‘Um …’ I can feel heat flooding my face. ‘Not much, really.’
Marielle’s voice breaks into my memory.
You promised me you’d take her. I’ve got everything ready. The room …
And then Henry saying,I know … but … after what happened before … should we really try again?
I remember the night in my living room with Jo and all the crazy theories we discussed. Kidnap had been one, of course, but neither of us really believed it. It was just light-hearted chat. Could there have been some truth behind it? No. It’s ridiculous. I’m putting two and two together and making five, just because of my conversation with Drewand seeing him with Henry. His sister sounds flighty, that’s all, and Henry worked with her.
It’s not going to go away. And I’m not going to forget about it. This has to happen as we planned. It’s the only way.
It’s too risky … we could get caught …
Their voices crowd my mind. Have I dismissed their conversation too quickly because they seemed nice and polite and respectable? Am I no different from my mother?
My thoughts bounce, back and forth, back and forth. I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never been very good at trusting my own judgement. I wish I’d listened to my instinct over what I suspected Simone was up to, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it at first because I liked her. Because she was fun and pretty and respectable. And the same for the doctor who was part of the scandal. I’d always trusted doctors implicitly, so my foundations were shaken. I wanted to believe they were innocent so I said nothing. I regret it now and I can’t let it happen again.
I concentrate on blocking my ping-ponging thoughts. ‘I’m so sorry, Drew. I really am. I wish there was something I could do to help.’
He smiles sadly. ‘Thank you, Lena. You’ve always been so kind to me. Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
I shake my head. ‘Sadly not. I’d have loved siblings, but my parents split up when I was nine and neither married again. My dad has passed away now and my mum has a boyfriend, but she only met him a few years ago.’
‘And do you like him? This boyfriend?’
I picture Mick, with his tufty hair, his big, bulbous nose and his love of hiking and rare birds. He’s never had children of his own but has a menagerie on his smallholding:pigs, goats, chickens and dogs. When she comes to stay, he always remains behind to ‘look after the animals’ and has never shown much interest in getting to know me or Rufus. When we’ve gone to visit Mum in Rye, he’ll pop in and have a cup of tea before swiftly heading back to his own place. Mum says he prefers the company of animals to people, but he seems fond of her, at least. ‘He makes my mum happy so that’s good enough for me.’ I stand up and dust down my dress. ‘Well, I’d better get Phoenix home. It’s too hot for him to be out this long.’
He nods, but doesn’t move from his chair.
Drew looks so lost, sitting there, so forlorn, that my heart goes out to him. I sit down again. ‘Here, take my phone number. Call me if you think of anything else that might help.’
He looks a bit taken aback and then he smiles. ‘Thanks, Lena. That’s really kind.’ We exchange numbers and I get up to leave. I say goodbye, clip the lead to Phoenix’s collar and head out of the park.
On the walk home it strikes me that Henry could have spoken to Drew over the phone. A courteous but brief call to say Sarah-Jane used to work for him, but he hasn’t seen her in years. Instead he made the effort to meet him and sat there talking to Drew for fifteen minutes. Why?
15
I slow down as I pass the Morgans’ immaculate house, with its shiny yellow front door, brass knocker and the freshly pruned window-boxes. It has taken me twenty minutes to walk back from the park and, as I retraced my steps down Gloucester Road, I saw that Marielle was still with Heidi at one of Collette’s wooden tables. I glance up at the blank opaque windows as I pass, wondering what secrets lurk inside the house.
I continue on to my own front door and let myself in. I head straight for the kitchen and open the patio doors to let in some air. It’s nearly six but Rufus still isn’t home. Phoenix darts past me and into the garden. Straight away he scampers towards the hedge that separates my house from the Morgans’. I don’t think much of it at first. Phoenix has never escaped from the garden despite the gap in the hedge that Rufus used to slide through so he could play with Joan’s grandson when he visited. But today I’m shocked when I see Phoenix disappearing through it.
I get down on my hands and knees to poke my head through. And, yes, there’s Phoenix, as bold as brass, standing on the Morgans’ lawn, his head tilted. He has something in his mouth.
‘Phoenix,’ I hiss. ‘Naughty dog.’
He continues to stare at me before dropping whatever was in his mouth onto the Morgans’ immaculate lawn. It glints in the sunshine.
‘Phoenix.’ I crawl through the gap. ‘Come here. Come here, boy.’
But Phoenix picks up the object with his mouth again and trots over to the Morgans’ patio with it. For goodness’ sake. What the hell has he found? He settles down, puts whatever it is between his paws and starts chewing it. I crawl through the gap. I have no other choice, I reason. The Morgans won’t be impressed to find my dog in their garden.
I stand up, dusting the dry soil from my knees. The lawn has a slight slope down to their huge glass extension and from here I can see right into their beautiful hand-painted kitchen. An illicit thrill of being somewhere I shouldn’t runs through me but it’s quickly replaced by fear of getting caught. I dash over to Phoenix, who thinks this is a game, leaps to his feet and away from me. We have a cat-and-mouse chase across the lawn as I get more and more frustrated. ‘Drop it. Drop it, boy,’ I say, as he backs into a corner with the object in his mouth. It looks small, like a toy mouse with a charm dangling from it. But as I get closer I see that it’s a key with a keyring attached – some kind of knitted pink thing. Phoenix drops it and I grab it before he can pick it up again. It’s wet with his saliva and covered in bits of soil. On closer inspection I can see it’s a small pink bear, its foot now slightly chewed, thanks to my dog. Something about it tugs at the edges of my memorybut I can’t place where I’ve seen it before. What was it doing in the hedge? I slip it into the pocket of my dress. The Morgans might have dropped it, or it could have been one of the developers, or even one of Joan’s daughters. Who knows how long it’s been there? I grab Phoenix’s collar and encourage him back through the gap in the hedge. I’m going to have to get that filled in somehow. Now he’s discovered it I’m sure he’ll want to go through it again.
When I’m back in my garden, dusting soil from my knees, I spot Rufus by the sink in the kitchen. A guy is sitting at the table drinking a glass of water. I squint as I get closer. He looks early to mid-twenties and has foppish blond hair and a chiselled jaw. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and has leather laces wrapped around one of his tanned wrists. He wouldn’t look out of place in a 1990s boy band.
‘Hi, Mum,’ says Rufus, leaning back against the worktop. ‘This is Kit.’
Kit?
