I was stunned to think she’d actually died. But maybe itwasn’t her. Maybe it was some other poor woman who’d been involved in anaccident?
In a daze, I went into the newsagent’s and bought a copy ofthe newspaper, and hurried back to the bench. The story on the front page wasbrief, just a few paragraphs long. But it named Maggie and there was aphotograph of her that must have been taken a while ago. She was smiling andlooked a lot younger, but it was definitely her...
Horrified, I stared into space, the newspaper abandoned onthe seat beside me, thinking about what had happened.
Why the hell didn’t I obey my instinct and call for anambulance? I should have gone into the cottage with Maggie and Agnes...made sure Maggie was all right and didn’t need a doctor before I drove on. Ifit hadn’t been for Rosemary hot on our tail, that’s what I would have done.
Getting to my feet, I was now crystal clear in my mind aboutwhat to do.
I needed to report what had happened and explain my part inthe terrible event.
So I drove to the nearest police station, which was ten milesaway. I wanted to speak to someone in person, and after enquiring at the desk, anofficer came out and took down my account of what had happened. He said it wasstill unclear what had caused Maggie’s death. They’d talked to Agnes, who’dconfirmed that Maggie had stepped out into the road and fallen in front of mycar, but that she’d seemed fine afterwards. When family collected her later,though, to take her home, Maggie had collapsed on the way to the car and sadlydied.
‘You’re Flora Mackenzie Morris?’ he said, checking hisscreen.
I nodded. ‘I’m known as Mackenzie, but yes, that’s my fullname.’ It sounded so formal, hearing it spoken like that.
He stood up. ‘Thank you, Mackenzie. We’ll be in touch if weneed any more information.’
I drove back to Sunshine Cottage, glad to have done theright thing but feeling deeply sad, thinking about Maggie. I kept picturing thelilies, scattered in the road. They seemed symbolic somehow.
I decided that for now, I’d keep the awful news that Maggiehad died to myself. Rachel had too much going on in her life already. I didn’twant to give her even more to worry about.
*****
When I got back to the cottage, Poppy was in the kitchendrinking a mug of the instant hot chocolate, made from one of the sachets Irishad left on the welcome tray.
‘Hi, love. Sleep well?’
She nodded and took another slurp of her drink.
‘Where’s your Mummy?’
‘In the bathroom.’
‘Right. Well, I’ve got things for breakfast.’ I dumped mybag on the table and started unpacking it. ‘Bacon and egg? A bacon sandwich?Toast and strawberry jam?’
‘Bacon sandwich, please.’
I smiled at her. ‘Okay. Coming up. I’ll just go and checkwhat your Mummy wants.’
Running upstairs, I met Rachel emerging from the bathroom.Seeing me, a strange expression crossed her face and she slipped something intoher pocket.
‘Morning! Just taking breakfast orders. Poppy wants a baconsandwich.’
She nodded. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Are you okay? Did you sleep all right?’
‘Um... not really. I guess I got to sleepabout three,’ she mumbled.
‘Well, maybe you can have a little nap later?’ I suggestedas we headed downstairs.
‘Yes. Good.’
I watched her, puzzled, as she walked into the kitchen aheadof me. She seemed to be avoiding my eyes. Then I noticed her hand going to herpocket. She kept it there, hovering at her hip during her chat with Poppy, asif subconsciously protecting whatever was in there.
And then it clicked.
