Chapter 7: Woman To Woman
Sandra called me that evening.
"Don't respond to Diane's message," she said.
"Don't call her, don't text back, don't meet her.
Any direct communication from this point is a liability."
"I know.
I just wanted you to see it."
"It tells us something important." I could hear Sandra turning pages.
"She's worried.
The journal was a threat designed to make you back down.
When you didn't, she moved to negotiation.
That sequence means she knows the journal won't hold up."
"Because she fabricated it."
"Because fabricated records have a paper trail of their own.
Dates that don't align.
Handwriting that's too consistent.
No corroborating witnesses for any of the incidents she claims." A pause.
"We've also heard back from the police.
They've confirmed the prepaid phone used for the March call was purchased at a shop three streets from Diane's previous address.
CCTV from the shop is still on file."
I sat down on Carol's sofa.
"They can place her at the shop?"
"They're working on it.
It's not confirmed yet.
But the investigating officer believes it's her."
I pressed my fingers against my eyes.
Three years.
Three years of walking on eggshells in my own kitchen, of doubting my own reactions, of apologising for things I hadn't done because it was easier than the alternative.
"Lauren." Sandra's voice was careful.
"There's one more thing.
Ryan's solicitor made contact this afternoon."
"And?"
"Ryan is prepared to provide a statement confirming that the journal was his mother's idea.
He says he didn't know its full contents but was aware she was keeping records.
He's also prepared to confirm that he was present during at least two other incidents that did not result in police contact."
The room felt very still.
"He's turning on her," I said.
"He's protecting himself," Sandra said.
"Which in this case means giving us Diane.
Whether his motivation matters to you is a separate question."
"What does he want in return?"
"He's not asking for anything formally.
His solicitor indicated he understands the marriage is over.
He's not contesting it."
I thought about Ryan's face in that kitchen.
The way he'd grabbed my arm.
The way he'd told me to apologise.
And then, later, on the phone — *she has a journal* — half warning, half threat, the voice of a man who had been managed by his mother for so long he didn't know which of his choices were actually his.
"Tell his solicitor I'll hear his statement," I said.
"But I'm not reducing any charge against Diane in exchange for it.
Her consequences stand regardless of what Ryan says."
"Understood." A brief pause.
"You're handling this well."
"I'm very angry," I said.
"Anger is easy to handle."
Sandra almost smiled — I could hear it.
"Get some sleep.
We have a meeting with the investigating officer at nine."
I put the phone down.
Carol appeared in the doorway with two mugs of tea.
She set one in front of me and sat down in the armchair across from me.
"How bad?" she said.
"She built a whole world where I was the problem.
Neighbours.
Family.
A fake journal.
A fake police call.
Three years of quiet, careful work." I wrapped my hands around the mug.
"And Ryan let her do it."
"Did he know all of it?"
"I don't think he knew all of it.
I think he knew enough and chose not to look at the rest." I looked at my sister.
"That might be worse."
Carol was quiet for a moment.
"Do you remember," she said, "when you first brought Ryan home?
Mum made that terrible roast and Diane sat at the table and said — very sweetly, very gently — that she hoped you'd learn to cook properly before the wedding."
I laughed.
It came out sharper than I intended.
"I thought she was joking," I said.
"She wasn't joking," Carol said.
"She was telling you exactly who she was.
We just didn't know how to hear it yet."
I drank my tea.
Outside, the street was quiet.
No messages.
No calls.
May you like
Somewhere across the city, Diane was in a house that wasn't mine, waiting to find out if her three years of careful work had been enough.
It hadn't.
