Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
BETH
It’s the day after the police come to Magnolia Close when Keira reappears in our lives in the same whirlwind as the night in the pub.
The day is cold and bright, the kind of crisp autumn morning that Georgie finds invigorating, but I’m struggling to shake off the fog of exhaustion.
I find myself squinting at the sun, wishing for clouds.
From the moment I step outside my front door with Henry and we move to our usual spot to wait for the others, the sense of unease takes hold.
I don’t look back to my house or to Jonny’s.
It’s always you waiting.
Because I have the easiest morning routine. I don’t squeeze in a workout like Georgie or have three children to get ready like Tasha. And I’m more organised than the others.
Nate joins me first, kissing me lightly on the cheek. ‘Congratulations on the pregnancy, Beth. How are you?’ he asks.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Georgie and Oscar, hand in hand, running over to us. Georgie starts to speak before I have the chance to reply to Nate.
‘God, this is so weird,’ she says quietly, nodding in the direction of Jonny’s house. ‘Do you think it looks different, Beth? Emptier somehow?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply, still not looking. I’m not sure I ever will again.
Tasha is last as usual. Marc is with her today. His eyes are puffy, his hair lying flat. Neither of them look like they’ve slept. Nate and Marc go in for a manly hug, hard hands hitting each other’s backs, making me wonder if Alistair should’ve taken the day off too.
The same silver Ford from last night pulls through the gates as we make our way out of the close.
‘That’s the detective in charge of Jonny’s investigation,’ Tasha whispers when the car passes.
I force myself not to look back and wish I’d kept Henry at home today.
Baked cookies together, played matching pairs and built his train set over the living room.
Just the two of us, shut away from the world.
A murder right next door. My pulse starts to race.
My head spins. Jonny is dead! What will this do to our lovely community?
We took so long to heal after the way things ended with the Gallaghers.
The way they left under a cloud of suspicion.
And this is so much worse. I hope Jonny’s death will bring us closer together, not drive another wedge.
I don’t know how much of it is the pregnancy hormones or the weight of what’s happened dragging at my limbs, but everything feels off-kilter as we reach the school gates.
The school playground is already filled with parents and children.
A group of older boys tear past us in a chaotic game of tag as we make our way to our usual corner to wait for the bell to ring.
I instinctively tighten my grip on Henry’s hand, fighting the urge to pull him closer.
He tugs his hand away, desperate to join his friends, and reluctantly I let him go.
He’ll be fine, I tell myself. But the worry clings to me, a whisper in the back of my mind that I can’t ignore.
We move to our usual spot at the edge of the playground, and that’s when I see her. A flash of jet-black hair. Pearly white skin. Bright-red lips.
Keira.
You should have trusted your instincts about her.
She’s wearing shiny black leggings with a silver design that looks like marble running across the tight fabric, and a slouchy hoodie with a deep V revealing a flash of red lace underneath.
I remember she said she owned a business selling activewear.
She looks just as out of place at the school gates as she did the night in the pub.
I swear every parent in the playground is trying and failing not to stare.
She’s holding the hand of a little girl in the school’s red jumper and pleated grey skirt. She has black hair that matches her mum’s. Keira’s lips curve as she catches me looking, and I hear her voice in my head.
‘Let them stare.’
‘Oh my God,’ Tasha mutters.
Georgie spins round. ‘What?’ she asks just as her gaze catches on what we’re both seeing and her mouth drops open.
‘She’s coming over,’ Tasha murmurs.
Keira reaches us in seconds, all smiles, all confidence.
‘Rowan got chicken pox,’ she announces by way of hello, like she’s been gone two minutes not disappeared off the face of the earth for a week.
‘Came down with it the morning after the pub. First day of school – can you believe it?’ Her eyes flick to Nate.
‘Hi, I’m Keira. We’re new, aren’t we, Rowan? ’
The little girl nods, looking nervously around at the other children. I feel a pang of sympathy for her. She doesn’t look as though she has her mum’s confidence, but I’m sure she’ll be fine when she’s settled into the class.
‘Sorry,’ Georgie says, pasting on a bright smile. ‘This is Nate. My husband.’
Keira’s lips twitch, her head tilting ever so slightly. ‘Are you now?’
There’s something about the way she says it. Something suggestive that makes the smile freeze on Georgie’s face. But for some reason it makes Nate laugh. ‘For my sins. Which part of Ireland are you from?’
‘I was born in Kilkenny, near Cork,’ she replies, ‘but we’ve lived in England since I was thirteen.’
Marc steps forward then, his hand held out. ‘And I’m Marc, Tasha’s husband.’
She smiles. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Then the shock of her appearance must wear thin because I register what she’s said. Rowan had chicken pox. Could Keira have it now? I step back, pressing a hand to my stomach. Not wanting to catch something that could harm my baby. Keira’s eyes track the movement, her brows arching.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I say, my voice sharper than I intend.
‘I know, and don’t worry, I had it as a kid.’
‘What do you mean, you know?’
‘It was obvious,’ she replies. You weren’t drinking at the pub, and you kept turning a funny shade of green and running off to the bathroom. It wasn’t hard to figure out. What are you, four months?’
‘Three,’ I correct, wrapping my coat tight around myself as my pulse starts to race. There’s something about Keira that puts me on edge.
‘Sure it’s not twins? You’re big for three months.’ Keira winks then laughs at the confusion on my face. ‘I was a midwife before I had Rowan and started my own business. I’m not some random woman who goes around telling women they look more pregnant than they actually are.’
A midwife. I guess that’s how she saw what Georgie and Tasha have missed in the last few months.
Although I can’t blame them. Georgie does everything at two hundred miles an hour.
Tasha is so consumed by her parents and the girls that she barely remembers to brush her hair.
It doesn’t matter anyway. They know now, and they’re happy for me.
‘Anyway,’ Keira continues, stretching her arms above her head like she’s just rolled out of bed, ‘I’m so sorry I missed the quiz night.
I totally forgot until I was getting into bed.
My brain’s been nothing but calamine lotion and CBeebies for the last week.
’ She laughs, but the moment she takes in our expressions, her smile falters.
‘Is everything OK? You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
It’s Nate who answers. ‘One of our neighbours died this week. We found out last night. It’s hit us all hard.’
Keira’s eyes widen. ‘Oh.’
Georgie launches in then, explaining about the police and the investigation and just how awful it is. She’s speaking fast, barely drawing breath, but I notice she doesn’t say Jonny’s name.
‘That’s awful,’ Keira says, her gaze moving to each of us in turn.
A shout rings out across the playground, drawing our attention. Another dad waves to Nate, and he and Marc step away to say hello. As they move, I feel the weight of Keira’s gaze settle on us, her expression unreadable, but the question in her eyes sends a ripple of unease through me.
‘Your neighbour who died… it was Jonny, wasn’t it?’ Keira says, eyebrows raised again.
Georgie nods.
‘That’s scary.’ Then her expression shifts. ‘I assume you haven’t told anyone about our little chat at the pub?’
Keira holds my gaze like she’s trying to read something in me.
‘Why would we?’ I ask as a finger of cold traces down my spine. ‘It was only a joke.’
She opens her mouth to reply, but then Mrs Gardner, the head teacher, is striding towards us, calling out to Keira and Rowan, hand waving, smile wide.
Just before Keira turns to greet her, she steps closer, eyes darting between the three of us before landing on Georgie. ‘Joke or not, can you imagine if anyone found out?’ she says before whirling round, shaking Mrs Gardner’s hand and introducing Rowan.
They move through the crowds of parents and children, and I stare after her, my pulse thudding in my ears.
‘What the hell?’ Tasha whispers. ‘Did that feel like a threat to anyone else?’
‘What do you mean?’ Georgie asks.
‘The way she said, “Can you imagine if anyone found out?”’
‘I don’t think she meant it like that,’ Georgie says, but there’s something in her voice, some tiny fracture of doubt, that tells me she isn’t sure.
I shake my head. All I can think about is that moment when Nate told her about Jonny’s death. She didn’t even flinch. It was like she already knew.
Beside me, Tasha wipes a tear from her cheek, and I wrap an arm around her.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘It’s just… on top of everything else…’
‘I know. It’ll be easier when they’ve caught whoever did this.
Like we said last night, it had to be an angry husband or someone else Jonny upset.
’ I try to sound reassuring for Tasha, but the truth is, Keira’s appearance now, after Jonny’s death, has rattled me too.
It’s awful, and yet, like Georgie said last night, I’m not upset he’s dead either.
When I changed everything about myself, praying it made the difference to my fertility and Alistair’s low sperm count, there was still one thing I couldn’t change – the stress I felt every time Jonny played his music loud or revved his engine in the middle of the night.
Every time he looked at me with that mocking smirk Alistair never seemed to notice.
Jonny was a creep. I felt certain the stress of living next door to him was a factor in my continued failure to fall pregnant.
And even though my dreams have finally come true, the hate for him never softened.
I feel no sadness. Only relief. With his death, my secret has died too.
Jonny was the only one who knew I’d visited the fertility clinic in London earlier this year.
Alistair and I had agreed we’d keep trying, but only naturally.
Our savings were gone, and more fertility treatment meant getting into debt.
I knew he was trying to protect me too. He saw how the failure was tearing me apart.
‘Let’s take a break and relax,’ he said one night, brushing away my tears of another negative pregnancy test. ‘If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, Beth, everything is still perfect.’
Except it wasn’t perfect. And even though I agreed with Alistair that night, I couldn’t give up.
I knew how much he longed for a second child, just as I did.
The need to give that to him became all-consuming.
So I did what I always do. I researched.
I found a way. I hated lying to Alistair, but seeing his face when I showed him that positive pregnancy test after six years of negatives made it worth it.
And yet I can’t escape the feeling that, with Keira’s return, something is coming for me.