Diane Jeffrey - The Guilty Mother

‘I can imagine. Do you believe him?’

‘I don’t know what to believe anymore,’ she says. ‘Anyway, I hope this helps.’

After that, Holly is uncharacteristically quiet. The food is delicious and I top up Holly’s wine glass several times, but that doesn’t help. She evidently has something on her mind. I assume it’s me dragging up the memories of the dead Slade babies, so I stay clear of that subject for the rest of the evening.

When I pull up in front of Holly’s place, near Saint Michael’s Hill in Cotham, she turns to me and I think she’s going to invite me in, as she always does. I haven’t told her yet that I don’t have my usual childminder and I didn’t ask Kelly to sleep over at mine, which is what Nina does. Nina sleeps on the sofa bed in the sitting room, even though there is a bedroom in my house that no one ever sleeps in. I couldn’t bring myself to explain that to Kelly, so I won’t be able to stay the night with Holly, but I can come in for a while. I look out of the car window at the beautiful old building, once a large house now converted into modern flats, and tip my head towards it, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

But Holly isn’t on the same wavelength. ‘Thank you for a lovely dinner, Jonathan,’ she says, and it sounds rather definitive. She normally calls me Jon and I’m not sure I want to hear what’s coming. ‘I think it might be a good idea if we took a break for a while,’ she continues. ‘I can’t keep hanging on forever.’ She looks down, at her hands, clutching her handbag on her lap. ‘I want to be part of your life instead of watching it from the sidelines, but you won’t introduce me to your family or your friends.’

‘Holly, I—’

‘It’s too late, Jon. I came tonight because I wanted to tell you in person, but I’d already made up my mind.’

She gets out of the car and I watch her walk away. I sit in the car for several minutes with the engine idling, looking up at Holly’s window, berating myself for messing up so badly with Holly and for messing her around.

When I get home, the boys are asleep and Kelly is dozing in front of the TV on the sofa. I pay her what I normally pay Nina and use the Uber app on my phone to request a ride to take her home. While we’re waiting for the driver, I bring her up to speed with the latest in the Slade case.

‘So, let’s get this straight,’ Kelly says. ‘It was originally thought the mother lost one baby and murdered the other one?’

‘That was the way the evidence pointed at the trial and the jury’s verdict, yes.’

‘And now fresh evidence – a missing post-mortem report that has resurfaced – suggests both babies died of cot death?’ She sounds incredulous.

I consider this before answering. ‘Well, that’s what Superintendent Goodman and Melissa’s defence team are hoping to prove. That report is their main ground for appeal. And it has happened before. There are precedents.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re too young to remember, but there were several women in the nineties and noughties who were imprisoned for killing more than one of their babies. It turned out their babies died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome and their convictions were gross miscarriages of justice.’

Kelly doesn’t appear to have listened to me. ‘Is it possible the missing report your friend gave you is inconclusive and Melissa Slade killed both twins?’

‘I suppose we can’t rule that out,’ I concede, getting the instant sensation I’m betraying Holly. She was sure of herself, so sure that she stood her ground in court. ‘She was my girlfriend, actually,’ I blurt out, ‘but she’s not anymore. As of this evening.’ I don’t know why I say that. It only makes me feel even more disloyal towards Holly.

‘Oh.’ Kelly doesn’t sound very sympathetic, barely breaking flow. ‘Or maybe neither Amber nor Ellie died of cot death but Melissa Slade is innocent,’ she says, steering the conversation back on track.

‘Hmm,’ I say dubiously. ‘But then, what killed them? A genetic disease?’

‘Possibly. You’d think that would have shown up in the post-mortems, though. I wonder if the question is not what killed them, but who ? No one seems to have considered it could have been murder, but that Melissa Slade wasn’t the murderer.’ She starts to say something else, but she’s interrupted by the sound of a car horn.

‘Looks like your Uber’s here,’ I say, unnecessarily.

As Kelly leaves, I try to think over the different theories we’ve just come up with, but I can’t concentrate. My thoughts keep racing back to Holly. I tap out several texts on my mobile, but end up deleting each one. In the end, I write three words. I’m so sorry .

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