‘You’ve got blood on you,’ he says.
***
When Agnew resumes, it’s softly, almost kindly. ‘There is another version of what happened that day, Mrs Mason, isn’t there?’
Sharon turns her face away.
‘Over the months leading up to your daughter’s death you had become convinced your husband was having an affair. This jealousy, this suspicion, had become so all-enveloping – so dangerously obsessive – that you had lost all ability to think rationally. Every woman your husband looked at – every woman who smiled at him – fuelled the same terrible conviction. You had even started to see your own daughter as a potential rival – someone who stole love and attention you felt should rightfully be yours.’
Sharon’s head drops. She’s crying. Dry, miserable, self-pitying tears.
‘And then, that afternoon, it all comes to a head. Your husband calls to tell you he will be later than he promised, leaving you to do all the work for the party. Not only that, you’re convinced that he’s not with a client, as he claims, but with another woman. Who knows, perhaps you hear a female voice or the sounds of a wine bar in the background. Whatever it was, it was enough to send you over the edge. You simply cannot take it any more. In this bitter, angry, resentful state of mind you go up to your daughter’s room. And what do you find? You find her, still in her school uniform, with her pretty pink cardigan round her shoulders, about to try on a fancy-dress costume. A costume completely different from the one you had got for her, at great expense, and which you realize now she has carelessly given away. What did she say to you, Mrs Mason? Did she tell you her daddy was going to love her even more as a mermaid? Did she tell you he thinks she’s prettier than you?’
Sharon’s head jerks up. No, she mouths. No. It wasn’t like that.
But he has not finished.
‘For anyone else, for any other mother, such a moment would be so mundane as to be completely trivial. But not for you. For you, it is the trigger for a sudden rage which will have appalling and irreparable consequences. Because that costume brings back with the most horrible vividness another innocent little girl who stole attention you thought should have been yours. Another little girl whose father loved her better than he loved you. A little girl who was the very image of Daisy. Your sister, Jessica.’
‘My Lady,’ cries Kirby, springing to her feet. ‘This is highly prejudicial – ’
‘Jessica,’ continues Agnew, his voice rising, ‘who died, at the age of two, in an accident no one could explain. Died when she was alone with you. Died when you were supposed to be looking after her. Is this another of your “coincidences”, Mrs Mason, or did two little girls die at your hands?’
Sharon is shaking her head; the tears are furious now. Furious, incredulous and unforgiving.
‘What was your sister wearing when she died?’ He leans forwards. ‘What was she wearing, Mrs Mason?’
***
Find Daisy Mason Facebook page
This is just to thank everyone who’s supported the campaign #Justice4Daisy. It’s scarcely believable that her own mother could have been guilty of such a terrible crime, but now the verdict is in, at least there’s the chance for some closure. Our hearts go out to poor Leo, who will be living with the consequences of the Masons’ abuse for the rest of his life. We’ll be closing this page in a week or so, but you can still contribute to the online condolence book.
Jean Murray, Frank Lester, Lorraine Nicholas and 811 others liked this
TOP COMMENTS
Nicola Anderson I heard Leo’s been taken into foster care. No way he can stay with his father, even when he does get out.
1 February at 10.22
Liz Kingston I hope that now we’ve had a verdict Daisy can finally rest in peace and we won’t keep seeing all those stupid stories of people claiming they’ve spotted her. I saw three people doing that on Twitter only last week.
1 February at 10.23
Polly Maguire I saw some of those too. One of them was convinced they’d seen her at Liverpool Docks, only it turned out it was a child with short red hair. Someone else claimed they’d seen her in Dubai and another one somewhere in the Far East. Honestly, people can be so thoughtless. It doesn’t help poor Leo, having all these horrible rumours floating around.
1 February at 10.24
Abigail Ward I agree, and I just wanted to say that the best memorial for Daisy would be to donate to the NSPCC. Violence against children has to stop. You can pledge money here.
1 February at 10.26
Will Haines I agree, or a charity helping kids with FAS. I’ve worked with these children and they need so much support. If that’s really what Leo is struggling with, I just hope he gets the love he needs.
1 February at 10.34
Find Daisy Mason Great ideas – fitting tribute to two sweet innocent kids.
1 February at 10.56
Judy Bray I went past that level crossing on the train last week, and there were heaps and heaps of flowers. People had left pots of daisies. It was very touching. Some people in my carriage were in tears.
1 February at 10.59
***
Two days after the verdict, we have a day of sudden sunshine. A day in sharp frost-etched focus, beautiful in a way the soft edges of summer can never be. White wisps of mare’s-tail cloud are racing across an impossibly huge blue sky. I buy a sandwich and wander over to the recreation ground. A swarm of little boys are running about after a ball, and there’s a very elderly married couple sitting companionably on a bench on the far side. Funny how old men start looking like old women, and old women like old men. As if the differences of gender lose sway, and even relevance, as we near our common end. I don’t hear Everett approaching until she’s standing next to me. She holds out a coffee.
‘Do you mind company?’
I do, actually, but I smile and say, ‘Of course not. Have a seat.’
She sits hunched against the cold, her gloved hands curled round her cup.
‘I just got a call from Gislingham,’ she says. ‘They’re hoping they can take Billy home soon. The doctors are really pleased with how well he’s doing.’
‘That’s great news. I’ll drop him a line.’
There’s a silence.
‘Do you really think she did it?’ she says eventually.
So that’s it.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I do.’
‘You don’t think she was convicted for the wrong reasons? I mean, because people hated them, and because of Twitter and all that abuse, rather than because of the evidence?’
I shrug. ‘There’s no way of knowing that. All that matters is we got to the right result, however that happened. But I don’t think there was anything wrong with the evidence. We did a good job – you did a good job.’
She looks at me a moment, and then away, across the park. A couple of seagulls swoop down low over the playground and one of the toddlers starts crying.
‘There was one thing that kept bugging me.’
I take a sip of the coffee and breathe out a gust of hot sweet air. ‘What was that?’
‘Those gloves. The ones she dumped in the skip. They were wrapped in pages from the Guardian.’
‘So? What of it?’
‘When we were interviewing her, she just kept on and on – “we don’t read the Guardian, we read the Daily Mail”. She wouldn’t let up.’