was happening. And you were cheerful. I remember, you sounded very cheerful. That’s what I told the police and yet all the time Dad was on the bed… I bet he wanted me to help him, I bet he felt frightened and alone. I wonder if he called out to me, Mum. Did he want me to help him? I can’t believe I slept soundly next door, Mum, with my head full of the barbecue and Emily Grant, while you…’
‘Oh, darling. Oh, Dom. You mustn’t do that. There’s no point; it will just destroy you.’
‘Ya think?’
His sarcasm warbled through his contorted mouth.
‘I never sleep deeply now, not once since it happened. I lie with one ear cocked in case someone needs my help, in case Dad might need my help…’
Kate rubbed at her closed eyes.
‘I am sorry, Dom. I am truly, truly sorry for all the hurt that I have caused you both and one day we will talk about fear and being alone and the reasons why, but not today. Not today, Dom. It’s important that you know that I always, always put you first. I—’
Kate never finished her sentence.
The kitchen door slammed against the wall, causing them both to jump and jerk their heads in the direction of the bang.
Rodney Morris stood with one arm outstretched, flat-palmed against the open door. His body was not used to the speed with which his adrenalin had propelled him up from the beach. He panted and sweated, his face scarlet. His other hand was crooked against his chest and in the space between he held what appeared to be clothing. Keys dangled from his finger.
Kate let her son’s hand fall onto the table top as she rose from her chair.
‘Rodney! What’s the matter? What’s going on?’
Slowly he raised his head until his tear-filled eyes were level with hers.
‘Tanya…’ he stammered.
He passed Kate the opened cream envelope that had been tightly scrunched inside his palm.
Kate put her arm around him and steered him into a chair, the bad blood between them evaporating in the face of his obvious distress.
She pulled the sheet of paper from the envelope and hurriedly scanned Tanya’s words.
‘Where is she now, Rodney?’ she screamed. ‘Is it too late?’
Rodney rocked slowly in his chair and rambled incoherently.
‘Oh no! Oh please God, no!’ Kate howled, bordering on hysterical.
‘Beautiful… so young…’ mumbled Rodney through his tears.
Kate read and reread Tanya’s note, transfixed by the ten lines, trying to absorb their meaning. Her breath came in gulps. The pain in her chest was hard and instant. She looked up and sought the face of her son, seeking comfort and reassurance, but he was gone.
Ten years ago
During her trial, Kathryn felt as if she were living underwater. Day and night were indistinguishable; hours were bunched together and blurred, punctuated with catnaps and the occasional intake of flavourless food that tasted wooden in her mouth. Words were somehow distorted, colours muted and sound muffled. She felt something akin to weightlessness. Of the throng of people that peered in her direction, only Lydia and Dominic stood out, distinct and recognisable. Their faces pinched through grief, expressions blank, numbed by their ordeal.
As she listened to the droning voices dissecting and analysing the most minute aspects of her life, it felt as if they were talking about a stranger. She felt disconnected from the proceedings, unable to fully grasp the process. People she recognised sometimes stood in the dock; she was vaguely aware of Judith sneering at her as she placed her fat hand on a Bible.
To Kathryn, the facts were straightforward. Mark had hurt her for a long time and one day, under extreme provocation, she had enough and killed him. No more, no less. Whilst she wouldn’t go so far as to call what she did justified, she knew that extreme scrutiny and debate would not change the situation. It was what it was. The twelve men and women of the jury pronounced her condemned, just as she had known they would. The sentence however was fair. Eight years, of which she would serve five with good behaviour. Kate felt some justification, these strangers selected at random had conceded that his acts against her were monstrous and for that, at least, she was grateful.
Kate – not Kathryn any longer – lay on the hard prison bed and tried to familiarise herself with her new home. She was relieved that her sentence had finally begun. Like a marathon race, the sooner she started, the sooner she