Susan’s eyes widened and the red flush came back to her face, her expression so much like ones engraved on Beth’s heart. Suzie had always blushed furiously when shocked or nervous.
‘I’m so very sorry about Annabel,’ Beth went on, moving a little closer to her. Part of her felt she should hug her old friend, show some of the emotion she felt inside her. But Beth didn’t know how to be spontaneous any more, and her lawyer’s mind said she must keep her distance. ‘Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a woman, and it does throw a very different light on what you did,’ she added.
She thought for a moment that Susan still wasn’t going to talk. Her face tightened, she was twisting her index finger with her other hand, and her eyes were fixed on her lap.
‘Do you remember what you shouted to me when I was on the train going home that last summer?’ Beth asked after a minute or two.
She could see the scene so clearly, Suzie in a pink dress, running alongside the train as Beth leaned out the window to wave and blow kisses.
‘It was “Till we meet again,” ’ Beth said and heard her own voice waver with emotion. ‘That’s what you shouted. I could never have imagined meeting up like this, then.’
Susan still didn’t speak. Beth wasn’t even sure if she’d really heard what she said.
‘Look, Suzie,’ she began again, ‘I’m sorry we lost touch. But we were young and we both had so many other things going on. Please talk to me. If not as a solicitor, then just as an old friend.’
There was a moment or two of silence, and Beth could almost read Susan’s thought processes in the agonized expression on her face. She was probably relieved she’d been found out, she wanted to trust her old friend, yet she was very much aware Beth was a solicitor and therefore on the other side. Was it best to stay silent, or tell her everything?
‘That bastard sent me away from the surgery twice,’ she burst out suddenly, her eyes sparking fire. ‘The second time Annabel had a rash, she was like a floppy doll, but he said it was nothing more than a touch of flu and to give her Calpol. I argued with him, I showed him how the rash didn’t disappear if you put a glass on it, but he said I was a neurotic mother and to stop wasting his time.’
Beth sat down, very relieved that the tide appeared to have turned. ‘So you took her to the Children’s Hospital yourself?’ she asked.
‘Yes, and she died not long after I got her there.’
‘I’m so sorry, Suzie,’ Beth said, and even though she had always believed she was incapable of being really moved by any tragedy, she found this time she was. ‘Did you report him?’
‘Yes, but a fat lot of good it did me,’ Susan spat back, her pale eyes flashing like pieces of flint struck together. ‘They all stick together, don’t they? Cover up for one another. I was just a single mother, they didn’t care about what they’d done to me.’
‘And Mrs Parks, the receptionist – what did she do to you?’
‘She wouldn’t even give me an emergency appointment, much less let me have a home visit,’ Susan said, her voice rasping with hatred. ‘I rang three times altogether, and each time she said to put Annabel to bed and give her plenty of fluids. She spoke as if I was a halfwit. A mother knows when her child is seriously ill.’
‘Were these phone calls before or after the visits to Doctor Wetherall?’
‘Two before the first visit, then I went to the surgery anyway because I was so frantic. She didn’t like that at all, and kept me waiting ages before I finally got to see the doctor. The next morning when Annabel was much worse, I rang again, insisting on a home visit immediately. She was really snotty with me, she said a home visit wasn’t necessary, but that if I brought Annabel in she’d squeeze me in somewhere.’
‘So you took Annabel to the surgery twice as an emergency?’ Beth needed to clarify that. ‘What did Doctor Wetherall say the first time?’
‘That it was just a bad cold, or maybe flu,’ Susan said. ‘He was so dismissive, he hardly even examined her.’
‘And the second time?’
‘Anyone could see how ill she was then.’ Susan’s voice rose in agitation. ‘I told you already, she was all limp like a doll, she had the rash. I said I thought it was meningitis, he said mothers always imagined that and he told me to take her home.’
‘What happened then?’
‘I went back out to reception, and I begged that woman to call an ambulance, but she said if the doctor thought Annabel needed hospital he would have arranged it. I was holding Annabel in my arms, for God’s sake! She was a four-year-old, not a baby, barely conscious, any fool could see there was something badly wrong.’
Beth’s heart contracted at her obvious pain.
‘And that’s when you took her to hospital?’
Susan nodded. ‘I didn’t have any money on me for a taxi. I had to carry her home again and ask a neighbour to take me.’
‘Why didn’t you take her to the hospital straight after the doctor sent you away the first time?’ Beth asked.
‘If only I had.’ Susan sighed and slumped down in her chair. ‘I suppose I thought he had to be right, and I was over-reacting. I’d always trusted doctors.’
‘Where did you learn to fire a gun like that?’ Beth asked after a momentary pause.
Susan lifted her head a fraction and she half smiled. ‘I could do it when I knew you,’ she said. ‘Dad started teaching me with a shotgun when I was about eight. I was really good at it.’
‘How come you never told me?’ Beth asked curiously. ‘I’d have been dead impressed.’
Susan shrugged. ‘A lot of people used to think it was weird. Martin, that’s my brother, said it was a freaky thing for a girl to do. I suppose what with having a crazy granny, I expected you’d think I was loopy too.’
Beth had forgotten until then that Suzie had often made what seemed at the time little jokes about her granny being barmy. Back then, Beth thought it just meant eccentric behaviour. Now, looking back as an adult, she suddenly realized the old lady was probably suffering from dementia, with all the horrors that entailed.
‘So where did the gun come from?’ she asked, intending to come back to the grandmother later.
‘It was Daddy’s.’
‘Is he still alive?’ Beth asked.
‘No, he and Mummy both died ten years ago, first Mummy and then him, six weeks later.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Beth said. ‘But tell me, Suzie –’
‘Don’t call me that,’ the other woman interrupted the question irritably. ‘I hate it, it’s a stupid little-girl name, not one for a grown-woman. I’m Susan.’
Beth raised an eyebrow questioningly. ‘Well, Susan, I can see why you felt murderous towards both the doctor and his receptionist. I think any woman would. But why did you wait four years to get your revenge?’
Beth knew this would be an important issue in Susan’s trial. If she had shot the doctor within weeks of her child’s death she would have gained everyone’s sympathy – the public’s, the jury’s and even the judge’s.
‘Revenge?’ Susan looked at her questioningly.
‘Yes. That’s what it was. Wasn’t it?’
Susan grimaced. ‘I didn’t see it that way. I just knew I had to do it to set myself free.’
‘Explain?’
‘No, I won’t,’ Susan said.
‘But I can’t help you unless you tell me everything,’ Beth said.
Susan suddenly smiled and it made her look very much younger. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I am free now. I’ve done it and for the first time in four years I’ve got something to feel glad about. I don’t care if I have to stay in prison for the rest of my life. There’s nothing outside for me.’
Beth sighed deeply. ‘Okay, I understand why you wanted to do it. But didn’t it cross your mind that you’d be leaving the doctor’s four children without a father, the receptionist’s two without a mother?’
‘I thought of killing one child from each family,’ Susan said, her face
darkening. ‘I wanted them to know the agony of seeing your own child in a coffin. But I watched them, day after day, and I knew those two bastards cared about no one but themselves, not even their own kids. So it was them I went for.’
Beth wasn’t easily shocked but the force of Susan’s statement took her aback completely. She wondered how on earth she was going to be able to put together a defence for her.
‘Tell me about the years before Annabel was born,’ she asked.
Susan looked at her coldly. ‘Why? Do you hope you might hear something which will make you feel sorry for me?’
‘Not at all. I just want to know. I want to help you.’
‘I don’t want your help, nor your bloody sympathy,’ Susan snapped back. ‘I deserve to be in here. It’s the right place for me because I can’t hurt anyone else ever again. Forget little Suzie Wright, the kid who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, she doesn’t exist any more, she disappeared years ago.’
Beth faltered. It was obvious the Suzie she knew had disappeared, but there had to be a good reason for her to vanish. ‘I’d like to help Susan Fellows,’ she retorted. ‘I think she might need a friend, if nothing else.’
Susan gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’ve got friends in here now. We’re all ground-down, chewed-up and spat-out people here. I feel right at home.’
Beth was alarmed at that bitter remark. There was so much more she wanted to know, had to know, if only to get a broad picture of why her gentle childhood friend had turned out like this. But Beth was in shock too, her pulse was racing, she couldn’t be entirely professional, or just take the role of friend. And as her time was nearly up, she thought it best to leave things as they stood for the time being.
‘I have to go now anyway,’ she said, getting up. ‘But I’m not giving up on you, Susan,’ she said, looking down at her.
Susan just shrugged. ‘Please yourself,’ she said sullenly. ‘But don’t expect me to change my plea, or give you any sob stuff. I did this with my eyes wide open, I’m not mad. I want a life sentence, like I said, I deserve it. Have I made myself clear?’
Beth nodded. ‘All too clear,’ she said softly, and for the first time in her career as a solicitor she felt like crying for her client. ‘But just remember, Susan, it was you who inspired me to want to be a lawyer in the first place. I’m going to do the best I can for you, whether you want it or not’
Icy rain splattered on Beth’s face as she was let out of the prison gates and walked to her car. Her whole body was trembling as if she was going down with flu. She got into her car and started the engine, but for a brief moment she couldn’t put it into gear and drive away, because she was eleven again and riding up through Luddington village on Aunt Rose’s bike to meet Suzie.
At the start of the second August it was raining hard, and she was afraid a year apart had been too long and Suzie wouldn’t want to come out and play after all. She was wearing a plastic raincoat which rustled as she pedalled – the hood had blown off and her hair was dripping wet. But as she went round the slight bend by All Saints church, Suzie came hurtling out from the trees surrounding her house, waving her arms and yelling.
‘You’ve come!’ she screamed jubilantly. ‘You’ve come!’
Beth remembered how she flung the bike down as Suzie embraced her, and she was glad it was so wet so her friend wouldn’t see she was crying. She’d waited all year for this, yet she hadn’t known until that moment that Suzie had been longing for it just as much.
‘Aunt Rose said only ducks go out in rain like this,’ Beth said, as Suzie led her to the shelter of the trees.
‘Mummy said I needed my head examined thinking you’d come.’ Suzie grinned, and got a handkerchief out of her coat pocket to dry Beth’s face. ‘What do grown-ups know? I knew you’d come.’
‘It’s a bit too wet to do anything,’ Beth said, looking up at the sullen sky.
‘Not too wet to talk.’ Suzie giggled. ‘Let’s go in the church porch, it’ll be dry there. I’ve got us a picnic’.
They sat on the hard narrow bench in the porch for what must have been at least two hours, talking and talking as the rain streamed down outside. Beth couldn’t remember now much of what they talked about, only the joy of being together again, the taste of the fish paste sandwiches and the bottle of lemonade they shared.
‘This rain isn’t going to last,’ Suzie said confidently. ‘Daddy said it would blow itself out by tonight. Shall we meet in Stratford tomorrow? I want to get some notebooks and stuff from Woolworth’s for our secret club.’
Beth found herself smiling as the seriousness of the rules they made up for their club that afternoon came back to her. They had to invent a code to write in, so no one else would read their messages to each other. They made solemn promises never to divulge to anyone what they did at club meetings. They made up a password, and there was a kind of pledge which they had to recite together as they crooked their little fingers together.
‘Friends forever, whatever the weather,’ Beth murmured as it popped back into her mind.
‘Better to die than to betray. That is my pledge to you today.’
As far as Beth remembered, the club fizzled out very quickly. They did buy notebooks in Woolworth’s the next day, and invented their secret code, but they rarely wrote to each other in it as it proved so laborious. They built a club-house, a den in the woods, and Suzie smuggled out old plates, cutlery, even a kettle and an old rug from her house to make it cosy. In fact, now that Beth was thinking back on it, she realized Suzie was a real homemaker – right through their friendship it was always she who thought of practicalities, of what they were going to eat and what clothes they should wear. A little mother even then.
Chapter five
‘I have to tell someone or burst,’ Beth blurted out suddenly after two gin and tonics with Roy.
It was Friday evening, five days since she’d visited Susan, and for all of them she’d been in a state of nervous confusion. Part of her ached to confide in someone about her dilemma, but the other part insisted it was something she had to tackle alone. Then this morning a letter had arrived from Susan, dismissing Beth as her solicitor.
It had been a sensible, forthright letter, in which she said she was touched that Beth wanted to defend her, but she didn’t think it was a good idea in light of their childhood connection. She asked if Beth would recommend someone else.
On one level it was a welcome relief. Every way Beth looked at the case she saw problems. She felt trapped by her own sense of involvement, and by poignant memories which kept surfacing.
Yet at the same time she felt she must do right by Susan. It seemed to her that the twist of fate that had brought both of them to Bristol to meet up under such extraordinary circumstances couldn’t be walked away from.
So when Roy had rung her this afternoon and asked her out for a drink after work she was only too pleased to agree – anything was better than spending another evening alone with her anxieties.
They had met in Auntie’s bar, which was just a couple of minutes’ walk from her office, and maybe it was the gin on an empty stomach, or just Roy’s friendly, interested manner, that made her feel compelled to share her troubles with him.
‘Better to tell me, the soul of discretion, than anyone else,’ he said with a grin. ‘You’re expecting a baby? You intend to run off with a hunchbacked milkman?’
‘No,’ she said, and laughed. ‘Neither of those, but it’s almost as unlikely. You see, it’s turned out Susan Fellows and I were friends as children.’
‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, turning towards her, brown eyes wide with surprise. ‘That’s incredible. I think I’d be fit to burst too, with that on my mind.’
Beth explained how it all came about. And that Susan wanted a new solicitor before she made a full statement to the police about the shooting.
Roy was a good listener. ‘I think it might be for the best,’ he said thoughtfully as she finished. ‘I’m sure there will be parts of her life she wouldn’t
want to admit to you. And it would be hard for you to be objective if you feel personal involvement. You don’t strike me as someone who likes that.’
Beth was a little surprised that he’d sensed that about her already, after all they hardly knew each other. Yet it pleased her – it showed he was an intuitive man and one she could be honest with.
‘I don’t,’ she agreed. ‘To be honest, I haven’t ever lost a moment’s sleep over any client before. Yet even though I ought to be relieved, I can’t seem to let go. I’m burning to know everything that’s happened to her in the last thirty years since we drifted apart. I don’t like to think of her being alone and friendless.’
She went on to tell him briefly of Susan’s insistence that she was going to plead guilty and how she had said she was surrounded now by people who were just like her. ‘But she can’t know what prison is really like when you are on a life sentence,’ Beth said passionately. ‘My guess is that she’s had a whole string of sadness and disappointment, even before Annabel’s death. If this little girl was, as I suspect, the only good thing in Susan’s life, it’s no wonder she flipped. I really believe this is a true case of diminished responsibility, and if so she needs help, not to lose her freedom forever.’
‘Maybe that doesn’t bother her because she has no conception of what freedom means,’ Roy said.
Beth looked at him curiously. There was an odd note to his voice which she couldn’t quite read. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just a feeling. You said her teenage years were dominated by her senile grandmother, then her mother having a stroke. It’s possible she spent her entire youth being a carer.’
‘She did say both her parents died within six weeks of one another, ten years ago,’ Beth said, looking at Roy aghast. ‘Bloody hell! Surely she wasn’t looking after them since she was sixteen?’
‘It’s quite possible.’ Roy nodded. ‘That would kind of add up with what I learned when I went round to where she lived when Annabel was born. I spoke to her old next-door neighbour.’