23rd August 2023

‘What the hell are you doing here? This is a private property,’ I shout, before I even reach the bush I spotted the camera lens poking out of. My cheeks are hot, I glance at my feet; I’m shocked to see I didn’t even slip on a pair of slippers before racing out of the front door. Even though it’s been hot these last few days, I’m shivering in just my dressing gown. 

There’s a shuffle and a man with blonde hair draws himself up from his crouched position behind the bush. He looks fresh out of university. He grins at me, I’m surprised Rachel didn’t spot him when she left, her head must’ve been full of stuff about me. She could’ve walked straight past without noticing. Has he managed to get any pictures of her? My chest tightens. The media have only published a couple of pictures of Rachel since Joshua was arrested. One tabloid even had the gall to suggest they were in on the murder together and had some sort of weird bond bordering on a sexual nature. A shudder pulses through me. I can picture Rachel now, scrunching the newspaper up in her hands and throwing it into the bin, angry tears streaming down her face. What gives the press the right to say these things about people? We were lucky no other paper picked up on the headline, I suspect, at the time, they all assumed it was trash. Or perhaps they’d been advised by their lawyers not to publish it.

‘You’re lucky you ain't had more journalists camped outside ’ere,’ he says, checking his camera, brushing leaves off. ‘And I’m not exactly on your property; I’m on the pavement outside.’

‘Well clear off, it’s not something I want encouraged,’ I say.

He purses his lips. ‘Well, perhaps if you can give me something, then I can persuade the others to leave you alone, can’t make any promises of course, but I’ll put in a word, ask them not to give you too much of a hard time. Could you tell me how you felt when you realised your son was guilty after the jury sent him down? It must’ve been devastating for you to find out what sort of person your son really is, the person you brought into this world. Isn’t there anything you want to say, Stacey? I’m sure you still want to try and convince the world that the police got the wrong man.’

‘What the hell makes you think I’m giving you anything? You lot have destroyed my family,’ I spit the words at him. How has my life come to this? It’s like there’s someone up there saying let’s give her one more slap in the face.

He gives a slight chuckle. ‘Nah, we haven’t done that, that’s your son you have to thank for what’s happened to you. I’d like to hear what you have to say about you being in hospital in Romford. What happened there, eh, did you get involved in a punch up with someone?’

My blood freezes. How the hell does he know I was in hospital? I swallow, at least, so far, he hasn’t mentioned anything about Lucie.

‘I wasn’t in hospital,’ I say.

‘Really,’ he says. ‘These pictures beg to differ.’

He hands his IPhone across to me and shows me pictures taken outside Queens Hospital. My heart begins to bang against my chest. They show me climbing into Rachel’s car last night. You can’t see her in the driver’s seat, but you can clearly see me. As much as I want to tell him to get lost, I can’t, it’ll only give him more ammunition. It might make him suspect something more is going on and I will not have the press finding out I’ve been speaking to Lucie.

‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ I say. ‘Honestly, feel free to stick out here with your camera all day if you want to, but it’s going to be a pretty boring time for you. I’m just going to be mooching about the house all day, nothing terribly exciting. If you’re lucky you might snap a photo of me making a cup of tea, that’ll be a thrill for your readers.’

I begin to march back towards the house.

‘Your daughter didn’t seem particularly happy just now, she had a right face on her.’ I can hear the sneer in his voice as he speaks. ‘You two had an argument or something; I heard raised voices a little earlier?'

How long has he been waiting outside? He surely couldn’t have been there all night. Perhaps after taking the photos at the hospital he followed us home, and then stayed somewhere nearby. The nearest place he could’ve stayed is a Premier Inn a ten minute drive from here.

I can’t stop myself; I turn round to face him. ‘Look, write whatever the hell you want about me, I don’t care, but leave my daughter out of this.’

I storm back to the house, my skin bristling at the undeniable sound of a photo being taken. I slam the door shut behind me, thick tears streaming down my cheeks as I do.

*************

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)