Am I Guilty?. Jackie Kabler

repeated this to Flora now, and she nodded.

      ‘That’s what happened. I’d come down to get some papers from the dining room, so I said hi, and I think Millie ran up to join Nell in her room, and then Rupert took Greg straight out into the back garden. It was still really hot, and it was always cooler out there under the big oak tree than it was in the house. They took a couple of beers from the fridge and went out … they shouted out to me to join them, but as I said I wanted to get my work finished and then go for a run, so I said no …’

      Her voice tailed off and she took a deep breath, her fingers still massaging the scar on her wrist, eyes flitting around the room, looking from one occupied table to the next. I followed her gaze, but nobody seemed to be listening. At a window table, an elderly couple were having a semi-heated discussion in hushed voices – a mild dispute over something in their garden, I had gathered, from the odd audible phrase – and a few tables away, a group of six middle-aged women were chatting and giggling over bottles of red wine, engrossed in their gossip. The only other diners were a young couple in the far corner, holding hands over a shared, extra-large pizza.

      ‘It’s OK. I’m pretty sure nobody can hear us,’ I said quietly.

      Flora looked back at me and nodded.

      ‘Well, anyway, that was it, for a while. I finished off what I had to do, then came down to the kitchen to get a cold drink. It was after six by now, but still ridiculously hot. I remember hearing raised voices and looking out into the garden – Greg and Rupert seemed to be having a fairly intense discussion about something, but I couldn’t hear what. Probably just football or something, knowing them.’

      She gave me a slight smile, and I tried to smile back. Gosh, this was torture. Come on Flora …

      ‘Anyway, I went back to the dining room to file away the papers I’d been using, and that’s when I heard somebody shouting out on the street. I went to the window, just being nosey really, and there was a couple … well, I don’t know if they were actually a couple, but a man and a woman, standing next to Thea’s car – she’d managed to find a space right outside the house for once. Doesn’t always happen. Anyway, they were sort of peering into the car, into the back window. And the man kept looking round, and shouting “Whose is this car? Who owns this car?”, all frantic and kind of scared sounding, you know? And he was waving his arms around …’

      She waved her own arms in the air, eyes wide now, as if she was replaying the scene in her head, then continued, her voice low and urgent.

      ‘I had a sudden sick feeling in my stomach. All I could think was, why are they looking in the back of the car? And I sort of knew then, you know? I just knew that it wasn’t going to be good, when I went out there. I started running … I grabbed the car keys from the hall table as I went … and then I got to the car, and I just pushed past them, the couple – I was shouting something, I don’t know what, but I think I was just screaming at them to get out of the way probably – and then I saw it too. I saw what they were looking at. I don’t even remember opening the car door, but somehow I did it, and then I was fumbling, my hands wouldn’t work properly, fumbling with the seat belt, trying to get him out … and I knew. I knew straight away. It was obvious …’

      There were tears in her eyes now, and I suddenly felt dizzy, my chest tightening. I gripped onto the edge of the table, wanting to stop her, not wanting to hear the end of this, the horrific outcome of Thea’s day out, but I couldn’t speak, and anyway she was still talking, the words pouring out of her, as if it was a relief, as if she’d been holding all of this inside her for too long, and now the dam had finally broken and the torrent of pain and anguish and emotion was unstoppable.

      ‘I pulled him out, and I shook him and called his name over and over, but he was completely limp, Annabelle. His eyes were wide open, his little face was bright red, and he looked like a doll, a little floppy doll, not like a baby at all. And he was … he was so hot. His skin was hot to the touch.’

      The tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, her voice now barely a whisper.

      ‘And that’s when I knew for definite. He was dead. Zander was dead.’