The Last Thing She Told Me Page 8

  It took a few minutes for Maisie’s sobs to subside. Ruby was still staring at me from her bed. I could almost see the questions going around in her head. Questions she couldn’t ask in front of Maisie.

  ‘Tell you what,’ I said to Maisie. ‘How about you go downstairs and ask Daddy to make you some warm milk?’

  ‘Can I drink it in bed?’ she asked, her face immediately brightening.

  ‘Just this once.’

  Maisie leapt out of bed, put her slippers on and left the room. I went over to Ruby’s bed and sat down next to her. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I know it’s hard when Maisie’s here.’

  She hesitated before she spoke. Her voice was quiet and shaky. ‘Do the police think Great-grandma killed someone?’

  I sighed and stroked her hair. ‘They’ve found two little sets of bones,’ I said. ‘They look like they might have belonged to babies. We don’t know why they were in Great-grandma’s garden, but the police are trying to find out.’

  Ruby frowned, obviously struggling to take it in. ‘Do they think Great-grandma killed the babies?’

  ‘I don’t know what they think, love. They’re simply doing their job. But I don’t think Great-grandma would ever have harmed a baby, let alone killed it, do you?’

  Ruby swallowed and shook her head.

  ‘I want you to remember that, OK? Sometimes, when things like this happen, people gossip but they didn’t know Great-grandma, did they? So, we shouldn’t take any notice of what other people say.’

  Ruby went quiet. She was struggling to cope with the social side of school as it was and now I’d given her a whole new reason to be worried about it.

  ‘And if anyone does say anything nasty, you tell a teacher or tell me when you get home and I’ll deal with it.’

  She nodded. ‘No one’s going to prison, are they?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Nothing like that. There’ll probably turn out to be a completely innocent explanation. Sometimes, in the old days, people lost babies and they were very sad about it and didn’t want other people to know.’

  ‘Do you think that’s what happened to Great-grandma’s babies?’

  I wondered whether to tell her what Grandma had said to me before she died, but decided I’d already given her enough information to keep her awake. ‘Yeah,’ I said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘I think I do.’

  *

  The police officer came for Maisie’s bone while she was brushing her teeth before school. I handed him the envelope I’d popped it into and shut the door, relieved to have got away without a big scene on a Monday morning.

  Ruby saw it all, though. She saw it all and said nothing. Which was far worse than asking lots of questions. She was always quiet when she was worried.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I said to her, forcing a smile onto my face.

  ‘Don’t treat me like I’m eight years old,’ she replied. ‘I’m not a kid any more.’

  I sighed as I watched her put on her parka. She was right. I wasn’t handling this well. Not well at all. ‘If anyone says anything today, tell them that, whatever happened, it took place years ago. Before you were born, before I was born. It’s got nothing to do with you.’

  She raised her eyebrows at me, picked up her backpack and opened the door.

  ‘Hope it goes OK,’ I called after her. She didn’t reply.

  *

  When I arrived at school I went straight to the year-six classroom. I wasn’t sure if any of the other staff would have seen the evening news bulletin or heard about it on the radio that morning, but I didn’t want to take the risk of someone talking about it without knowing my connection. Fiona had a strong coffee waiting for me on her desk. She’d texted last night, asking if I was all right. I’d told her what Grandma had said before she died. Fiona very rarely swore in texts – something to do with being a teacher, I guessed – but she had made an exception for this.

  She looked up at me from the pile of books she’d been going through and stood to give me a hug. ‘How are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Been better,’ I replied. ‘I can’t get my head around hearing people talk about Grandma on the news.’

  ‘Have you told the girls?’

  ‘Had to, really. Couldn’t risk them coming into school and kids saying something and them not knowing anything about it. I don’t think Maisie understands how serious it is – she was more concerned about having to give back the bit of bone she found. Ruby gets it, though. I think she’s pretty freaked out by it, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. What about you?’

  I shrugged. ‘I started the whole thing. Whatever they find, whatever turns out to have happened, I’m the one who set it all in motion.’

  Fiona handed me my mug. ‘Hey, come on. You did the right thing.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Mum’s disowned me, Ruby’s freaked out and Maisie’s mad at me for taking her bone. It isn’t exactly working out well for us.’ I took a sip of my coffee.

  ‘What do you think happened?’ Fiona asked

  ‘I don’t know. I’m hoping they were stillborn and she buried them in the garden. Maybe she had them before Mum . . . Maybe she tried for another baby afterwards but it never happened. That’s the better option.’

  ‘You don’t think she could have—’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she had it in her to hurt anything.’

  Fiona sighed. ‘It just makes you think,’ she said. ‘All the secrets that must have been kept by that generation. All the terrible things that must have been hushed up.’

  ‘I know. Whatever happened, she had to live with that. I don’t expect she breathed a word about it. Not until her final breath anyway.’

  The door burst open and Luke from our class came in, gasping for breath and with his jacket hanging off one arm. ‘Miss, Noah just shoved me in the back for no reason and now he’s saying I’m a grass for telling on him.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Fiona, standing up. ‘Let’s go and sort it out.’

  *

  I found the message from DI Freeman when I checked my phone at afternoon break. As there was no such thing as a quiet corner of the staffroom, I went back to the classroom to return his call.

  ‘Miss Hallstead, thanks for calling back. Couple of things I need to update you with and some questions.’

  ‘Go on,’ I said, bracing myself for the possibility of them having found another body.

  ‘We’ve completed our scans of the garden and the search inside the house and we’re satisfied that there are no further human remains there.’

  The taut piece of elastic that had been running the length of my body snapped, allowing my body to sag in relief.

  ‘As I said before, the bones we’ve recovered have been sent away for testing, which will include DNA extraction. It would be really helpful for us now to get DNA samples from yourself and other members of your family, which will help us to establish the identities of the deceased.’

  I wondered if he was not using the word ‘babies’ on purpose, in an effort not to upset me, or if it was simply police-speak.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘I’m happy to do it. What do you need? Only I’m not very good with blood tests – they can never find my veins.’

  ‘It’s just a saliva swab,’ he said. ‘We scrape something that looks like a cotton bud across the inside of your cheek. Completely painless. One of my officers can come to your house to collect it. It should only take a few minutes.’

  ‘That’s fine. Any time after four.’

  ‘Great. Thank you. Do you think your mother would be willing to give a DNA sample too? It’s entirely voluntary but it would help us with the investigation.’

  I groan inwardly. ‘Er, I don’t know. She doesn’t want to be involved. She’s finding it all very upsetting, but I’ll ask her for you.’


  ‘If you could, that would be helpful.’

  ‘You won’t have to, you know, exhume Grandma’s body, or anything, will you?’

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary. We’ve taken her hairbrush and toothbrush. That’s all we need.’

  ‘Oh, right, good.’

  ‘Well, thanks for your cooperation. We’ll be finished inside your grandma’s house by the end of tomorrow and we should be done in the garden by then too.’

  ‘Great. Are the media there again today?’

  ‘They were first thing. They’ve gone now. I’ve told them we don’t expect to find anything else of interest at the site.’

  ‘So we just wait for the DNA results now?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll let you know as soon as we have them.’

  I thanked him and put the phone back into my pocket, thinking how strange it was to be feeling relieved that there were only two dead babies in Grandma’s back garden.

  *

  The first thing Maisie did when we got home was run to her room to see if the bone was still there.

  ‘It’s gone,’ she called, then ran back downstairs. ‘Did the policeman come to take it away?’

  ‘Yes, this morning, while you were getting ready for school.’

  ‘But I didn’t hear the siren.’

  ‘It was a detective. They don’t have sirens or flashing lights on their cars and they don’t wear police uniform.’

  ‘What do they do, then?’

  ‘Look for clues.’

  ‘Clues to what?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, trying to choose my words carefully, ‘in this case, they’re trying to find out who the bones in Great-grandma’s garden belonged to.’

  Maisie was quiet for a moment, presumably thinking. ‘Was it one of my ancestors?’

  ‘They’re not sure yet, love. That’s why they’re going to do some special tests. They’re coming here soon to take some saliva from my mouth. They want to test it to see if I’m related to the person whose bones they found.’

  I waited, fearing Maisie would come back with another question that was even tougher to answer. I needn’t have worried, though.

  ‘Will you have to spit? Only you always say it’s rude to spit.’

  ‘No,’ I said, managing a smile. ‘They just get it from inside my cheek with a sort of cotton bud.’

  ‘Good,’ replied Maisie.

  *

  Ruby arrived home twenty minutes later. Maisie had gone up to their bedroom.

  ‘How was school?’ I asked.

  ‘Fine,’ she replied, dumping her backpack on the kitchen floor.

  ‘Did any of the kids say anything?’

  ‘Only a couple. Most of them don’t know yet that it was my great-grandma. It’ll probably be all over school by tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you want me to go and see your head of year? Or I could email her, make sure she knows to look out for any problems?’

  ‘What’s the point? It’s not going to change anything, is it? The kids aren’t stupid – they won’t say anything in front of teachers. They’ll be talking about it on Snapchat and stuff.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to email her anyway, just so she’s aware of the situation.’

  ‘Whatever,’ replied Ruby.

  A few minutes later the detective knocked on the front door before I’d had a chance to explain anything to Ruby.

  Maisie came running downstairs. ‘Is that the policeman?’ she asked.

  ‘I think it’s a police lady, actually,’ I said, looking through the glass panel of the front door, then turning to Ruby. ‘She’s come to take a DNA sample from me. To see if they can link it to the DNA they get from the bones.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m going upstairs.’

  I opened the door to reveal a tall, willowy woman in plain-clothes. ‘Miss Hallstead? I’m DC Bowyer,’ she said, in a broad Yorkshire accent, flashing an ID card.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, ‘come in. This is Maisie, my youngest.’

  ‘Hello, Maisie,’ she said. ‘Was it you who found the first bit of bone?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, visibly puffing out her chest. ‘I thought it was a fairy bone but now Mummy said it might be one of my ancestors.’

  ‘Right,’ said DC Bowyer, exchanging a glance with me. ‘Well, thanks for your detective work.’ She turned back to me. ‘Are you ready?’

  A few minutes later I was sitting having my mouth swabbed, feeling for all the world as if I was the one on trial. And beginning to understand why Grandma had kept her secret for so long.

  7 June 1944

  Dear Betty,

  I kissed you, Betty Braithwaite. I kissed you on the lips, just like I always dreamed I would. I think I took you by surprise and I hope you didn’t mind but I couldn’t stop myself. That is what you do to me. I know folks say not to rush things but that’s easy if you’ve got all the time in the world. It’s not like that for us. We both know this could come to an end at any time. And I didn’t want to die wishing I’d kissed you when I’d had the chance, which is why I did what I did yesterday.

  You tasted sweet, Betty. The sweetest lips I have ever tasted. I can still smell your hair against my face. See the shy smile when you looked up at me afterwards. Were you smiling because my moustache tickled or simply because you were happy? I don’t know if you’ve even been kissed before but you’re my girl now, Betty. And now I’ve kissed you once, I don’t want to stop there. Next week feels like such a long time to wait to be with you again. I see you walking past and I ache knowing I can’t touch you until then. It’s torture just to hear you laughing with the other girls because I want to be with you so much. I want to kiss those lips of yours again, to put my arms around your waist and hold you tight. I want to do a whole lot more than that too, but I understand you want to take things slow. I know you’re scared but you can trust me. You’re not a little girl any more. You’re growing up real fast into a beautiful young woman. And I don’t want anyone else to think they can muscle in on my girl. I want to tell them all, you know. Tell them not to even look at you because you’re taken. One day soon, I’ll do that, Betty. One day we can be together properly. And it won’t be long now. That’s what the guys are saying. And as soon as it’s over, I’m going to whisk you away from here to a new life, Betty Braithwaite. Because you’ll always be my girl.

  Ever yours,

  William

  8

  At break-time the staffroom was awash with doom and gloom, the head having revealed the extent of the budget cuts we were facing. Things were already so bad we’d introduced a ‘One, two, save the glue’ song for the kids, in an effort to make the glue sticks last longer. There was nothing left to cut. Which meant jobs were on the line.

  ‘If they start getting rid of teachers or TAs, well, there’s no point left,’ said Fiona, slumped over her coffee on the seat opposite.

  I checked my phone for what must have been the sixth time that morning. Still no reply from Mum to the text I’d sent her. As she wouldn’t take my calls, it was the only way I could ask about the DNA test. I hadn’t expected her to say yes, but I had expected a curt No. It was the continued radio silence that was troubling me.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Fiona, frowning, as I slipped the phone back into my bag. ‘Only you seem a bit distracted.’

  ‘Mum’s still not talking to me. I’m doing a pretty good job of trying to alienate my entire family, to be honest.’

  ‘Why does she blame you?’

  ‘I wish I knew. Classic case of shooting the messenger, I suppose.’

  ‘Unless it’s more than that,’ said Fiona. ‘Maybe she knows something she’s not letting on. Maybe she’s trying to protect your grandma.’

  ‘You’ve been watching too many Scandi crime dramas.’

  ‘It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? I bet the girls would do the same for you
if you asked them to keep a secret.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said, putting down my coffee mug. ‘I don’t know what went on between Mum and Grandma but they certainly weren’t close.’

  ‘Are you sure there’s no one else still alive who might know something?’

  ‘Her sister and brothers were all older but she lost touch with them years ago, after the war, I think, so we know nothing about them. When I asked Mum before the funeral, she said she didn’t even know their names, let alone where they’d lived. They’re probably all dead now, anyway. Mum seemed to think Grandma was the youngest by some way.’

  ‘One of those late surprises women had in those days?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Still, might be worth digging around among your grandma’s stuff – you never know what you might find.’

  I shrugged.

  ‘You don’t seem too keen.’

  ‘I’m starting to realise,’ I said, ‘that the trouble with digging is exactly that.’

  *

  I had to go anyway. That was what I told myself when I set off for Grandma’s house after tea the following evening. There were still bank details and things I needed to find for the will, practical matters that needed sorting out, which no one else would do. They weren’t the only reasons I was going, though. Despite everything, I wanted to dig. Not so much dig, perhaps, as rummage. Not the way people rummaged through a bargain tub of clothes in a charity shop, grabbing, poking and looking for defects: I wanted to rummage gently and lovingly in the remnants of Grandma’s life. To touch, to stroke, to feel connected with her again. And maybe to find out a few things that might help me to make sense of what was happening.

  I pulled up outside, relieved to find there was no longer a police officer stationed at the top of the side entrance and the media had departed. Maybe they had been disappointed that there was no Fred West-style story to tell. That once the police had confirmed it was just the two babies’ bones they had found, they had moved on to other things. It was a sad story, not a bad story. Or, if it was a bad story, the likely perpetrator was six feet under and hardly in a position to stand trial. A tiny part of me felt offended that they weren’t actually interested in my grandmother’s life, only in whether she had committed a criminal act.