Chapter 20

We walked to the coffee shop in comparative silence. I was about to meet with the woman whose daughter my father was accused of murdering. Although Barbara had been understanding and kind to me when we met before, she had spent the past twenty years despising the man who killed her only child, and I seemed to be hell bent on having his name cleared. I suddenly felt very ashamed of myself.

‘You're very quiet all of a sudden,' Robyn said.

‘I don't think I should meet her.' I stopped in my tracks.

‘What? This was your idea.'

‘I know it was. It's just… What if Dominic is innocent? I know it's a long shot, but what if he is? Barbara is going to be back to square one. In fact, it'll be worse, as she'll have spent twenty years in limbo without knowing it. She may never know who killed her daughter. I'm raking all of this up, and I don't?—'

‘Dawn.' Robyn stepped forward and put a comforting hand on my arm. ‘You can't think like that. For a start, you don't know if Dominic is innocent. You're one of nature's fence-sitters, you always have been. Look, no offence or anything, but maybe you only think it because you want him to be, so you don't have to tell people your father is a killer. Until you have all the facts, you can't make a firm decision.'

I took a deep breath. ‘You're right. I know you're right. I'm being hysterical, aren't I?'

‘Just a tad, but it's fair enough, given the situation.' She smiled. ‘Keep an open mind. Don't believe everything you hear. You're in the legal profession. You should know the majority of people are liars.'

‘Not everything is black and white, is it?'

‘No. There's at least fifty shades of grey that we know of.' She laughed.

That made me smile.

‘Come on. We're going to be late.' Robyn linked arms with me, and we headed for the coffee shop.

We were five minutes late.

Barbara was already sat at a table with a small Americano in front of her. She smiled when she saw me, but for the brief second before she noticed us, I saw the look of utter sadness on her face. I apologised for being late and blamed it on not being able to find a parking space.

‘I never drive into town,' Barbara said. ‘I've never been a confident driver, and I panic in heavy traffic. Besides, I get extra reading time on the bus. It's my book club tomorrow evening, and I'm not finished with Jude the Obscure yet.'

‘I haven't read that one,' I said.

She lowered her voice. ‘I'm not really enjoying it. You're not missing out on much.'

I smiled. ‘Mrs White?—'

‘I wish you'd call me Barbara. We're not in school anymore.'

‘Sorry. It feels wrong calling you by your first name, but I will try. Barbara, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Robyn. Robyn, this is Barbara White, Stephanie's mother.'

They shook hands and exchanged the usual pleasantries. I went to the counter to buy the drinks. Barbara said she was fine with what she had, while Robyn asked for a large mocha and a chocolate twist. I decided not to make a pig of myself, electing for a medium black Americano.

We were sat uncomfortably in an oddly shaped triangle around a circular table. None of us wanted to be the first to get the serious conversation going. We all exchanged awkward smiles as we sipped our drinks.

‘Another cold day,' Barbara said, looking out of the window.

‘Yes,' I agreed. ‘Lovely and warm in here though.'

‘It was a cold night, too. It went down to minus four according to the weather this morning.'

Robyn joined in. ‘It's been a long winter.'

‘Long time until spring,' Barbara said.

We fell silent again.

‘Barbara, have you ever heard of Robyn Shelley before?' I asked.

‘No. Should I have?' she said, before smiling at Robyn.

‘She gave a statement at the time Stephanie went missing. The next day at school, in fact. She gave a very good description of a man she saw speaking to Stephanie at the back of the shops in Winlaton, but the statement wasn't used in court, and Robyn was never asked to be a witness at the trial.'

‘I don't understand why she wouldn't have been.' Barbara frowned. She was nervously playing with her fingers. ‘No other witnesses ever came forward. If Robyn gave a statement, then it was the only one, and would definitely have been used. I'm sure of it.'

‘I did give a statement,' Robyn said firmly.

‘The thing is,' I said, not making eye contact with Barbara, ‘something happened that we think may have been the reason why her statement was removed from the files.'

Barbara swallowed hard, preparing herself. ‘Go on.'

Robyn took a deep breath and told Barbara all about the man she knew to be Stephanie's father coming to the house, demanding to know who she had seen with his daughter. She said how upset she and her mother had been, how he'd punched her father, and how the detective who had come to the school had been called and marched Harry White out of the house.

Barbara placed a hand over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head. It was a long time before she spoke.

‘I am so sorry,' she said softly.

‘You've nothing to apologise for.' I leaned forward and placed a hand over hers.

‘The man you described definitely sounds like Harry, and the detective is Ian Braithwaite. They were partners. Ian was the Senior Investigating Officer looking for Stephanie. He must have removed your statement from the file to stop Harry getting into trouble. They always were close. They still are.' She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to make sense of it all. ‘The man you saw with Stephanie,' she began, looking directly at Robyn, ‘was it Dominic Griffiths?'

‘I honestly don't know. In my head, when I think back to that day, I see someone I think could possibly be Dominic, but that may only be because I've been led to believe Dominic was the killer for all these years.'

‘Can you remember any of what you said twenty years ago?' Barbara asked. There was desperation in her voice.

Robyn shook her head. ‘I wish I could. I was twelve years old. Twenty years is a long time.' She crossed her legs and tucked her hair behind her ears.

‘But if you concentrate,' Barbara pleaded.

‘I've tried. All I see is Dominic. I'm not sure if that's the truth or what my mind is telling me to see.'

‘I suppose that's understandable,' Barbara said, looking crestfallen.

I glanced from my neighbour to my former teacher. ‘Barbara, are you going to mention this to Harry?'

‘I think I have to. Will you excuse me a moment?' She stood up and headed for the toilets.

‘Poor woman,' Robyn said, draining what was left of her mocha. ‘She hasn't really been living for the past twenty years, has she?'

‘Not really. I suppose Dominic pleading his innocence all this time is bound to have some kind of effect. It'll have planted the seed of doubt in her mind, and now we've come forward with a positive sighting of a man, she'll be even more full of doubt. Listen, Robyn, do you mind making your own way back? I was thinking of offering Barbara a lift home. I'd like to speak to her alone.'

‘That's fine. I need to pop into the market for more material anyway.'

‘Thanks.'

Barbara came back to the table. Her eyes were red.

‘I hope you two don't mind, but I think I'll head back home. I've got a lot to think about.'

‘Would you like me to give you a lift?'

She smiled. ‘There's no need. The bus isn't far.' She put on her coat and began buttoning it up.

‘I really don't mind. I was going to visit my mum at the florist anyway. It's not far from you.'

We walked to Eldon Square car park in silence. We were surrounded by the noise of shoppers and vehicles, but the silence between us was palpable. It wasn't until we were in the car and I had put the key in the ignition that I finally said something.

‘I'd just like to apologise in advance if we break down and the AA end up taking you home. I'm afraid this car is on its way out.'

‘It does look like it's seen better days,' she said, glancing around the car with a worried expression.

‘It's perfectly safe. There's nothing to worry about. It's just a tad temperamental.'

The engine started on the fifth attempt, and I reversed out of the space and headed for Winlaton.

‘Do you think I should say anything to Harry?' Barbara asked, once we were on the dual carriageway.

‘I'm afraid I can't answer that, Mrs— Barbara. It all depends on whether you think you can forget about it. Should I not have told you about Robyn seeing Stephanie? Would you have rather not known?'

‘No. I needed to know. I just wish it had been Harry or Ian who'd told me.'

‘Can't you speak to Ian now?'

‘Ian's stroke was very severe. The doctors said he was lucky to survive. Sometimes, I think it might have been better all-round if he hadn't. There are times he doesn't even recognise his own son.'

‘I'm so sorry.'

‘You're too young to remember, but this case hurt a lot of people. We had the world's press descend on our doorstep. They wouldn't leave us alone for months. The aftermath was felt for years. I'm still feeling it now. Dominic didn't just kill my daughter, he killed my sister and my mother. He destroyed Ian, and he ended my life as I knew it.' She spoke with sadness, as she sat back in the seat and looked out of the window, watching the cold, dreary Newcastle landscape pass by.

When we pulled up outside Barbara's house, she invited me in. She asked if I'd like to see Stephanie's room. I wasn't sure if I did or not, but I hesitantly agreed.

The house was neat and tidy. There was a hint of furniture polish and the scent of flowers in the air. Barbara went into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. She instructed me to follow her upstairs. She opened the bedroom door and stepped back to allow me to go in first.

‘She certainly liked Newcastle United,' I said, with a laugh in my voice.

‘You could say that. Football mad. It's strange, you're only the third person to come in here in twenty years.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. Harry rarely comes in. It's usually just me. From time to time, I get a bit maudlin, and I like to sit on the bed, look around and remember Stephanie how she was.'

‘She was very pretty.' I picked up a framed picture on the desk.

‘She really was. Lovely big eyes.' She sat down on the bed and picked up the pillow, squeezing it to her chest.

‘Why did you want me to see the room?'

‘I don't know. But I feel I can understand what you're doing. You've just found out who your father is, what he's done, and you're trying to make sense of it. What he did was pure evil, and I don't mind saying that I wish we still had the death penalty. Sorry if that's hard for you to hear, but he ripped apart my life. You being here, though, is a comfort to me in a strange way. I understand that you're just trying to work everything out and none of the blame lies at your feet. We're both victims in a way; I feel for you, love. There's a lot about the case online, I've often looked myself, but only a few people know the real Stephanie. I think it's important for you to know more about her than her just being a murder victim.'

‘Do you mind if I sit down?'

‘No, of course not.'

I sat next to her on the bed. ‘It's a sad fact that the victims are often forgotten. We all remember the names of killers like Jack the Ripper, Myra Hindley, Fred West and Peter Sutcliffe, but it's the victims who should be remembered. The killers, the evil murderers, should be left to rot.'

I looked around the room and tried to picture Stephanie in here, listening to music, reading a football programme. I couldn't feel any presence, but just imagining what she would have been doing in here made me smile.

‘Tell me about Stephanie.'

Barbara's face lit up. It was obvious she'd been waiting for me to ask her.

‘She was a wonderful child,' she said softly. Her eyes glistened with tears. ‘She never gave us an ounce of bother. She was bright, always smiling. She played in goal for the school football team, the first female ever.' Barbara beamed with pride, then she chuckled.

‘What is it?' I found myself smiling.

‘I remember going to see her in a game once. It was absolutely bloody freezing. Me and Harry stood on the sidelines. I don't think either of us saw the game – we were just watching Stephanie in goal. It was hardly a World Cup match, but she took it incredibly seriously. I kept telling her it was all in fun, but she and Harry didn't agree. Every game was do or die. Anyway, something happened, I don't know what, as I'm not up on the rules, and the other team was awarded a free kick. Stephanie, at the top of her voice, shouted, "There's no way that's a free kick, you wanker." I was mortified. All the other parents turned to stare at me. I'm sure I went bright red. Harry couldn't hold his laughter for long, and soon, all the parents were laughing. Well, the men were. I certainly had a few words with her that night,' Barbara said. Despite her daughter swearing at the referee in front of her parents, there was a hint of a smile on Barbara's face. The memory it brought back was of a passionate girl, full of life, enjoying herself.

‘Barbara, in the car on the way over, you said that Dominic hadn't only killed Stephanie, but your mum and sister, too. What did you mean?'

Barbara sniffed and wiped away her tears. ‘As I'm sure you can imagine, Stephanie going missing and then being found dead consumed us all. Everything else went out of the window.' She took a deep breath. ‘My sister, Angela, she was younger than me. She couldn't have children, and she doted on Stephanie. When she was killed, Angela went to pieces. Well, we all did. But it hit Angela hard. By the time she noticed a lump on her breast, it was too late to do anything about it. The cancer quickly spread, and she was dead by the end of the summer.'

‘I'm so sorry,' I said to fill the heavy silence.

‘My dad died when I was young, so my mother brought me and Angela up on her own. Losing her granddaughter and her daughter in such a short space of time destroyed my mum. Less than a month after Angela's funeral, my mum went to bed and didn't wake up again the next morning. A severe heart attack, the coroner said, but we all knew she died of a broken heart.'

‘Oh my God,' I said, deflated, my head bowed. ‘That must have been…' I had no words.

‘I lost my daughter, my sister and my mum within the space of a few months. It was the hardest time of my life.'

I shook my head.

We sat in silence for a long time. I looked around the room at pictures of Stephanie in her school football kit, in action, posing for a team photograph, at the soft toys and posters of Alan Shearer on the wall.

‘Barbara, I'm so sorry. And to think my father was responsible for it all. I just want everything to be better, but I have so much I need to work out and understand. I have a dilemma,' I began. ‘I'm sure you've heard about this Fenadine drug that Dominic was taking at the time he killed Stephanie. His solicitor is using its side effects as a defence…'

‘I heard. It makes me sick,' she said, with venom.

‘The thing is, say the evidence is there that Dominic did kill Stephanie, even though he perhaps wasn't in control of his own mind. How can I accept him as my father, knowing that he actually did commit murder?'

Barbara let out a heavy sigh. ‘That is not an easy question to answer. However, you're in a better position to answer it objectively now than if you'd known your father before he went to prison. At this stage, you've never met him. You don't have any feelings towards him because you don't know him as a person. Yes, he's your father, but you can still walk away and not be hurt any more than you already are.'

‘But he'd always be in here.' I tapped the side of my head.

‘Stephanie is always in here,' Barbara said, tapping her own head in the same place. ‘And they always will be. The thing to do is keep busy. Eventually, the memory will fade. You'll meet someone, get married, have children, and when you think of him, you'll be surprised that ten years have gone by.'

‘I'm not sure if I can believe that right now.'

‘Maybe not right now, but you will. I know it.' She smiled. ‘Looking back, sometimes it seems incredible that twenty years have passed. Other times, it seems like only last week. When I think of the days following Stephanie's body being found, I wonder how I ever managed to get through it. How did I attend the funeral of my own teenage daughter without collapsing? But I did. I made it out the other side. I survived. It's what we do.'

Downstairs, the front door opened. We both listened. We could hear voices as the door was closed.

‘Barbara, are you in?' Harry called out. ‘I've got Terry with me.'

‘Oh God,' Barbara said.

‘Everything all right?'

‘Yes. Fine.'

‘I should probably go,' I said, after seeing the look of worry on Barbara's face.

‘I'll show you out.'

We went downstairs, Barbara leading the way. In the living room, Harry was taking off his coat and gloves. Next to him was the man I presumed was Terry. He was tall and very slim with a mound of tangled brown hair. He wore black trousers, scuffed shoes and a white shirt that had been washed so many times it was almost grey.

The smile on Harry's face dropped when he saw me.

‘Harry, Dawn just popped round again to say hello.'

‘Did she? What were you doing upstairs?'

‘I was showing her Stephanie's room.'

‘Why?'

‘I asked if she wanted to see it. She was interested.'

‘I bet she was. Sorry, Terry, you won't have met Dawn, will you?' he said, with resounding sarcasm. ‘Dawn, believe it or not, is Dominic Griffiths' daughter.'

Terry's eyes widened in surprise. ‘Oh.'

‘Yes, we said something similar when she just turned up on our doorstep last week.'

‘I should probably be going,' I said, edging out of the living room.

‘Harry, there's no need to be rude.' Barbara gave her husband a sharp look. ‘Dawn, there's really no need to leave. Terry is an old friend of the family, Ian Braithwaite's son, in fact. He's a policeman now too, aren't you, Terry?'

Both men stood looking at me without saying a word.

‘Nice to meet you, Terry. But honestly, Barbara, I really must be off. It was nice to see you again. And you, er, Mr White. Goodbye.'

I was at the front door and pulling it open before Barbara could get there.

‘I'm so sorry about Harry. He's really struggling?—'

‘Don't be,' I interrupted. ‘There really is no need.'

Out on the empty driveway, I noticed there were no new cars in the cul-de-sac. That must mean Terry had come on foot. I got in the car, drove to the end of the road, turned left, pulled over and waited.

It was an hour later, and I was hunkered down in my seat. I was freezing cold, as the icy northerly wind was blowing in through the gaps in the car. It was starting to get dark already as a deep grey sky descended. A few flakes of snow began to fall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Terry come down the driveway, hands plunged firmly in his pockets, collar of his jacket up around his ears and his head down, as he took large strides, heading, I assumed, for home.

I opened the car door, just after he passed by.

‘Terry,' I called, but there was no reaction. He either hadn't heard me, or he was purposely ignoring me. ‘Terry!' I shouted louder.

He stopped and looked back over his left shoulder. ‘I had a feeling you'd wait for me.'

‘I wasn't aware I was so predictable,' I said, with a nervous smile.

‘You know, you've really upset Harry and Barbara. They're like a second family to me.'

‘I'm sorry. It was never my intention to upset them.'

‘Then what was your intention?'

‘I… To be honest, I don't know. Barbara taught me at school when I was doing my GCSEs. She was my favourite teacher. I really admired her. When I found out who my father was, what he'd done, I felt… I don't know. I felt like maybe she should know.'

‘And what's all this about a girl seeing Stephanie on the day she disappeared?'

‘Ah. She told you?'

‘Yes. Are you making this up?'

‘What?' I asked, astonished.

‘Is this some cruel trick you're playing to get your father pardoned?'

‘No, it isn't. Look, I haven't even met my dad yet, and I don't know if I'm going to. I'm trying to decide if I want him in my life or not. He's always denied killing Stephanie. He was taking a drug that shouldn't have even been on the market. He didn't know his own mind.' I wondered why I was defending him all of a sudden, but Terry's face kept getting darker the more I did.

‘Look.' Terry grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me to the edge of the road. We stood toe to toe, and he lowered his voice as he leaned down. ‘Harry and Barbara have been through a great deal over the years. The last thing they need is some amateur Jane Tennison thinking she can uncover a miscarriage of justice. Dominic Griffiths killed their daughter. Your father is a murderer, and the sooner you accept that the better. Now, if I find out you've been here hassling them again, I will have an injunction slapped on you so fast you won't see it coming. Do you understand?'

I winced under the pain of Terry's grip.

‘I said, do you understand?' he repeated through gritted teeth, gripping my arm firmer.

‘Perfectly,' I said quietly.

‘Good. Now, piss off home and get on with the rest of your life, and stay away from here.'

He let go, pushing me backwards, before turning on his heels and striding away.

I rubbed my arm, shocked and trying to catch my breath. I watched him retreat into the distance before turning back to my car. I could understand him being protective of Harry and Barbara, but there was no need for him to be so aggressive.