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TWENTY-FIVE

2006

Kate has barely left the house this summer. She was allowed to leave school and study for her GCSEs in college, with a small group of children who can’t deal with the school environment. To start with they’d terrified her, but slowly she began to get to know them, and that’s when it hit her that fundamentally everyone is the same under all the complex layers we think make us who we are.

And now she’s finished her A levels and got a place at Brighton University, and the thought of leaving South Norwood is the only thing that keeps her sane. Her mum’s been working on getting them out of there – but the house has only just sold, and even then they’ve had to take thousands off the asking price. But her mum has never once complained, or made Kate feel guilty for this disruption to their lives.

Sometimes, even though it’s been three years since Graham White, Kate catches her mum staring at her. And she never wants to ask what her mum is thinking.

Kate looks around the house and barely recognises it – packing boxes stacked against every wall in the house, blank white walls with darker shadows where photos once hung. Kate’s hoping that the ghosts of her past will stay here in this house, while she puts miles between them. But there’s one thing she needs to do to help that happen.

‘I’m going out for a bit,’ she says.

Her mum glances up from her book, with that anxious look on her face again. But Kate’s eighteen now – she’s an adult and her mum needs to let her go.

‘Oh. Where?’ her mum asks. ‘I thought we could play Scrabble again.’

Her mum hates Scrabble, and they’ve been playing all summer. Kate humours her because she knows her mum can’t cope when Kate leaves the house. Not since Graham White. How different things would have been if that day had never happened. Kate often ponders what kind of person she would be now. But still, the anger that’s been there since she was a child is always within her, lying low, waiting to erupt.

‘Just for a walk. Maybe to the high street. Might look around the shops.’

Her mum frowns. She knows Kate hates shopping and would rather spend her time drawing. ‘That’s a lovely idea. I’ll come with?—’

‘I’d rather go alone. If you don’t mind.’

A shadow passes across her mum’s face, and Kate can’t bear to see the sadness on it. She leans down to give her a hug. ‘I won’t be long, Mum.’

Kate’s known where Jennifer Seagrove lives since it happened. Even though this is London, people still talk. They take pleasure in pointing out where horrific things have happened. And Jennifer was talked about a lot that year.

She often comes here, sitting on the wall across the road, pretending she’s waiting for someone instead of watching Jennifer from afar. Kate is intrigued that Jennifer still wants to live here – shouldn’t she want to be far from the ghost of Graham White, with whom she shared this house?

Once Kate and her mum move, Kate won’t be able to come here any more, so she studies the house, committing it to memory, even though she has no idea where the urge to do this comes from.

Kate watches a couple further down the street, who appear to be arguing, so she doesn’t notice a woman approach her, until she’s right in front of her.

Jennifer Seagrove.

Close up, she doesn’t look like the Jennifer who was plastered across the local papers. Her shoulder-length hair is blonde and short – not the long dark hair she had three years ago.

‘I know who you are,’ Jennifer says. ‘I’ve seen you out here several times. What are you doing here?’

‘I… I don’t know…’

Jennifer frowns, and her face softens. ‘I think you’d better come in for a chat, then.’

Stepping inside, Kate wills her heart to stop hammering. She’s not prepared for this meeting, and no words come to her.

‘Come in the kitchen,’ Jennifer says. ‘I’ll get you a drink. Do you drink tea? Or coffee?’

Kate doesn’t want either, but she’s compelled to accept Jennifer’s offer. Now that she’s here, she needs to put things right somehow, in whatever small way she can. ‘Tea please.’

Kate steps inside, following Jennifer through the narrow hallway. She pictures Graham White in here – taking his shoes off by the door, hanging his coat. Greeting Jennifer after a long day at work.

Jennifer makes tea and hands it to Kate, leading her to the living room, where the sweet scent of flowers fragrances the room, coming from the huge vase of white lilies on the side table.

‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they?’ Jennifer says. ‘I bought them for myself. I do it every year on Graham’s birthday.’

Kate stares at her. ‘Oh. I thought…I thought you’d left him.’

‘That doesn’t mean I didn’t care about him. And I don’t want to remember the day he died, just his birthday.’ She shakes her head.

‘Are you going to tell me why you’ve been watching my house?’ Jennifer says, gesturing for her to sit.

‘I’m moving away tomorrow. With my mum. To Brighton. I…I wanted to come one last time.’ Kate wonders if her voice betrays how nervous she feels coming face to face with this woman. She sits on an armchair, locking her fingers together.

‘Why?’ Jennifer asks, sitting on the sofa, perching on the end as if she doesn’t want to let herself get comfortable.

‘I’m not sure.’

Jennifer closes her eyes and sighs. ‘It’s not healthy, is it? You must know that, Kate.’

Kate chews her lip, clutching her stomach to stop the stabbing pain that’s just started. She feels like a child again, instead of the young woman she now is.

‘It wasn’t true what they said about him,’ Jennifer says. ‘None of it was true. People are vile. He wouldn’t have tried to kill you. I don’t believe that for one second.’

‘How can you be so sure of that?’ Kate says, finding her voice because she knows different.

‘I know because I was with him for long enough. He would never…and if that’s what you believe then you can get out of my house.’

Now she’s here, though, Kate doesn’t want to leave just yet. Not until she’s spoken her mind. ‘He…he wasn’t a good man.’

Jennifer stares at her. ‘Graham didn’t deserve to die.

‘It was…it was self-defence.’ Kate’s hand shakes and she places her mug on the coffee table.

Jennifer’s eyes bore into her. ‘Is that the lie you’ve told yourself all these years? Does it make you feel better about taking his life? What a neat little story.’

Kate shudders at the harshness of these words. ‘No…that’s not?—’

‘I don’t care!’ Jennifer says, raising her voice. ‘I left Graham. The day before you killed him. He was nothing to do with me when you…when you did that.’ She stares at Kate. ‘You don’t look well. Your face is all…pale. I’d better get you some water.’ She rushes off to the kitchen, leaving Kate alone, sitting on a chair that Graham White must have sat on countless times.

When she returns, Jennifer’s manner is softer. ‘Here you go. Please don’t go collapsing on me now or anything. I really don’t want to have to take you to A & E.’

Despite the situation, Kate smiles at Jennifer’s kindness. And Kate has to keep in mind that Jennifer hasn’t done anything to her. She is as much a victim as Kate is. ‘Thank you.’

‘I don’t blame you, you know,’ Jennifer says, sitting back down. ‘I never have. You were a child. But I will never understand why it happened,’ Jennifer continues. ‘What you were doing in his van.’

Kate looks away. She could repeat that Graham White attacked her and forced her into the van, but Jennifer will clearly never believe her. ‘What was he like?’ Kate asks, looking at Jennifer through a hazy window of tears.

‘Do you really want to know? It’s not going to change your mind about him, is it? Like I said, none of this is healthy.’

‘I’m eighteen now,’ Kate says. ‘I need to try to heal. I need to know this stuff.’

‘Fair enough,’ Jennifer says. ‘Graham was…he had this way of making you feel special. Like you were the only person in his world. Whenever I was with him, his whole attention was on me. Nothing else mattered. He made me feel like a queen. It was intoxicating, really.’ He had his faults. A bit of a short temper. Easily irritated. But nothing I was ever concerned about.’ She lets out a deep breath. ‘People said that because I’d just left him, he was angry and lashing out at someone. Anyone. They tried to make out he must have been angry with all women. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.’ She pauses. ‘When I left him he was crushed, no doubt about it. But he handled it with dignity. He didn’t get angry with me. If anything, he got more…I don’t know. Determined? He was going to get on with his life.’

‘Why did you leave him?’ Kate asks, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands.

Jennifer frowns. ‘Now why would you ask me that question?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean – why would you ask me why I left him when you already know.’

‘I… don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Really? You’re playing that game, are you? Just what is it you’re really doing here, Kate?’

Kate shakes her head. ‘I’m not playing any games. I really don’t know.’

The room falls silent as Jennifer stares at her. ‘Are you wondering why I didn’t go to the police?’ she says.

‘I don’t?—’

‘Come on, you seem like an intelligent girl. There was no way I could have them knowing the truth about Graham. Because how would that have made me look? I would have been tarnished by what he’d done.’

‘What do you mean? I don’t understand.’

‘It was better this way,’ Jennifer continues. ‘Better that everyone thought he attacked you. But I know the truth, Kate. I know all about you two. It was going on for months, wasn’t it? You were fifteen and he was thirty-nine! Did you seriously think no one would ever find out about your relationship?’