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‘Over the years, I’ve seen many different counsellors and therapists, and I’ve asked them that exact question. They’ve said it is highly unlikely I could have kidnapped someone off the streets, driven her to the allotment and killed her without any memory of it. Dawn, I know you don’t know anything about me, and you’ve no reason to believe anything I say, but I have no knowledge of seeing Stephanie on that day. I’m not a killer. I didn’t murder her.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘I’m getting released from here in a few weeks. Clare’s probably told you the date. I’d really like to get to know you. I know I don’t have any rights to be a father to you, but I’d love to be a part of your life, no matter how small.’ Hesitantly, he reached forwards and placed his hands on top of mine. It felt strange, cold. ‘You’re my daughter.’ He beamed. ‘I’m your dad.’
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. His smile was infectious. Gone were the boyish good looks of twenty years ago, the dark floppy hair and the sparkling eyes, but when he smiled, there was a hint of the man he used to be shining through. The twinkle, although dulled, was still there.
‘I would like to get to know you too,’ I said. I could feel I was smiling, but inside, I was shaking like a leaf in a force nine gale.
The relief on his face was evident. ‘That’s… that’s the best news I’ve ever had.’ He squeezed my hands and tears pricked his eyes. ‘I can’t make up for twenty years of absence, but I can be there for you as a friend, or whatever, as and when you want me.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, with a catch in my voice. ‘Do you know what you’re going to do when you’re released?’ I asked, withdrawing my hands from his and sitting back.
He mirrored my movements. ‘I don’t. I’ll be in a halfway house for a while, until I find my feet. The first thing will be to get a job. I’ve not been idle in here. I’ve taken courses and got qualifications. I’ve got a degree in English Literature,’ he said, with pride.
‘Really? That’s good. I studied English Literature and Law at university.’
‘We have something in common,’ he said, looking even more proud. ‘I love reading Chaucer, and I’m a big Shakespeare fan.’
‘I like my classics. I could read Brontë and Austen on a loop. I’m re-reading The Tenant at Wildfell Hall at the moment.’
‘I’ve not read that one.’
‘You should give it a try. It was Mrs White who…’ I tailed off, suddenly remembering who Mrs White was and where she fitted into our story.
‘Mrs White?’
I took a deep shaking breath. ‘Barbara White – Stephanie’s mother – was my English teacher at school.’
‘Oh. Small world.’
‘Incredibly small.’
He looked away and sighed. ‘It’s always going to be there, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter that I say I’m innocent, people aren’t going to believe it. They’re going to see me as a cold-blooded killer. We can’t even have a simple chat about books without something ruining it.’
‘It will get easier. It will just take time.’
A bell rang. Visiting was over.
‘Time for me to go,’ I said, standing up.
‘Well, I am very grateful to you for coming to see me,’ he said.
He stood up and held out a hand for me to shake. I did, but then I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
‘It was lovely to finally meet you… Dad.’
His eyes lit up, and his bottom lip began to wobble. ‘And you.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was a cruel twist of fate that Dominic was to be released on the day before the twentieth anniversary of Stephanie White’s murder. Had the Prison Service realised this, would they have delayed it by a couple of weeks? Although I doubted Clare Delaney would have been happy about that. I had decided to be there when Dominic came out of prison. I didn’t know what the future would hold for us, but for now, it felt like the right thing to do.
On the drive over to the prison in temperatures below freezing, Clare filled me in on the progress of the case against Maxton-Schwarz. Now that Dominic was released from prison, they could push ahead for a court date, so she could state categorically that the British government had accepted that Dominic Griffiths was not responsible for committing the heinous crime he had been imprisoned for and that one of their drugs had been the driving force behind him committing such a despicable act. Dominic should be compensated for losing twenty years of freedom. She was almost ecstatic at the prospect. I sat in the plush car, listening impassively.
It was eight o’clock in the morning, and the sun was beginning to appear on the horizon. The clouds were thick and heavy with snow. Winter was still maintaining its stranglehold. We stood outside the prison in the stiff breeze and waited.
There was no press, but Clare had lined up several interviews for Dominic with the national media over the coming days and weeks. The more money she could squeeze out of this story, the better for all parties, apart from the poor Whites, whom I thought of often. I’d phoned Barbara and kept her abreast of everything that was happening. Despite our different positions in the situation, we had a strong bond, and she’d even invited me to join her book club.
