humdrum of the time before, the whir of the washing machine and the sound of music drifting from the twins’ room upstairs. She yearned to see Grace reading in her favourite corner of the living room and Patrick throwing a toy for Sandy. But instead all she saw now was Patrick and Grace standing across from each other, shouting over a broken bloody watch!
She sighed and got the mop out, beginning to clean the floor. But the blood was so congealed into the grout that she had to get down on her hands and knees, scrubbing at it with a hard brush, tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought of Grace stabbing Patrick in this very spot . . . of Patrick telling Grace she was Ryan’s!
There was a knock on the door. Melissa took a deep breath, wiping her tears away with her wrist, then she walked down the hallway, the scrub brush still in her hands.
She opened the door to find Daphne there.
‘Oh, Melissa,’ Daphne said, pulling Melissa into her arms. ‘Maddy told me about Lilly. I’m so sorry you’re going through this.’
‘It’s horrible.’
‘I can’t even imagine.
Daphne’s eyes dropped to the brush in Melissa’s hand, which was dripping bloody water on the floor.
‘I’ve been trying to get the blood out,’ Melissa said.
Without saying anything, Daphne took the brush and went to the kitchen. If she was shocked by the sight of the bloody swirls on the floor and the police tape on the side, she didn’t show it. Instead, she knelt down and started scrubbing until every drop of the blood had disappeared. Then she turned her attention to the rest of the kitchen as Melissa sat at the kitchen table, watching her friend.
‘Patrick recovering well, then?’ Daphne asked, without looking up.
Melissa nodded. ‘Yes, apart from his speech. It means we’re not able to get much more out of him about what happened.’
‘And what about you guys? How are you after, you know, all the rumours about Patrick?’
‘We’re hanging in there.’
Daphne’s jaw clenched as she scrubbed harder at the kitchen worktops. ‘So you’re going to stay with him, are you?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
Daphne stopped scrubbing and looked up at Melissa, wiping her brow. ‘You know people like him never change, Melissa. I just—’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business.’
‘No, carry on. Maybe I need to hear it,’ Melissa said, thinking of what Grace had just told her.
‘I don’t want you being influenced by Rosemary and Bill,’ Daphne said. ‘I hope you know you have your own strength without them . . . without Patrick too. You can do fine on your own. You need to learn to trust your instincts, something that can easily get lost when you’re hugged too