Page 45 of Darling Girls

‘You wenthorseriding!’ Her eyes were wide, nostrils flaring. ‘On other people’s horses. After Itoldyou to stay home. Can you imagine my embarrassment when I bumped into Sara Mitchell, who’d just driven past Wild Meadows and seen you girls riding her horses?’

This explained why she looked so dishevelled. She must have run all the way from town when she’d heard.

‘Youdidn’t have permission to ride them. Not from me, not from the owner of the horses. Sara could move her horses elsewhere and I’d lose that income. Then who would feed you? Who would keep the farm running?’ Her face was crimson with rage. Jessica couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her foster mother this angry. ‘So whose idea was it then? To go horseriding?’

She looked at them each in turn. Jessica flinched under her gaze.

‘Mine,’ Alicia said, before Jessica could even open her mouth.

Miss Fairchild raised her eyebrows. ‘I see.’

‘Actually,’ Norah said, ‘it was mine.’

‘They’re both lying,’ Jessica broke in, standing taller. ‘It was my idea.’

‘Is that right?’ Miss Fairchild pursed her lips. Her gaze slid away, as if contemplating something. ‘All right, since I’m feeling generous, I’ll only punish one of you. I’ll even let you choose. Who is it going to be?’

She crossed her arms and waited. The savagery of it was breathtaking. Jessica could hardly believe she’d once called this woman ‘Mummy’. She seemed incapable now of the kindness she’d shown Jessica as a child. She was no longer capable of even a millisecond of kindness.

‘Very well,’ she said, when none of the girls responded. ‘I’ll pick. Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.’ She was pointing at Norah. ‘You!’

Jessica was going to interject – volunteer herself for punishment – but Miss Fairchild moved too quickly. She grabbed Norah by the ear, turned on her heel and headed inside and down the hall. Norah, caught unawares, tripped twice in her desperation to keep up. Alicia and Jessica ran after them, all the way to the door under the stairs that led to the basement.

The pitch-black basement.

The moment that Norah realised what was coming would be burned into Jessica’s mind forever. Her body went limp. Her eyes became wild. Jessica began screaming. Alicia pleaded. That, of course, was the point.

Miss Fairchild wrenched open the door.

Suddenly Jessica realised how stupid she’d been. She couldn’t rebel. She couldn’t go horseriding. It wasn’t about her anymore. Alicia and Norah didn’t just represent fun, or support, or someone to take risks with. They represented two more ways for Miss Fairchild to hurt her. She should have pushed back against Alicia’s idea and kept her sisters safe inside the house.

Miss Fairchild shoved Norah into the darkness, latching the door closed behind her.

The commotion started immediately, Norah kicking the door and hammering it with her fists so hard that the wood around the latch splintered. The worst part, though, was the wail. The wail of a mother who had lost her child or an animal caught in a trap. It was bottomless and aching. After several minutes of it, Miss Fairchild couldn’t take any more and walked away. But Jessica and Alicia stayed. They sat on the floor by the door and whispered to Norah. They sang songs and read stories. They stayed for hours, until finally Miss Fairchild permitted them to let her out.

20

JESSICA

Detective Patel held a blue pen in her hand, which she twirled like a fidget toy as Jessica talked. Occasionally she scrawled notes on her yellow legal pad in nearly illegible handwriting. Jessica was curious as to the woman’s notetaking system. It seemed to her that it would make far more sense to type the notes and then save the document in a folder labelled by surname and date. The idea of all those little files neatly organised in folders brought some much-needed relief to Jessica, after an afternoon spent recalling some of her most difficult memories.

‘It sounds like Miss Fairchild really hurt you, Jessica,’ Patel said evenly.

She wasn’t a therapist, Jessica reminded herself, despite her concerned, sympathetic expression.

‘You must have wanted to hurt her back.’

See? There. Not a therapist – a police officer.

Patel sat back in her chair. She was extremely well-groomed. Her eyebrows were perfect arches, her black hair was shiny and straight. She had a prominent nose, which anchored the rest of the features on her face. Jessica hoped she hadn’t considered a nose job. It would be a mistake, taking away her point of interest. She wondered if she should tell her that.

‘No,’ Jessica said. ‘I only ever wanted to love her.’

Jessica was embarrassed to realise that shestillwanted that. She thought of all the times she’d fantasised about Miss Fairchild hearing about her successful business and showing up on Jessica’s doorstep to tell her how proud she was. In the fantasy, Jessica had many different responses – sometimes turning her away, other times hugging her foster mother and inviting her into her beautiful home. They’d share a pot of tea and it would be like old times. The very oldest, before it all went wrong. She felt deeply ashamed of the fantasy; too ashamed to admit it to Alicia or Norah, or even her therapist.

Absently, she reached inside her handbag and wrapped her fingers around the bottle of pills within.

Patel tapped the pen against her chin. ‘What about your sisters?’