Page 75 of Worse Than Murder

‘Yes. You’re my best friend.’

‘I’d love to!’ She reaches over and gives her a tight squeeze.

‘Geraint’s asking his brother to be godfather but we’re going to write a will and I’m going to say I want you to be in overall charge of the little one’s upbringing, should anything happen… you know.’

‘Shouldn’t you be thinking about cots and nappies rather than going all morbid thinking you’re going to die before the child is old enough to look after itself?’

‘Probably. I’m just… I’m really nervous about being a mum, Ally. There are times when I can’t even look after myself. How am I going to cope with bringing a child up who is totally dependent on me?’

‘You have nothing to worry about. You’ve got Geraint. You’ve got me. You’re going to be a wonderful mum.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Want another drink?’ Alison asked.

‘Sure. Just an orange juice for me.’

Alison went to the bar and returned with two orange juices. She really wanted a double gin and tonic but decided to abstain in front of Claire. She didn’t want to be seen to be indulging when Claire had to cut back.

‘Claire, you remember Travis, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘What did you think of him?’

‘I thought he was lovely. I remember having an argument with Celia about which one of us was going to marry him.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. It even got to hair-pulling stage. In the end, we decided to share him. We’d each have him three days a week and he could have Sunday off,’ she says with a smile at the memory. ‘Bloody hell, can you imagine if something like that were possible?’

Alison takes a long sip of her drink. ‘Do you think Travis took my sisters?’ she asks, eventually.

‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Ally.’

‘It’s his car at the bottom of the lake. Look, Claire, if I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell anyone, not your mum, not Tania, and not Geraint.’

‘I promise on my unborn baby,’ she says, cradling her stomach.

‘That’s good enough for me.’ Alison tells her about her mother’s second police statement, admitting to an affair with Travis.

‘Oh my God!’ Claire says. ‘No offence to your mum or anything, but her and Travis, that’s… well, it’s… I don’t know. It just seems wrong.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Eww,’ Claire shudders. ‘How do you feel about it all?’

‘Iwasangry. Then I spoke to Matilda. She reminded me that the early nineties were a different time. Things like depression weren’t talked about as openly as they are now, particularly by men. Maybe Dad bottled everything up. Maybe he pushed Mum away.’

‘It’s possible. Where do you go from here?’

‘Matilda is going to do some digging for me. She’s going to speak to my mum and Iain. What I want to know is: why wasn’t Travis’s car reported as stolen? I’ve been thinking and going back to that time before Celia and Jennifer went missing. Whenever he had any spare time, Travis was always messing about with his car. It’s been at the bottom of the lake for thirty years; it was there for three months before Travis left. Why did nobody notice?’

‘Maybe they did.’

‘Then why wasn’t it reported stolen?’

‘Maybe it was.’