Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

The morning after the baby was born had been spent learning to do more for her under the supportive watch of Jenny, the kind nurse. Somehow – around the collection of wires and tubes – Joanna had managed to change her nappy and empty the mask of the moisture that could collect inside. ‘Very good, Granny.' Jenny had winked at her and Joanna had almost blushed at her praise. ‘How about we get your grandaughter out for a little while?'

Grandaughter. Such a big word. ‘Yes, please. As long as it won't hurt her?'

‘Not at all. We'll keep all of the wires and the breathing mask attached. We won't have her out for long but I'm sure she'd love a cuddle.'

Joanna would love a cuddle, too. More than anything. ‘That would be wonderful.'

Jenny lowered her voice. ‘If you're comfortable unbuttoning your shirt, I can place her directly on your skin. We call it kangaroo care. There's lots of benefits for baby.'

Joanna knew all about the benefits of skin-to-skin contact after birth; she'd been a devourer of baby books when she was expecting Charlotte. Steve used to joke that she could've got a job as a midwife by the end of her pregnancy. ‘I know that it can calm the baby after the birth. Will it still work if I'm not her mum?'

It was a clumsy question, but Jenny didn't blink. ‘Most definitely. And it's even more important for an early one like this little cutie. There's lots of evidence that it improves oxygen saturation and reduces stress levels as well as helping with feeding and lots of other good stuff.'

Anything that would help the baby didn't need thinking about. Joanna turned towards the cot and unbuttoned her shirt.

After lifting the lid on the crib, Jenny reached inside and deftly moved the wires and tubes so that she could pick up the baby. As she laid her on Joanna's chest, she could feel her heart pull towards her. ‘Hello, little girl.'

The poignancy of being the one to experience this when it should be Charlotte was almost painful. Her body ached for the child in her arms and the one she'd lost. Why was life so unfair? Oh Charlotte, she's so perfect.

Jenny rearranged the tubes, slipping her fingers along them to check for kinks or bends. ‘Have you thought of a name for her yet?'

‘No, not yet.' She and Sally had talked over a few names on the phone last night, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed good enough. She was planning on asking Charlotte's friends Rachael and Lucy if they had any ideas and she'd ordered a baby names book online last night. Maybe something with a poignant meaning might be a good fit. She wasn't even sure she'd be allowed to name her. Would the social worker they'd be assigned let her choose or would she ask Freddie?

‘Well, whatever you choose, it will have to be beautiful, just like her.'

She knew that the nurses probably said things like this to all of the babies' parents. But it was true in this case. She was absolutely perfect. She laid a hand across the baby's back, just enough to keep her in place, and then lowered her face onto her soft dark hair and breathed her in. The surge of love she felt for her could have toppled her from her chair. When she did see the social worker, she would need to make her understand. She belonged with her. She was part of her. She was home.

DC Lineham had sent her a text first thing that morning to confirm that she'd be in around eleven. The baby was safely back in her cot when she rang to say she was outside the door to the ITU. Joanna joined her outside and they found an empty bench along the corridor.

‘Hello, Joanna. I'm so sorry about Charlotte.'

‘Thank you.'

‘Is the baby doing well?'

Joanna appreciated the concern. ‘She's doing great.'

‘Like I said yesterday, it's only a matter of time before Freddie will get permission to meet his daughter. We might want to think about how you want to manage that. I'm assuming you won't want to be there?'

Her first reaction was to agree. The mere thought of him hovering over the baby's crib made her stomach churn. But what was the alternative? Leave her alone with him? ‘How soon?'

‘I don't know. The hospital might want to set up a private room. But that can't happen unless the baby can be moved a hundred per cent safely. We'll be guided by the staff here.'

That was a temporary relief. At least she could put that thought on the back burner for a few days.

But the police officer didn't look relieved. ‘There's more, I'm afraid.' She appraised her as if she was trying to work out just how much more Joanna could take.

What more could there possibly be? ‘What is it?'

She took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Freddie has requested permission to attend Charlotte's funeral. And it looks likely that he'll get it.'

That was utter madness. ‘How? How the hell can he get permission to come to the funeral of the person he killed?'

The police officer kept her hands in her lap, her voice calm. ‘Like I said before, he hasn't been convicted. And not allowing him to attend the funeral could be seen as an act of mental cruelty.'

‘What about me? Don't I get a say in this? What about the mental cruelty of me having to see him? The man who took my daughter from me.'

‘I'm sorry, Joanna. I really am. But they have to take into account the fact that he might not be guilty. Or if…' she paused, ‘if the case gets dropped before the trial.'

Joanna's heart thudded in her chest. ‘Is that possible? Is that what's going to happen? Are you telling me that he's going to get away with this?'

The police officer shook her head. ‘No. I'm just trying to explain why they'll probably allow him to come to the funeral. He will be escorted by two officers and he will be handcuffed to one of them at all times.'

Joanna closed her eyes. Wasn't it bad enough that she was having to bury her only child, but now it was going to be a spectacle of police and handcuffs? Would his mother come? Was it possible to ban people from funerals? And, even if she could, how would she stop them if they just turned up anyway?

She hadn't even begun to think about planning Charlotte's funeral. Sally would help her, she knew that. But it was only a year since she'd had to do the same for Steve.

Most of the preparation for Steve's funeral had passed in a blur. Sally had booked the crematorium, invited the guests, organised catering. Later, when Joanna had come back to herself a little, she'd asked Sally how she knew who to invite. That was when she admitted that Steve had given her a list before he died. ‘Because he knew that you and Charlotte wouldn't be in the right frame of mind to do it.' That was the mark of the man. Even in death, he was thinking of her and their daughter.

Though she knew Charlotte was back in contact with Freddie, she'd been told that they were just friends and Charlotte had known better than to invite Freddie to the funeral itself. In the crematorium, Joanna and Charlotte had clung to each other for support. Sally beside them with a hand on their backs when they needed it.

But she had invited him to come to the wake. She'd seen the look on Charlotte's face when he arrived. The way he'd folded her into his arms. That wasn't the kind of hug you gave to a friend. She'd said nothing then, of course, but later that evening, grief, anger and a little too much wine had resulted in an argument between her and her daughter.

‘Why was Freddie there?'

‘I invited him.'

‘He barely even met your father.'

‘I know that. That's why he didn't come to the funeral. But I wanted him at the wake. I wanted the support.'

She'd known for sure then. ‘Are you seeing him again?'

‘Mum, let's not talk about this now. I want to think about Dad today.'

Stupidly, she'd let it go. They'd sat together on the sofa in the lounge, Charlotte holding an old sweatshirt of Steve's, watching one of the war films he loved. Even so, she found it hard not to let her mind wander to Freddie like an itch she couldn't scratch. The boy in whose arms she least wanted to see her daughter. Why had he come? How could Charlotte have forgiven him so easily for all the pain he'd caused?

She made herself forget about him that night. Focused on Charlotte and tried to trust what Steve had always said. She's a good girl and she'll choose wisely in the end.

How wrong she'd been. How would she have felt that night if she'd known that he would still be Charlotte's boyfriend a year later? And what might she have done differently if she'd known that now – only a year later – he was going to be at Charlotte's funeral?

She didn't want him anywhere near there. It was a day for those who'd always wanted the best for Charlotte. But it didn't seem as if she had any choice in the matter.

Okay, then. If he had the front to turn up and pretend to be the grieving boyfriend, she was going to meet him head on. Shame him. Make him admit to what he'd done. She wasn't shy little Joanna at school any longer and she wasn't going to let the Knight-Crossley family bully her into letting her daughter's murderer get away with it.

If he wanted to be there, let him see the consequences of what he'd done. That room was going to be filled with all the people who loved Charlotte.

Annabelle kept telling her that Freddie was innocent. That he hadn't pushed Charlotte. Hadn't caused her death. He might've been able to pull the wool over his mother's eyes, but not hers. Let him say that to her face. She was ready.