Chapter Thirty-Five

Ipswich

17th August

Siobhan

The feel of Callum’s fingers in my own makes me feel slightly nauseous, coming over me in waves the same way it used to when I was pregnant with Emma, all those years ago. I suffered from sickness terribly – hypertension, causing the vomit to rise up in my throat almost every day without fail. The third trimester was the worst; at times, I remember wishing I’d never got pregnant in the first place, never subjected myself to this horribleness. But then when Emma was born, she was so perfect, so totally mine, that the months leading up to her birth and the horror of the caesarean were forgotten, wiped clean like a slate. For the first few years of her life it felt as though we only had eyes for each other – my daughter and I against the world. Even Callum was left out. But then, as the years went on and she grew older, things shifted – it was me who was the one on the outside, the interloper. Whatever closeness we’d had between us ebbed slowly away. And I want to get it back.

‘All right?’ Callum’s fingers squeeze mine and I force myself to squeeze back, do what we’ve decided. The look of relief on his face gives me a tiny rush of power – he needs me now, more than he ever has before. The front door opens, and there they all are, the cameras flashing in our faces, the microphones being thrust into the August air. Callum’s lawyer puts a hand on his arm, his teeth glinting white in the sunshine. Gradually, they quieten down, hyenas ready for their prey.

I clear my throat.

‘My husband and I wish to thank the media and Suffolk Police for all they are doing to help bring Caroline Harvey’s killer to justice and to find baby Eve. However, whilst it is true my husband had a—’ my voice falters, but I push on, ‘relationship with Caroline Harvey, there is no doubt in my mind that he is not the one behind this terrible murder.’ At this, I pause, turn to look at him, feel our eyes burning into each other. ‘Callum and I have been married for fifteen years,’ I say, ‘and whilst I am saddened that our trust has been broken, both of us are confident that it is something we can rebuild. I stand by my husband and we ask that we are left to pick up the pieces along with our young daughter, Emma. We wish the very best of luck to all those giving up their time in the search for Eve, and of course, our deepest condolences go out to the family of Caroline Harvey at this dreadful time.’ Another pause, a nod from his lawyer. ‘Callum is a good man, a good husband, and an excellent father to Emma. He is an innocent person, who made one mistake, and I love him very much.’

That last sentence was a bit too much; the words make me feel sick and strange. There is a beat of silence, and then, when they all realise that that’s all they’re going to get, the crowd start shouting once more.

‘Are you going to divorce your husband, Mrs Dillon?’ one screams at me, ‘aren’t you embarrassed by what he did to you?’

I ignore both questions.

‘If Callum didn’t kill Caroline, who do you think did?’ shouts another, and at this I shake my head, lifting my shoulders to indicate that I have absolutely no idea. It’s difficult to strike a balance between looking ignorant and uncaring. And yet it is hard for me to summon sadness at the fact that my husband’s lover is dead.

I’m not saying I can’t. I’m just saying that it’s hard.

Back inside, Maria is waiting for me. As Callum goes upstairs, she takes me by the wrist, holding me too tightly, like she used to when we were small.

‘Are you sure about this?’ she hisses at me, her voice urgent. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Siobhan?’

I wince. ‘You’re hurting me, Maria,’ I say, trying to twist out of her grip.

She relents a bit, easing off the pressure with which she’s grasping me but keeping her fingers looped around my wrist, my body held close to hers.

‘I just want you to think about it,’ she tells me, ‘think about what he did to you. And think about what’s best for Emma.’

I stare at her, confused. ‘I’m doing what’s best for Emma,’ I say, ‘Emma is the reason I’m standing by him. I thought that was obvious, Maria. I’m trying to prioritise my daughter.’

I shake myself free of her and continue up the stairs. I can feel her staring after me all the way up to the top, her eyes on my back until I disappear from her sight. She doesn’t like me not doing what she wants. She never has.