I take a deep breath and reach for my inhaler, patting my pockets, but I must have left it downstairs. I open the window instead, letting in some of the damp air. A sudden gust blows the curtain away from the windowsill and I hurriedly close it again. But a page of A4 has fluttered to the carpet. Adrian will be cross if I mess up his manuscript – if that’s what it is. I rush over to the page and pick it up. When I read what he’s written a feeling of dread creeps slowly around my insides, turning them to ice. Frantically I rummage through the other pages. There’re about twenty altogether. I was expecting to see part of his novel, sentences and scenes that mean nothing to me. Instead there’s just one word typed over and over and over again. Line after line of it filling the page and filling my head.
Selena.
32
I stare at the pages in front of me, confusion and shock tussling for supremacy, and my hand starts to tremble. I think of Adrian, hunched over his laptop, punching away at the keys. I thought he was up here creating something, an outlet for his mind after all the turmoil of his illness. But he wasn’t. Instead he was thinking of Selena. Why? A thought so awful enters my head that I try to bat it away but it refuses to budge. It’s like when Nathan and I used to dare each other to say ‘Candyman’ from that horror movie, in front of the mirror. I was too scared to voice it, terrified it would unleash an evil spirit like in the film, but I couldn’t stop the word going round and round inside my head, like numbers in a lottery ball spinner. Is that what it’s been like for Adrian, his infatuation with Selena making him unable to think of anything else? So that in despair he was forced to write her name over and over again?
I think of the times when I’d come up here and seen Selena standing by his desk.
Where is Adrian now? I frantically scan the room as if expecting him to materialize in front of me. I shove the papers back on to the desk. They’re all messed up now, no longer in a neat pile. I dart across the landing to Evie’s room. She and Ruby are playing with the Sylvanian Family on the carpet. The china doll sits on the mantelpiece, staring at me with its one glassy eye.
‘Evie, honey, have you seen Daddy?’ I try to keep the panic out of my voice.
Both little heads turn towards me, each girl with a fox character in her hands. ‘No,’ says Evie, turning back to her game.
‘Call me if you need me to help Ruby down the stairs. Don’t try and walk down on your own, okay?’ I say to her.
‘Yes,’ they chorus, but I’m not sure they heard.
I dart around the house, like a superhero in a cartoon. I never knew I could run so fast. The house seems empty. There’s no sign of Nathan, Julia or Mum. I’m grabbing my mobile from the charger in the kitchen to ring Adrian when I notice I have a missed call and a voicemail. It’s from Sian. I ring back without listening to the message, hoping everything is okay.
‘Sian?’
‘Kirsty. Hi. Is Amelia okay?’
I feel a white-hot panic. ‘Amelia? What do you mean? She’s with you?’ The phone crackles and I move to the front of the house where there’s better reception, my legs weak.
‘Adrian just came to pick her up. I left you a voicemail. She’s not feeling well and wanted to go home.’
‘How long ago?’
‘About ten minutes. I left a message for you and then I tried Adrian’s phone. You’re both on the school contact list.’
Ten minutes. I instantly feel guilty that I missed Sian’s call. I should have had my mobile on me. I normally do. ‘Thank you. Sorry. I’ll … We must arrange that coffee soon.’
‘Definitely. I hope Amelia’s okay.’
I abort the call, puzzled. Amelia was looking forward to seeing Orla. It’s not like her to want to come home. Straight away I ring Adrian’s mobile. Orla lives a few streets away: they should be home by now.
I think of the pile of papers upstairs with Selena’s name on it. Is Adrian heading for another breakdown? Evie’s words come back to haunt me. Should they be scared of him? They both think he’s possessed. And then the memory of another time, before his attempted suicide, hits me. I begin to shake. It can’t be happening again. Can it? He’s better now …
I begin pacing, my phone in my hand. I ring Adrian’s number again. And again. And again. And again. Eventually, when he still fails to pick up, I throw the phone on to the sofa in frustration.Where the fuck is he?
Oh, God. Something’s happened to them. I just know it. I clutch at my throat, rushing to the window every time I hear a car. Where has he taken her? And then I realize. Our car is on the driveway. Did Adrian walk over to pick her up? My face is hot with panic. I can’t concentrate on anything else, my eyes trained on the window. Eventually – and it can’t be more than five minutes later – Adrian rounds the corner, holding Amelia’s hand, and she’s chatting away to him animatedly. The relief is immense. It floods my body, relaxing me instantly as though I’ve been given a sedative.
‘Thank God!’ I cry, when I open the door. Adrian’s face darkens, his expression guarded. I run to Amelia and hug her. Her face is cold. She stands there, arms at her side, while I cuddle her to me. ‘I’ve been so worried.’
‘She’s just got a bit of a tummy-ache,’ says Adrian, clearly puzzled. ‘No need to overreact.’
‘Why didn’t you take the car?’
‘I was out on a run when I got the call so I just headed straight for Sian’s house.’ I can see that he’s wearing his running gear.
Amelia pulls away from me. ‘I’m going to lie down for a bit,’ she says.
‘Amelia? Honey? What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she says, stomping up the stairs.
