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She nods, her body still trembling. “Yes, that sounds amazing.”
We make our way into the kitchen and I sit Milly down at the table before making work of getting us a cup of tea. Finding stuff in the large kitchen is nearly impossible, but I manage, and make my way back over to Milly.
“It will be okay,” I whisper, reaching over the table and rubbing her cold hand.
Her eyes are red and filled with tears. “Will it? I prayed when CJ was born that I could protect him from how he was conceived. My family ruined that the first chance they got. They made his life hell, and I hated them for it. I’ll never forgive them for what they did and how they did it to my son. He was my life, my world, and they set out to ruin that.” She pauses, taking a sip of her tea. “But in a way, I was thankful he knew. It brought us closer. I wish it could have come from me; I never wanted him to find out from someone else.”
“Was the person who raped you arrested?” I ask, something CJ never told me.
She nods. “He was. It took them a few weeks to find him, but in the end, it went to trial and he was convicted. He tried to get out on bail, but he was declined and kept in prison. I was informed of his death on the day he died—that was a while back now.”
“You don’t have to talk to me about this,” I tell her, feeling my throat tighten.
She looks up from her cup of tea, giving me a small smile. “It’s been so long I believed I’d never have to talk or think about it again. There are odd occasions where I will divulge my past with some of the girls I see, but I focus more on CJ when I do.” She takes another sip, lost in thought. “When I was sixteen, I thought I knew everything. I never thought something like that would ever happen, thought it only happened to other people.”
She’s talking about when she was raped. CJ told me she was young when it happened. I take a deep breath myself, conflicted over whether I want to hear this or not. But I don’t have the heart to stop her when she clearly needs to get it off her chest.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, squeezing her hand.
“My girlfriends wanted to go to a concert that was happening near our home. It was a big event that went on for days and had musicians from all around the world. My parents didn’t want me to go. They didn’t want me to do anything involving fun. I snuck out that night.
“We were having a really good time, and because everyone was drunk or high off the music, they weren’t paying attention to ID’s, so we got served alcohol or we stole other people’s drinks. We thought we were cool, but really, we were stupid.”
“No, you weren’t. You just wanted to make memories with your friends. That’s not stupid. You can’t control other people’s actions. Isn’t that what you told Rosie?”
She chuckles dryly. “We got separated some time during the night. I don’t think we even noticed until our alarms on our phones, telling us to get back, started going off. I left the group of people I was talking to and started searching for them. I texted them and was waiting for them to reply, but I thought if I looked around, I’d see them,” she says, pausing to rub her eyes. “I didn’t even see him coming. One minute I was walking around one of the large tents they had up, the next, I was dragged behind. I saw him—saw his eyes, his expression, and I died a little inside that night. Then CJ was born. I had doubts throughout my pregnancy, scared I wouldn’t love my baby. But I didn’t need to worry. The second he kicked inside me, I felt something for him, and then the moment I laid eyes on him, I fell so deeply in love I felt like I could fly. I don’t know how to protect him from this,” she says, before bursting into tears.
I move out of my chair to kneel beside her, rubbing my hand up and down her back. “We can protect him. I think the news he has family and they are like this…” I pause, unsure what to call his dad. He’s not his dad—he doesn’t have the right to be called that, and he doesn’t have the right to be called a sperm donor, either. Instead, I carry on. “Once everything has sunk in, he’ll be fine. You’ve raised a beautiful, strong man, Milly. He’s perfect in every way he needs to be. Yes, he has flaws, but none that matters. They’re all superficial, like snoring,” I tell her, trying to lighten the mood.
It works.
She snorts, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. “And that he’s like a human disposable bin.”
I laugh, getting back up and sitting back down in front of her. “See, he’s incredible.”
She looks up at me, her expression serious. “Do you really think he’ll be okay?”
I can’t lie to this woman. “Eventually he will, yes. Right now, he just needs time. We know he didn’t do this. For one thing, he was at a rugby match with me when Katie was murdered. He has loads of witnesses to confirm that.” I pause, thinking back to Linda, the second girl who was murdered. “I’m not sure where he was the time Linda was taken. It was a Sunday, so he could have been at practice or sleeping in. Plus, she was discovered when we were away for that book signing. Marie Fleet was taken the night he was with us at home, and her body was found when he was in class. He has an alibi for all of them. I can’t say for sure about Christie, but he spent every night at mine due to the court case, so I’d say he was there. In fact, I’d be willing to put money on it.”
“I know he didn’t do it. I’m just worried about his mental state. This must be hard for him.”
“We’ll get through this. He isn’t alone.”
Milly yawns, and I follow. She meets my gaze, a forced smile breaking across her face. “Why don’t you take CJ’s old bedroom for tonight. There’s no telling what time he’ll be back.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, noticing it’s nearly two in the morning.
She nods, getting up and taking our cups to the sink. She swills them out before leaving them in the sink. “Come on, you can wear one of CJ’s shirts, they’re big enough that it’ll look like a nightgown on you.”
“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna texted CJ and tell him that I’ll be staying here and to wake me up when he gets back.”
I text him quickly, my eyes stinging when I glance at my phone. Milly flicks the lights off before we walk through the house to the stairs. I follow, scanning the pictures that line the wall on the staircase. Most of them are of CJ, but a few are of him and an older couple, who I presume are his great-grandparents.
His mum stops at a door down the hall and pushes it open. I glance inside, grinning when I see hisWalking Deadposters.
“Thank you,” I tell her, stepping inside.
“I’m in the last room, right down the hall. If you need anything at all, come and get me.”
