Maggie picked up the phone and Regina instantly started a long, barely comprehensible story about the colour of Princess’s baby-grow. ‘I went to the shop on the ground floor, but they only had white and I wanted yellow. I knew there was a charity shop just two streets away — this was yesterday, did I say that? Anyway, I wanted a different colour, because I wanted a change, something brighter and less clinical, you know? Less “hospital”. And I like yellow. So, yesterday I never opened the bedside cabinet because that’s just full of white babygrows and I wanted yellow. I didn’t open it all day yesterday, you see.’ Maggie didn’t see at all, but she said ‘yes’ and this prompted Regina to explain: ‘I only opened it this morning.’ Regina began to sob.
When Regina has first started babbling incoherently, Maggie had assumed the worst. But now she had no clue what to think. She couldn’t make head nor tail of anything Regina had said so far. All she could do was wait and see if anything eventually made sense.
Regina regained her composure, took a deep breath and carried on. ‘I opened the bedside cabinet to get the little collection tin so I could put it back on the nurses’ station... they’ve been collecting for Princess, did you know that? I feel terrible begging, but I opened the cabinet to get the tin out and there it was... a carrier bag full of... I’ve never even seen one fifty-pound note, never mind this many! There’s a note that says “For Princess”. You should see it, Maggie. You should see what someone’s done for our little girl!’
Jack’s week of desk duty was only nine-to-five, designed to ease him back in, so by 5.30 each evening, he was back home with his feet up.
Jack and Maggie sat in old garden chairs on their wonky patio. They were pushed together so that Maggie was close enough to sit curled up with her head on Jack’s shoulder.
The chairs had spent most of their lives on Charlie’s allotment, so had definitely seen better days, Jack swore he could smell Charlie’s aftershave on them, so couldn’t bring himself to throw them away.
Hannah was lying on a blanket by their feet, as Penny finally planted the flowers that would clearly define the edges of Hannah’s outdoor playground. ‘We all need clear boundaries,’ Penny insisted. ‘They make us feel safe. And Hannah will always know that she’s safe here.’
Jack’s £40 T-shirt felt soft against Maggie’s cheek. She had returned the corduroy trousers and the Hackett’s shoes, but Jack had asked if he could keep the Paul Smith shirt — he’d begun to take more of an interest in his clothes, since discovering the feeling of authority they could give him. He was still the same man — just a slightly better-packaged version.
Maggie checked the wound that would soon become a scar on Jack’s arm. She often did this, almost as a comfort, reminding her how lucky she was to still have the man she loved so much. ‘Scars burn easily in the sun,’ she said. Maggie’s mind was now miles away, in St Lucia. On honeymoon. ‘I’ll buy you a Factor 50 sun-stick.’
Maggie lifted her head and told Jack that she loved him. ‘No matter what,’ she added.
Jack suddenly felt like he was being given permission to confess his sins, but he wasn’t sure he was quite ready.
‘I know the money was from you.’ Maggie stared into Jack’s eyes and read his thoughts. ‘Actually, I didn’t know for sure that it was from you. But the look in your eyes now says that I’m right. And then there’s the honeymoon we didn’t think we could afford until next year.’
Jack averted his eyes, before Maggie got too deep inside his head and saw something she wasn’t supposed to.
‘Me and you, Jack, the doctor and the policeman... we see so much go wrong in the lives of so many people. We know what loss and pain and unfairness looks like. We know that bad people can buy lives they don’t deserve, whilst good people go hungry. Life, Jack... can be a fucker.’ Maggie began to cry. ‘What you did for Regina and Mario was beautiful.’ Jack quickly wrapped Maggie in his arms and squeezed her tight. She whispered into his ear, ‘Whatever you did, you never need to worry that I’ll ask. I won’t. I love you and I trust you.’ Maggie pulled back from Jack, so that she could see his face. She ran her fingers down the deep furrow between his tearful eyes. ‘This is him. This is Harry.’ Her fingers lovingly moved to Jack’s mouth and her touch made him smile. ‘This is Charlie.’ Maggie took Jack’s face in her hands and kissed him. When she pulled away, a tear had rolled down his cheek. ‘Never worry that I don’t know who you are, Jack Warr. I see you both. And I love you both.’
Hannah’s tiny hand grabbed Jack’s bare foot and she looked up at him with a bright, smiling face. ‘Well...’ Penny looked exhausted. ‘That’ll do for today.’ Penny scooped Hannah up. ‘She’s a bit ripe. I’ll change her.’ Penny looked up just as Jack tried to subtly wipe the tear from his cheek. ‘My boy...’ Penny said as she kissed his forehead and held back tears of her own. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe. There’s no prouder mum, or dad anywhere in the world.’ Then she went inside the house with Hannah.
Jack and Maggie sat together on the rickety garden chairs in perfect, contented silence. She was once again resting her head on his shoulder. ‘I know you see me, Mags. For who I am. Who I need to be. You’re the only person in the world who does.’
‘I feel...’ Maggie chose her words carefully. ‘Not all the time, but every now and then, I feel the danger... of who you are. But that’s OK, because we both know that life’s not black and white. But if you ever bring danger to this door, Jack...’
Jack tightened his grip on her, and Maggie knew that she didn’t need to finish her sentence. ‘I swear on my life. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. Or make you ashamed of me. Or make you doubt me.’
Jack felt her cheek lift on his shoulder as she smiled, and he could feel her cool tears soaking into his sleeve.
She laced her fingers into his and their perfect, contented silence returned.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank all the staff at my publisher, Bonnier Books UK, with special thanks to Kate Parkin, Bill Massey, Stephen Dumughn, Ben Willis, Francesca Russell, Blake Brooks, Nick Stearn and Ruth Logan.
Thank you to my team at La Plante Global, Nigel Stoneman, Tory MacDonald and Cass Sutherland. Special thanks to Debbie Owen and Mick Randall, for all their help with Judas Horse.
Thanks also to the team at Allen and Unwin in Australia and New Zealand, and in South Africa, to all the staff at Jonathan Ball.
In Ireland, thanks to Simon Hess and Declan Heeney for all their hard work selling and publicising my books.
To all the booksellers and retailers, reviewers and bloggers who stock, read, review and promote my books, thank you again for your support, time and words.
Finally, thank you to my readers, who keep in touch via my social media and who I have met on Facebook Live in the past year. I hope you’ve enjoyed our chats as much as I have.