Hope to Die

He takes a step towards her. ‘But “that” was the most important thing, wasn’t it? All those other lies wouldn’t have mattered two hoots otherwise. No one would even have known –’

She glances up at him. ‘So where’s he been all these years, then? If she’s been “telling the truth” all this time, where was he?’

He looks exasperated. ‘I don’t know that, any more than you do. And as for all that nonsense about “Tim Baker”, I never believed a word of it and neither did you. But when she said she didn’t harm that child – we should have believed her. And when I think of the way we’ve treated her –’

Margaret turns away again, and he moves closer.

‘Peggy?’

No response. She’s fiddling with her gloves.

‘Are you absolutely sure,’ he says softly, ‘that you didn’t know?’

She flings him a furious look. ‘He turns up here out of the blue – in the middle of the night – how on earth could I have known who he was?’

‘And what about afterwards?’ He swallows. ‘After he – when I went up to change and you were down here on your own, what about then?’

She looks away again. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean – you found something, didn’t you, in that backpack thing? That’s why you suddenly decided we had to get rid of it – that’s why you were panicking – when I came back down –’

‘Now you really are being ridiculous.’

He stands his ground. ‘What was it, Peggy? A passport? Something that gave away who he was?’

She gets up, goes over to the sink and starts filling the kettle. ‘I didn’t know who he was, not till those horrible police people told me, and I didn’t know what was in the backpack because I never looked. Happy now? I just thought we were best getting rid, that’s all.’ She throws him a fierce look. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

Her hands are shaking so much the water is going everywhere. She drops the kettle in the sink with a clang and leans heavily against the counter. Her breath is coming in raw shallow gasps and a moment later she feels her husband’s hands on her shoulders.

He turns her round and pulls her towards him. ‘I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to upset you. This whole thing, it’s got us both on edge.’ He sighs. ‘Who knows, perhaps that’s what they want – setting us at each other’s throats.’ He leads her back to the chair and sits her down, patting her gently on the shoulder. ‘You stay there while I make you some tea. We don’t want you getting unwell, do we? Not like last time.’

* * *

Adam Fawley

24 October

15.20

Heathside is exactly what its name suggests: right on the edge of Surrey Heath. Though as we emerge from the trees that separate it from the main road, the first thing that comes to mind is that quip about anyone who’s been to public school feeling right at home in prison. I can’t remember who said it. A con man, probably. Or a spy. Either way, despite the gates and the high wire fences and the concrete, there’s a distinct girls’-school feel to the solid brick block with its sloping roof and ranks of dormer windows. It’s not Burghley Abbey, that’s for sure, but Camilla Rowan may be better prepared to cope with it than most.

The gate personnel are expecting us, and after the usual sign-in and security faff we’re shown into the governor’s office by her eager – male – assistant. I can’t be the first person to wonder whether that particular recruitment choice was designed to make a point. The room is rather plusher than I would have expected, and the governor is rather younger, with a sleek blonde bob and a linen dress in an aggressive splashy floral. She’s obviously quite happy standing out in a crowd.

‘DI Fawley,’ she says, rising to her feet and extending a well-manicured hand. ‘Victoria Winfield. Pleased to meet you.’

She gestures us to sit and folds her fingers carefully together. ‘So you’re here to see Camilla.’

I’m assuming she knows why, though it’s the MoJ who’ve been liaising with her, so I can’t be sure.

‘Does she get a lot of visitors?’

Winfield smiles drily. ‘Well, certainly not from police officers.’

‘Her family?’

A shake of the head.

‘Lawyers?’

‘Not since the CCRC review.’

She leans forward and flips open a file, but given what she says next I can’t believe she actually needed to check.

‘In fact, the Duchess hasn’t had a single person on her visiting list for more than nine months.’

It takes me a second, Quinn a couple more, then I hear him suppress a snort.

Winfield raises an eyebrow. ‘It was rather inevitable. Camilla is hardly a common name among the prison population. And given the way she behaves –’ She doesn’t need to say any more. ‘To be honest, I live in dread of the “other” Camilla deciding she’d like to visit. It would be a riot. Or a rout.’ She sits back. ‘But I doubt very much that you’re here to talk about the royal appointments diary, so what exactly do you want?’

‘Has Rowan ever spoken about what happened to her baby?’