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  I stood on my tiptoes. ‘There’s a couple getting up from that table at the back. Take the girls over and I’ll get the drinks in.’ We usually took turns anyway, and it was my shout.

  The queue moved quickly, and I carried the tray of tall frothy drinks over to the table, managing to dodge a rampaging toddler and an assistance Labrador I only saw and stepped over at the last second. ‘So, we’ve got two strawberry milkshakes for the girls, a banana one for you, Fiona, and a lemonade for me.’ I set out the drinks and popped the tray under the table.

  ‘Lemonade because you don’t like milkshake!’ Fiona exclaimed in mock horror, as she always did. ‘What’s wrong with you, Josie? Everybody on the planet loves milkshake, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘Everybody but Mummy!’ Ivy said smartly as she sucked at her straw, and we all laughed.

  The girls were soon huddled together over my phone, playing Crossy Road.

  ‘So,’ I said, taking a sip of my drink, ‘what did you want a chat about?’

  Fiona glanced across at the girls. ‘It’s a bit of an awkward one,’ she said, stirring her straw around in the viscous yellow liquid. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything and then… well, Dave said I should tell you because if you hear it from someone else, it will be worse.’

  ‘Gosh,’ I said faintly.

  ‘I don’t want you to be worried.’ She sighed. ‘The last thing I want is to needlessly upset you or—’

  ‘Just tell me.’ I put my lemonade down and looked at her. ‘What is it?’

  Her deliberations were making me nervous. Maybe something had happened at school involving Ivy, or possibly she’d heard someone badmouthing the café.

  ‘Well, I can’t be sure there’s any truth in it. It could be just a rumour, a bit of gossip. Although anybody saying something like this must be sick.’

  I glanced at Ivy, who had just whooped in delight at an explosion of colour on the screen. She’d seemed happy enough at school all week, hadn’t shown any signs of distress or being troubled. ‘Go on then,’ I whispered.

  ‘One of the women at school… James’s mum. You know her?’ She paused to check I knew who she meant, and I nodded. I’d spoken to the woman briefly now and then. ‘Well, her sister lives in Ravensdale.’

  I knew Ravensdale, an area of Mansfield, a large market town nearly ten miles from here. The back of my neck prickled as I recalled my childhood home there.

  Fiona stole a glance at the girls and then said in an even lower voice, ‘Well, her sister knows Maggie Barlow, who, apparently, told the lady in the corner shop that her son, Samuel, is coming home soon.’

  ‘No, that can’t be right,’ I said, blowing out air. ‘He’s got another five years to do.’

  ‘Really? Oh, that’s a relief! I mean, we don’t want someone like him on the loose, even if it is a good way from here.’

  It was 9.6 miles. A fifty-minute bus trip. A twenty-minute cab ride.

  I always knew exactly how far I was from my past, and it was never far enough.

  ‘He’s got another five years to do before he’s out,’ I murmured again.

  Fiona bit her lip and frowned. ‘It couldn’t be he’s got parole though, could it?’

  People might know my brother had been murdered, but Fiona was one of the rare people I’d spoken to about what had actually happened to Jimmy. I’d been honest about my dread of still being in the area when Samuel got out in a few years’ time. Land’s End wouldn’t be far enough, I knew that. But I’d envisaged putting even more distance between him and us than we’d have right now if he returned to live in Ravensdale with his mother. I’d always thought I had plenty of time.

  ‘I suppose it’s always possible, but I seriously doubt it,’ I said, sucking at my straw to disguise my frozen face. ‘He’s already had three parole appeals turned down that I know of. The judge recommended he should serve all the sentence.’

  Fiona gave a wide smile and clapped her hand to her chest. ‘Oh, thank God for that! I’ve never been so glad to hear I got it wrong.’ She nodded to my glass. ‘How’s the lemonade?’

  ‘It’s really good.’ I put down my glass, the lemons sour on my tongue.

  Already moving on, Fiona opened her calendar on her phone. ‘So, have you remembered it’s Sanjeet’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon? We have to drop the girls at the leisure centre reception at three. Then I wondered if you fancied a drive out to the retail park, I need…’

  I tuned out her voice as my thoughts turned to Maggie Barlow. After trying to contact me unsuccessfully for a few years after Samuel received his sentence, she’d faded into obscurity. She knew nothing about me and I knew nothing about her. I’d always stayed away from social media anyway, paranoid about putting any personal details online.

  She didn’t know where I lived, about the café and didn’t even know I had a daughter. I wanted to keep it that way. Even so, about three years ago, fate found a way of intervening to keep that tenuous link alive.

  I’d been travelling home after a confectionery course. It had been a hot day and I remembered I’d promised Ivy barbecued burgers for tea so I’d called into a supermarket in Mansfield. I barely registered the stooped back of what looked like an elderly lady next to me at the freezer, but she turned so we were facing each other. I couldn’t process who it was for a moment, but when I did, I turned on my heel and quickly walked the other way.

  ‘Josie! Josie!’ Maggie had called, hobbling up behind me. I had on a sleeveless top and my skin felt scalded when she touched me on my bare shoulder. ‘Just a quick word, please. It won’t take up much of your time.’

  I turned round and hissed, ‘Leave me alone. I’m not interested in anything you’ve got to say.’

  I’d been shocked, how, close up, her once smooth skin was etched with deep creases and marionette lines that ran from the corners of her mouth down to her chin. She could only be in her mid-sixties, but looked so much older than her years.

  She’d looked at me pleadingly and I’d had to force away memories of her enduring kindness to me as a child. The times she’d taken me from the street and in, out of the rain. The hours I’d spent in her small kitchen while she’d showed me how to make all the different kinds of pastry, feather-light Victoria sponges and the crumbliest butter shortbread that melted on my tongue. She’d even let me sleep there night after night while my mother had lain comatose in bed after Jimmy’s death, sometimes for days on end.

  But none of that counted now, after what she did.

  THREE

  Twenty-five years ago

  The Mansfield Guardian

  21st February 1994

  Mother lied to cover for son after murder of schoolboy

  The mother of the man accused of murdering schoolboy Jimmy Bennett last year has been jailed for eight months, after lying to police in an effort to protect him.

  Margaret Barlow, who lives at the same address as her son, had claimed Samuel Barlow was at home in bed, recovering from a viral infection for three days, and could not have been responsible for the child’s death.

  Barlow was nineteen when he allegedly intentionally imprisoned the eight-year-old schoolboy in a sealed refrigeration unit of a disused food manufacturing plant, on the outskirts of Mansfield. The child’s body was recovered three days after his disappearance following a major search operation. He was found to have died through suffocation.

  As a result of Margaret Barlow’s false account, police changed the focus of their investigation before returning to question Barlow a few days later.

  The senior investigation officer, DI Don Mitchell from Nottinghamshire Police, said: ‘It is never acceptable to lie to protect somebody who has committed a crime. Even if that person is a family member, it is still a criminal offence. Sadly, we will never know if Jimmy Bennett’s life might have been saved if the investigation had been allowed to follow its initial course.’

  Margaret Barlow denied perverting the course of justice but was convicted following a short trial. The for
ty-one-year-old was sentenced to eight months in jail at Nottingham Crown Court.

  Samuel Barlow has denied murder. The trial continues.

  FOUR

  MAGGIE

  2019

  Outside the milkshake parlour, Maggie stood, safely tucked away at the very edge of the large front window. She peered through the muddle of busy tables until she caught a glimpse of Josie’s little group, huddled at the back.

  Maggie had used her free bus pass for years to get from Ravensdale to the school in Hucknall where Josie’s daughter had started primary school and was now a Year Four pupil. She’d follow Josie and the girl at a safe distance. Her favourite thing was when they’d stop off at the park and Maggie could loiter on the pavement at the other side of the hedge, even catching snatches of their conversation as they fed the ducks.

  She’d found out so much that way, by just watching and listening. She’d learned Ivy’s best friend was called Darcy. She knew all the child’s favourite Disney films, that she loved Taylor Swift’s music and that she’d recently gone off cheese sandwiches. It was a major part of Maggie’s life, keeping alive a secret, invisible thread between the three of them. It didn’t matter Josie was completely unaware of Maggie’s presence. She felt like their guardian angel. Always watching, always sending her love and hoping for the chance to make up for what happened all those years ago.

  Maggie knew where they lived and she knew about Josie’s sweet treats café. She’d even been in there for coffee and cake last year when she’d overheard Josie tell little Ivy she was taking a rare day off.

  But the school was the one sure place Maggie knew she’d find them together, although more recently, Josie only made the school run a couple of times a week. The rest of the time, Ivy had been collected by her childminder.

  Maggie sometimes followed anyway and had seen Josie playing in the childminder’s garden with the other small children whose parents worked seemingly never-ending hours. Too busy to do the school run, or take their children out during school holidays. When they came to collect, Maggie wanted to call out to them how precious this time with their children was before the years slipped by, never to be recovered.

  Maggie took another half-step closer to the parlour’s window. She couldn’t be too careful. If Josie spotted her watching, she’d have the police on to her faster than Maggie could think up a good excuse why she might be there. Stalking, they called it these days, but that was a horrible word. Stalkers wanted to do their subjects harm, whereas Maggie only wanted to satisfy herself that Josie and Ivy were both well and living a happy life. She kept a notebook full of all the details she might otherwise forget, including the name of the care home where Pauline Bennett, Josie’s mother, was now living, Magnolia Fields. It was a lovely name for a care home. Particularly one where a ruthless, cruel woman like Pauline resided.

  In many ways, Josie looked just the same as she had then, back when she’d been a neglected little girl who’d badly needed Maggie’s help. The same wide, brown eyes that looked constantly surprised. Smooth, olive skin and a tense, stretched mouth. Maggie knew, if she got close enough, she’d be able to spot the two-inch scar that ran from her left temple to her hairline. Inflicted by her drunk of a mother, it had faded over the years, but it would never go. Not completely.

  Maggie’s gaze drifted to the pretty child sitting next to Josie. Her daughter, Ivy. The girl had those same brown eyes and smooth skin but also dark glossy hair that Josie kept in a simple bob style. The hair must have come from her father’s side.

  Maggie had done her best for Josie as a child, had tried to protect her from her mother’s neglect and even Samuel’s obsession with her. Sadly, Maggie had been unable to help little Jimmy, but you couldn’t save the world, could you? Not on your own.

  In lots of ways, things had been easier back then because Maggie had thought she’d been able to control Samuel to a large extent. Regrettably, that was no longer the case.

  Maggie studied the child’s delicate profile. The snub nose, the way she sipped her drink and laughed with her friend as they played their game. So vulnerable, so innocent and not a care in the world.

  Despite her initial relief when she’d heard the parole board’s decision, seeing Josie and her dear child today had made Maggie’s stomach churn.

  It was no surprise that prison changed people. A thirty-year sentence was one hell of a long time for both the inmate and their family. It was easy to imagine people were just the same person they used to be, easy to idealise how life might be when they returned home. But now, Maggie had to face the facts. Samuel, during the twenty-five years he had served, had changed beyond recognition.

  Her regular visits to HMP Wakefield had proven she’d be welcoming a hardened, cynical middle-aged man – who had kept himself very fit in there – back home. Over the years, Maggie had witnessed the changes in him. First subtle, then more pronounced.

  She’d visited twice a month without fail, apart from a handful of times she’d been unable to travel because of bad weather or illness. She’d recognised the distance growing between them but had felt that was normal, under the circumstances.

  It was easy for Samuel to play the part of a repentant man to the powers that be while he was still inside, but once he was out, the mask would lift and Maggie was fearful of what might appear there.

  What her sixty-minute visits hadn’t given air to was the writhing fury and bitterness that filled her son. Call it a mother’s intuition, but she had felt it for every minute she’d spent in his presence.

  As a child, he’d saved the worst of his vitriol for the other children at school and the Bennett family. Maggie had made so many mistakes during her life. Mistakes that still visited her in the early hours when she’d get up, make a cup of tea and watch the sun rise from the kitchen window.

  The worst torture being the certainty of how things might have turned out differently if she’d faced up to her son’s deviance instead of defending him, protecting him.

  And the lies… she’d told so, so many lies. What could she do now to make amends? Perhaps there was some way to warn Josie to keep vigilant and safe without alarming her.

  She stole one last glance into the parlour, her heart swelling with regret for the girl she had never stopped caring about. Then Maggie turned and walked away, cutting a lonely figure as she weaved through couples and the families, all far too busy with their own lives to register her presence at all.

  FIVE

  JOSIE

  The next morning, I made Ivy a quick bowl of cereal before we set off to the wholesaler. We had regular deliveries to the café but I’d really upped the baking output recently and we often ran low on critical supplies.

  Six months ago, I was invited to tender for a contract with Brew – a new national chain of bean-to-cup coffee shops – and to my delight, my bid was successful. Delicious Desserts would supply them with fresh daily flapjacks and biscuits to sell in their outlets.

  The contract had the potential to transform my year-end figures from strictly small fry to an impressive turnover. If successful, the CEO of Brew had intimated they’d be looking to potentially roll out the contract to their other branches in the Midlands.

  I saw it as a way of building a successful future and life for myself and my daughter and so it was important to me to make it a roaring success.

  ‘Why do we have to always do boring stuff on Saturdays?’ Ivy grumbled as I locked the front door. ‘I’ll miss all my favourite TV programmes because of this. You promised we could go to the seaside again, but we haven’t been for aaages!’

  I felt like Ivy’s punchbag, and deservedly so. Everything she said was true.

  ‘You’re right, sweetie, and I’m sorry,’ I said as I reversed off the drive. ‘It won’t be for long, but I’ve explained about the Brew contract. Once I get that running properly, we’ll be back to normal.’

  Up until now, I’d been strict about taking weekends off. Sheena was saving for a deposit for a house with he
r partner, Warren, and she’d willingly taken on more hours when we won the Brew contract. I’d structured the staff rota so the café could run perfectly well without me and once, when I had a staffing problem, I simply stuck a notice to the door apologising for closure due to unforeseen circumstances. But generally, the pressure had increased more than I’d expected and at times I’d found myself impossibly stretched between running a business and being a mother. There were so many things on my to-do list, including a visit to see Mum, which I was way overdue on.

  ‘I hate that stupid contract!’ Ivy jutted out her bottom lip and stared petulantly out of the passenger window.

  ‘I agree it’s a nuisance, but it’s going to give us a better life if it’s successful.’

  She looked at me. ‘I don’t want a better life, Mummy. I like this one.’

  ‘I know, I do too but… we can move to a new area and get a lovely house with a nice big garden and—’

  ‘I don’t want to leave this house. I like it here, with Darcy and my other friends at school. And what about Daddy?’ Her bottom lip jutted defiantly.

  Daddy. Who was forever promising the earth and consistently delivering next to nothing.

  I stopped at a red light and turned towards her, smoothing down the ponytail she’d hastily pulled together herself before we left. ‘We could get a house in the countryside where Daddy can visit. You could go horse riding at the weekends, and we’ll have a big enough garden to keep a few hens.’ Ivy loved hens and dreamed of collecting her own eggs for breakfast.

  ‘Sophie and Emily in my class go for horse riding and they live around here.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I do like hens, but I want to be friends with Darcy more.’