Page 133 of Maybe Tomorrow

He shook his head. ‘I did it to myself.’

She slapped a hand to her mouth. Tears ran down her face.

‘You tried to kill yourself?’ she struggled to say.

‘No. Mrs Willis, at the library, Carol, she was talking once about one of her children self-harming. I didn’t know what it meant. She was telling Mrs Wilkinson about it. Her daughter was cutting herself. She said it helped relieve emotional pain. I decided to try it. It worked.’ He gave a weak smile. ‘I did it on my leg so you wouldn’t see it.’

‘I never noticed blood on your clothes before.’

‘I was always careful. I usually did it in my room or in the bathroom. The night of the storm, I felt more sad than usual. I don’t know why.’

Pauline squeezed her eyes closed tight, but tears still managed to escape. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I knew you’d worry. I knew you’d try and do something about it.’

‘Of course I would have. You’re my boy.’

‘I’m not, though, am I? I was twenty-eight. You were treating me like a boy, but I was a man.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sometimes, when I was cutting myself, I wished I’d cut deep so I could die.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘I knew the pain would stop. But I knew you’d be so sad. I didn’t want you to be sad.’

Pauline blew her nose and composed herself. ‘Anthony, we don’t live in Whitby anymore.’

‘What?’

‘When you went in prison, people believed you were guilty. They started writing nasty letters and sometimes they threw bricks through the window. I held out for as long as I could, but Leo suggested I move in with him. So I did. But things started happening there, too. It was Leo’s idea that we sell up and move somewhere different where people didn’t know who we were. A fresh start.’

‘Where do we live now?’

‘Withernsea.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s still on the coast. We know how much you like the sea. It’s further south. It’s only a rented house. If you don’t like it, we can move. We’ve got money from the sale of both houses and Jennifer Ripley was saying that some newspapers and TV channels might want to interview us. They’ll pay, too. We could buy a cottage in the countryside, maybe. Or on the moors. I know how much you love the moors,’ she said with a smile.

‘Why has everything been so bad for us, Mum?’ Anthony asked. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves.

‘I don’t know, sweetheart. Let’s hope this is the last time anything bad happens, and we can finally be happy.’

He tried to smile, but his tears wouldn’t allow it.

She went over to the bed and sat beside him. She took his large hand and wrapped both of hers around it.

‘Promise me, if anything is worrying or upsetting you again, you’ll tell me.’

He nodded.

‘I love you so much, Anthony.’ She kissed his hand and leaned her head against her son’s shoulder. Why did people have to be so cruel to those who stood out? Anthony was a good boy with a good heart. But they saw his size and thought he was an ogre, a freak, someone to be avoided at all costs. He fitted the description of a rapist and killer of vulnerable girls perfectly. It wouldn’t have mattered what evidence they had, the jury took one look at him and made up their minds.

‘Are you ready for your steak and chips now?’ she asked after a long silence.

‘Can I have tomato sauce?’