July 2018
Grace, her sunhat pulled low over her curls, paddled in the sea, splashing her shorts and her Peter Rabbit T-shirt.
‘Stay where it’s shallow, sweetheart,’ I called.
Letting her go into the water raised my anxiety levels, but I had never inflicted my fear on her. She was a strong swimmer – I’d made certain of that.
I sat nearby, the sun beaming down from a clear blue sky on the quiet stretch of beach. Pastel-coloured houses in Aldeburgh looked like a picture postcard in the distance, and in the other direction the ‘House in the Clouds’ at Thorpeness towered above the trees, as though hovering above the ground. My mind drifted.
What will I tell Grace about her family, when she’s old enough to understand? Do I tell her that Laura was never her real grandmother? That her real grandfather murdered her real grandmother, that her aunt is a killer? Do I tell her what my mum – Laura – did? If I shelter Grace from that, am I no different than Laura was? The truth always comes out, eventually – but for now, at least, I have time on my side.
A seagull flew low, squawking, bringing me out of my reverie. I still hadn’t come to terms with all I’d lost, and it was fair to say I was lonely. The doctor had prescribed anti-depressants – just temporary, a low dosage to help get you through, she’d said. And I was determined I would get through, and come out the other side.
We’d been living in Mum’s old house for two months, and we would stay for now at least, living off my inheritance until I felt I could move on with my life. My mother had spent little money over the years, and made a lot from her paintings. Even after the care homes costs, there was enough for Grace and I to live on for a while.
But the truth was, I now understood how lonely my mother must have been, tucked away in the Suffolk countryside with her terrible secret, and I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t end up the same way – for Grace’s sake.
I fiddled with Mum’s locket hanging around my neck. The police had returned it to me, and I wanted to honour my mum’s and Rachel’s memory by wearing it – always. It had never been a photograph of me. It had always been of the real Rachel – the little girl who, due to a dreadful accident, lost her young life. But she had always lived on in my mum’s memory, and I would carry that baton onwards. Something of that child had been lodged inside me since that awful day at Lough End Farm, and she would never be forgotten.
As I watched Grace playing in the sea, I thought about how many years I’d spent wondering who my father was. How many moments dreaming I’d one day meet him – that, when I did, he would be amazing. The old saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for’ couldn’t be more apt.
My phone rang. It was Dillon.
‘Rachel,’ he said, when I answered – and it hit me for the first time, that I would always be Rachel. Discovering the truth hadn’t changed who I was, how much my mother had loved me.
‘Yes.’ I was cautious. We’d ended things so badly when we spoke in May.
‘I looked at the handwriting.’
I rose, wondering what he was going to tell me. ‘You did …? And …?’
‘I should have been honest with myself years ago, Rachel. I’d always known it was similar – just couldn’t face comparing it. I buried the fear. Told myself I was wrong to doubt my father. But when you called …’ I heard him catch his breath. ‘It’s the same, Rachel. You were right.’
I let out a breath I felt I’d been holding for months. ‘I’m so sorry, Dillon.’
‘Me too.’
‘What will you do now?’
‘It’s done.’ A long pause. ‘He’s in custody. I told the Guards about the apple tree and …’
‘Dillon?’
‘They found my ma,’ he said, his voice breaking into a sob. ‘That bastard killed my ma, Rachel.’
I closed my eyes for a moment, and a tear slid down my cheek. I’d hoped I was wrong. ‘I’m so sorry, Dillon,’ I said again, dragging my fingers through my hair, trying to hold back more tears. But I knew sorry was nowhere near enough.
‘How did you know?’ he said through a sob.
‘I remembered. It all came back to me – memories of Imogen and Tierney fighting in the kitchen on that awful day. Everything.’ I paused for a moment, before quietly adding, ‘Listen, why don’t you come to England? Stay with me for a while. I’ve got lots of room.’
‘I’d like that very much,’ he said. ‘Can I bring Duke?’
‘Of course, Grace would love that. Shall I text you some dates?’
‘That’ll be grand.’
‘Mummy,’ Grace called, and I looked up to see her running up and down, splashing her feet in the water.
‘Bye, Rachel,’ Dillon said, and was gone before I could reply. But this time I knew I would see him again, and it may have been the hot sun on my neck, the beauty around me, but a feeling of peace washed over me.
Waves crashed against the stony beach, but instead of my usual anxiety, I found the sound oddly soothing, and I knew to move forward I had to face my demons.
‘It’s a bit cold,’ Grace said, grinning into the sun, as I approached her. ‘But it’s really, really fun.’
‘It looks it,’ I said, smiling. ‘But you may need to hold my hand.’
Grace held out her hand, and taking a deep breath, I kicked off my flip-flops, ventured over the pebbles to the water’s edge, and dipped in my toe.