‘I don’t think?—’
‘The tree!’ I interrupted, desperate for him to understand. ‘I took my knife and I carved our initials on the tree. And when I got back to the bandstand Emma went to look at the tree and our initials were still there.’
Andy’s forehead folded into a crease. ‘And you believe her?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, presumably you told her you were carving something. And then she said she saw it. But you have no proof that she wasn’t just seeing it today. In 1999.’
‘I know but—’ I started.
‘Nicky,’ Andy said, reaching for my hand and covering it with his own. ‘I love you, and I know you desperately want to believe that this woman is something special. But I think she’s conning you.’
‘No!’ I snatched my hand back and scraped the chair back across the floor away from him. The people a couple of tables away glanced at us then back at their dinner. My heart pounded in my chest and my whole body shook.
‘Woah, calm down,’ he said, holding his hands up.
I didn’t move, torn between wanting to stay and try to explain, and wanting to get out of there. My chest felt tight and I struggled to breathe.
‘You don’t understand,’ I said. Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them back. Abdul hovered nearby, steaming dishes balanced on a tray.
‘Sorry,’ Andy said, smiling at him. He turned to me. ‘Come on, Nicky. Please sit back at the table. Let’s eat and talk about it. I promise to listen.’
I didn’t want to make a scene, so I dragged my chair back to the table and waited as Abdul served our food. Neither of us looked at each other, and I was relieved when Abdul finally left us to it. I spooned curry and rice onto my plate and pulled a chunk of naan bread off. My appetite had vanished.
‘I’m sorry,’ Andy said. He was watching me across the table with an expression on his face that I couldn’t read.
I shook my head. ‘I know how it sounds. I do. But I promise you she’s not conning me, and I promise this is nothing to do with missing Dawn.’
‘Then why don’t you explain and I won’t interrupt. I promise.’
‘Okay.’
Over the next fifteen minutes, between mouthfuls of curry and gulps of beer, I told Andy everything. All the things Emma and I had struggled to believe ourselves but had realised had no other explanation than the one we had finally settled on. ‘Plus she told me the carving looked old, like it had been there a long time,’ I finished.
Andy wiped the last smear of sauce from his plate with a piece of naan and chewed it slowly. I waited for him to say something.
‘So,’ he said, swallowing and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. He threw it on the table and looked at me. His eyes were serious. ‘These books.’
I glanced down at the library books, whose existence I’d forgotten about until then.
‘What about them?’
‘Do you believe they hold the answer?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really. I just didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Because the situation is impossible?’
Anger flared through me again. ‘You still don’t believe me.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
I looked up, surprised. ‘What then?’
Andy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Honestly? I have no idea. But I do know that you obviously do believe this, and I agree there does seem to be something strange going on here.’
‘So you don’t think I’ve gone mad?’
