Trust Me by Lesley Pearse

he’d just got the girls ready for bed when I got there. We chatted by the fire, he was sitting in one armchair, with both girls on his lap, I was in the other, and I could see for myself that this was how he was all the time. A man who loved his family and home. I do not believe for one moment that he killed his wife.’
    ‘What did you talk about?’ Hewitt asked.
    ‘All sorts, books, the bad winter, how the government was letting everyone down by not rebuilding houses fast enough, even the new Health Service. But mostly about school. May had only started at the Infants in January, and he asked me how he could help her along with reading at home. May made us both laugh because she said she wanted to be a film star when she was grown up, and you didn’t need to be able to read for that.’
    ‘How long did you stay?’
    ‘Over an hour. I was shocked it was that long when I looked at my watch, I’d only intended to stay a few minutes.’
    ‘It sounds as if you really liked him.’
    ‘I did,’ she said softly.
    As Hewitt drove back to the police station he was very disturbed. He felt he knew Anne Taylor now, and he didn’t like her one bit, a self-centred, neglectful mother, an unfaithful wife and a heartless bitch. Yet the saddest, most disastrous part of all this was that every new fact that emerged about her gave more credence to Reg deliberately killing her. He could just hear the prosecution banging home to the jury how impossible she was, they’d get to hate her, and sadly at the end they would judge Reg by what they knew they would do faced with the same circumstances.
    The black Wolseley glided to a halt in Deptford High Street in front of a greengrocer’s. Mr Sims turned to his daughter. ‘Are you quite sure this is wise, dear?’ he asked.
    It was Saturday morning, four days after Susan Sims had been interviewed by PC Hewitt. She had thought of little else but Dulcie and May since then, and she’d woken early this morning determined to visit them at their grandmother’s house.
    ‘I don’t know that it’s wise, Daddy,’ she smiled. ‘But I must do it. Pick me up again here in an hour.’
    ‘Why won’t you let me drive you to the house at least?’ he said in a pleading tone.
    Susan tickled him playfully under his chin. To her he was just Daddy, but she knew his clothes, bearing and voice displayed that he had an important position in the City. ‘Because you and this car will just create more attention,’ she said. ‘Now, stop worrying, I’m going to see an old lady and her grand-daughters, not an ogre.’
    She got out quickly and walked away. She had telephoned Hewitt and got the address – fortunately he’d seen no good reason why a teacher shouldn’t go and see her old pupil and had given her directions. But he had warned her that she would find the area very unpleasant.
    Susan could see exactly what he meant once she was off the High Street and into the labyrinth of narrow streets which led to Akerman Street. There were no front gardens here, front doors opening right on to the pavement, and as it was a warm sunny day, most of them were wide open giving a glimpse of a world she had no previous knowledge of. Dank, unpleasant smells wafted out, mingling with worse ones that appeared to come from drains. Yet it was the level of noise which affected her most – babies crying, women shouting both inside the houses and out on the street, bringing home to her that almost all these houses held more than one family.
    As she turned into Akerman Street she saw May jumping a skipping-rope turned by two big girls. It was quite obvious she didn’t belong here, for there was a glow about her – rosy cheeks, shiny, neatly plaited hair, and plump legs. She was chanting breathlessly as she jumped, her short dress leaping up to give glimpses of white knickers.
    Dulcie was sitting on the doorstep, watching her sister. Her shoulders were hunched, arms clasped about her knees. She looked so very sad.
    But