She pushed away the melancholy feeling that often accompanied thoughts of Gavin, especially in relation to her child. There had been a time when she’d thought that any child of hers would contain his DNA too. But fate had had other ideas and so had her covetous brother. It was her default defence mechanism to blame Zach, and he had made it clear from day one that he wanted Gavin, but the realistic part of her knew that Gavin must have been ripe for the taking and hadn’t been as invested in the relationship as she had been. He had been open about his fluid sexuality, as he liked to call it, from their second date. She hadn’t given it a thought. If they were meant to be together it didn’t matter what the sexuality was of the person trying to steal him. He’d been good at making her laugh, good at making her feel special. She just wished he hadn’t been so damn good at making her fall in love with him.
It was a testament to her own husband that he’d listened to the whole sorry tale for their entire first date. She had drunk and talked, drunk more, talked more and then sobbed into his jacket, claiming, ‘I wasn’t enough for him.’
‘I think you mean you weren’t man enough for him,’ Daryl had said, getting her attention.
She had shared her heartbreak of losing the love of her life to her brother, and he’d patiently listened and supplied her with Kleenex.
She had been shocked when he’d asked her for a second date.
‘What? We never got to my story of a break-up when I was fourteen years old and that’s one you’ve got to hear.’
She had laughed and agreed.
What she hadn’t told Daryl then, or since, was that sense of not being enough was not new to her. Gavin’s treatment of her had only solidified the feeling she’d had from her mother as far back as she could remember.
The honest acknowledgement of that fact was accompanied with a side order of guilt. She had been neglected in no way, shape or form. By anyone’s standards, her mother had been a fantastic parent to them all. Despite her emotional problems, they had always been well clothed, well fed and hadn’t lacked emotional nurture or interaction. She had attended, cheered and congratulated every win or minor triumph. She had commiserated every loss and disappointment. She had been the first mum in line at every parents’ evening and the one shouting loudest at every sports day.
It was the moments of distraction. The numerous times she would catch her mother staring off into space with a faraway look in her eyes, almost a longing for something more. One of Rachel’s earliest memories was of feeling panicked at not seeing her mother waiting at the school gates of the junior school. Zach had continued to kick a football around, unconcerned about their absent parent, but she’d spotted her mother at the other school entrance, the one for the older kids, her eyes eagerly searching the crowds of teenagers surging past her. It had taken Rachel three calls to get her attention. She’d hurried to the correct gate and laughed off her own confusion. Rachel had waited for her mum to recount the event that night at dinner to her dad, but the story had never come. Funny how she’d always remembered that.
She reached for her cup surprised at two things: her drink was now cold, and tears were running over her cheeks. She would miss every member of her family, but she would also miss the opportunity to ask her mother the one question that had been in her head all of her life.
Why hadn’t she been enough?
Finally, she could feel the emotion: hovering, waiting, stalking her like an avalanche waiting to fall. It was there. It was threatening. It was imminent.
She had to get back to Mia.
She stood as the tears began to blur her vision. The chair leg got caught on the metal table and she stumbled but righted herself as the noise drew the attention of passers-by.
She moved away quickly, eager to be out of their gaze.
She wiped the tears away as she headed to the edge of the pavement to avoid a man walking two Labradors.
She didn’t see that the traffic lights had changed to green. She didn’t see the lorry that was thundering towards the junction. And she didn’t see the hand that pushed her into the road.
FORTY-SEVEN
‘What the hell was Helen Daynes trying to hide?’ Kim asked as they headed towards the home of Reece Porter.
Penn had told them earlier that the man had refused to provide a DNA sample, and now Kim was curious to know why. The warrant had already been issued enabling them to request a DNA sample from their other refuser of the day, Warren, because there they had a tangible link. They wouldn’t get one for Reece Porter. Being a neighbour and occasional handyman did not give them the right to twirl a swab around his mouth. With parameters that loose, they’d have been able to test half the country.
The fact that Reece Porter had refused made her want his DNA all the more. Given his sheer audacity in accessing a crime scene, she was surprised the man wasn’t previously known to them, but a name check had revealed nothing.
‘I mean, her therapist said she’d never hurt anyone so it’s not like she killed somebody.’
‘Death isn’t always the worst thing you can do,’ Leanne said from behind.
‘Jesus, a warning next time,’ Kim said. The woman hadn’t spoken voluntarily in two days.
Kim waited.
Silence.
‘Want to elaborate?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, come on. Try the police officer role on for a change.’