It was Bonfire Night that got me out of the slump. Sitting on the back of the sofa with Aaron and pulling open the curtains and watching the sky explode into all those different colours. It wasweird Granddad not being there, but it also reminded me that life goes on, as mundane as that sounds, life just goes on; fireworks still pop, people still watch in wide-eyed wonder, children still hold sparklers, foxes still skulk through urban blackness looking for chicken bones.
I put on my Puffa coat and I told Aaron I was going to get lemonade from the shop downstairs. Instead I bought a packet of Fridge Raiders and headed up towards Hampstead, through the leafy avenues where the fireworks exploded privately in people’s back gardens, smudges of glitter just visible above ancient trees. On the corner of Roan’s road, I sneaked through the same gap I’d seen Josh using to access the empty plot. It wasn’t cold and I took off my Puffa and used it as a blanket.
I opened the packet of Fridge Raiders and sat it on the damp gravel next to me, hoping that the smell would wend its way across the open space. I switched on my phone and messaged Aaron.I’m going over Jasmin’s place. See u laters.
He replied,Everything OK?
I started to type my response and then I stopped at the sound of rustling behind me. It was him; it was the fox. I rested my phone on my lap and held my breath. I could hear his little paws, pad-padding across the gravel, closer and closer to me. I put my hand inside the Fridge Raiders packet and pulled out a nugget of whatever in hell that stuff actually is, held it between my forefinger and thumb, just out by my side. I still didn’t turn and look. I could hear the fox’s breathing, an anxious, active sound. I felt him stop and I could tell he was inches away from me. And then I felt the warmth of his breath against the skin of my hand. Idropped the meat and heard him snaffle it up. But he didn’t move. So I pushed the bag forward a few inches to see if he’d follow it. And then there he was, standing by my side, looking down at the bag expectantly, like a pet dog.
‘Want another one?’ I said.
He didn’t look at me, just stared intently at the bag, his little gingerbread eyes totally fixed on the spot. ‘OK then,’ I said, taking one out. ‘Here you go.’
A huge firework exploded overhead and for a moment the fox looked like he was going to scamper away. But he held his ground and his snout appeared in my peripheral vision and then there he was, taking the snack from between my fingers. I inhaled so hard I heard my own breath catch.
And here I was, I realised, back in the same place I’d found myself that time at Lexie’s animal party, when the guy gave me the owl called Harry. All the black inside me turned silver and gold. I felt the punch of a connection with the ground, the sky, the trees, the air, so strong that it almost winded me. Butterflies whipped through my stomach. I stifled a giggle and covered my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked up into the gunpowder-stained night sky and I searched with my eyes until I found a star, muted and grubby, but there, and I clasped my hands together in a prayer and said, ‘I love you, Granddad. I love you, Grandma. I love you, Mum.’
I picked up my phone and replied to Aaron’s message.
I’m all good!with a smiley face emoji.
And still the fox stood by my side.
I passed him more snacks and laughed out loud.
I thought, Ha, see, Roan Fours, I didn’t need you, after all. I only needed nature. I only needed owls and foxes and stars and fireworks.
I was fixed.
Or so I thought.
29
The police cordon is still stretched across Cate’s street the next day. The helicopters are back. But there’s nothing on the news. Clearly they haven’t found anything yet. Clearly there’s no body in there. If there was, Cate thinks, surely they’d have found it by now?
Roan is eating a bowl of cereal, standing up. He’s making annoying eating noises, scarfing it down for some reason as though he’s late for something.
‘Are you in a hurry?’ asks Cate.
‘Yeah, a bit. I want to be at work early.’
‘You went in early yesterday.’
‘Yes. Lots on. Two other clinicians on holiday – you know, half-term. Need to catch up with myself.’
‘You could do that here,’ she says, gesturing at the kitchen table.
‘This is your zone,’ he says.
‘Not at seven in the morning it’s not. I’m about to have a shower and get ready, why don’t you stay here a while and catch up?’
He scrapes the bowl for the last spoonful of cereal and swallows it down. ‘I need to be at work,’ he says, taking the bowl to the sink. ‘I need access to things there. Why are you so keen to keep me here?’
She shrugs. ‘All this, I suppose.’ She points upwards in the direction of the helicopters. ‘And that.’ She points towards the front of the house. ‘It’s unsettling. I mean, if something did happen to that girl, right here, right over the road, then maybe it’s not safe. I mean, do you think we should be thinking about keeping Georgia in at the moment?’
Roan stops, his back curved over the sink. He sighs, then turns. ‘Maybe ask the police about that? See what they say.’
She nods. ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘maybe.’
