I was optimistic; Nick less so. The letter arrived in a crisp, official envelope: could we come and give an
interview connected to an ongoing investigation? ‘It’s a different police station,’ said Nick, jabbing at
the paper with his finger. We were both starting late that day, and we had newspapers splayed out across
the kitchen table, a cafetière of coffee sitting between us. It was like a still life of contented middle-aged
coupledom.
‘Yes, silly, it’s Rachel’s local police station,’ I said. ‘They must have spread the web, expanded the
investigation. She’s a different council from us, so if they want to in volve mental health services...’
‘Lest we forget how good my wife is at telling a story,’ said Nick, with a mirthless laugh, which
succeeded in making his remark sound like the exact opposite of a compliment. ‘Mark my words, we
need to be pr epped for this one.’
I hate Kilburn: I’d begged Rachel not to move there when she’d first rented that nasty flat. It borders the
leafy environs of Queens Park, an area I’m happy to cover, but even a couple of streets across takes you
into a subterranean hinterland. The police station was no exc eption, the pavement outside littered with
takeaway cartons and dog mess. We picked our way through the debris to the door and asked the clerk
on the desk for the Detective Williams who’d written the letter.
We waited at least ten minutes before a dishevelled woman shoved her way through the crowded
waiting area towards us. ‘Mr and Mrs Appleby?’ she said. I sprung to my feet, stuck out a hand. ‘Yes!’ I
said. ‘Detective Williams? It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
She took a beat before she responded, eyes subtly flicking up and down. I’d come from a viewing and
was wearing a new pair of black wedge heels with a fitted aubergine dress that skimmed my
Pilates-toned body before falling to the knee. I knew in an instant – particularly looking at the way she
was futilely pretending that her bobbly black jacket matched her shapeless trousers – that I should have
made myself less threatening.
‘Do follow me through,’ she said with a smile that failed to reach her eyes. My skin began to prickle. I’d
been anticipating sympathy and vindication, but perhaps Nick was right to be on high alert. I comforted
myself: in a way, it confirmed that we were a good team, filling in the gaps for one another. She led us
to a windowless interview room, a white Formica table like a butcher’s slab dominating the space. We
sat down opposite her, but she didn’t utter a word for a few seconds. Ordinarily I’d have grabbed the
bull by the horns, but I knew enough from my lawyer husband to know that we shouldn’t speak first. It
was more than that, though – she was somehow owning our collective silence.
‘Sorry, I should have offered you water,’ she said. ‘I’m fine,’ said Nick, just as I responded, ‘That
would be great.’ A faint smile played around her lips, as if our opposing r eplies confirmed all her
suspicions. She was starting to enrage me, and we were only five minutes in. Water was fetched, and
after another artificial silence, she finally deigned to start.
‘Mr and Mrs Appleby, I’ve asked you to come in on the back of a complaint made by your daughter,
Rachel. She—’ ‘No,’ I said, cutting across her, my heart pounding. ‘That’s incorrect. We’ve made a
complaint about Amber Greville, her therapist. Or so-called therapist.’ ‘Yes, I heard that from
Sh epherd’s Bush. But Rachel’s complaint was formally registered first, by me. It’s against you. And I
take it very seriously.’
I could feel the blood draining from my face. I grabbed for Nick’s hand, which was stiff with barely
contained anger. ‘Our daughter’s a mess,’ he said. ‘You can’t trust a word she says. That woman’s
treating her like a puppet. She’s got no mind of her own right now.’
Williams’s gaze was cool. ‘That really doesn’t match up with my impression of your daughter, Mr
Appleby. She was composed, articulate. The only point where she was obviously distressed, or lost her
train of thought, was when she talked about the harassment she alleges she’s suffered from her family.’
For a second it was as though I was watching the scene from above. It felt like a dream, or that supposed
moment between life and death when you float untethered from the material world and your whole
miserable existence flashes before your eyes.
‘But it’s all lies!’ I wailed. Nick’s palm pressed down on my hand, but I was too far gone, the stress of
the past few months erupting out of me. ‘She’s got her in volved in a sex cult. She’s pushed her into
thousands of pounds worth of debt. She’s told her I’m some kind of medieval torturer...’ Williams’s
face was impassive, cold. Nick squeezed my hand, hard.
‘Lily!’ he said, sharp. ‘Do not speak to me like I’m a dog you accidentally let off the lead,’ I said, more
venom in my voice than I intended. We needed to wrest back control, and Nick knew it. ‘Our daughter
is a very ill girl,’ he said. ‘Addicts are manipulative, and she’s doing exactly that to you, if you don’t
mind me saying. And we’ve lived with it for thirty-one years.’
‘She’s not a girl, she’s a woman,’ said the tiresomely politically correct detective. ‘And as I’ve stated,
my impression was that she was a woman entirely in control of her mental faculties. That’s why I’ve
referred this case to the CPS.’ It was as if all the blood had drained from my body. I felt weak. ‘The
CPS?’ I said. ‘What, as if we’re criminals?’
Williams didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Nick was puce with anger. ‘This is f—’ he stopped
himself. ‘If my daughter tops herself because you didn’t take us – her parents – seriously, you’ll have
blood on your hands. And I will sue you into oblivion.’ Williams stayed infuriatingly calm, a grim little
smile of contempt on her face. ‘From my impression of Rachel, I don’t see that as a likely outcome of us
pursuing this case. As I said to you, the only point at which she displayed extreme distress was when she
talked about the treatment she claimed she’d
experienced at your hands.’ Her eyes bored into us. ‘You’re now legally obligated to stop contacting
her, and to go no closer than 250 yards from her person. Those are the terms of the temporary
harassment order we’ve got as an interim measure.’ ‘What?’ I said. It was more a sob than a word, the
walls of the drab, dark room closing in on me. Nick was jabbing his finger at her as if he wished it was
his fist. ‘So, what, our complaint against that fucking woman counts for nothing because you got in
there first?’
Williams gave a smug little shrug, like she was deflecting his praise for winning the race. ‘Your
statements can certainly form part of your defence.’ ‘Our defence?’ I croaked. ‘Why do we have to
defend ourselves, while that b — That woman, is out there in the world ruining other families’ lives?’
‘Do you know of anyone who can verify that accusation?’ said Williams, quick as a flash.
Could I force Deborah Madden to back me up, the way I’d led her by the nose on the PTA? No – this
situation was way beyond a gluten-free bake sale. And besides that, I felt so broken. ‘I’m working on it,’
I said pathetically. I wanted to go. I wanted to lie down and cry, all alone, and then regain my strength
for the fight of my life. This wasn’t meant to happen. My family was supposed to stay intact – that was
the whole point of what I did. Maybe the fire-and-brimstone God of my Catholic childhood really did
exist. Maybe he’d been ke eping score all this time.
‘You’re wrong about the suicide thing,’ said Nick. ‘She threatened it to my wife when Lily told her we
weren’t going to pay for Amber Greville anymore. I guarantee you she manipulated Rachel into that
state so we’d ke ep chucking money at her.’ Williams remained untroubled. ‘Rachel told me that Ms
Greville is seeing her for free, because she’s so concerned about the stress she’s under, so that argument
really doesn’t hold any weight.’
‘For free?’ I said, the words landing like a punch in the solar plexus. ‘That’s worse! She’s literally
trying to r eplace me. To destroy me! I’m Rachel’s mother; not her.’
I was we eping uncontrollably now. Nick stood up, leaning over me and putting an arm around my
hunched shoulders. ‘Lily, come on,’ he said, his voice gentler than earlier. ‘Let’s go. This is pointless.’ I
reluctantly let myself lean into him. ‘Okay,’ I said, my voice small, scrubbing at my eyes with a tissue
that I’d found in my bag. I hated what a state I must look. How stupid I’d been to set a viewing for after
this. How arrogant.
Williams watched me gather my things, that half smile still playing across her face, like every move we
made was a scene from a play that she’d already seen. I stood up. ‘Is Sophie part of this harassment
order of yours?’ I said, standing up and forcing steel into my voice. ‘Sorry?’ ‘Our other daughter.’ I was
the one to smile without warmth now. She didn’t know quite as much about our family as she thought
she did. ‘We have a son also – Josh.’
‘No, it’s only you two,’ said Williams. ‘I rang Rachel before you came in to tell her it was in place.’ The
phrase was like a burning match flying through the air – she and Amber could just casually pick up the
phone to my daughter, but I was deemed to be some kind of dangerous stalker. Rage was starting to
overtake distress now, fuel flooding back into the tank.
‘Thank you, Detective Williams,’ I said. ‘This is a dark moment for our family, but we’ll heal from it.’ I
glanced to Nick. ‘She’s trying to destroy us, but most of all she’s trying to destroy Rachel, and I will not
let that happen. You think you’re helping her, but you’re just part of the abuse now.’ I smiled sweetly
before Nick could bundle me out. ‘I know your intentions are good. You’re simply deluded.’