‘I couldn’t believe it when the police said one of my colleagues had discovered Amber’s body,’ she says. ‘I think I wanted to say thank you – I don’t know why. It’s not like it made any difference to Amber, but I suppose I felt a bit better, knowing the respect you would have shown her.’
I think about Saturday morning. How I scrabbled backwards, screaming, disgusted by what I’d found. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I manage.
‘It’s very sad,’ she agrees. ‘But an occupational hazard, I suppose, in our line of work. Have you been a social worker long?’
‘Twenty-five years, if you can believe that. All Children’s Services, but I’ve only been based here in Community Support for the last three. How about you?’
‘Similar. Lifelong profession, but I only moved to Oxfordshire in 2022.’
‘Oh.’ My shoulders drop an inch. ‘Does that mean you didn’t know Amber very well?’
‘I was getting to know her,’ she explains. ‘Doing my best anyway. Amber had a difficult start in life. There was a lot of violence in the home where she lived with her mum, and both girls were there when Jacqui was murdered by her partner. They were in their bedroom, but the police report said their door was partially open. We don’t know what they saw – neither girl has ever been willing to talk about it – so we can only hope they didn’t see their mum’s injuries. And then with no father named on her birth certificate, Amber became a 6-year-old orphan with no one in the world except her almost 8-year-old half-sister.’
‘You know, when I first became a social worker, I thought I’d be able to stop domestic violence,’ I admit quietly. ‘Not for everyone of course, but for the mothers I met, with children who were at risk of abuse too. I thought I’d be able to convince them to leave. I rarely succeeded.’
She nods. ‘There are so many layers to it. It’s hard for us to get our head around.’
I don’t need to ask who she means by us. Do-gooders with worthy aims. Strangers from a different world who are happy to ignore sinks filled with dirty dishes or sticky milk bottles stuffed between sofa cushions, as long as we can go back to our comfortable houses, our neat families, at the end of the working day. I feel a wave of self-contempt.
‘You know, I thought Amber would have a better life than her mum,’ Colleen continues. ‘The team managed to find foster carers who’d take both sisters. A lovely couple in Littlemore. And the girls stayed with them a long time, nearly five years, before they had to move. Amber had her problems of course, and an attitude so sassy I swear you could light a match off her.’ Colleen smiles at the memory. ‘But she was a survivor. I thought she was going to be one of my success stories.’ She gives me a sad smile. ‘All I can hope now is that the police find her killer and bring them to justice.’
I look away so she can’t see the tears forming in my eyes, then blink them away. She doesn’t mean Lucy, I remind myself, I’m just tired. ‘Have the police kept you updated on how the investigation is going?’
‘Not really. I spoke to them initially, gave them Amber’s file, talked to them about her background and so on. But they seem more interested in the here and now. Apparently Amber had a boyfriend; I didn’t even know. And between you and me, I get the impression they think he killed her.’
I remember the mechanic Steve mentioned. He said he was young, and it was only Steve’s assumption that the guy was Amber’s drug dealer.
‘Like mother like daughter,’ Colleen goes on. ‘The police are waiting for the forensics report, and I imagine they’re hoping there’ll be something there that proves it.’
I close my eyes for a second, say a silent prayer of hope, then look back at Colleen. I hate the idea of manipulating her, but in a few hours’ time I’ll return to the reality of my home – an accusation of murder and a ransom demand – and I need to have done everything possible to help my family. ‘And how is Jess coping?’ I ask. ‘It must be awful for her.’
Colleen drops her head to one side. ‘How did you know Amber’s sister was called Jess?’
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say again, an automatic response when I’m on the back foot. ‘I live in Chinnor too – that’s why I found Amber, it was on my running route. Jess is in my daughter’s year at Lord Frederick’s.’
‘Oh gosh, I didn’t realise you knew the girls. And with a teenage daughter of your own, how terrifying that must be, a murder in your village. You won’t say anything about …’
I shake my head. ‘Of course not.’
Colleen smiles her gratitude, and it causes another jolt of guilt to flare up. She’s quick to trust me because I’m a social worker, with similar principles. But I don’t deserve it.
‘I took on their case as soon as I joined,’ she says. ‘A couple of months before they moved to Chinnor. There’d been an incident involving a particular boy, a lad with a bit of a reputation, which led to my predecessor resigning. It absolutely wasn’t her fault, but she felt responsible, asleep at the wheel, that kind of thing. I was given the task of moving the girls out of harm’s way.’
‘Out of harm’s way? So is there a chance this boy could have killed Amber?’
‘I mentioned it to the police,’ Colleen says. ‘But they weren’t that interested, and I can understand why. You see, it was Jess who was thought to be in danger from him, not Amber. To be honest, Amber would probably have described him as a friend; I mentioned her sass, didn’t I?’
‘What did he have against Jess? My daughter says she’s quite shy?’
‘She is, yes, has tended to hide in Amber’s shadow rather than make her own friends.’ Two small lines appear between Colleen’s eyebrows. ‘What happened is complicated. Let’s just say that Jess dug herself a hole that she couldn’t – or perhaps wouldn’t – get out of. She can be very stubborn about certain things.’
I think about the girl I saw in the Co-op. Her vivid blue eyes and flame red hair. Her angry, defiant expression. Will her stubbornness be Lucy’s downfall? ‘How do you think Jess will cope without Amber?’ I ask.
Colleen sighs. ‘She was very reliant on her younger sister, so it’s a worry. And she refused to speak at all for two days after Amber’s murder. But I think she’s emerged stronger actually, almost like she’s taken on a bit of her sister’s personality. Maybe the trauma has given her a new hunger to survive. No, my real concern now is that she’ll run away.’
‘Oh?’ I lean forward. Leaving home with no support network is incredibly dangerous for a vulnerable teenage girl. But the thought of Jess not being in the village lifts my spirits. I despise myself for it.
‘She hates it at her foster home now, which of course I understand. Her dad lives in a small village in the Peak District,’ Colleen goes on. ‘And I think she has notions about moving in with him.’
‘She has a dad?’ I ask, surprised.
‘Yes, and he was around for a year or so after Jess was born. But he’d served in the military in Afghanistan, and there were both physical and mental health issues. When Jess’s mum died, the team contacted him. But there was no way the family court would have given him custody, and he had no interest in requesting it.’
‘But you think Jess might go to him anyway?’ I press.
‘I’ve seen a photo of him. He’s Scottish, and she’s the spit of him. I think that makes a difference, doesn’t it? Being able to see where you come from in someone’s face? That’s why I’m going up to Derbyshire tomorrow, to talk to him. I don’t mean for him to take her on – that wouldn’t be right for either party – but to organise a visit. Because Jesus wept, the girl deserves something good in her life.’
AFTER
Friday 10th May
Rachel
I check my watch for the millionth time. Matt was on the first flight out of Geneva so he should be home by now, but there’s no sign of him yet. I’m desperate to tell him about Jess’s ransom demand; I couldn’t stomach doing it over the phone, without the fortifying effects of physical touch, but we’re supposed to be doing the drop tonight, and I still have no clue what to do.
I hear his car pull into the drive and sigh with relief. I should wait, give him a moment to take his shoes off, but I’m too impatient for that. I leap up from my chair and accost him as he walks through the porch. ‘Thank God you’re back,’ I exhale, wrapping my arms around him and burrowing my face into his neck.
‘Whoa, it’s only been forty-eight hours.’ When I don’t respond, he slowly returns the hug, and we stand like that, in silence, for a few moments. Lucy went to school today – she said it was her choice, but I suspect Milla encouraged it, her mission for us all to appear normal to the outside world – so there’s just the two of us in the house. I suddenly have a crazy urge to go upstairs, to have daytime sex like we did before the girls came along. But that feels like a lifetime ago now, so I pull away.
Matt looks at me. ‘So what’s happened?’ he asks.
I can’t tell whether he sounds worried, or annoyed. But I have to remember that either would be fair. Just back from a two-day work trip, no time to relax, an early morning flight. He’s been drawn into this nightmare like I have, purely as punishment for loving his family. ‘Things have got a hundred times worse,’ I admit quietly.
He rests his hand on the side table. ‘Why?’
‘Lucy did go and meet Amber on Friday night,’ I explain. ‘They argued. Lucy even lashed out with that broken vodka bottle. And that’s when the video ends.’
His eyes widen. ‘What video?’
‘Jess was up there too, hiding – probably planned that way – and she filmed it.’
‘Oh God, poor Lucy,’ he moans, his voice cracking. He walks over to the living area and sinks into the sofa.
‘Poor Lucy?’ My voice rises. ‘She lied to us! And she was flinging a makeshift weapon around. Honestly, Matt, I hardly recognised her on that footage. She was so angry.’
He sighs, lowers his head. He stays like that for a while, but just as I’m about to say something – anything to fill the silence – he looks up again. ‘What were they arguing about? Could you hear them on the video?’
I sigh. ‘Not really. Something about Lucy knowing some truth.’
