Lydia dumped the mugs next to the sink and started rearranging the cutlery in Holly’s dishwasher. Straightening, she glanced through the kitchen window. Watching the boy hop round the garden, her own eyes were bright. ‘Think about Milo, love. He’s your kid and you should be proud. Tom doesn’t have a clue what goes on in real life. He never did.’ She turned to face Holly again, hands on hips. ‘He likes the cheer squads, the admiration that goes with his job. Obviously he’s clever, so he gets it at work, but he needs that at home too. That’s why he married you so young, and probably why, now you’ve grown up, he’s gone off with this other girl. How old is Beth?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘And he’s thirty-eight? Well, there you go.’
‘I suppose. There’s no way he’s going to win though. I’m keeping the house, and I’m keeping my son, even if it kills me. You know, he hardly mentioned the crash, the other boy, or the fact that there was someone following me. If there was one person I would suspect of trying to run me off the road, it would be him.’
Her aunt looked her sharply, one hand resting on the granite worktop, the other picking anxiously at a loose thread on her shirt. ‘Really? But he was in Portugal and this other boy …’
‘Oh, I know it wasn’t him. Milo would have recognised him when he saw him in the car anyway, and what would he be doing with a spare child? The point is, when I was scared, driving through the dark, thinking I was about to be carjacked or something, I thought it would be him. He really hates me. Whatever he says about the texts, it must be him or Beth. Nobody else would have access to his phone. He used to have a fit if I even answered it for him when we were together.’
Her aunt nodded slowly, biting her lip. ‘I did wonder … Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but all that old trouble with Jayden … Niko’s out now, and you told me the police saw Devril Mancini at the petrol station. Could this be something to do with your brother?’
Holly blinked, shocked. ‘Jesus, Lydia, of course not. That was all finished with ages ago, and I’ve not had anything to do with that lot for years. And Jayden’s … Well, he’s dead isn’t he?’
Lydia looked away, cheeks flaming. ‘Yes, of course. I’m just saying, that’s all. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I just wanted to say … But you’re right, it will bring back bad memories.’ She dashed a hand across her eyes and started rummaging in the cupboard. ‘How about cottage pie for dinner, love?’
Holly watched her for a moment, but let it go. Clearly her aunt had more to say on the subject, but she knew from experience not to push it. Why would anyone go after her anyway? The answer sprang up in an instant, and the thought made her gut clench with fear. Because what happened was her fault.
The door banged as Tom marched in from the garden and made his way out of the house. He called a cheerful goodbye to his son, but ignored the two women.
Milo bounced back into the kitchen, swinging along on his crutches, showing Lydia the ripped-open box of Ninjago Lego that was his latest present. With a sudden stab of emotion Holly thought of the other child again, the one who was never far from her thoughts. What kind of a life did he have? Did he play with Lego like Milo, or have furious games with dragons?
Preoccupied, Holly watched her ex-husband stride out into the road, getting carefully into his new Jaguar F-Type. He adjusted the driving mirror, taking his time, smoothing back his hair, clicking his seatbelt into place. The car was just another status symbol, another example of the toys that his reputation had brought him. Lydia was right, he loved the adoration from his students, the praise from academic journals, the spotless and much-talked-about career. She thought of what Tom had said about trading secrets. Well, yes they had, but how long would the trust hold, how long would it be until one of them had nothing to lose by telling the truth?
Shoving the emotions away, Holly picked up her phone. ‘Lydia, I’m just going to ring the hospital and see if there’s any news on that other boy.’
Lydia appeared in the kitchen doorway, tea towel in her damp hands, her dark eyes bright with interest. ‘That’s a good idea, love. I hate to think of a kid all alone, and you said he doesn’t seem to have any family. Whoever left him was wicked, plain evil.’
DC Marriot called just after Holly dropped Milo at school. ‘Mrs Kendal? It’s DC Karen Marriot. Are you at home?’
‘What? Sorry, the signal is really bad.’ That and the noise of a hundred screaming kids hurtling around a playground. A dozen footballs bounced off the chain-link fence next to her. Holly moved away, dodging through the crowd to a space near the bus stop. ‘I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.’
‘I can meet you there. I’d rather speak to you face to face about this.’
Her voice was sharp, almost excited. Holly shivered despite her coat and scarf. It had to be something about the boy. Who he was, obviously, and it was clearly interesting or the DC wouldn’t be dragging herself out to her house. Perhaps he had woken up. Which would be weird, as when she’d spoken to the nurse last night they said there’d been no change, but he was ‘comfortable’. Holly walked faster, almost jogging, until the nagging pain in her injured leg forced her to slow down.
DI Harper hadn’t been in touch after that odd conversation at the hospital. It was almost like he was keeping away on purpose, but she supposed he must have other cases he was working on. He had said his colleague was taking the lead on this one, and with so much drama in her personal life she’d been grateful the police had left her alone. Until now.
Arriving home breathless, and worried, she barely had time to tidy the junk in the lounge, and chuck the breakfast dishes into the sink, when the doorbell rang.
DC Marriot was accompanied by her colleague, DS Steph Harlow, and although both women were polite and almost friendly, Holly felt a flicker of nerves.
‘Do you want tea?’
DC Harlow smiled reassuringly. She was a pretty, round-faced woman with grey hair tied up in a messy ponytail. ‘I’ll have one please. Two sugars would be great.’
‘No thanks.’ DC Marriot was immaculate as usual, her blonde hair gleaming and pinned up in a chignon, her charcoal grey suit jacket and trousers perfectly pressed. But her cool expression betrayed a flash of excitement. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. The swab we took from the child in hospital shows that there is a genetic link between you. These results only give varying degrees of probability, but in this case there is a high degree of probability that you are related to this boy.’
‘Fuck me.’ It wasn’t possible. Holly swallowed hard and switched the kettle off before it had finished boiling. Realising what she had done, she turned it back on and faced the two women, fists clenched. Her stomach was churning, and she found she was breathing fast. ‘How could I be related to him? I don’t have any other kids!’ Her mind was spinning and the shock turned her voice into a squeak. So many possibilities hurtling through her brain. Had her parents had another child? A half-brother or sister who in turn had given birth to a boy?
‘We obviously know about your brother,’ DS Harlow said gently.
‘What? But Jayden’s dead. Oh shit, how old do you think the kid is?’ Without waiting for an answer, words tumbling from her mouth, Holly continued, ‘Oh my God, what’s my aunt going to say? You’re saying this is Jayden’s kid,