I follow her into the kitchen and watch as she reaches up into the cupboard, selects one of my vases and fills it with water. ‘There,’ she says, as she arranges the flowers. She carries them over to the kitchen table. ‘Sunflowers always cheer me up.’
‘Me too.’ I smile at her. ‘Thanks, Jo.’
I make us both a cup of tea. Phoenix is lying in the shade of the kitchen table, his head between his paws. It’s still early so the patio is in shade. But when Jo suggests we sit outside I shake my head. ‘I can’t trust that they won’t be listening,’ I say, indicating the Morgans’ house. ‘And there’s so much I need to tell you.’
Jo grimaces and takes a seat at the table, careful not to disrupt Phoenix as she moves her chair. She puts down her mug and angles her body so that she’s facing me. She’s wearing a voluminous fuchsia sundress today. She gathers the fabric between her knees and fans herself with her hand. ‘God, I tell you, this heat coupled with my hot flushes isn’t a great combo.’
I pull out the chair next to her and fill her in on the latest.
‘Lena! You promised you wouldn’t let yourself into their house again,’ she hisses. ‘You could have been hurt.’
‘Marielle told me her daughter-in-law, Heidi, worked at the library, but another employee there hadn’t heard of her. Someone Marielle used to teach. It’s weird, though, as I think she’s tried to pass off this woman as her daughter-in-law. Marielle’s got a baby doll that I’m sure she pushes around in a pram and is creepy as fuck.’ I throw my hands up. ‘It’s bizarre. And don’t even get me started on all the other stuff!’
‘Itisweird, you’re right, but I’m worried about you getting involved.’ She reaches for my hand. ‘I don’t want anything bad happening to you. If you’d got caught in the Morgans’ house by that intruder, I dread to think …’ She grimaces. ‘You shouldn’t feel responsible just because you overheard part of a conversation between them. You checked the house yourself. They aren’t holding a woman hostage. Or a baby. And, no, before you say it, I’m sure they’re not planning to steal anyone’s baby. Look,’ she lowers her voice, ‘there’s something going on with them, that’s obvious. But, honestly, hon, I’d keep out of it. You nearly lost your job over this. Can you imagine what Susi would say if she knew the rest of it?’ She makes a disbelieving noise and sips her drink, looking at me imploringly over the rim of her mug.
‘You’re right.’ I sigh. ‘I need to let it go. Especially now I know Drew’s sister is safe. I just wish I didn’t feel so …’ I search for the words ‘… at sea. Everything’s changing. My marriage ending. Charlie moving on. Rufus leaving next year. And me … where does this leave me? I’ve got no real job prospects. I’m only forty-four. I’ve got at least twenty years of working life ahead of me and I’m not qualified for anything.’ I try to stem my panic. ‘I’ve become too invested in this because … well, because …’I’m lonely!I want to shout. But it sticks in my throat.
‘Because you’ve got too much time on your hands?’
‘Well, yes. I thought I’d rectified that with moving to full-time, but now I’ve even messed that up!’
‘Don’t be disheartened. Maybe find something else to fill the gaps. Or another full-time job. You can do anything you want to, you know that, right?’ Jo has always been my biggest champion, and I want to hug her. We’ve always said we’re the sisters we never had, me an only child and Jo with three younger brothers.
‘I’m sorry Paul hasn’t put the camera up yet,’ she says again. ‘He’s been so busy at work. But have you noticed if the gate was unlocked again?’
I picture the man riffling through the Morgans’ drawers on Friday night and shake my head. Had it been the same man who had been in my garden the evening I overheard the Morgans’ conversation? ‘No. The gate’s remained locked, thank God.’
‘It’s not your problem, remember?’ She throws me a stern look.
I nod silently, remembering my vow to myself that I’d leave well alone, even though I already know that I won’t be able to stick to it.
When Jo’s gone I reach for my phone and scroll to the photos I’d taken of the newspaper clippings the first time I was in the Morgans’ house. I study them again. I’d only managed to take three, one of which is blurry.
I zoom in on the partial headlines:
BABY FOUND ON HOS …
… ORGANS FOR RESEARCH AT …
DRUGS LORD FOUND DEAD IN …
BRIGHT SPARKS WIN NATIONAL AWARD
What does this wall mean? As far as I could make out, the cuttings looked totally random.
It’s only lunchtime and Rufus won’t be home until four so I turn on my laptop. The headline about a baby being found interests me but the accompanying story is impossible to make out because it’s partly hidden by another article. I google ‘BABY FOUND’ anyway but too many entries pop up. I narrow it down to ‘BABY FOUND ON HOSPITAL’, assuming that’s what the last word is, but again hundreds of entries flood my screen. It’s difficult to refine the search when I don’t know what I’m looking for and I can’t ascertain anything from the actual article. I try the next one and get a similar outcome. When I reach the article about the BRIGHT SPARKS I can just make out the name of the local newspaper it came from, theSalisbury Journal. Again, the article below the headline is partly obscured so it’s hard to read the story, and it looks like there’s also a black-and-white photo, again partially obscured. I log on to theSalisbury Journalwebsite and search for the BRIGHT SPARKS article instead. It immediately pops up onscreen and I scan the piece, puzzled. It’s anodyne, about an electrical company in Salisbury that has won some industry award. Why would the Morgans have this? I scroll down and, at the bottom of the page, there is the same photograph, but this time in colour. It shows a group of electricians, all standing awkwardly, some smiling, some with their thumbs up, and a man inthe middle holding aloft a glass trophy.
And then my attention is caught by a woman standing next to the trophy-wielding man. There’s something about the way she’s standing, the tilt of her head, the firm stance, that I instantly recognize.
Simone Harvey.
A rush of blood floods my face.
It can’t be her, can it?
The hair is different and she’s twenty-odd years older, but … there’s a strong resemblance. There are no names under the photograph.
Simone Harvey. What are the chances that this could be her?
