The Elephant Girl(33)

Did she really need to hear this? Life was a lot simpler when she was convinced of Fay’s guilt. Now she wasn’t sure of anything. Fay’s kindness had punctured her old certainties, and the air was slowly going out of her metaphorical hate-filled balloon.

‘We fell out,’ Fay explained. ‘Over a man, would you believe it.’

‘A man?’

Fay sighed. ‘My husband. They had an affair. I felt betrayed, as you would. Began stalking her. I saw her as more guilty than him because she was supposed to be my friend. It’s hard to explain, really, when it was just as much his fault.’

Helen nodded because she sensed agreement was required, even if she didn’t agree. Her mother, stealing someone else’s husband? She hadn’t considered that Fay might have had her reasons, however wrong they were, and she’d never thought of her mother as anything other than a mother either. Then again, maybe it was all a lie.

‘The police got involved,’ said Fay. ‘My husband found out what I was doing and wanted a divorce. I was too immersed in the whole thing to get legal representation, so he more or less walked off with everything. I continued to follow her, hung around outside her house despite a restraining order. Made obscene phone calls, wrote letters … I was mad, quite literally. She’d ruined my life, and I was going to ruin hers.’

Helen’s hand tightened around the fork, and she put her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking. She’d been waiting for years for this moment, for Fay to confess, except it didn’t feel like a proper confession. It wasn’t satisfying enough.

‘I was doing drugs, booze and God knows what. High as a kite half the time. The next thing I know she’s dead, murdered in her car, and they say I did it, except I don’t remember anything at all.’

Her appetite gone, replaced by a sudden queasiness, Helen put the fork on the tray and swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. She’d heard enough.

But Fay hadn’t finished.

‘My friend’s daughter, who was on the back seat at the time, pointed the finger at me. There was other evidence as well, but if the child had seen it, I must’ve done it. I just don’t …’ She sighed.

‘Did you ever find out what happened to the child?’

‘No.’

‘Did you even try?’ Helen’s voice rose a notch, and Fay sent her a curious look. ‘I mean, if you weren’t sure what happened, perhaps the child was the key.’

‘I tried, but obviously I wasn’t allowed anywhere near that little girl, and her family made sure I had no contact whatsoever. I don’t blame them. I’d have done the same, to protect my child.’

Family. Protection.

The words rang false, because the reality of the situation was so different.

‘That’s quite a story.’ Her voice cooled, certain that it was just that, a story for her benefit, and Fay was looking for sympathy.

Well, you picked the wrong person if you’re looking for pity, she thought.

Had Fay guessed who her new flatmate was? Helen didn’t look like her blonde, petite mother. She was just as slim, but with a taller and stronger build, and she tanned well like her father, Dmitri. But if Fay and Mimi had been friends, she may have seen a photo of him.

The thought unsettled her. She needed to be more careful, at least until she’d decided what she was going to do about Fay. Because someone had to pay.

Fay rose from the bed. ‘I didn’t mean to bore you.’

‘I wasn’t bored.’ Far from it. ‘Thanks for the curry. I’m not really hungry. I appreciate it, though. You must let me give you some money.’

‘Oh, yes, I forgot.’ Fay produced a tattered notebook, held together with an elastic band and a pencil tucked in between the pages. ‘Household stuff. Charlie said you wanted to give something towards food and things. There’s no fixed sum, just give me what you can afford.’

Helen set her mouth in a thin line. ‘I’ll pay what everyone else pays.’

‘All right. In that case, it’s forty quid a fortnight. Sounds like a lot, but it covers food, basic toiletries, and cleaning materials.’

Helen reached for her wallet in her rucksack and counted out forty pounds. Fay ticked her name in the notebook, pocketed the money and took the tray from Helen’s desk.

‘Why don’t you let me carry that downstairs?’ said Helen.

‘I’m fine.’

Fay shut the door behind her, and Helen listened to her soft footfall on the landing. She’d missed a golden opportunity to confront Fay.

She wasn’t ready.

Later as she went to bed, she sat for a moment in total darkness, hugging her knees to her chest. Although Fay said she couldn’t remember anything, that didn’t mean she wasn’t guilty, but it did make Helen question how much she actually remembered herself. She had a vague memory of some time afterwards – when, exactly, was still hazy – that Aggie drove her to Ealing police station …