IfGone GirlandThe Girl on the Trainleft you hungry for more unreliable narrators, Fiona Barton has you covered.
Where do her loyalties lie?
This time Kates phone rings twice and stops.
This is Mick, she says to me, my photographer.
Mick grins at me and sticks out his hand.
Hello, Mrs. Taylor, he says.
Everythings moving so fast.
Wait a minute, I say.
But no one is listening.
Kate and Mick are discussing getting past the reporters whove gathered at the gate.
Its awful, like a nightmare.
Like it was at the beginning.
Then they were shouting at Glen, accusing him of all sorts of things.
Whatve you done, Mr. Taylor?
Have you got blood on your hands, you pervert?
the man from the Sun had said as Glen took the bin out.
Right in front of people walking by.
Glen said one of them spat on the pavement.
He was shaking when he came in.
But he had me to help him thenI would stroke his hand and tell him to pay no attention.
But theres just me now, and I dont know if I can cope on my own.
A voice is yelling horrible things through the door: I know youre there, Mrs. Taylor.
Are you being paid to talk?
What do you think people will say if you take this blood money?
I feel like Ive been hit.
And Kate turns and strokes my hand and tells me to ignore it.
She can make it all go away.
I want to trust her, but its hard to think straight.
What does making it all go away mean?
Hiding has been the only way to deal with it, according to Glen.
We have to wait it out, he would say.
But Kates way is to go at it head-on.
Stand up and say my piece to shut them up.
I would like to shut them up, but it means being in the spotlight.
The thought is so terrifying I cant move.
Come on, Jean, Kate says, finally noticing me still sitting in the chair.
We can do this together.
One step at a time.
Itll all be over in five minutes, and then no one will be able to find you.
Apart from her, of course.
I pick up my handbag and stuff some knickers into it from the tumble drier in the kitchen.
Upstairs to get my toothbrush.
Where are my keys?
Just the essentials, Kate says.
She will buy me anything I need when we get there.
I want to ask, but Kate has turned away again.
Shes busy on her mobile, talking to the office.
She has a different voice when she talks to the office.
A bit breathless, like shes just walked upstairs.
Okay, Terry, she says.
Jean is with us, so Ill give you a call later.
She doesnt want to talk in front of me.
Wonder what the office wants to know.
How much money shes promised?
What I will look like in the pictures?
I feel panicky and go to say Ive changed my mind, but everythings moving too fast.
She says shes going to distract them.
I cant really believe Im doing this.
I start to say Hang on again, but
Kate is pushing me toward the back door.
We wait while she goes out.
The noise is suddenly deafening.
Like a flock of birds taking off by my front door.
Snappers, Mick says.
I guess he means photographers.
I cant see much because of the jacket, and Ive got stupid shoes on.
My feet are sliding out of them, but I give a shot to run.
The jacket keeps slipping off.
Oh God, theres Lisa next door, looking out of her top window, mouth open.
I wave my hand limply.
We havent spoken for ages.
At the back fence, Mick helps me over.
Its not high, really.
More for show than security.
Ive got trousers on, but its still a bit of a struggle.
I suddenly want to cry.
Im about to get into a car with people I dont know and head off to God knows where.
Its probably the craziest thing Ive ever done.
Glen wouldve had a fit.
Even before all the police stuff, he liked to keep things private.
Its what neighbors always say, isnt it, when dead bodies or mistreated children are found next door?
But in our case, it was true.
One of themit couldve been Mrs. Grange oppositedescribed Glen to a reporter, as having evil eyes.
He had nice eyes, actually.
Blue with longish lashes.
His eyes could turn me over inside.
Anyway, he used to say to me, Nobodys business but ours, Jeanie.
That was why it was so hard when our business became everyone elses.
