“I just am.”
“How about we make a deal, then? We agree on a deadline. We give Corinne twenty-four hours. I’d even stretch to forty-eight. If she’s sorted something we all agree to by then, fine. If not, we go home and do what normal people do: fight to prove Champ’s innocence, through the proper channels.”
“Absolutely,” said Mum. “Agreed.”
“Thank you. Thank God.” Dad was satisfied, finally. He evensuggested they go back to the room and join in the watching of whatever horror movie Ree and Tobes had chosen. Mum told him she was too tired and needed to sleep, though she was afraid her guilt would keep her awake.
She had flat-out lied, of course. If Corinne’s plan turned out not to be the miracle they were all hoping for, then Mum would make a new one herself. She wouldn’t be going back to Swaffham Tilney in twenty-four hours, or forty-eight. Dad wasn’t yet ready to face facts, but Mum had come to terms with the truth. She knew that she and Champ might never be able to go home.
Just as she was falling asleep, her phone pinged again and she reached blindly for it in the dark, patting the floor beside her bed. Seeing that it was Auntie Vicky again, she decided she was now way too tired for whatever it was.Not now, sorry,she thought, and switched off her phone.
I could have read Auntie Vicky’s message even though Mum hadn’t opened it, but I didn’t. Back then I was biased in favor of thoughts and speech. Perhaps I fell for Tobes’s propaganda about anything involving the written word being “long” (as in “tedious, not worth bothering with”). I won’t make that mistake again, believe you me. From now on, I’ll be checking out all written, typed, or mailed communications as soon as they land. You don’t have to answer immediately or even at all if you don’t want to, but for goodness’ sake, get the information as soon as you can. If only I’d been as wise then as I am now, so much heartache could have been avoided.
27
Wednesday 19 June 2024
Sally
Something is rocking: gently at first, then harder. It’s Sally herself; she is rocking back and forth, and she’s not the one making it happen. Is she on a boat? No, she’s at West Acres Boarding Kennels in Norfolk. This is wrong, then.
She opens her eyes, blinks, then screams. There’s a man standing in the doorway, arms folded. Longish hair—nearly shoulder-length. He’s wearing a creased, grubby white T-shirt, red-and-black-checked pajama bottoms, and a black necklace that looks like a very skinny car tire. The hall light is on outside the room. The person shaking Sally is Corinne, in a long navy silk nightshirt, her normally sleek blond hair falling over her eyes.
She tries to speak, but Sally can’t hear her over the noise Champ is making. He leaped out of his Donut bed and started to bark, presumably when intruders burst into their room.
“Who’s the man?” Sally asks Corinne.
“My son, Niall. Can you shut Champ up? The quieter we are, the better.”
“What the fuck’s going on?” says Mark. “Why’s there a bloke in here?”
Ree and Tobes are fast asleep still. Corinne nods in their direction and says to Mark, “Wake them up. We need to go. Now.”
“What?What time is it? I’m not going anywhere in the middle of the night. I’m sick of—”
“Fine, stay,” Corinne tells him. “Sally, you and Champ need to come now. I’ll explain on the way.”
In the end, they all go, Mark too, though he complains all the way. Ree and Tobes are groggy, as if anesthetized, but they all arrive, with their possessions, at Corinne’s Range Rover quicker than they’d have believed possible.
Corinne hugs her son, who hasn’t uttered a word, then gets into the car and drives away. Sally sees tear streaks on Niall Sullivan’s face, illuminated by moonlight, as they do a swing turn and head out of West Acres’ courtyard.
Sally looks at the clock on the dashboard: 3:45.Bloody hell.Adrenaline races around her body. “Tell me,” she says.
“I’m so, so sorry.” Corinne sounds more sad than scared, and Sally can’t work out if that’s good or bad. “Believe me, if there’d been a choice—”
“I’m not happy, Corinne,” Mark tells her. “I’m in a car in my pajamas when I should be asleep inmybed, inmyhouse, withmycar outside—”
“Shut up, Dad,” says Ree. “Corinne, what’s happened? Where are we going?”
“Jill is what’s happened. My darling daughter-in-law.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. “Niall woke me up half an hour ago to tell me she’d betrayed him—and, by extension, all of us. She’s been blabbing on Facebook to her friends, told them Champ Lambert was at West Acres right now.”
“Oh my God,” Sally whispers. It didn’t occur to her to worry about Jill. Jill has a dog of her own whom she loves: Yoyo.
“Niall wants nothing to do with her after this,” Corinne says. “That’s their happy marriage over.”
“Oh, come on,” says Mark. “I doubt it.”
“Having qualms is one thing, but telling people? That’s unforgivable. Niall made it very clear how important it was to keep it to herself. She’s got five-hundred-odd friends on Facebook. Suddenly they all know where Champ is. Was,” Corinne corrects herself. “Soon we’ll be safe again. Don’t worry, Sal. Damn! I can’t believe a son of mine was dumb enough to marry that trash.”
