‘No,’ said Pauline, shaking her head at Kerr. ‘She can go, but I want you to stay.’

‘I don’t—’

‘You will,’ Pauline said evenly. ‘It’s important.’

‘Ooh, I’ve had an idea! Why don’t I bring you all a nice tray of tea?’ Esme beamed at them like a deranged nineteen fifties air hostess.

‘Just get rid of her.’ Pauline shook her grey head in disgust. ‘The last thing I need is an audience.’

Offended, the tilt of her eyebrows signalling despair of the see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with kind, Esme swept out of the room.

Silence reigned. Kerr leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Den was gazing out of the window like an insolent fourth-former summoned to the headmaster’s study. If Pauline had been hoping for a hug from the son who had all but destroyed her life, she was going to be bitterly disappointed.

Finally Pauline spoke again.

‘How did Kerr persuade you to come back?’

Den shrugged. ‘Told me you were ... unwell.’

‘Unwell, that’s one way of putting it.’ Snorting at the euphemism, Pauline shakily smoothed the eiderdown over her lap.

‘Dying, then,’ Den said bluntly.

‘That’s more like it. On my way out. Not long to go now.’ Glancing past Den to Kerr, she said, ‘Did you bring anything?’

‘I brought Den,’ Kerr said pointedly.

His mother reached for a tissue and wiped the palms of her hands. ‘A bottle of Jack Daniel’s would make this easier.’ She looked over at Den. ‘So. How have you been?’

‘How d’you think I’ve been?’ Den shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and stared back at her. ‘I went to prison, didn’t I? Served my time. Came out, left the country, went to Australia where no one else knew what I’d done but somehow never quite managed to put it behind me. Still, never mind, eh? I’m young, healthy, life goes on. There are plenty of people worse off than me, I just need to get a grip, sort myself out—’

‘Den, don’t.’ Stricken, Pauline shook her head.

‘Why not? You asked me how I’d been. I’m just telling you.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes filled with tears; she was squeezing the crumpled tissue between her hands.

‘I’m so sorry. That’s why I had to see you again, to tell you how sorry I am.’ Her fingers shook as she rubbed at her palms. ‘Have you told your brother?’

Kerr straightened. Had Den told him what?

‘I’ve never told a living soul,’ said Den fiercely. ‘You made me promise, remember?’

What? What was this about? Kerr looked from one to the other.

‘Right, right. Of course you haven’t. I’ll do it then.’ Pauline nodded wearily, the lines on her face suddenly more pronounced than ever. ‘It was me,’ she told Kerr. ‘Driving the car that day. I was the one who killed the girl, not Den.’

Chapter 55

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, a brass carriage clock that Kerr remembered from his childhood. Under any other circumstances his automatic reaction might have been to say to his mother, ‘You’re joking.’ But since she clearly wasn’t, he was silent.

‘That look on your face, Kerr,’ said Pauline McKinnon. ‘That’s why I’ve never told you. God, I thought deathbed confessions were meant to make you feel better. I really want a drink now.’

Kerr looked at his brother. Den was standing there, by the window, with tears sliding down his thin cheeks.

‘Tell me what happened,’ Kerr said slowly, but Den was incapable of speech. He shrugged and shook his head.

‘We’d been to Evelyn Pargeter’s drinks party.’ Pauline’s voice came out as a monotone. ‘I’d had a few drinks, but I felt OK. When we left the party I told Den I’d be fine to drive. We reached Ashcombe and I rounded the bend too fast, hit the girl — well, that was it. There was nothing we could do for her. She was dead. Then I realised what this would do to me. I was a Justice of the Peace, remember. Pillar of the community. I knew I’d fail a breath test. I just couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear it.’

She faltered, shaken by the memory. ‘But Den hadn’t been drinking, and I thought it wouldn’t be so bad for him. He was only seventeen, any punishment would be so much easier for him to handle. I was in shock after it happened. And that was it,’ Pauline whispered. ‘Den loved me. We were always so close, I knew he’d understand. I told him to say he’d been driving. And he did. It was our secret. I wasn’t proud of myself, but I couldn’t face the prospect of going to prison. Losing my licence for drink-driving.

Killing a sixteen-year-old girl. I thought it would be easier for Den. I’m sorry.’ She closed her eyes in defeat. I was wrong, I know that now. I knew it then, but I couldn’t help myself. And I’ve been punishing myself ever since. I might just as well have taken the blame and killed myself there and then.

Anything would have been better than living through the last eleven years, I can promise you that. So you see, I’m glad I’m going to die. In fact, I can’t wait.’

Kerr was having trouble digesting this. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It was our secret, Den’s and mine.’ Pauline shook her head. ‘You would never have allowed Den to go to prison.’

This was true. Jesus, what had Den been through, in order to protect his mother? Was it any wonder he’d disappeared to Australia?

‘I was wrong,’ Pauline blurted out. ‘I should never have done it. I’ll make a statement to the police.’

‘You’re about to die,’ Den said baldly. ‘What good would that do?’

His mother looked at him. ‘It’ll clear your name.’

‘Can they rewind the tape and stop me going to prison? Because otherwise I don’t see the point.’

‘There’s nothing I can do to take that away.’ Tears were running down Pauline’s face now, dripping into the folds of her cream cardigan. ‘I just needed to see you again, to let you know how truly sorry I am.

I always loved you so much. I don’t suppose you love me, but thank you for coming back. It means more than you’ll ever know.’

It was three o’clock in the morning. In the living room of Hillview, Kerr opened two more bottles of chilled Beck’s and handed one to Den.

‘I feel like a ton weight has been lifted off me,’ said Den, for the fifteenth time that night.

Shaking his head in wonderment, he stretched out along the length of the sofa and crossed one foot over the other. ‘You have no idea how it feels, somebody else knowing at last. You knowing at last. If someone had asked me yesterday if I could forgive my mother for what she did, I’d have laughed and said never in a million years. But now ... I don’t know, I can almost think about it. Because she’s dying, and that’s what she wants, isn’t it? Forgiveness.’

‘I suppose.’ Kerr couldn’t believe the change in his brother, in the space of just a few short hours. He couldn’t stop looking at Den, his eyes brighter now, his whole body seemingly more alive. ‘You should have told me. I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me after it happened.’

‘Straight after the accident, I was in a state of shock,’ said Den. ‘None of it seemed real. It didn’t occur to me that I’d end up actually going to jail. After a while I began to panic, but by then it was too late. I realised that if I did try and tell them that Mum had been driving that day, they wouldn’t believe me. And there’d be no proof if she denied it, just her word against mine –

the respected JP versus the seventeen-year-old tearaway.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Of course they’d believe her.’ Anyone would. And I’d just come out of it looking worse, even more despicable, than ever.’

This was true. Kerr felt terrible, recalling how he had regarded Den even while he’d been visiting him in prison. No wonder his younger brother had been sullen and uncommunicative during their meetings. No wonder Den had told him not to bother any more.

‘You never told anyone,’ Kerr burst out, appalled by the injustice of it all.

‘I lied to Mum. I did tell someone once.’ Tipping his head back, Den took a swallow of beer. ‘A girl I met in Canberra. Moira, her name was. Pretty girl. We started seeing each other.

Anyway, one night we got talking about my life in England, where I’d grown up, that kind of thing. I told her about the accident, sticking to the official version. She was horrified. Well, basically, I was a bit drunk and I could see I was losing her. So I panicked and told her the truth. What really happened. Disaster,’ he announced with a shudder. ‘I saw Moira’s face change as I was saying it.

Then she called me pathetic, said I was a bullshitter and a sad desperate loser. We were sitting in a restaurant at the time. Moira walked out on me, between the starter and the main course.

And that was it, I never saw her again. So much for being honest. I learned my lesson after that.’

‘No more telling the truth,’ said Kerr.

‘No more women.’ Den shook back his hair. ‘None I cared about, anyway. I’m not saying I was celibate, but I made bloody sure I never got emotionally involved.’ He paused. ‘How about you?’

Kerr was tempted to tell him everything, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. How would it sound?

OK, so you’ve suffered in your own way, but hey, I’ve suffered too. Don’t think you’re the only one who’s had his life fucked up by what happened. No, that would be just ... cheap. It wasn’t a competition.

It may have felt over the last few weeks that his life had been well and truly fucked up, but compared with what Den had been forced to endure

‘Do the Harveys still live in Ashcombe?’ said Den.