Matilda and Sian sat at the kitchen table with Jodie opposite them. Sian had made them all a hot drink – tea for her and the DCI and a hot chocolate for Jodie who had changed into jeans and an old sweater.
The house was deathly quiet. It was usually a hive of activity. The television was on constantly, or, when Linda was in the kitchen preparing a meal, she had the radio on loud, blasting out hits from the 80s and 90s. Riley was always making a noise, whether screaming or crying or calling out but now, it was silent.
‘Jodie, how long has your mum been ill?’ Matilda asked.
Jodie looked down into her mug. She hadn’t taken a sip yet. She remained rigid, her hands cupped around it. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. A couple of weeks ago she kept saying she felt sick. We have to be careful with Riley. If any of us are ill, we can’t go near him. Mum went to the doctor and they said she had a stomach virus. They gave her something, but it didn’t seem to work.’
‘You say she felt sick, was she actually sick?’ Matilda asked.
‘Not at first. It was a few days after she said she felt sick when she was properly sick. We’d just had tea. Mum was in the kitchen doing the pots and I was helping her dry. One minute we were chatting and laughing, the next she just vomited.’
‘How many times has she been sick?’
‘I don’t know. I always ask how she is when I get home from school. She says she’s fine, but I don’t think she is. I think she’s lying.’
‘Has she lost weight?’ Sian asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Has she been back to the doctor?’
‘Yes, but they said there’s nothing they can do. She’s not ill or anything. I mean, if she had an illness then Riley would have caught it, and he’s been fine.’
Matilda frowned. She looked across at Sian who was wearing a similar expression.
‘Jodie, has anyone else been sick?’ Matilda asked.
‘No.’
‘Who cooks the meals?’
‘Mum. Sometimes I do, but not often. I’m not that good.’
Matilda fidgeted in her seat. ‘Jodie, is it possible your mum might have been making herself sick?’
‘What?’ She looked up. Her gaze switched between Matilda and Sian and back again. ‘Why? Why would she do that?’
‘Sometimes people make themselves ill to get attention. Your mum spends all of her time in the house with Riley and when people see her, they ask how Riley’s doing. They don’t ask how she is. Do you think she could be making herself sick so people will worry about her?’
Jodie thought for a moment. She looked older than her fourteen years. There was an air of sadness about her. ‘But … with what’s happened to Keeley and everything, why would she still do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Matilda said. ‘Your mum might be more ill than we all think.’
‘You think she’s mad?’
‘No. Maybe a touch depressed.’
‘Jodie, did you ever see Riley have a seizure when he was younger?’ Sian asked.
‘No. They always happened at night while I was in bed. Wait, do you think she made those up too?’
‘We’re not sure.’
‘But … she can’t have done. I mean, Riley was born a normal boy. Now he’s brain damaged. If that didn’t happen because of a seizure, how else could it have happened?’
Sian looked down at the table.
‘You think … Mum did it? How is that even possible?’
Matilda reached across the table and placed her hands on top of Jodie’s. ‘Sometimes, when a woman has a baby, it’s not always the happy occasion it’s made out to be. Sometimes, women can get a bit down.’
‘I know all about post-natal depression,’ she snapped. ‘Mum isn’t depressed. And if you think she’d purposely harm him you’re wrong.
‘Erm, Jodie,’ Sian began, ‘where’s Riley?’ Her questioned was loaded with concern.
Jodie’s face hardened. ‘He’s asleep.’
‘All this time? With everything that’s gone on in the house, he’s slept through it all?’
‘Yes.’
‘Lucky him,’ she said, and gave a nervous chuckle.
‘Maybe we should check on him,’ Matilda said. ‘Sian, would you mind?’
Sian stood up.
Jodie jumped from her seat and blocked Sian’s exit from the room. ‘No. I’ll go.’
‘Jodie, sit down and talk to me,’ Matilda said. ‘I want you to tell me more about what your mum’s been doing lately. We might be able to come up with something to make her feel better. Sian’s got four kids; she knows not to go barging into the bedroom and scaring him.’
Jodie backed away and stood in the doorway. ‘No. I don’t want you going into his room.’
‘Why not?’ Matilda asked, standing up.
‘You’ll frighten him. He gets confused with people he doesn’t know.’
‘Jodie, what’s going on?’ Matilda stepped forward.
‘Nothing.’ She was growing more flustered. Her eyes were darting left and right; her breathing was erratic.
‘Jodie, I want you to step away from the door. I need to check on Riley, make sure he’s all right,’ Sian said, standing up and moving around the table slowly.
Jodie lunged forward and grabbed a carving knife from the block on the work top. She held it firmly in both hands. They were shaking as she pointed the stainless-steel blade at Matilda and Sian.
‘Jodie, what have you done?’ Matilda asked.
‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘Then what are you hiding?’