For a summary of what's happened in previous posts, please see author notes.

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26th August 2023

My eyelids flicker open. Light is creeping through the gap in my curtain. Glancing at my alarm clock, which glows 7:05 a.m., I rub the back of my neck and shift myself upright. I must’ve slept in a funny position.

I finally got back from hospital last night. Rachel picked me up. Daniel was busy, or so Rachel told me. We sat most of the journey home in silence. I’d gone up to bed the moment we got home, refusing Rachel’s offer of a cup of tea.

Throwing my duvet cover off I slip out of bed. It’s going to be too early to contact Lucie; she’ll be sorting her kids out, I don’t want her to get sick of me. She told me to wait until I was better before contacting her. She’ll be expecting it to be a week at least. But I can’t wait that long. I wipe my eyes, and finish off my glass of water.

I pull my dressing gown off the back of the bedroom door and pad out into the hallway.

As I get to the bottom of the stairs I notice the newspapers already been pushed through the letter box.

I snatch up the paper and unfold it, my heart beating against my chest. Joshua’s face stares out at me and the girl, the poor girl who was killed; her picture is next to him on the front page. In an instance I remember the day Rachel first showed me the picture of her and Joshua at the club on his Instagram page, before he told me he was seeing her. My eyes travel to the headline: SUSANNAH’S DEVASTATED PARENTS SPEAK OUT.

Clutching tight onto the paper I edge down the hallway and into the kitchen. Joshua told me he never had the chance to meet Susannah’s parents. I only met Susannah the once, and it was only for a brief second, when Joshua had to drop something off to me when they were both on their way out to a restaurant last year.

I flick over the page as I sit at the table and my eyes scan the paper. My stomach squirms. A big chunk of the article is taken up by an interview with Susannah’s sister. There’s a picture of her, clutching her mum on the sofa, both of them looking forlornly at the camera.

‘I felt there was something off about him,’ Zoe, Susannah’s sister says. It strikes me how much she looks like her sister. They have the same long nose and although Susannah’s hair is a lighter shade of brown than her sister’s, it’s still around the same length, like their mother told the hairdresser to give them the same cut when they were kids, and they’ve stuck with it ever since. ‘He’d never talk to me when I was with the pair of them and always seemed in a hurry to get away.’

I let out a sigh. That’s news to me that Joshua met Susannah’s sister. He’s never discussed meeting her family with me, not even when we were meeting his lawyer before the trial.

‘You’re up.’ My daughter’s voice reaches my ears. I snap my head up.

She’s wearing a purple dressing gown which she’s tying into a knot around her waist. She’s standing in the kitchen doorway. I hadn’t even heard her come down the stairs, she must’ve heard me leave my room.

I sit back in my seat, the chair creaking as I do.

‘Yes, I . . . I couldn’t linger around in bed,’ I reply, rubbing my eyes.

‘D’you want a cuppa?’ Rachel asks.

I nod. ‘Please.’ Every nerve is tingling inside me; I know what she’s going to say.

I watch Rachel saunter over to the kettle. She grabs two mugs from the cupboard and places them with a clink on the work surface.

‘Why are you reading that, Mum?’ she asks, as the kettle begins to roar. The tone of her voice is soft. She’s trying not to have a go at me, I’m sure she is.

‘I . . . it was posted through the letterbox just now,’ I say, rubbing the back of my neck, I know what’s coming next.

She spins round to face me, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Mum, I told you to cancel the papers weeks ago. Why haven’t you done that?’ This time she can’t hide the annoyance in her voice.

I glance at the article again. ‘Because, I need to know what the press are saying about him, and about us, so I can be prepared for when I face attacks in the street.’

‘But you’re going to make yourself ill,’ she says, shaking her head. There’s pity in her voice now. ‘I’ll go to the post office today and do it for you.’ I don’t want to argue with her so I say nothing. The kettle clicks and she pours boiling water into the mugs. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asks.

‘Um, yes, surprisingly, I think I was just exhausted. I didn’t sleep much at all in hospital apart from the first day.’

She half-smiles. ‘That’s good. Right, let’s see what you’ve got to eat.’ It’s like Rachel’s taken on the role of being my carer all of a sudden. I purse my lips. Rachel yanks open the fridge door. The milk bottle clinks against a half empty bottle of white wine as she does. ‘OK, so you’ve got eggs, butter and milk. That’s pretty much it, Mum.’ She picks up the box of eggs. I start to get up but she shakes her head. ‘No, Mum, sit down, I’m going to make you some scrambled eggs and you’re going to eat them. Then once I’ve got dressed I’m going to get some shopping in.’

‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

She finishes off making the tea and then proceeds to cracking eggs into a pan, discarding the egg shells in the bin, before handing me my cup.

‘I’ll stay here for the next few days,’ she says, the extractor fan roaring in the background while she whisks the eggs in the pan. She’s not asking my permission, she’s telling me this. I shift in my chair. She moved out a few weeks before Joshua met Susannah, although she tended to still pop home every week or so for a couple of nights. I didn’t mind at all, I loved having her here. I always told her and Joshua they were welcome back at any time, they didn’t need to ask. ‘You don’t have to worry about doing anything, Mum. I’ll cook and clean.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, taking a sip of my tea. Deep down I suspect that the reason she wants to stay here is because she wants to keep an eye on me, to make sure I don’t go sneaking off to Romford to meet up with Lucie again.

‘I was thinking, Mum, perhaps you should look at getting some part time work. Or you could do some volunteering somewhere, I don’t know, just something to keep your mind occupied.’

I stare at her. ‘Rachel, who’s going to want to work with me, when the whole country thinks my son killed that young girl?’

She plates up my scrambled eggs and places the plate on the table, before switching off the gas and extractor fan. Silence descends. She sits opposite me, pulls the newspaper away from me, scrunches it up, and throws it in the direction of the rubbish bin. It bounces off the top and lands on the floor. She tuts. ‘Mum, you’re innocent. People shouldn’t judge you because of what Joshua’s done. It wasn’t your fault.’

I sigh. ‘Yes, but they’ll blame me by de facto. You’ve read what some of the papers have said about me.’

I start to eat the scrambled eggs. I’ve always loved Rachel’s scrambled eggs. She never overcooks them, unlike me.

‘Mum, you can’t shut yourself up for the rest of your life, you have to move on. Why don’t you at least enquire at the local food bank, or soup kitchen? They’re always crying out for volunteers.’

I finish off the eggs. ‘You think Joshua killed her, don’t you?’

Rachel shakes her head. ‘We’re not talking about this, Mum. You’ve got to stop.’ She takes a sip of her tea. ‘I’m going to go upstairs and get dressed, and then I’ll pop out and get some stuff in for you, OK.’

I don’t reply. I watch her leave the room.

I’m just going to have to work out a way to see Lucie without Rachel finding out.

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Characters:

Stacey (mother of Joshua) 

Lucie (foreman of the jury)

Joshua (Stacey's son)

Susannah (murder victim) 

Rachel (Stacey's daughter)

Daniel (Stacey's ex-husband)