A Room Swept White
“It was three weeks to the day since Rowan had died, and I’d become an expert at reading the detectives’ moods. I was usually able to tell from their faces whether the questioning on that particular day would be relentless or sympathetic. One detective who had always been kind to me was DS Giles Proust. He always looked uncomfortable when I was being interviewed and left most of the questions to his junior colleagues. On and on they would go: did I have a happy childhood? What was it like being ...the middle sibling? Did I ever feel jealous of my sisters? Am I close to my parents? Did I ever have babysitting jobs as a teenager? Did I love Morgan? Did I love Rowan? Did I welcome both pregnancies? I wanted to scream at them, ‘Of course I bloody well did, and if you can’t see that with your own eyes and ears then you don’t deserve the title of detective!’ I always had the impression that Giles Proust alone among the police didn’t merely believe that I was innocent of the murder of my babies, but knew it, in the way that I knew it and Paul knew it.MoreLess
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