***
Tina saw Ruth out then got busy clearing cups off the table. ‘I’ll make a fresh pot of tea, Mum, then we can talk,’ she said.
‘It’s all your fault,’ Penny snapped at her.
Tina froze, her hand halfway to picking up Ruth’s half-empty coffee mug. ‘Mum?’ She wasn’t sure she could cope with this again.
‘If you hadn’t been so selfish and stupid …’
‘I know, Mum, and I’m sorry. If there was anything I could do …’ Tina tried to stay calm. She was sick at heart, scared that Cotter was going to get out and weary of the rows with her mother. They’d been going on for years. Penny hated her, Tina was sure of that, but she didn’t know what to do about it. She would have done anything to make her mother love her again.
‘If there was anything you could do? You’re useless. There’s nothing you could do and you know it. You took my little girl away from me. My perfect little girl.’ Penny hugged herself and rocked from side to side in her seat. ‘My little blonde angel, taken from me.’ She looked at Tina with venom in her eyes. ‘You’re a poor substitute for your sister.’
‘I know, Mum, but I do my best.’ Tina kept her eyes down, got on with clearing the table. She went out with the tray of dishes, put them down on the worktop by the sink and then sagged against it. She put her hands up to her face, then gritted her teeth, determined not to cry. She was sick of crying. She was sick of being blamed. Suddenly angry, she strode back through to the lounge, where Penny still sat, rocking and crooning to herself.
‘If you were any kind of a mother, you’d have forgiven me,’ she told her. ‘But no, not you. You’ve punished me every day for years, all for one stupid, childish mistake.’ Penny gave no sign of recognition. ‘You spend all your time thinking about what you don’t have and not even acknowledging what you’ve got.’ Tina raised her voice. ‘Ruth told me something back then, when it first happened. She told me that it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t make that man be a bad man, that was his choice. Any decent man would have taken us home safely, that’s what Ruth told me. And you know what?’ Tina was shouting now, fists clenched. Penny stopped rocking and crooning and looked up. ‘She was right! And you! You! You’re a failure as a woman, and as a mother, and … and … you’re a fucking bitch!’
Tina had no idea her mother was capable of such swift movement. She was on her feet and across the room in a heartbeat, her hand already moving. The slap knocked Tina off her feet.
‘You little viper,’ Penny snarled. ‘You lost your sister and you killed your father and you dare to call me a bitch?’
Tina pulled herself up onto the couch and sat looking at her mother. Her cheek was stinging and she slowly raised her hand and put it to her face: the heat was palpable.
‘I didn’t kill—’
‘Your father died from a broken heart, because he lost his little girl. That’s your fault. You want forgiveness? What have you ever done in your life to show you deserve it? You worthless little witch … you make me sick. And you’re going to leave me and go and be a hairdresser in the summer?’
Tina was shocked: she hadn’t said a word to her mother about her intentions. ‘How do you …?’
‘People talk. I know everything. A hairdresser! Your sister would have been a teacher, or a solicitor. An actress or a model if she wanted, she was beautiful and clever. But you, you can’t even be bothered to get an education.’
‘I’ll study and train to be a hairdresser. I want my own business.’
‘You little fool! What will you ever do to make me proud of you? You say you want forgiveness, but how do you intend to earn it?’ Penny marched out of the room and Tina heard her stamp up the stairs, then slam her bedroom door.
***
‘So,’ Ruth asked, when she returned later in the day. ‘Have you come to a decision as to what to do?’
‘We’ll go to a hotel,’ said Penny. ‘You can handle a statement.’
Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good. I’ve got all that in hand.’ She took a sip of the tea Tina had made for her. ‘Have you got your bags packed?’
‘Yes,’ said Penny.
Tina cleared her throat. Ruth looked her way and smiled, encouraging her to speak.
‘I’m not going to the hotel,’ she said. ‘I’m going to stay with a friend.’ She wound her fingers together. ‘Hilary. We’ve been friends for forever.’
‘I remember,’ said Ruth.
Penny humphed, folded her arms. ‘You have to be awkward,’ she complained.
‘It just makes sense, Mum. Hilary can bring me my homework. I have exams soon.’
‘Oh, and they’re so important to you.’
‘Yes, they are. I need to pass to go to college.’
‘College!’
‘Mum, please …’
‘Okay,’ said Ruth. ‘Enough. You have enough to cope with, without arguing between yourselves.’
Tina went back to looking at her shoes. ‘I’m ready to go,’ she told Ruth. ‘You take Mum to the hotel and I’ll walk to Hilary’s house.’
‘No, love, I’ll drop you off.’
‘No need, thanks.’ Tina stood up. ‘I’ll be fine.’ She walked out without so much as looking at her mother.
***
Next morning, in court, Ruth’s worst fears were recognised as George Cotter gained his freedom. She said a silent prayer of thanks that the statement from the family was in hand, and that Penny and Tina were safely out of harm’s way. She intended to visit them both just as soon as she was done at the court.
Cotter shuffled out of the courtroom, flanked by his psychiatrist and his lawyer. He looked small and crumpled, a powerless grey man in an ill-fitting suit who couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He didn’t look like much of a threat. He certainly didn’t look like the man who had been responsible for the abduction and murder of eight-year-old Annie Snowdon six years earlier. Ruth knew you couldn’t judge anyone on appearances though; ‘evil’ was often mundane.
She watched from a distance as, on the steps of the County Court, Cotter kept his eyes down while his lawyer tried to portray him to the surrounding press as a victim of circumstance, an innocent who had been caught up in bewildering events that had overwhelmed him. She looked away in disgust.
When she looked back, a familiar figure, small and slender, was moving forward through the crowd. It stopped in front of Cotter. Ruth was moving towards the scene when she saw the lawyer nod to indicate he had finished speaking and begin to fold his notes and put them in his inside jacket pocket. The small figure stepped forward, arms folded.
***
‘Mr Cotter,’ Tina said. ‘Do you remember me?’
Cotter looked up at last, stared at the girl, shook his head. ‘N … no,’ he said, eventually. ‘No, child, I do not believe I know you.’
‘But I know you,’ she said. ‘And you knew my sister.’ She withdrew her right hand from her left sleeve and Ruth saw the glint of sunlight on metal. ‘My sister, Annie.’ Tina raised her arm and brought it down with force, buried the twin blades of the scissors she held as deep in Cotter’s flesh as her strength would allow.
***
Ruth watched the action of the next few minutes unfold in slow motion: Cotter clutched at his chest and collapsed to the ground; his lawyer and his psychiatrist turned to watch, mouths open in horror; blood pooled underneath Cotter as he lay on the concrete; two policemen moved forward and seized Tina, who made no attempt to escape. The biggest of the two policemen wrestled the girl to the ground, pulled her hands up behind her back and handcuffed her. The television crews were having a field day and press photographers were jostling for a good angle on the action.
‘Hey,’ shouted Ruth to the policeman who had his knee in the small of Tina’s back. ‘She’s just a kid, is that really necessary?’
‘She’s a murderer.’
‘She’s five foot three and about seven stone. You’re … what? About a foot taller and ten stone heavier?’ Ruth flashed her warrant card. ‘Get the fuck off her before you break her back. I’ll take it from here.’
The officer took his time about it, but he took his knee out of Tina’s back then took hold of her handcuffed arms and pulled her roughly to her feet.
Ruth glowered at him. ‘Take the damn cuffs off her.’
He did, and Ruth put her arms round Tina. ‘Come here, pet,’ she said. Tina was stiff and unresponsive, then she started to shake and she hugged Ruth back.
‘Is he dead?’ she asked. ‘Have I killed him?’
Later, Ruth was in Penny’s hotel room choking for air as Penny chain-smoked her way through a pack of menthol cigarettes.
‘Tina’s defence will be pretty limited,’ Ruth was telling her. ‘After all, the whole thing was caught on camera.’
‘Silly little fool,’ spat Penny. ‘She needs her head examined.’ She stabbed the cigarette she was holding in Ruth’s direction. ‘Can you get her a shrink? Somebody who’ll tell the court she’s not all there?’
Ruth tried not to let her anger and exasperation show. ‘That will be up to the lawyers. I’m sure her defence team will do whatever’s necessary to get her free in the shortest possible time.’ She picked up her bag and stood up ready to leave. ‘Meanwhile, you’re best off staying here. Unless you’ve got family you could go to?’
Penny stubbed the cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. Her hands were shaking. ‘I might go to my sister’s,’ she said. ‘She’s always on at me to go and visit. I should see Tina first, though. Can you arrange that?’
Ruth nodded. ‘You can come with me now or I can come back for you later.’
‘If I come now will I be able to see her straight away?’
Ruth shook her head. ‘Unlikely. I would expect you’ll have to wait.’
‘Shouldn’t I be with her while she’s being questioned?’
‘Tina’s eighteen, she’s classed as an adult,’ said Ruth.
‘How come you didn’t come for me straight away? It’s not like you don’t know the history.’
Ruth hesitated. ‘Tina asked me not to,’ she said eventually. ‘She didn’t want you dragged into it.’
‘Didn’t want me dragged into it? Of course I’ve been dragged into it. And she’s dragged this family’s name through the mud, again.’ She lit another cigarette and looked at Ruth through the smoke. ‘Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Annie had been the one to get away.’
***
‘Do you understand why you’re here, Tina?’ asked Karen Fitzgerald. Rob Winter was in the interview room with her, as was the duty solicitor. Ruth watched through the glass. She wondered if Tina remembered the line-up she’d attended when she was younger, when she’d looked through the glass from Ruth’s side and hadn’t recognised George Cotter as her and Annie’s abductor.
Of course she does
, Ruth told herself, just as she remembered the sensation of the small hand creeping into hers back then.
In the interview room, Tina nodded.
‘Please speak, Tina, for the tape,’ said Fitzgerald.
‘Yes, I know why I’m here. Is he dead?’
‘No, but he’s in a critical condition,’ Fitzgerald answered. She hated this, hated having to interview this girl who had suffered so much. If justice hadn’t failed her, she wouldn’t be here. Fitzgerald knew exactly where her sympathies lay and it wasn’t with the so-called victim, clinging to his worthless life in intensive care. If it wasn’t for what it would mean to Tina, Fitzgerald would wish him dead, despatched to whatever Hell there might be for such as him, to burn for all eternity.
He had never given up Annie Snowdon. Fitzgerald had never believed the story about the kid going into the sea off Roker pier. She thought it far more likely she was buried deep, somewhere quiet. If she had been put in a shallow grave the earth would have given her up by now, scared the life out of a dog walker or a pair of sweethearts, returned her to those who loved her so they could say a proper farewell. He’d put the child in the ground, but he’d learned from those who had gone before, had taken his time, had made the hole deep and filled it in thoroughly, tamped it down and covered it over so that it didn’t stand out. He might as well have killed both kids for all the good escape and survival had done the girl sitting opposite. She hadn’t lifted her eyes from the table top since she had come in.
‘Tina, can you tell us about what happened?’
‘He was getting let out and that was wrong. Mum was upset about it and I didn’t want him to be free when Annie wasn’t. And I wanted …’ Tina faltered and stopped.
‘What did you want, Tina?’ Fitzgerald prompted.
‘I wanted to make Mum proud of me.’ She shot a look in the direction of the two-way mirror then looked back at the table top; in that split second glance, Ruth could have sworn she’d looked straight into her eyes. She wanted to slap Penny Snowdon for being such a cow to her daughter. Tina had made one stupid mistake when she was a kid and Penny had made her suffer every day of her damned life since. She wondered if Tina knew her mum had considered how things might have been if the other child had been the one to return home. She watched Tina as she stared at the table and thought that she probably did, and all too well.
‘Tina, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this: did you mean to kill George Cotter?’
Tina looked up at Fitzgerald for the first time. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I took the scissors there especially to do it. I meant to kill him.’