He stands up. He’s wearing denim cut-off shorts and a white T-shirt that brings out his tan. His dark wavy hair is pushed back by sunglasses and there are no signs of the piercings he used to have. He looks like a sporty middle-aged dad. ‘Lena? Oh, my God, long time no see.’ We share an awkward moment when we’re not sure how to greet each other. He shakes my hand and we laugh at theformality before he pulls me into a hug. I breathe in his scent of musky aftershave, soap and shampoo, as I hug him back. He’s a lot taller than I remember, and obviously a lot older, but there is still that same twinkle in his dark eyes. We break apart and sit opposite each other. Straight away a waitress comes over to take my order.
‘Thanks for meeting me,’ he says, when the waitress has gone. ‘I didn’t want to have to explain it all over the phone and thought it would be better face to face.’ He sighs, surveying me, and I immediately feel shy under his scrutiny, knowing that every moment of the last twenty-five years since we’ve seen each other is evident on my face. ‘God, isn’t it mad it’s been so long? Where has the time gone?’ He hesitates. ‘I’m sorry you got caught up in it all, Lena.’ His face flushes. ‘And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you told me what you suspected.’
‘It was a long time ago …’
‘I know. But I’m not proud of my behaviour and how we ended. I wanted to pick up the phone so many times. Stupid male pride. I’m sorry about what my sister did too.’
The waitress comes back with my iced latte and I take a gulp. My mouth has gone dry.
He narrows his eyes. ‘Did you hear about Hugh Warrington?’
‘Only that he went to prison. He didn’t serve that long in the end, did he?’
‘Three years, I think. But, no, not that. He died.’ He sips his drink as I let the information sink in. ‘Suicide. Last July. He was found in his bed surrounded by pills. Ironic, really.’
Horror inches up my throat. ‘Oh, God. I didn’t know that.’
‘Good riddance, I say. I’ll never forgive him for dragging Simone into it all.’
The long-buried anxiety from that time resurfaces and I swallow painfully. ‘You said you think Simone is missing.’
He casts his eyes to the trail of granulated sugar on the oilcloth and begins dabbing at it. ‘Yes. Nobody’s heard from her.’
I’m reminded of Drew and his sister. ‘Could she have just run off somewhere? You know what she’s like. You used to call her a lone wolf.’
He scratches his stubble thoughtfully. ‘That’s what we thought at first. After the court case Simone left nursing. We tried to support her as best we could. The hospital left her job open – she wasn’t sacked. And, as you know, she was found not guilty, not enough proof that she was involved, apparently. I think she got lucky with her defence lawyer. Dad paid for the best. Anyway, after the court case she got in with a bad crowd, typical Simone.’
I remember how defensive he was when I first told him my suspicions about what Simone was up to. We’d ended almost a year before the court case. Months before she was even charged.
‘Drugs. Again.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘You know Simone. She’s impatient. I guess she got bored waiting for whatever new career she’d decided on to take off.’
‘She was always such a hard worker,’ I say.
He nods in agreement. ‘But she loves money and she felt she never earned enough. She wasn’t particularlyacademic at school – wasn’t great with numbers, found science hard. She felt a high-earning career was out of reach for her and so, I suppose, she was always finding ways to supplement her income.’
‘You’d think after everything that happened at St Calvert’s she’d have learnt her lesson,’ I mutter.
‘True.’ He shakes his head. ‘It gets worse. About eight years ago she got involved with this county-lines drugs gang and went on the run when they threatened her.’
‘And you haven’t seen her since then?’
‘Well, I have, on and off and in secret. Our mum died about twenty-odd years ago now, but Simone kept in touch with me and our dad, so we knew she was safe. She was happy, she said. I think she’d faced up to her mistakes at last and was trying to turn over a new leaf. And then her communication stopped. I tracked her down to here …’ He throws his arms wide. ‘She’d been living in Salisbury for the last few years. I even found out she’d been renting a flat over a kebab shop. I spoke to her landlord, who said she’d just vanished.’
I remember the keyring I’d brought with me to show Oliver. I reach into my bag for it and slide it across the table. ‘Do you recognize this?’
He picks up the key and lightly touches the faded pink teddy bear, his brown eyes glistening. ‘This is Simone’s. My mum made them. I’ve got one too. A blue one.’ He looks up at me. ‘Where did you get it?’
My chest constricts. ‘My next-door neighbours’ garden. Do you know a Henry and Marielle Morgan?’
He shakes his head, his expression full of confusion and concern. He continues to stroke the teddy bear, hiseyes not leaving mine. ‘Why would your neighbours have Simone’s key?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to figure out. The landlord told you about Simone vanishing. When was it? Two weeks ago?’ I ask, thinking of the Morgans and the plan I overheard them talking about.
He swallows. ‘No. It was last August.’
46
LENA
