She shrugs.
‘I know my family, Martin. Masters of the cover-up.’
I wince.
‘But there are some things even they can’t hide.’
‘Such as?’ I ask.
‘Such as police records.’
Her voice drops. An edge of electricity to her, a tight, strumming vibration. She is angry. As angry as I might seem if I allowed my feelings to surface. It comes to me then. This is what I recognised in her. Fury.
‘Look, I’ve been waiting to talk to you all day and now we don’t have long,’ she says. ‘I think you might be the only person I know—’
‘You don’t—’
I’m about to say she doesn’t know me at all, but she grabs my wrist.
‘I know enough. From what I’ve read. Or been told. From how my father acts around you. I know you see the truth of them, of what they do to people. And that’s why I need to give you this.’
Releasing my wrist, she takes a scrap of paper from the inside cover ofThe Communist Manifestoand hands it to me. On it is a handwritten email address, what looks like a password and then something else.
‘What does this say?’
‘Drafts,’ Cosima says. ‘You have to log in to this email, use this password and then look in the drafts folder. Everything you need to see is in there.’
Footsteps in the corridor and then Serena’s voice rising in a swoop, getting closer to the kitchen door. I slip the paper into my jacket pocket.
‘What’s it about?’
‘Fliss,’ she says. And then, quick as a cat, Cosima curls back into herself on the sofa, opening her book. I stand and move to the sink, where I turn on the tap with deliberate calm and start filling my glass.
The kitchen door opens. The expensive scent of jasmine and cedarwood sweeps in, followed by Serena.
‘Martin,’ Serena says. ‘There you are. God, I’m so sorry about Bitsy.’
‘Please, don’t give it a second thought.’
Serena frowns.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
I rest my hand on her arm.
‘Just needed a moment,’ I say, with what I hope is a charming smile – the insouciant kind that Ben does so well. Serena’s shoulders relax.
‘Good. Well if you’re sure.’
‘Perfectly.’
We walk back down the corridor, towards the others. I tell myself I’ll stay for one more drink with the insufferable Jarvises until I can make my excuses and retire to bed.
I will return to my room and I’ll finally be able to get out of this suit. I will open my laptop, follow the instructions on the scrap of paper and log in to the email account. I will click on the file in the drafts folder.
Then, I will read all about what happened to Fliss.
Part Two
