‘Ah, yes. Don’t want to be late for abseiling tomorrow morning.’
Lissa makes a spluttering noise that is definitely not attractive. ‘Abseiling?’
‘At the Cheddar Gorge caves,’ Ash says with a nod. ‘Never done it before and I’ve got time before my flight, so I thought, why not?’
Lissa can think of plenty of reasons why not, but decides not to voice them right now. Ash drains the rest of his pint, then sets it down and gets to his feet. He smiles. ‘It was nice to meet you – again – Lissa. Now I know whose life I saved that day, it’ll stop the sleepless nights, wondering what happened to her, whether my heroic gesture was all in vain.’
She snorts out a laugh before straightening her face. ‘Now you know,’ she agrees. ‘Consider this damsel no longer in distress – all thanks to you.’
He gives her a wry look. ‘You didn’t seem very damsel-like when you were yelling at me.’
‘Let me know when you’re visiting again, yeah?’ Mark says, perhaps a bit louder than necessary.
‘Sure.’ Ash winks. ‘You two kids have fun.’ And with that, he turns, taller and more broad-shouldered than he seemed sitting down, and strides towards the exit.
‘So,’ Mark says, and Lissa pulls her attention back to him. He takes her hand, links her fingers with his. ‘Tell me about your day.’
Oh good. Her favourite question.
Chapter Five
Around her, the world is dark and cold. Water pushes in on her, her eyes sting as she tries to open them. Her arms and legs are frantic, trying to propel her to the surface, only she’s not sure she knows which way that is any more. Her lungs are threatening to explode as she fights that desperate urge to breathe. This is it. She can’t think as panic overwhelms her, even as she hears someone just out of reach, calling her name.
She wakes before the sun does, blinking into a new kind of darkness. Cold sweat dampens her back and her breath comes in short, sharp busts, like she really has just wrenched herself out of a lake. She waits until her breathing settles, until her heart stops beating so loudly against her chest. All this time, since Chloe died, and she still can’t shake the nightmares, can’t stop herself imagining what her sister went through.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, does her best to push the nightmare to the corner of her mind, where it belongs. Then she throws off her duvet and resigns herself to another early-morning start.
*
Lissa tries to ignore the headache that is currently pressing in on her temples as she walks from Frome station towards her dad’s house. It’s a headache born of lack of sleep and staring at her laptop all day while she worked from home, but is made worse, no doubt, by the low-level anxiety she feels whenever she heads out this way. She dodged the last couple of dinner invitations from her dad and stepmum, but was fast running out of excuses when this one rolled around. She thought of inventing a new hobby, but then having to learn all about said new hobby felt like more effort than just saying yes to dinner. Even though she’s pretty sure her dad only invites her round because of some kind of residual familial obligation.
She squares her shoulders as she reaches his house – a beautiful period cottage just outside the town centre. It’s the one he moved to fourteen years ago, just before Elsie, her half-sister, was born. The evening light is drawing in now, casting the nearby fields in an orangey glow, and in the distance she can hear the sound of farm animals. It’s like something out of a bloody fairy tale.
She knocks on the door – an ornate iron knocker. It’s Nicole, her stepmum, who answers. She beams at Lissa and moves in to air-kiss both her cheeks, then gestures her inside. She’s dressed in a chic blouse and slacks, barefoot with toenails painted a bright red. Her long brunette hair is plaited down her back and her deep brown eyes are framed with eyeliner. She is in stark opposition to Lissa’s mum, whose grey hair often doesn’t look brushed, and whose make-up bag consists of a bareMinerals foundation, one peach lipstick and a tube of mascara from the Middle Ages.
‘Come in, come in!’ Nicole says – redundantly, given that she is already shutting the door behind her. Lissa can smell her stepmum’s perfume as well as the scented candles she always has burning around the place. ‘Do you mind?’ Nicole asks, pointing to Lissa’s boots.
‘Oh. Sure.’ She bends down to unzip them.
‘It’s just we’ve had the carpets redone.’
‘Oh, lovely,’ Lissa says as she straightens. ‘Well they look great.’ In fact they look exactly the same as before, from what she can tell – the same slightly impractical cream colour.
Nicole smiles. ‘Thank you. I got a discount through one of the suppliers I work with, and I just thought it’d be a shame to miss the opportunity.’
‘Absolutely,’ Lissa says, nodding as Nicole ushers her through to the kitchen. Nicole is an interior designer, and you can tell. Another contrast with Lissa’s own childhood home – here, everything manages to hold the aesthetic of a period property while still adding a touch of the modern. It’s full of life, with just the right amount of clutter on the shelves, yet not bogged down by the weight of the past. The kitchen was upgraded a few years ago, and is now complete with underfloor heating beneath the large slate tiles, and a breakfast bar where you can sit and chat to whoever is cooking.
‘There she is!’ Her dad’s voice is booming – and just a touch too enthusiastic – as he turns to greet her in the kitchen. Although she supposes that’s better than a touch toounenthusiastic. He moves towards her, abandoning whatever he was stirring at the counter. He looks for a second like he might hug her, but ends up patting her slightly awkwardly on the arm instead.
‘We’re making steak with a peppercorn sauce and a few salads – is that okay?’ Nicole asks, giving Lissa’s dad an easy squeeze on the forearm as she brushes past him.
‘Sounds great,’ Lissa says. She decides not to point out the risks of eating too much red meat.
‘Train okay?’ her dad asks, rocking back on his heels.
‘Yep. All good. I brought some wine.’ She holds up the bottle of rosé to demonstrate.
‘Oh that’s so kind of you.’ Nicole takes the offered bottle. ‘I’ve already got some white chilling in the fridge, so we’ll have a glass of that to start, shall we?’
