Chapter Twenty-Two
Sensing they’d left an urban area, she looked up to discover they were travelling along a country lane surrounded by fallow fields and sorry-looking hedgerows, and guessed they were probably a couple of miles inland from the River Severn.
It was a dank, mizzly February day with the cloud so low and thick there was no earthly chance of the sun breaking through, only the potential of more, heavier rain on the horizon and an upsweep of the bitter southwesterlies.
It was so miserable it was enough to make even the birds weep, as her mother used to say.
After a while, Honey slowed the car in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere and turned in through a wide-open five-barred gate. There was no signage to speak of and no particular road markers either, as far as Cristy could tell.
For the next minute or so, they bumped awkwardly and slowly along a potholed track, running like a vein through the heart of a forest of soaring pines, until, eventually, they turned off the trail and came to a stop outside a long, low red-brick building.
It had probably once been a stable block, but with its ornate French doors, twin chimney pots and small, surrounding garden, it was now clearly a residence.
‘Maeve’s brother, Harold, owns everything hereabouts,’ Honey told them. ‘His house – one of his houses – is further along the trail. You can’t see it from here, but it’s an old manor.’
‘So what does Harold do in this out-of-the-way nirvana?’ Connor asked, taking it all in.
Climbing out of the car, Honey said, ‘He usually lets the whole place for corporate or private events. He actually lives opposite his car dealership over on the A38: Strummonds – I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.
He took his wife’s name when they got married.
They’re away on a Caribbean cruise at the moment, so no chance of running into them, and they’ve cancelled the rest of their bookings so that Nicole can be here in peace. ’
Once they were all gathered next to the car, Cristy said, ‘So, Nicole has a concerned uncle keeping her safe from the public eye? Can we assume he doesn’t believe in her confession either?’
‘It’s not a conversation I’ve had with him,’ Honey replied, ‘but given where we are, I’d say there’s a good chance you’re right.
His only condition to them staying here is that he isn’t dragged into any unwanted publicity, so please keep that in mind as we go forward.
Maybe leave it there,’ she said to Connor as he opened the boot to take out the recording equipment.
As he complied he nodded for Cristy to look behind her.
She turned to see an older woman, wearing an Aran knit sweater and baggy blue jeans, coming out of a set of French doors to greet them.
In spite of her dignified bearing, her face was drawn with weariness, and her short, auburn hair seemed unsure of its style.
Her deep-brown eyes were shadowed and sad.
‘Maeve,’ Cristy said, moving forward to take her hand. ‘I don’t expect you remember me—’
‘I do, actually,’ Maeve interrupted. ‘You were one of the better ones, back when most in your profession were calling my daughter a monster fit to be hanged. It’s the reason we’ve agreed to see you today – plus Honey here has convinced us you really do want to help.
You must be Connor,’ she said, turning to him and holding out her hand again.
‘You’re younger than I expected, but no harm in that, as long as you can be trusted. ’
‘He can,’ Honey assured her. ‘Shall we go inside? It’s starting to rain.’
Maeve turned to lead the way, standing aside at the door to show them into a cosy kitchen with a plentiful number of oak cabinets, a double-front Aga and black stone worktops.
A kettle was boiling, and some mugs were laid out on a tray, but Maeve seemed not to notice as she pushed open a door at the far end.
‘She’s through here,’ she said, indicating for them to follow.
As they filed into a long, narrow hallway with half a dozen doors along one side and a large expanse of empty wall on the other, Cristy caught the pleasing scent of a diffuser blending with the warmth.
Stopping at the first door, Maeve said quietly. ‘She’s … Well, you’ll see for yourself how she is. Just bear with her when you need to, and try not to scare her.’
Wondering what to make of that, Cristy glanced at Connor.
Maeve pushed open the door, and moments later, they were in a small sitting room with an overstuffed corduroy sofa up against the back wall, an armchair angled inwards from the French doors and a beanbag slumped next to a freestanding TV.
In the middle of the room, a square coffee table was laden with orange peel and sweet wrappers – beside it, seated on the floor with her back propped against the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees, was a small woman with her face turned away.
‘Hi Nicole,’ Honey said softly.
Nicole’s head came around slowly, and Cristy felt a beat of shock hit her heart.
Of course she was older now and had been through a lot, so Cristy hadn’t expected to see the vibrant nineteen-year-old whose image was on the office whiteboard.
Nevertheless, she was struggling to find a resemblance between the two versions of the same woman.
Gone was the lustrous mane of golden-red hair, the glowing peachy complexion and dazzling blue eyes.
This tragic, almost lifeless creature was pale, skeletal and hollow-eyed.
And yet somehow, in some indefinable way, she retained a quality that held the eye.
‘How are you?’ Honey asked.
Nicole’s eyes moved to Cristy. Before Honey could make the introduction, she said, ‘It’s good of you to come.’ Her voice was scratchy and faint, as though she hadn’t spoken in a while.
‘They want to help you,’ Honey reminded her, ‘so you needn’t be afraid to speak freely. Everything you say will be in confidence.’
Nicole’s only response was to bite her lips and wince as she caught one of the sores.
‘We appreciate your trust, Nicole,’ Cristy told her, ‘and to re-emphasize what Honey just said, we’re completely on your side.’
Were they? Really? How could she mean that when they didn’t know anything for certain yet? The artifice of a reporter aiming for an exclusive – in its way, it made her no better than the Terrier.
Nicole was looking at Connor now, her wary eyes taking him in as though trying to work him out.
‘This is Connor,’ Honey told her. ‘I mentioned he’d be coming …’
‘Yes, I remember. You look nice,’ she told him. ‘I don’t get to see many men. Sorry if I was staring.’
‘It’s OK,’ he assured her.
She smiled, and it transformed her face for a moment, as though a light had briefly flared, only to vanish again.
‘Shall we sit down?’ Maeve suggested, fanning out her hands for everyone to choose their seat.
Nicole rose to her feet and curled her skinny legs under her as she sank into one end of the sofa.
‘Why don’t you sit there?’ she said to Cristy, indicating the other end.
‘And you can go there,’ she told Connor, pointing to the armchair.
‘Do you mind the beanbag?’ she asked Honey.
She looked at her mother. There were no seats left for Maeve.
‘I’m happy on the floor,’ Connor insisted, and quickly gestured for Maeve to take the chair.
Nicole shifted and drew her knees back to her chest; it seemed to be a comfortable position for her.
The sleeves of her navy sweatshirt were tugged down over her hands, showing only her bony fingers and painfully short nails.
Moments ago, Nicole had seemed calm, engaged, yet now, as she stared at nothing, Cristy found herself recalling the psychologist’s words: it’s very likely she’ll be mourning the loss of twenty years and feeling a good amount of apprehension over what comes next.
When no one else spoke, Cristy said, ‘We’ll be guided by you, Nicole. Tell us where you’d like to begin.’
Nicole shuddered and looked at her with confused eyes.
‘Do you think they’re still alive?’ she asked.
‘Do you believe it’s possible after all this time?
’ Before Cristy could answer, Nicole tossed her head as though flicking away an image – a hope?
She bunched her hands to her mouth and began to mutter, ‘I didn’t kill them.
I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill them. No one ever believed me, but I didn’t kill them. ’
‘Shush,’ Maeve soothed. ‘It’s all right – no one here is saying you did.’ To Cristy, she said, ‘This new arrangement – being here, coming to terms with the release – sometimes, it seems to throw her …’
Nicole’s eyes returned to Cristy. ‘You’re wondering,’ she said, her tone clipped, almost angry, ‘why I confessed if I didn’t do it?
Well, let me tell you, it was the only way to get out of that place.
I told them when they first locked me up that I was guilty so they’d reduce my sentence, but they didn’t believe me.
Can you imagine? It’s never mattered what I said – I’m innocent, I’m guilty – they’ve never been interested.
They don’t care. I stopped being human the day they sentenced me.
I’m a killer to them, a prisoner, someone who doesn’t count …
I can say anything, and it never makes a difference.
’ She stopped and stared anxiously at her mother.
‘Mostly,’ Maeve said, ‘she continued to maintain her innocence, but eventually, with Honey’s help, we got the parole hearings.
The first wasn’t successful. Fortunately, the second was, and so here we are, in this strange sort of limbo situation: freedom that doesn’t actually feel like it.
It’s like restoring someone’s sight with the underlying threat of plunging them back into darkness should they commit the smallest mistake.
’ She added, ‘This, of course, could turn out to be a very big one.’