She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but, just as she had outside Max’s house, she watched his lips move as Rose spoke to him, holding up the sandwich bag containing the two new cookies.
Rose would be following the script Fiona had drilled into her. For the prank.
Did you like the cookies? I made some more and have a couple left over.
He nodded, and Rose handed the bag to him.
I think these ones are better. I used more chocolate. What do you think?
Encouraging him to try them right there, right then. That was important, because Fiona needed to know it had worked. He had just eaten lunch, but he was a man who always had room for dessert – and here was this sweet, familiar girl, smiling at him.
He examined the bag and plucked out a cookie, which he lifted to his lips. Fiona felt a cord tighten in her belly. This was it. She didn’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife, thought both Heaven and Hell were stupid concepts, but she liked to imagine that Maisie was beside her to witness this. Revenge.Just deserts.
Rose was unaware what would happen when he took a bite, expecting him to do nothing more than spit it out and start begging for water, his mouth burning from the chilies Fiona had told herwere inside the cookie. At that point, Rose believed, Fiona would spring out, laughing and shouting, ‘Surprise!’
He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed.
Took another bite.
He hadn’t detected the taste of nuts, which she had disguised with a lot of sugar and cinnamon.
Rose turned her head to look back at Fiona, frowning with confusion. Why hadn’t he reacted to the chilies? Fiona shook her head, silently telling her to turn around, but it was too late. Max had followed Rose’s gaze.
He saw Fiona.
The expression on his face was one she wished she could frame. The shock. The horror. She stepped out from behind the tree, Rose looking from her to Max then back again, thoroughly confused. But, right now, Fiona didn’t care about the girl’s reaction. She was too busy watching Max.
One hand went to his throat. He put the other hand in his pocket and took out the remaining cookie in the transparent plastic bag. He held it up and stared at it, then threw it to the ground. Almost in the same motion, he grabbed his backpack and tore open the front compartment.
Rose came over to Fiona, asking what was going on, but Fiona ignored her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Max. He was frantically digging through the rucksack, pulling out envelopes and biros and notebooks, chucking everything on to the grass as he searched for the device he needed so desperately.
His EpiPen.
He held the backpack up, tipping it upside down, shaking out the remaining contents.
Then he looked around, seeking help. His face was pink. He clutched at his throat, his mouth opening and closing, trying to speak, making a horrible gasping, choking noise.
He fell on to his knees and suddenly there were two people running towards him, a man and woman who had seen him collapse. Fiona quickly joined them, ordering Rose to stay back.
Max was lying on the path now, holding his throat, unable to speak. The woman crouched beside him, talking to him, while her male companion called 999. Max tried to suck in air, his eyes bulging, and he tried to speak, to answer the woman’s questions, but no air could go in or out.
He pointed a finger at Fiona, and for a second she thought he was going to manage to form a word or two, but then his hand flopped and he gave up. She hoped that among his panic and fear there was some room for regret. For the realisation that he should never have been arrogant. Should never have relaxed.
When the man and woman weren’t looking – the man was shouting into his phone, demanding to know where the ambulance was – Fiona scooped up the bag with the cookie he had dropped and slipped it into her pocket. Then she went back to Rose, pulling her into an embrace.
‘Don’t look, sweetheart,’ she said in a loud voice, for the benefit of the couple who were trying to help Max, and for others who had started to gather around. The rubberneckers, arriving on the scene when it was too late to do anything.
She wanted to say something else. She wanted to tell her,Some people are predators, Rosie, and some people are prey.But the girl wasn’t ready. Not quite yet.
So instead she urged Rose not to say anything, whispered to her that she needed to keep quiet. And she pressed Rose’s face against her own damp torso as she watched the show.
As the first person on her list stopped breathing.
Part Two
13
Fiona sat with the other visitors, waiting to be called. It was strange to be back at HMP Franklin Grange, the women’s prison in Shropshire where she had spent the final part of her sentence. Weird to be on this side of the heavy doors that separated inmates from those who had come to see them. Not that she’d received any visits the whole time she’d been inside, because Maisie had been her only friend. There was no one else.