She won’t look at me. She’s sniffing as she cries now, which isn’t so enchanting as the hiccups. Her sniffs are so loud and replete with what I take to be self-pity that they almost sound like snorts. It’s unattractive and it annoys me because she’s not the only one suffering here. But I make another effort.
“It’s a good thing I remember all your old hiding places,” I say. “Or I wouldn’t have found you on the railway line. What would Mum say if she got home, and I’d lost you?”
“I’m seventeen,” she says, her voice almost as steely as her mother’s can be, though I detect a little shake in it. “I don’t get lost. Why are you being like this?”
“I’m only looking out for you and I’ve said I’m sorry.”
“You can go now,” she says.
“It’s polite to acknowledge an apology.”
She says nothing.
“I was going to leave you earlier, but I certainly don’t feel comfortable doing it now. What if you run off again? No, I shouldn’t go until your mum gets here.” And when Edie doesn’t arrive, Imogen will beg me to stay.
“Go away!”
My focus loosens at the periphery of my vision in my left eye and my hands feel twitchy, loaded with violence. If I’d spoken tomy dad like that, I would have got a slap, at the very least. But I won’t be like him. I take deep breaths.
Looking at my daughter, I understand that I need to back off for now and leave her alone for a while. If I don’t, she’ll become too afraid of me. She’s bright and vulnerable and today hasn’t gone how I wanted it to, but it is salvageable if I can appear to give her what she wants. But I need her to let me do one thing for her before I go. We can’t leave each other with bad feelings unresolved.
“I tell you what,” I say. “I still really want to make you that hot chocolate, you know, the one I was making when you ran away, and if you’ll let me this time, I’ll leave you alone for a while when it’s done because I need to pop home. But I’ll come back later to cook supper for you and Mum. Does that sound good?”
I see a wary flicker of hope in her eye. I’m encouraged.
“Okay,” she says. “But I don’t need a hot chocolate. A glass of water’s fine.”
“I’ll make it.”
“I—”
I cut her off. “I’d like to.” My voice, unfortunately, comes out a little too loud and perhaps too harshly. But this is important.
She nods. “Okay,” she says.
“It’ll be nice.”
“Great!” she says, though the word sounds hollowed out. But her cheeks twitch, eking her mouth up into an echo of a smile. That’s better! She’s trying now. If we both try, everything will be fine.
I make the drink. There’s just enough milk left after the disaster with my earlier attempt. I’ll have to go shopping and bring some more back with me later.
I watch her have her first sip. The drug will take effect soon. It’s a slightly smaller dose than before. I just want her too dozy to leave the house, not necessarily unconscious for hours because when the DNA results arrive, I’m going to present them to her just the wayI planned originally, and we’ll have a version of that beautiful moment together after all.
She takes another small sip.
“I’ll see you later, then,” I say. “I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
I have keys to Edie’s house. We all do.
Ruth sits in the farmhouse front room. It’s simply furnished. A cat naps on a sofa upholstered in red. She and Jayne and Toby are going to leave as soon as she feels ready.
She has sobered up and her hangover is crushing. Trying to process everything that’s happened is beyond her just now. She feels numb.
Toby looks at the letter.
“I don’t know what to say,” he says. “I’m speechless. I can’t believe Edie would do a thing like this. It really is a bit much.”
“A bit much?” The phrase infuriates Jayne. “Don’t make excuses for her. It’s unforgivable. Emily is injured and Ruth—” Her voice tails off. She’s not sure how much of last night Ruth will want Toby to know about. They haven’t given him all the details yet.
