Page 108 of Darling Girls

The three of them came further into the room. There was something odd about their expressions.

‘What’s going on?’ Jessica asked.

‘Jessica,’ Alicia said solemnly, ‘we’d like to introduce Amy.’

‘I’ll leave you girls to it,’ Phil said.

He was almost at the door when Jessica said, ‘Wait, Phil. Stay.’

She continued to stare at Zara. She didn’t completely understand. But at the same time, she did.

Phil hesitated in the doorway. ‘Are you sure this isn’t family stuff?’

‘It is,’ Jessica said. ‘And you’re family.’

Phil made no further protest; he just returned to Jessica’s bedside.

Jessica looked from Zara to Norah to Alicia.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Fill me in.’

57

JESSICA

NINE MONTHS LATER . . .

When they’d found out the baby under the house was likely Miss Fairchild’s daughter, Jessica had almost felt sorry for her. They’d been unable to get total certainty around it, as both John and Miss Fairchild’s mother had long since passed away, but without any solid proof, the police had concluded that John had caused the death of baby Amy and buried her.

It had been nine months since Miss Fairchild was charged with kidnapping (even though she hadn’t actually been the one to ‘take’ Amy, she’d knowingly kept a child obtained illegally, which legally amounted to the same thing) and perverting the course of justice (for blackmailing Dirk and lying to the police). It was six months since she’d been held on remand after being caught trying to flee the country. During the time she’d been in jail, she’d reached out to Jessica several times, asking her to visit. Alicia and Norah had been adamant that Jessica shouldn’t go, but in the last month, Jessica had told them that she felt ready, and they supported her, as they always did.

Jessica could not have been better prepared for her visit, as least insofar as logistics went. She’d almost been too focused on the preparations, however, because it wasn’t until she was following the guard down a wide corridor towards the visitors’ room that she truly considered what she was doing.

If Jessica ever needed a Valium, it was now. Her anxiety was palpable. Unfortunately, now that she was in recovery, it was out of the question.

After leaving the hospital in Port Agatha, she’d been transferred to a drug rehabilitation centre in the city. With client after client coming forward to report drugs missing from their homes, it had been futile to deny it, so Jessica handed the reins of Love Your Home to Sonja and issued a statement apologising for the harm she’d caused. She would be stepping away from the day-to-day running of the business to seek help. She’d even called Debbie Montgomery-Squires to apologise personally.

Rehab had been much harder than Jessica had expected – both the detox aspectandthe humility part. She’d thrown herself into it, like the good student she was, following every suggestion, completing every activity, determined to be the best and most enthusiastic at recovery. Still, even six months later, she continued to crave the feeling she got when the pill slid down her throat. The knowledge that calm was coming. Now, her therapist told her, they were shooting for a different type of calm. A less chemical type. A more reliable type. And today’s visit was part of that.

Jessica heard a buzzer, and the guard opened the door. Inside, Miss Fairchild sat at a small table.

Last night, when she’d had dinner with Norah and Alicia, they’d discussed what it might be like, seeing Miss Fairchild. Norah was curious as to whether she might have been beaten up in prison. Alicia wondered if she would have lost weight or become ill. Jessica had steeled herself for the oddness of seeing her in prison clothing. Oddly enough, the prison uniform didn’t look bad on her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, which suited her, made her look younger. If it weren’t for her bitter expression, she might have looked pretty.

‘Jessica,’ she said tearfully, getting to her feet. ‘Thank you for coming. I knew you would.’

Jessica sat down in the seat provided, ignoring the other woman’s outstretched arms.

After a moment, Miss Fairchild sat too. ‘Can you believe they put me in here?’ she hissed. ‘Like a criminal?’

‘Youarea criminal,’ Jessica said neutrally.

Her neutrality was important, she’d learned. She’d spent the past six months learning about narcissists. She’d read books and listened to podcasts and had therapy, all designed to help her understand the abuse she’d suffered and acquire the skills which would allow her to take back control of her own life. (Phil had read the books and listened to the podcasts too. ‘It’s like a sick, tragic book club,’ he’d said cheerfully, as he arranged a cheese and fruit platter.)

Miss Fairchild looked betrayed. ‘For goodness’ sake. Not you too.’

‘I’m just stating facts.’

Miss Fairchild leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. Jessica was familiar with this stance. It was designed to intimidate her. It was so interesting watching it happen, knowing what it all meant.