ThankyoufordownloadingthisSimon&Schusterebook.GetaFREEebookwhenyoujoinourmailinglist.Plus,getupdatesonnewreleases,deals,recommendedreads,andmorefromSimon&Schuster.Clickbelowtosignupandseetermsandconditions.CLICKHERETOSIGNUPAlreadyasubscriber?Provideyouremailagainsowecanregisterthisebookandsendyoumoreofwhatyouliketoread.Youwillcontinuetoreceiveexclusiveoffersinyourinbox.ThisbookisdedicatedtomydadArachnophobia
Arachnophobia.It’soneofthosewordsthatsoundsasbadasthatwhichitdescribes.Thehardackattheendofthesecondsyllablesuggestiveoftherepulsiveanglesofaspider’slegs;thesoftsweepofthefliketheawfulwaveofnauseathatwashesthroughyourgutatthesuggestionofasuddenmovementacrossawallorfloor;theloudnoatitscenterthesoundofyourbrainscreaming,indisgust,nononono.Tallulahsuffersfromarachnophobia.Tallulahisinthedark.PARTONE
1
JUNE2017
Thebabyisstartingtogrumble.Kimsitsstillinherchairandholdsherbreath.It’stakenherallnighttogethimtosleep.It’sFriday,asultrymidsummernight,andnormallyshe’dbeoutwithfriendsatthistime.Eleveno’clock:she’dbeatthebargettinginthelastroundfortheroad.Buttonightshe’sinjoggersandaT-shirt,herdarkhairtiedupinabun,contactsout,glasseson,andaglassoflukewarmwineonthecoffeetablethatshepouredherselfearlierandhasn’thadachancetodrink.
SheclicksthevolumedownontheTVusingtheremoteandlistensagain.
Thereitis,theveryearlyoutpostsofcrying,akindofdry,ominouschirruping.
Kimhasneverreallylikedbabies.Shelikedherownwellenough,butdidfindtheearlyyearstestingandill-suitedtohersensibilities.Fromthefirstnightthatbothherchildrensleptthroughthenight,Kimhasplacedavery—possiblydisproportionately—highvalueonanunbrokennight.Shehadherkidsyoungandeasilyhadtimeenoughandroominherheartforanotheroneortwo.Butshecouldnotfacetheprospectofsleeplessnightsagain.ForyearsshehasprotectedhersleepvigilantlywiththehelpofeyemasksandearplugsandpillowspraysandhugetubsofmelatoninthatherfriendbringsbackforherfromtheStates.
Andthen,justovertwelvemonthsago,herteenagedaughter,Tallulah,hadababy.AndnowKimisagrandmotherattheageofthirty-nineandthereisacryingbabyinherhouseagain,soon,itfeels,sosoon,afterherownbabiesstoppedcrying.
Forthemostpart,despiteithappeningtenyearsbeforeshewasreadyforit,havingagrandsonhasbeenblessingafterblessing.HisnameisNoahandhehasdarkhairlikeKim,likebothofKim’schildren(Kimonlyreallylikesbabieswithdarkhair;blond-hairedbabiesfreakherout).Noahhaseyesthatoscillatebetweenbrownandamberdependingonthelightandhehassolidlegsandsolidarmswithcircletsoffatatthewrists.He’squicktosmileandlaughandhe’shappytoentertainhimself,sometimesforaslongashalfanhouratatime.KimlooksafterhimwhenTallulahgoestocollegeandsheoccasionallygetsakickofpanicinhergutattherealizationthatshehasnotheardhimmakeanoiseforafewminutes.Sherushestohishighchairortotheswingseatortothecornerofthesofatocheckthatheisstillaliveandfindshimdeepinthoughtwhilstturningthepagesofafabricbook.
Noahisadreamybaby.ButhedoesnotliketosleepandKimfindsthisdarklystressful.
AtthemomentTallulahandNoahliveherewithKim,alongsideZach,Noah’sfather.NoahsleepsbetweentheminTallulah’sdoublebedandKimputsinherearplugsandplayssomewhitenoiseonhersmartphoneandisgenerallysavedfromthenighttimecacophonyofNoah’ssleeplessness.
ButtonightZachhastakenTallulahoutonwhatthey’recallinga“datenight,”whichsoundsstrangelymiddle-agedforapairofnineteen-year-olds.They’vegonetotheverypubthatKimwouldnormallybesittingintonight.SheslippedZachatwenty-poundnoteastheywereleavingandtoldthemtohavefun.It’sthefirsttimethey’vebeenoutasacouplesincebeforeNoahwasborn.TheysplitupwhileTallulahwaspregnantandgotbacktogetheragainaboutsixmonthsagowithZachpledgingtobethebestdadintheworld.And,sofar,he’sbeentruetohisword.
Noah’scryinghaskickedinproperlynowandKimsighsandgetstoherfeet.
Asshedoessoherphonebuzzeswithatextmessage.Sheclicksitandreads.
Mum,there’ssomepplherefromcollege,theyaskedusbacktotheirs.Justforanhourorso.IsthatOK?
Then,asshe’stypingareply,anothermessagefollowsimmediately.
IsNoahOK?
Noahisfine,shetypes.Goodasgold.Goandhavefun.Stayaslongasyoulike.Loveyou.
KimgoesupstairstoNoah’scot,herheartheavywiththeprospectofanotherhourofrockingandsoothingandsighingandwhisperinginthedarkwhilethemoonhangsoutthereinthebalmymidsummersky,whichstillholdspalesmudgesofdaylight,andthehousecreaksemptilyandotherpeoplesitinpubs.Butassheapproacheshim,themoonlightcatchesthecurveofhischeekandsheseeshiseyeslightupatthesightofher,hearshisbreathcatchwithreliefthatsomeonehascome,andseeshisarmsreachuptoher.
Shecollectshimupandplaceshimagainstherchestandsays,“What’sallthefussnow,babyboy,what’sallthefuss?”andherheartsuddenlyexpandsandcontractswiththeknowledgethatthisboyisapartofherandthathelovesher,thatheisnotseekingouthismother,heiscontentforhertocometohiminthedarkofnighttocomforthim.
ShetakesNoahintothelivingroomandsitshimonherlap.Shegiveshimtheremotecontroltoplaywith;helovestopressthebuttons,butKimcantellhe’stootiredtopressbuttons—hewantstosleep.Ashegrowsheavyontopofher,sheknowssheshouldputhimbackintohiscot,goodsleephygiene,goodhabits,allofthat,butnowKimistiredtooandhereyesgrowheavyandshepullsthethrowfromthesofaacrossherlapandadjuststhecushionbehindherheadandsheandNoahfallsilentlyintoapeacefulslumber.
Kimawakessuddenlyseveralhourslater.Thebriefmidsummernightisalmostoverandtheskythroughthelivingroomwindowisshimmeringwiththefirstbladesofhotmorningsun.Shestraightensherneckandfeelsallthemusclesshoutather.Noahisstillheavywithsleepandshegentlyadjustshimsothatshecanreachherphone.It’s4:20inthemorning.
Shefeelsasmallblastofannoyance.SheknowsshetoldTallulahtostayoutaslateasshelikes,butthisismadness.ShebringsupTallulah’snumberandcallsit.ItgoesstraighttovoicemailsoshebringsupZach’snumberandcallsit.Againitgoestovoicemail.
Maybe,shethinks,maybetheycameininthenightandsawNoahasleepontopofheranddecidedthatitwouldbenicetohavethebedtothemselves.Shepicturesthempeeringatheraroundthedoorofthelivingroomandtakingofftheirshoes,tiptoeingupthestairs,andjumpingintotheemptybedinatangleofarmsandlegsandplayful,drunkenkisses.
Slowly,carefully,shetucksNoahintoherselfandgetsoffthesofa.SheclimbsthestairsandgoestothedoorofTallulah’sroom.It’swide-open,justassheleftitateleveno’clockthenightbeforewhenshecametocollectNoah.Shelowershimgentlyintohiscotand,miraculously,hedoesnotstir.ThenshesitsonthesideofTallulah’sbedandcallsherphoneagain.
Oncemoreitgoesstraighttovoicemail.ShecallsZach.Itgoestovoicemail.Shecontinuesthisping-ponggameforanotherhour.Thesunisfullyrisennow;itismorning,buttooearlytocallanyoneelse.SoKimmakesherselfacoffeeandcutsherselfasliceofbreadoffthefarmhouseloafshealwaysbuysTallulahfortheweekendandeatsitwithbutter,andhoneyboughtfromthebeekeeperdowntheroadwhosellsitfromhisfrontdoor,andshewaitsandwaitsforthedaytobegin.
2
AUGUST2018
“Mr.Gray!Welcome!”
Sophieseesasilver-hairedmanstridingtowardthemdownthewood-paneledcorridor.Hishandisalreadyextendedalthoughhehasanothertenfeettocover.
HegetstoShaunandgraspshishandwarmly,wrappingitinsidebothofhisasifShaunisasmallchildwithcoldhandsthatneedwarmingup.
ThenheturnstoSophieandsays,“Mrs.Gray!Solovelytomeetyouatlast!”
“MissBeck,actually,sorry,”saysSophie.
“Ahyes,ofcourse.Stupidofme.Ididknowthat.MissBeck.PeterDoody.ExecutiveHead.”
PeterDoodybeamsather.Histeethareunnaturallywhiteforamaninhisearlysixties.“AndIhearyouareanovelist?”
Sophienods.
“Whatsortofbooksdoyouwrite?”
“Detectivenovels,”shereplies.
“Detectivenovels!Well,well,well!I’msureyou’llfindlotstoinspireyouhereatMaypoleHouse.There’sneveradullday.Justmakesureyouchangethenames!”Helaughsloudlyathisownjoke.“Wherehaveyouparked?”heasksShaun,indicatingthedrivewaybeyondthehugedoorway.
“Oh,”saysShaun,“justthere,nexttoyou.Ihopethat’sOK?”
“Perfect,justperfect.”HepeersoverShaun’sshoulder.“Andthelittleones?”
“Withtheirmother.InLondon.”
“Ahyes,ofcourse.”
SophieandShaunfollowPeterDoody,wheelingtheirsuitcasesdownoneofthethreelongcorridorsthatbranchoffthemainhallway.Theypushthroughdoubledoorsandintoaglasstunnelthatconnectstheoldhousetothemodernblock,andcontinuewheelingthecasesoutofadooratthebackofthemodernblockanddownacurvedpathtowardasmallVictoriancottagethatbacksdirectlyontowoodlandandissurroundedbyaringofrosebushesjustcomingintolate-summerbloom.
Petertakesabunchofkeysfromhispocketandremovesapaironabrassring.Sophiehasseenthecottageoncebefore,butonlyasthehomeofthepreviousheadteacher,filledwiththeirfurnishingsandephemera,theirdogs,theirphotographs.Peterunlocksthedoorandtheyfollowhimintotheflagstonebackhallway.TheWellingtonbootshavegone,thewaxedjacketsanddogleadshangingfromthehooks.Thereisapetrolic,smokysmellinhere,andacolddraftcomingupfrombetweenthefloorboards,whichmakesthecottagefeelstrangelywinteryonthisdogdayofalong,hotsummer.
MaypoleHouseisinthepicturesquevillageofUpfieldCommonintheSurreyHills.Itwasoncethemanorhouseofthevillageuntiltwentyyearsago,whenitwasboughtupbyacompanycalledMagentathatownsschoolsandcollegesallovertheworldandturnedintoaprivateboardingschoolforsixteen-to-nineteen-year-oldswho’dflunkedtheirGCSEsandAlevelsfirsttimearound.So,yes,aschoolforfailures,inessence.AndSophie’sboyfriend,Shaun,isnowthenewheadteacher.
“Here.”PetertipsthekeysintoShaun’shand.“Allyours.Whenistherestofyourstuffarriving?”
“Threeo’clock,”repliesShaun.
PeterchecksthetimeonhisAppleWatchandsays,“Well,then,lookslikeyou’vegotplentyoftimeforapublunch.Mytreat!”
“Oh.”ShaunlooksatSophie.“Erm,webroughtlunchwithus,actually.”Heindicatesacanvasbagonthefloorbyhisfeet.“Butthankyou,anyway.”
Peterseemsunperturbed.“Well,justforfuturereference,thelocalpubissuperb.TheSwanandDucks.Othersideofthecommon.DoesakindofMediterranean,meze,tapastypeofmenu.Thecalamaristewisincredible.Andanexcellentwinecellar.Managertherewillgiveyouadiscountwhenyoutellhimwhoyouare.”
Helooksathiswatchagainandsays,“Well,anyway.I’llletyoubothsettlein.Allthecodesarehere.You’llneedthisonetoletthevaninwhenitarrivesandthisoneisforthefrontdoor.Yourcardwilloperatealltheinteriordoors.”Hehandsthemalanyardeach.“AndIwillbebacktomorrowmorningforourfirstday’swork.FYI,youmayseesomestrangelydressedfolksaround;there’sbeenanexternalresidentialcourserunninghereallweek,somekindofGlee-typething.It’sthelastdaytoday,they’llbeleavingtomorrow,andKerryanneMulligan,thematron—youmetherlastweek,Ibelieve?”
Shaunnods.
“She’slookingafterthegroupsoyoudon’tneedtoworryyourselfaboutthem.Andthat,Ithink,isthat.Except,oh…”Hestridestowardthefridgeandopensthedoor.“Alittlesomething,fromMagentatoyou.”Asinglebottleofcheapchampagnesitsintheemptyfridge.Heclosesthedoor,putshishandsintothepocketsofhisbluechinos,andthentakesthemoutagaintoshakeboththeirhands.
AndthenheisgoneandShaunandSophiearealoneintheirnewhomefortheveryfirsttime.Theylookateachotherandthenaroundandthenateachotheragain.Sophiebendsdowntothecanvasbagandpullsoutthetwowineglassesshe’dpackedthismorningasthey’dpreparedtoleaveShaun’shouseinLewisham.Sheunwrapsthemfromthetissuepaper,reststhemonthecounter,pullsopenthefridge,andgrabsthechampagne.
ThenshetakesShaun’soutstretchedhandandfollowshimtothegarden.It’swest-facingandcastinshadeatthistimeoftheday,butit’sstilljustwarmenoughtositwithbarearms.
WhileShaununcorksthechampagneandpoursthemeachaglass,Sophieletshergazeroamacrosstheview:awoodengatebetweentherosebushesthatformtheboundaryofthebackgardenleadstoavelvetygreenwoodlandinterspersedwithpatchesoflawnontowhichthemiddaysunfallsthroughthetreetopsintopoolsofgold.Shecanhearthesoundofbirdsshimmyinginthebranches.Shecanhearthechampagnebubblesfizzinginthewineglasses.Shecanhearherownbreathinherlungs,thebloodpassingthroughtheveinsonhertemples.
ShenoticesShaunlookingather.
“Thankyou,”hesays.“Thankyousomuch.”
“Whatfor!”
“Youknowwhatfor.”Hetakesherhandsinhis.“Howmuchyou’resacrificingtobeherewithme.Idon’tdeserveyou.Ireallydon’t.”
“Youdodeserveme.I’m‘sloppyseconds,’remember?”
Theysmilewrylyateachother.ThisisoneofthemanyunpleasantthingsthatShaun’sex-wife,Pippa,hadfoundtosayaboutSophiewhenshe’dfirstfoundoutabouther.Also,“Shelooksmucholderthanthirty-four,”and,“Shehasastrangelyflatbackside.”
“Well,whateveryouare,you’rethebest.AndIloveyou.”Hekissesherknuckleshardandthenletsherhandsgosothatshecanpickupherglass.
“Pretty,isn’tit?”Sophiesaysdreamily,staringthroughthebackgateandintothewoods.“Wheredotheygo?”
“Ihavenoidea,”hereplies.“Maybeyoushouldgoforawanderafterlunch?”
“Yes,”saysSophie.“MaybeIwill.”
ShaunandSophiehaveonlybeentogetherforsixmonths.TheymetwhenSophiecametoShaun’sschooltogiveatalkaboutpublishingandwritingtoagroupofhisA-levelEnglishstudents.Hetookherforlunchasa“thankyou”andatfirstshefeltnervous,asifshe’ddonesomethingwrong;theassociationbetweenbeingalonewithanoldermaleteacherandhavingdonesomethingwrongwasburiedsodeepintoherpsycheshecouldn’toverrideit.Butthenshe’dnoticedthathehadvery,verydarkbrowneyes,almostblack,andthathisshoulderswerebroadandthathehadawonderfulwarm,heartylaughandasoftmouthandnoweddingbandandthensherealizedthathewasflirtingwithherandthentherewasanemailfromhiminherinboxadaylater,sentfromhisprivateemailaddress,thankingherforcominginandwonderingifshemightliketotrythenewKoreanplacethey’dchattedaboutatlunchthepreviousday,maybeonFridaynight,andshe’dthought,Ihaveneverbeenonadatewithamaninhisforties,Ihaveneverbeenonadatewithamanwhowearsatietowork,andIhavenot,infact,beenonadateforfivefullyears,andIreallywouldliketotrythenewKoreanplace,sowhynot?
ItwasduringtheirfirstdatethatShauntoldherhewasleavingthebigsecondaryschoolinLewishamwherehewasheadofsixthformattheendofthetermtobeaheadteacherataprivateboardingsixth-formcollegeintheSurreyHills.Notbecausehewantedtobeintheprivatesector,workinginamahogany-linedoffice,butbecausehisex-wife,Pippa,wasmovingtheirtwinsfromtheperfectlynicestateprimarythey’dbothbeenatforthreeyearstoanexpensiveprivateschoolandexpectedhimtocontributehalfoftheirschoolfees.
Atfirsttheimplicationsofthisdevelopmenthadn’treallyhitSophie.MarchtumbledintoApriltumbledintoMaytumbledintoJuneandsheandShaunbecamecloserandcloserandtheirlivesbecamemoreandmoreintertwinedandthenSophiemetShaun’stwins,wholetherputthemtobedandreadthemstoriesandcombtheirhair,andthenitwasthesummerholidaysandsheandShaunstartedtospendevenmoretimetogether,andthenonenight,drinkingcocktailsonaroofterraceoverlookingtheThames,Shaunsaid,“Comewithme.ComewithmetoMaypoleHouse.”
Sophie’sgutreactionhadbeenno.Nonononono.ShewasaLondoner.Shewasindependent.Shehadacareerofherown.Asociallife.HerfamilylivedinLondon.ButasJulyturnedtoAugustandShaun’sdeparturedrewevercloserandthefabricofherlifestartedtofeelasthoughitwerestretchingoutofshape,sheturnedherthinkingaround.Maybe,shethought,itwouldbenicetoliveinthecountryside.Maybeshecouldfocusmoreonwork,withoutallthedistractionsofcityliving.Maybeshe’denjoythestatusofbeingtheheadteacher’spartner,thecachetofbeingthefirstladyofsuchanexclusiveplace.ShewentwithShauntovisittheschoolandshewalkedaroundthecottageandfeltthewarmsolidityoftheterra-cottatilesbeneathherfeet,smelledthesensuousfragranceofwildroses,offreshlymowedgrass,ofsun-warmedjasminethroughthebackdoor.Shesawaspacebelowawindowinthehallwaythatwasjusttherightsizeforherwritingdesk,withaviewacrosstheschoolgrounds.Shethought,Iamthirty-four.SoonIwillbethirty-five.Ihavebeenaloneforalong,longtime.MaybeIshoulddothisridiculousthing.
Andsoshesaidyes.
SheandShaunmadethemostofeveryminuteoftheirlastfewweeksinLondon.TheysatoneverypavementterraceinSouthLondon,ateeverykindofobscureethniccuisine,watchedfilmsinmultistorycarparks,wanderedaroundpop-upfoodfairs,picnickedintheparktothebackgroundsoundsofgrimemusicandsirensanddieselengines.TheyspenttendaysinMajorcainacoolAirbnbindowntownPalmawithabalconyoverlookingthemarina.TheyspentweekendswithShaun’schildrenandtookthemtotheSouthBanktorunthroughthefountains,foralfrescolunchesatGiraffeandWahaca,totheTateModern,totheplaygroundsinKensingtonGardens.
Andthenshe’dleasedherone-bedroomflatinNewCrosstoafriend,canceledhergymmembership,signedoutofherTuesday-nightwriters’group,packedsomeboxes,andjoinedShaunhere,inthemiddleofnowhere.
Andnow,asthesunshinesdownthroughthetopsofthetoweringtrees,splashingdapplesontothedarkfabricofherdressandthegroundbeneathherfeet,Sophiestartstofeelthebeginningofhappiness,asensethatthisdecisionborneofpragmatismmightinfacthavebeensomekindofmagicalactofdestinyunfurling,thattheyweremeanttobehere,thatthiswillbegoodforher,goodforbothofthem.
Shauntakestheirlunchthingsthroughtothekitchen.Shehearsthetapgoonandtheclatterofdishesbeinglaiddowninthebutler’ssink.
“I’mgoingforawander,”shecallstoShaunthroughtheopenwindow.
Sheturnstoputthelatchonthegateassheleavesthebackgardenandasshedoessohereyeiscaughtbysomethingnailedtothewoodenfence.
Apieceofcardboard,aflaptornfromaboxbythelookofit.
Scrawledonitinmarkerandwithanarrowpointingdowntotheeartharethewords“DigHere.”
Shestaresatitcuriouslyforamoment.Maybe,shethinks,it’sleftoverfromatreasuretrail,apartygame,orateam-buildingexercisefromtheGleecoursethatisfinishingtoday.Maybe,shethinks,it’satimecapsule.
Butthensomethingelseflashesthroughhermind.Ajoltingdéjàvu.Acertaintythatshehasseenthisexactthingbefore:acardboardsignnailedtoafence.Thewords“DigHere”inblackmarkerpen.Adownward-pointingarrow.Shehasseenthisbefore.
Butshecannotforthelifeofherrememberwhere.
3
JUNE2017
Zach’smumisolderthanKim.Zachisheryoungestchild;shehasanotherfour,allgirls,allmucholderthanhim.HernameisMegs.SheanswersthedoortoKimincargoshortsandavoluminousgreenlinentop,sunglassesonherhead,apatchofsunburnonthebridgeofhernose.
“Kim,”shesays.ThensheturnsimmediatelytoNoahandbeamsathim.“Hello,mybeautifulbubba,”shesays.Shechuckshimunderthechin,andthenglancesbackatKim.“EverythingOK?”
“Haveyouseenthekids?”Kimsays,hitchingNoahontoherotherhip.Shewalkedherewithoutthepram;it’shotandNoahisheavy.
“Tallulah,youmean?AndZach?”
“Yeah.”SheshiftsNoahagain.
“No.Imean,they’reatyours,aren’tthey?”
“No,theywenttothepublastnight,nosignofthemnow,andthey’renotansweringtheirphones.Ithoughtmaybetheymighthavecomebacktoyourstocrash.”
“No,love,no.JustmeandSimonhere.Doyouwanttocomein?We’rejustoutinthegarden.Wecantrycallingthemagain?”
InMegs’sbackgarden,KimlowersNoahdownonthegrassnexttoapush-alongplastictoythatheattemptstopullhimselfuponto.Megstakesoutherphoneandpressesinherson’snumber.Megs’shusband,Simon,nodsatKimcurtlyandthenturnsbacktohisnewspaper.Kim’salwayshadahorriblefeelingthatSimonfindsherattractiveandthathisoffhandmannerishiswayofdealingwithhowuncomfortablethismakeshimfeel.
Megsscowlsandendsthecall.“Straightthroughtovoicemail,”shesays.“LetmecallNick.”
Kimthrowsheraquestioninglook.
“Youknow,thebarmanfromtheDucks?Holdon.”Sheprodsthescreenofherphonewithblueacrylicnails.“Nick,love,it’sMegs.Howareyou?How’syourmum?Good.Good.Listen,wereyouworkinglastnight?Youdidn’thappentoseeZachinthere,didyou?”
KimwatchesMegsnodalot,listenstohermakingreceptivenoises.ShepullsalumpofearthfromNoah’shandjustashe’sabouttopressitintohismouthandwaitspatiently.
FinallyMegsendsthecall.“Apparently,”shesays,“ZachandTallulahwentoffafterthepubtosomeone’shouse,someoneTallulahknowsfromcollege.”
“Yeah,Iknowthat.Butanyideawho?”
“Scarlettsomeone.Andacoupleofothers.Nickseemedtothinktheywereheadingoutofthevillage.Theywentinacar.”
“Scarlett?”
“Yes.Nicksaidshe’soneoftheposhkidsfromtheMaypole.”
Kimnods.She’sneverheardofaScarlett.Butthen,Tallulahdoesn’treallytalkmuchtoheraboutcollege.Onceshe’shome,Noahisprettymuchtheonlytopicofconversationinthehouse.
“Anythingelse?”sheasks,pullingNoahontoherlap.
“That’sallhehad,I’mafraid.”MegssmilesatNoahandstretchesherarmsouttowardhim,buthecurlshimselfclosertoKimandKimseesMegs’ssmilefalter.“Shouldwebeworried?Doyouthink?”
Kimshrugs.“Ihonestlydon’tknow.”
“HaveyoutriedcallingTallulah’sfriends?”
“Idon’thaveanynumbersforthem.They’reallonherphone.”
Megssighsandleansbackintoherchair.“It’sstrange,”shesays.“Ifitweren’tforthebaby,I’djustassumetheyweresleepingsomethingoffsomewhere,youknow,they’resoyoung,andGodknowsthethingsIgotuptoattheirage.Butthey’rebothsodevoted,aren’tthey,toNoah.Itjustseemsabit…”
“Iknow.”Kimnods.“Itdoes.”
KimwishesthatsheandMegswerecloser,butMegsneverseemedtobelieveinZachandTallulahasacouple,andthenafterNoahwasbornshebackedoffcompletelyforawhile,barelyvisitingNoahandactinglikeadistractedauntwhenshedid.Andnowshe’smissedhermomentwithNoah,whorecognizesherbutdoesn’tknowthatshe’simportant.
“Anyway,”Kimsays.“I’llgoanddosomeresearchintothisScarlettgirl.SeewhatIcandigup.Buthopefully,Iwon’tneedto.Hopefully,they’llbehomebythetimeIgetback,lookingsheepish.”
Megssmiles.“Youknowwhat,”shesays,brightly,inatoneofvoicethatsuggeststhatreallyshejustwantstogetbacktorelaxinginthegardeninthesun,thatshereallyisn’tinthemoodforworry,“Ibetyouanythingtheyare.”
InTallulah’sroom,Kimriflesthroughthecontentsofherschoolbag.Tallulahisstudyingsocialcare;shewantstobeasocialworker.Mostofhercourseworkisdoneathomeandshehastogointocollegeonlythreetimesaweek.Kimwatchesheratthebusstopfromthefrontwindowsometimes,herfresh-facedbabyinhercasualcollegegear,herhairtiedback,clutchingafoldertoherchest.Nobodywouldeverguessthatshehasachildofherownathome,shelookssoyoung.
Kimfindsaplannerinthebagandflicksthroughit.It’sfullofTallulah’sdense,somewhatineleganthandwriting—she’dstartedoffleft-handedandforcedherselftolearntowritewithherrighthandtofitinwhenshewasatprimaryschool.There’snopointlookingforphonenumbers—noonewritesdownphonenumbersanymore—butmaybeScarlett’snamewillappearonaclasslistorsomesuch.
Andthereitis,glueddownandfoldeduponthebackinsidecoveroftheplanner:“StudentContacts.”Kimscansitquickly,herfingercomingtorestonthename“ScarlettJacques:StudentEventPlanningCommittee.”
Andthere’sheremailaddress.
Kimimmediatelystartstotypeamessage:
Scarlett.ThisisTallulahMurray’smum,Kim.Tallulahhasn’tcomehomesincegoingoutlastnightandisn’tansweringherphoneandIwonderedifyouhadanyideawhereshemightbe?AfriendsaidshewaswithsomeonecalledScarlett.Pleasecallmeonthisnumberassoonaspossible.Manythanks.
Shepressessendandthenexhalesandreststhephoneonherlap.
Downstairsthefrontdoorclicksshut.It’s2:00p.m.andit’llbeherson,Ryan,homefromwork.Heworksatthegrocer’sinthevillageeverySaturday,savingupforhisbigsummerholidaytoRhodesinAugust,hisfirstwithouthismum,justwithfriends.
“Aretheyback?”hecallsupthestairstoher.
“Nope,”shecallsbackdown.
Shehearshimdroppinghiskeysonasurface,throwinghistrainersintothepileofshoesbythefrontdoor,thenboundingupthestairs.
“Seriously?”hesays.“Havetheycalled?”
“No.Notaword.”
ShetellshimaboutMegscallingNickatthepubandthegirlcalledScarlett,andasshetalks,herphoneringswithanunknownnumber.
“Hello?”
“Oh,hi,isthisLula’smum?”
“Yes,hi,thisisKim.”
“Hi.It’sScarletthere.Ijustgotyouremail.”
Kim’sheartbeginstoracepainfully,thenskitter.
“Oh,”shesays,“Scarlett.Thankyou.Ijustwondered—”
Scarlettcutsin.“Theywereatmyhouse,”shesays.“Theyleftataboutthreea.m.That’sallIcantellyou.”
Kimblinks;herheadrocksbackslightly.“Andwerethey…didthey…saywheretheyweregoing?”
“Theysaidtheyweregoingtogetacabhome.”
Kimdoesn’tlikethetoneofScarlett’svoice.Shehasoneofthoseclipped,chillyvoicesthattellsoffour-posterbedsandbohemianprivateschoolsandgravelonthedriveway.Butshealsosoundsdisinterested,asthoughtalkingtoKimisbeneathhersomehow.
“AnddidtheyseemOK?Imean,hadtheyhadalottodrink?”
“Iguess,yeah.Lulawassick.That’swhytheyleft.”
“Shethrewup?”
“Yeah.”
Kimpicturesherslight,kindgirl,bentdoubleoveraflowerbed,andherheartlurches.
“Anddidyouseethem?Getintoataxi?”
“No.Theyjustleft.Andthatwasthat.”
“And—sorry—butwheredoyoulive,Scarlett?JustsothatIcanaskaroundthelocalcabcompanies?”
“DarkPlace,”shereplies,“nearUpleyFold.”
“Streetnumber?”
“Nostreetnumber.Justthat.DarkPlace.NearUpleyFold.”
“Oh,”saysKim,drawingtworingsaroundthewordsonthepaperwhereshe’swrittenthemdown.“OK.Thankyou.Andplease,ifyouhearanythingfromeitherofthem,willyougivemearing?Imean,Idon’tknowhowwellyouknowTallulah…”
“Notthatwell,”Scarlettinterjects.
“Yes,well,she’snotthetypejusttodisappear,nottocomehome.Andshehasababy,youknow.”
There’sabriefpauseattheotherendoftheline.Then,“No.Ididn’tknowthat.”
Kimgivesherheadasmallshake,triestoimaginehowZachandTallulahcouldhavespentawholenightwiththisgirlwithoutoncementioningNoah.“Well,yes.SheandZachareparents.Theyhaveason,he’stwelvemonthsold.Sonotcominghomeiskindofabigdeal.”
There’sanothersilenceattheendofthelineandthenScarlettsays,“Right,well,yeah.”
Kimsays,“Callme,please,ifyouhearanything.”
“Yeah,”saysScarlett.“Sure.Bye.”
Andthensheendsthecall.
Kimstaresatherphoneforamoment.ThenshelooksupatRyan,whohasbeenwatchingthephonecallcuriously.
“Weird,”saysKim.Sherelaysthedetailofthecalltoherson.
“Shallwedriveoverthere?”hesuggests.“Toherhouse?”
“Scarlett’s?”
“Yeah,”saysRyan.“Let’sgotoDarkPlace.”
4
AUGUST2018
Shaunheadsintoworkearlythefollowingmorning.Sophiestandsatthedoorofthecottageandwatchesashedisappearsuptheglasspassageway,towardthemainschoolbuilding.Heturnsatthedoubledoorsandwavesatherandthenheisgone.
Thegroundsoftheschoolarefullofpeoplewheelingsmallcasesbehindthem,headingtowardthecarparkatthefrontoftheschool.TheresidentialGleecourseisover,summeriscomingtoanend,fromtomorrowtheboarding-schoolstudentswillstartreturning.Cleanerswaitintheshadowstoentertheirvacatedroomsandpreparethemforthenewterm.
Sheheadsbackintothecottagenow.It’sapleasanthouse,functional.Theairinsideisclammyandcoolwithsmallwindowsgrownoverwithivyandwisteriabranchesthatdon’tletinmuchlight.Itstillsmellsofotherpeopleandthere’sthatodd,dampbonfiresmellinthehallway,whichseemstoemanatefrombetweenthefloorboards.She’scoveredthefloorboardsoverwitharunnerandplacedareeddiffuseronthesideboard,butitstilllingers.It’sgoingtotakeawhiletomakethecottagefeellikehome,butitwill,sheknowsitwill.Shaun’schildrenarecomingtheweekendafternext:thatwillbringittolife.
Sophieturnstoaboxthatsheishalfwaythroughunpackingwhenthereisaknockatthedoor.
“Hello?”
“Oh,hi!It’sKerryanne!Thematron!”
Sophieopensthedoorandseesawomanwiththickgoldenhairheldbackwithsunglasses,brightblueeyes,andsun-burnishedcleavage.She’swearingamaxidressandbejeweledflip-flops.Shedoesnotlooklikeamatron.
“Hi!”saysSophie,reachingouttoshakeherhand.“Lovelytomeetyou!”
“Youtoo.YoumustbeSophie?”
“Correct!”
Kerryannehasahugesetofkeyshangingfromherhand.“Howareyousettlingin?”shesays,passingthekeysfromonehandtotheother.“Goteverythingyouneed?”
“Yes!”saysSophie.“Yes.Everything’sjustfine.Shaun’sfirstday.Heheadedintoworkabouttenminutesago.”
“Yes,Ijustsawhim.Weexchangedpleasantries!Anyway,Iwantedyoutotakemynumber,incaseyouneedanything.Obviously,myprimaryfunctionisstudentwelfare,butI’llbekeepingmyeyeoutforyouaswell.Iknowhowweirdandneweverythingmustbefeeling,sopleaseconsidermetobeyourmatrontoo.Andifyou’remissinghomeandneedashouldertocryon…”
Sophieblinks,notsureifshe’sbeingseriousornot,butKerryannebeamsatherandsays,“Justjoking.Buthonestly,anythingyouneed—adviceaboutthevillage,aboutthestaff,thekids,whatever.Pleasejusttextme.AndI’monthesecondfloorofAlphablock,just”—shecrouchesslightlytopeerbeneathanoverhangingtreeontheperipheryofShaunandSophie’sgarden—“thatwindowthere.Withthebalcony.Roomnumber205.”ShepassesSophieapieceofpaperwithherdetailswrittenonitinneat,schoolteacheryscript.
“Isitjustyou?”
“Mostofthetime,yeah.Mydaughtercomestostaysometimes,Lexie,she’satravelbloggersoshecomesandgoes.Butmostlyit’sjustme.AndIhearthere’llbesomelittleonesherefromtimetotime?”
“Yes.JackandLily.Twins.They’reseven.”
“Aw.Niceage.Right,well,anyquestions,anythingatall,justask.I’veworkedherefortwentyyears.I’velivedinthevillagefornearlysixty.There’snothingIdon’tknowaboutUpfieldCommon.Infact,youandShaunshouldcomeoverforadrinktonight,Icanchewyourearsoffoveraglassofwine.”
“Oh,”saysSophie.“Thatwouldbelovely.Thankyou.”Sheisabouttothankheragainandheadbackindoors,whenhereyeiscaughtbyapairofmagpiestakingflightfromthetreetopsinthewoodlandbeyondhergarden.“Thosewoods?”Shegesturesatthem.“Wheredotheylead?”
“Oh,youdon’twanttogotoofarintothosewoods.”
SophiethrowsKerryanneaquestioninglook.
“Theygoonformiles.You’llgetlost.”
“Yes,butwheredotheycomeoutat?”
“Dependswhichdirectionyougoin.There’sahamletaboutamileandahalfthatway.”Shepointstotheleft.“UpleyFold.Church,villagehall,afewhouses.It’squitepretty.Andifyouheadstraightforamileorso”—shepointsahead—“there’sthebackendofabighouse.‘DarkPlace,’it’scalled.Emptynow.Itbelongstoahedge-fundmanagerfromtheChannelIslandsandhisveryglamorouswife.”Sherollshereyesslightly.“Theirdaughterwasastudenthereforawhile,actually.Scarlett.Amazinglytalentedgirl.ButIreallywouldn’trecommendtryingtogetthere.Studentsheadovertheresometimesbecausethere’sanoldswimmingpoolandatenniscourt,butthentheycan’tfindtheirwaybackandthere’snosignalinthewoods.Weevenhadtogetthebloodypoliceinvolvedonce.”Sherollshereyesagain.
Sophienods.She’sfeelingabristleofexcitement.InLondonwhensheneedswritinginspiration,she’llwalkuptoDulwichorBlackheathandlookatthegrandoldhousesthereandimaginethestoriesthatliewithin.Nowshethinksofherwalkingstickandhercompassandherwaterbottleandtheopportunitytogetsomeproperstepsonherfitnessapp.Thesunishazy,it’saboutseventy-twodegrees,perfectwalkingweather.Thewords“oldpool”and“tenniscourt”swimthroughherimagination.Shethinksofthedrynessoftheairofahouseabandonedthroughoutalong,hotsummer,thebleachedlawns,thedusty,crackedflagstones,thebirdsnestingingrimywindowcasements.
ShesmilesatKerryanne.“I’lltrytoresisttheurge,”shesays.
5
SEPTEMBER2016
ScarlettJacquesisstandingnexttoTallulahinthequeueatthecanteen.Sheisfivefootten,thinasastick;herbleachedhairisdyedpaleblueandgatheredontopofherheadinabundleandsomeonehasdrawnatinyrainbowonhercheekbone.She’swearingaman’shoodie,withsleevesthatcometoherknuckles,andapairofoversizejerseyshorts,withhigh-toptrainers.Herfingersarecoveredwithheavyweightringsandherfingernailsarepaintedgreen.Shehoversovertheminiaturecerealboxes,herfingersdancingacrosstheirspinesuntiltheyland,decisively,onRiceKrispies.Shegrabsitandaddsittohertray,nexttoacartonofchocolatesoyamilkandanapple.
Tallulahwatchesherheadtothetill.Herpeoplearealreadygravitatingtowardher,followinginherwake,ensuringthattheywillfindspacenexttoheronceshehasdecidedwhereshewillsit.Tallulahpicksupahamsandwichandanorangejuiceandpaysforthem.ShesitsatatableclosetoScarlett’s.
Scarlettsitswithherlonglegsstretchedout,herhugehigh-toptrainersrestingonthechairoppositeher,hershinsstillboastingasilkysummertan.SheopensthechocolatesoyamilkandpoursitontoherRiceKrispies,thenlowersherfacetothebowlandshovelsthemintohermouthwithaspoon.Atonepointshespillschocolatemilkdownherchinandwipesitawaywiththecuffofherhoodie.She’swiththekidsshealwayshangsaroundwith.Tallulahdoesn’tknowtheirnames.ScarlettandhercliqueallusedtogototheposhschoolinTallulah’svillage,MaypoleHouse,whichhasareputationforbeingforthickrichkidsorrichkidswithbehavioralissuesorrichkidswithADHDorrichkidswithdrug-abuseproblems.TheyscreecharoundthevillageintheirconvertibleMiniClubmans,stalkintothelocalpubswiththeirfakeIDsandtheirloudvoicesandtheirrich-kidhair.Intheco-opyoucouldhearthembeforeyousawthem,callingtoeachotheracrosstheaislesabouthowtherewasnofreshmozzarella,thentalkingacrosstheheadsofthevillageteenagersmanningthetillsasiftheydidn’tevenexist.
Nowasmallgroupofthemhas,forsomeunknownreason,endedupatthelocalfurthereducationcollegeinManton,thenearesttown.Mostofthemareintheirfirstyearofafineartdiploma.Acoupleofthemarestudyingfashion.TheyclearlyallcomefromfamiliesthathadexpectedthemtoendupingooduniversitiesandinsteadhadendedupatMantonCollegeofFurtherEducationandconsequentlythereisadefensivenessaboutthem.
Tallulahputsahandtoherbelly.Thefleshthereisstillsolooseandblubbery.It’sbeennearlythreemonthssinceshegavebirth,butitfeelslikehalfherinsidesarestillmadeofbaby.Shejuststoppedbreastfeedingaweekagoandherbreastsstillleaksometimesandshekeepspadsinsideherbra.SheswitchesonherphoneandlooksatthephotoofNoahonherhomescreen.Herstomachflips,amixtureofunbearableloveandfear.ForthreemonthssheandNoahhavebeeninseparable;herfirstdayatcollegelastweekwasthefirsttimeshe’dlefthimforlongerthanafewminutes.Nowheishalfanhourawayfromher,abusride,sixandahalfmilesaway,andherarmsfeelweightless,herbreastsfeelheavy.Shetextshermum.AllOK?
Hermumrepliesimmediately.Justgotbackfromlookingattheducks.Allgood.
Atthenexttable,Scarletthaszonedoutfromtalkingtohercliqueandisstaringatherphoneinawaythatsuggestsshe’snotreallylookingatanything.Sherollstheappleonthetrayaroundandaroundwiththefingersofhersparehand.Herface,inprofile,isinteresting;thereisabumpinhernose,aslightcurvetoherchin.Hermouthisathinline.Butstillsheissomehowpretty,prettierthananyothergirlatthecollege,eventheoneswithperfectnosesandpillowlips.SheturnsandcatchesTallulahstaringather.Shenarrowshereyes,thenturnsawayfromher,dropsherfeetbacktothefloor,picksuptheapple,tucksitinthepocketofherhoodie,andleaveshergroupoffriendswithoutsayinggoodbyetoanyofthem.AsshepassesTallulahshenarrowshereyesagain,andTallulahimaginesforasplitsecondthatsheseesasmilepassacrossherface.
6
JUNE2017
KimbucklesNoahintohiscarseatandgiveshimoneofhisfabricbookstoflickthrough.Ryansitsinthebackwithhim,whileKimgetsintothedriver’sseatandswitchesonherphonetoputtheaddressintoGoogle.
“DarkPlace,”shesaysasshetypes.“It’sonlyamileaway,IwonderwhyI’veneverheardofitbefore.”
Sheslotsherphoneintoitsholder,pressesstart,andpullsoutofthequietcul-de-sacwhereshehaslivedsinceshewastwenty-oneyearsold.Shehumsdistractedlyunderherbreath.Shedoesn’twantNoahtopickuponheranxiety,doesn’twantRyantohavetodealwithhermountingfeelingsofdreadandfear.
Theydrivethroughthesun-dappledlanesthatconnectUpfieldCommonwithManton,thenearestbigtown.Justbeforethelargeroundaboutthatmarkstheendofthevillage,Googletellsthemtoturnright,upatightdogleg.Thesignpostisovergrownwithbuddleia,butKimcanjustmakeoutthewordsUPLEYFOLD?.
It’sasingle-laneroadandshedrivescautiouslyincaseshemeetsavehiclecomingtheotherway.It’snearly4:00p.m.andthesunisstillhighinthesky.ShepeersintotherearviewmirrorandsaystoRyan,“CanyouputthescreendownonNoah’sside?He’sinfullsun.”
Ryanleansacrossandpullsitdown.NoahpointsatsomethinginhisfabricbookandattemptstotellRyanwhatitis,buthehasn’tlearnedhowtotalkyetsoRyanjustlooksatthepageandsays,“Yes,piggy,that’sright.Piggy!”
Googletellshertotakethenextturningontheright.Shecannotbelievethatthereisactuallyaturningontheright,butthereitis,atrackwithalineofmeadowgrassrunningdownitscenter,thehedgerowslowerheresoKimcanseeblindingfieldsofrape,somecowssilhouettedinthedistance,aclusterofcottages.Andthen,afteranotherfewminutes,apairofmetalgates,agraveldrivewaypointingduesouth,thenameDARKPLACEfashionedoutofwroughtiron,thesuggestionofaturretedhouseinthedistance.Kimturnsofftheengineandputsherphoneintoherhandbag.
“Whatareyougoingtodo?”asksRyan.
Hereyesscanthegateforadoorbellorentrysystem,butthere’snothing.Afootpathrunsalongsidethegraveldrive.ShegetsNoah’spushchairoutofthebootandassemblesit,battingmidgesoutofherface.“Comeon,”shesaystoRyan,unclippingthefasteningsonNoah’sseat.“We’regoingtowalk.”
RyanuseshisphonetogoogleDarkPlaceandhegivesherarunningcommentaryfromitsWikipageastheywalk.Kimenjoysthedistractionfromherthoughts.
“Itwasbuiltin1643,”hesays.“Wow,1643,”herepeats.“Butmostofitgotburneddownafewyearsafteritwasbuilt.Itlayemptyforseventyyearsandthat’showitgotthename‘DarkPlace,’becauseofthecharredwoodthatsurroundedit.TheGeorgianwingwasaddedin1721andtheVictorianwinginthelate1800sbyacoffeeplantationownercalledFrederickdeThames.Who…God…”Hepausesandscrollsback.“Whofatheredatleastthirty-eightchildreninColombia,sevenintheUK,anddiedoftheSpanishfluwhenhewasonlyforty-one.Thehousewaslefttohislastwife,CarolinadeThames,whowasonlytwentywhenhedied,andwhopasseditoninturntoherson,Lawrence.In1931threeofFrederick’solderchildrenplottedtohaveLawrenceassassinated,butthemantheyhiredtokillhimgotcaughtinafoxtrapinthegroundsofDarkPlaceandwasn’tfounduntilfivedayslaterwhenhe’dbeenpartiallyeatenbyfoxesandhadhiseyespeckedoutbycrows.Hehadtheassassinationordersonasignedforminthepocketofhiscoat.Thethreebrotherswho’dplottedLawrence’sdeathweresenttoprisonandLawrencelivedinthehouseuntilhediedin1998.Whereupon,withnolivingheirs,thehousewentbackonthemarketandwaspurchasedbyanunknownbuyerfornearlytwomillionpoundsin2002.”
AstheywalkKimcastshereyesacrosstheground,acrossthehorizon,allaroundher,lookingforsignsofherdaughter.She’dcalledallthreelocaltaxicompaniesbeforeleavingthehouseandnoneofthemhadcollectedanyonefromDarkPlacelastnight.
Theywalkfornearlytenminutesuntilfinallysheseesthehouse.ItlooksjustasKimhadexpectedittolookfromRyan’sdescription.Ahodgepodgeofdisparatearchitecturalstyles,blendedalmostseamlesslytogetheracrossthreewings,setaroundacentralcourtyard.ThesunsparklesoffthediamondsofleadedwindowsontheleftwingandlargerVictoriancasementandsashwindowsontheright.Itshouldbeamess,butitisnot;itisexquisitelybeautiful.
Inthedrivewayarefourcarsandagolfbuggy.Evenfromhere,Kimcanhearthesoundofpeoplesplashinginaswimmingpool.RyanhelpsherpullNoah’sbuggyupthestepstothefrontdoorandsheringsthebell.
Ayoungmananswers.AhugeSaintBernarddogfollowsbehindandcollapses,panting,athisfeet.Themanisbare-chestedandholdingasix-packofbeersinonehandandateatowelintheother.
HelooksfromKimtoNoahtoRyanandbacktoKim.“Hi!”
“Oh,hi.MynameisKim.IwonderedifScarlettwasaround?Orherparents?”
“Er,yeah.Yeah,sure.Holdonasec.”Heturnsandyellsout,“Mum!Someoneforyouatthedoor!”
Behindhim,Kimseesapalestonestaircase,withastripedrunnerupthemiddle.Sheseesmodernartanddesignerlightfittingsandthenawomaninaloosewhitesundressandwhiteflip-flopsappears.Thedogstandsheavilytogreetthewoman,whopeersatKimcuriouslythroughthedoor.
TheboysmilesatKimandthendisappears.
“Yes?”saysthewoman.
“Sorrytodisturbyoulikethis,onaSaturday.”
Thewomanlooksacrosshershoulderatthegravelsweepandsays,“Howdidyougethere?”
“Oh,”saysKim,“weparkedatthegate,andwalked.”
“Butthat’shalfamile!Youshouldhaverungthebell.”
“Well,welooked,butwecouldn’tseeone.”
“Urgh,yes,sorry,it’samovementsensor.Youneedtostandoverit.Lotsofpeoplemissit.Youshouldhavecalled.”
“Well,Ididn’thaveanumber.Oratleast,IhadanumberbutIdidn’trealizehowfarthehousewasgoingtobefromthegate,butanyway,it’sfine.It’sjust…I’mlookingformydaughter.”
“Oh,”shesays,“areyouMimi’smum?Ithinksheleftthismorning…”
“No,”saysKim.“No.Sorry.I’mnotMimi’smum.I’mTallulah’smum.Shewasherelastnight?”
“Tallulah?”Thewomanrubsthedog’sheadabsentmindedlywithahandbearingjustonewidebandonherweddingfinger.“Gosh,no,Idon’tthinkIknowaTallulah.”
“Lula?”shesuggests.ShehatesthenameLula,butherdaughter’sfriendshavealwaystendedtoshortenherfullname;it’ssomethingshe’slearnedtoaccept.
“No.”Thewomanshakesherhead.“No.I’veneverheardofLulaeither.Areyousureshewashere?”
Kimishotandanxious.There’snoshadewhereshe’sstandingandthesunisbeatingdownonthebackofherneck.Shecanfeelahotdampnessbreakingoutalloverherbodyandfeelsaflashofangeratthiswomaninhercrispwhitesundressandfreshlybrushedhair,hercool,drycomplexionandthesuggestioninherclippedEnglishaccentthatKimissomehowmistakenandinthewrongplace.
Shenodsandtriestokeephervoicepleasant.“Yes.Ispoketoyourdaughteracoupleofhoursago.ShesaidTallulahwasherelastnightwithherboyfriend,Zach,andtheyleftinaminicabatthreea.m.ButI’vecalledalltheminicabnumbersandnoneofthemhasarecordofapickupfromthisaddressoranywhereinthevicinityofthisaddress.Andit’snearlyfourp.m.andmydaughterisstillnothome.Andthis”—shepointsbehindheratNoahinhisbuggy—“isTallulah’ssonandshewouldneverdeliberatelyleavehim.Justnever.”
Hervoicebeginstocrackdangerouslyandshebreathesinhardtostopherselffromcrying.
Thewomanlooksunperturbedbythisdisplayofemotion.“Sorry,”shesaysafterapause.“Whatwasyournameagain?”
“Kim.AndthisisRyan.Myson.AndNoah.Mygrandson.”
“Gosh,”saysthewoman.“Agrandmother!Youlookfartooyoungtobeagrandmother.Anyway.I’mJoss.”SheputsoutahandforKimtoshakeandthensays,“Comeon,then.Let’sgoandseewhatScarletthastosayaboutallofthis.Followme.”
Sheleadsthemacrossthecourtyardandthroughatallwrought-irongatesetinanancientbrickwallgrownoverwithivy.Thehugedogpadsheavilybehindthem.ThecourtyardissmatteredwithtinywhitestonefiguressetonPerspexplinths.Theyfollowherdownaflagstonepathlinedwithsculpturalplantsincobalt-glazedpotsandthenturnacorner.
Infrontofthemisthepool.
It’ssetinacreammarbleterracewithacurtainedpagodaatoneendhousingahugecream-cushioneddaybed.Atanglesalongitslengthareteaksunbedswithmatchingcreamcushions.Floatingatthepool’scenter,insideabrightpinkinflatableflamingo,isatall,thingirlwithlime-greenhairandablackbandeaubikinitop.ShepeersatKimandherentouragecuriously.Thenshesays,“Oh,”asthepennydrops.
“Tallulah?”saysJoss,shieldinghereyesfromthesunshiningoffthepool’ssurfacewithherhand.“Apparently,shewasherelastnight.Anyideawhereshegotto?”
Scarlettpushesherselftothepool’sedgebypaddlingherhandsthroughthewater;thenshedismountstheflamingoandascendsthestonesteps.Shepullsablacktowelaroundherselfandsitsdownatateakcirculartablecoveredwithwhitecandlesinglassjars.
Kimsitsoppositeher.“Iknow,”shebegins,“yousaidthatyoudon’tknowwheretheywent.IknowyousaidthatTallulahwassickandtheygotinaminicab.Butthecabfirmsareallsayingthattheydidn’tpickanyoneupfromhere.Ijustwonderediftherewasanythingelsethathappenedlastnightthatmightexplainwheretheyare.”
ScarlettpicksatthewaxonthetopofoneofthecandlesandmakesnoeyecontactwithKim.“Genuinely,”shesays,“honestly.That’sallIknow.”
“Anddidyouseethemgettingintoacar?”
“No.Iwasouthere,withMimi.AndZachcameandsaidLulahadbeensickandhewasgoingtotakeherhome,thattherewasataxicoming.”
“Hesaidthat?Thatthetaxiwascoming?Ordidhesayhewasgoingtocallone?”
Scarlettshrugs.Kimwatchescrystalbeadsofpoolwatercoalesceandcollapseonherangularshouldersandrundownherarmsinrivulets.“I’mprettysurehesaidonewascoming.”
KimcanseeRyanhoveringinherperipheralview.Shepullsoutachairforhimandhesitsdown,bringingNoah’spushchairclosetohim.“So,isthereachance,doyouthink,thatZachtriedtocallataxiandnoonecouldsendonesotheyendedupwalking?”
“Yeah?”saysScarlett.“Iguess?”
KimturnstoScarlett’sbrother,whoisperchedontheendofasunbedacrossthepool,withabottleofbeerhangingbetweenhisknees.“Wereyouherelastnight,attheparty?”shecallsovertohim.
Heputsoutahanddefensivelyandsays,“No.Notme.Ijustgothomethismorning.”
Kimsighs.“Andiftheyhadwalked,wheremighttheyhaveendedup?”
Scarlettshrugsagain.“Itdepends,Isuppose.Onwhichwaytheywent.Iftheywentupthedrivewaytheycouldhaveendeduponthemainroad,orUpleyFoldiftheyturnedthewrongway.Iftheywentthebackpath,theywouldhaveendedupbackinUpfieldCommon.”
“Thebackpath?”
“Yes,”shereplies,wavingherhandinavaguearcbehindher.“There.”
Kimgazesoverhershoulder.Allshecanseearelawnsandflowerbedsandhedgesandgravelpathwaysandpockmarkedstonestepsandsundialsandarbors.
“Where?”
“Beyond,”saysScarlett.“Behind.There’sapaththerethatgoesthroughthewoodsandintothebackendofUpfieldCommon.NeartheMaypole.IusedtowalkthatwaytogotoschoolsometimeswhenIwasthere.”
“Howfar?”
Jossinterjects.“Amile,justover.ButIwouldn’trecommendit.Especiallynotwithababy.Youreallyneedtoknowwhereyou’regoing,otherwiseyou’llgetlost.”
“DidTallulahknowaboutthebackpath?”
Scarlettshrugs.“Idon’tthinkso,”shesaid.“She’dneverbeenherebeforesothere’snoreasonsheshouldhaveknownaboutit.”
“Andwhoelse,”Kimcontinues.“Whoelsewasherelastnight?”
“Justusthree,”saysScarlett,“andMimi.LexieMulliganwasherebeforetheyleft.ShelivesatMaypoleHouse.Hermum’sthematronthere.Youknow,KerryanneMulligan?”
Kimnods.SheknowsKerryannewell.EveryoneinUpfieldCommonknowsKerryanne.She’slarger-than-life.
“Yeah.Herdaughter.She’s,like,inhertwenties.Butsheleftearly.Shewasdriving.AndshetookmyfriendLiamwithher.”
“So,afterthat,itwasjustyou,Tallulah,Zach,and…Mimi?”
“Yup.”
“Andyourmumanddad?”
“Mumwashere.Shewasasleep.Dad’sawayonbusiness.”
KimturnstoJoss,whoissittingonthestepsbehindher,listeningintotheconversation.“Youdon’thappentohavesecuritycameras,doyou?Anywhereinthegrounds?”
Jossnodsandsays,“Yes,tonsofthem.ButI’mafraidIhaven’tgotthevaguestideahowtousethem.”Sheglancesacrossatherson.“Rex?Anyideahowtolookatthecamerafootage?”
Rexgrimaces.“Notreally.Iknowthere’slikesomekindofcentralizedpanelinDad’sstudy,butI’veneveractuallyusedit.”
Kimsays,“Doyouthinkwemighttry?”Andasshesaysitshefeelsthemoodchangeimmediately.Untilnowshe’sbeenaminordistraction,entertainedontheirownterms.Nowshe’saskingpeopletogoindoors,toopendoors,workouthowtouseequipment.Sheseesthethreeofthemexchangelooks.ThenJossgetstoherfeetandapproachesKimandsays,“Tellyouwhat.SaveusalltraipsingaboutinMartin’soffice,whydon’tIjustgetRextohavealookinabit.I’llgethimtogiveMartinaringtotalkhimthroughit.Scarlett’sgotyournumber.We’llcallyouifwefindanything.”
Kimstillhassomanythingsshewantstoask,somanyquestionssheneedsanswersto.She’snotreadytogo.“YousaidTallulahhadn’tbeenherebefore?”sheasks,ahintofdesperationinhervoice.“Andonthephoneearlieryousaidyoudidn’treallyknowher.Imean,youdidn’tevenknowshehadachild.Sowhat…Imean,whywassheevenhere?”
Scarlettpullshertoweloverhershoulderslikeacloakandrubsatherearswithitscorners.“Wechatsometimes,”shesays,“atcollege.ThenIsawherinthepublastnightandwehadafewdrinksandonethingledtoanother.”
Kim’seyestakeherinagain,thislanky,angulargirlwithwhomherdaughterchattedsometimes.Shetakesinthedetailofher;thepiercingsthatcatchthelight,thetattooonhershoulderblade,theperfectlypaintedtoenails.AndhergazealightsonablackmarkonScarlett’sfoot,asmalltattoo,apairoflettersthatshecan’tatfirstquitemakeout.Thensheseesthatitisthetrademarksymbol.Scarlett’shandreachesdownandcoversthetattoo,hardandfast,likeswattingafly.TheireyesmeetbrieflyandKimseessomethingdefensiveandrawpassacrossScarlett’sface.
Shehitchesherbagontohershoulder.“Woulditbepossible,”shesays,“tospeaktoyourfriendMimi,doyouthink?Doyouhaveanumberforher?”
“Shewon’tknowanythingmorethanIdo.”
“Please?”
“I’llgethertocallyou,”saysScarlett.
WithinaminutetheyarepushingNoah’sbuggybackthroughthewrought-irongateandontothefrontcourtyardandJossisstandingunderabowerofpassionflowerswithhergiganticdog,wavingthemoff,andastheywalktowardthedriveway,Kimhearsthesplashofbodieshittingthecool,bluesurfaceoftheswimmingpool,asmallsquealoflaughter.
7
AUGUST2018
Sophiecomesfromanoutdoorsyfamily.Theygoonwalkingholidaysandsailingholidaysandskiingholidays.Herfatherrunsmarathons,hermotherplaysgolfandtennis,bothherbrothersworkinthesportsindustry.Sophiewasonceaswimmer.Shehasmedalsandcupsandcertificatesinabigboxinherparents’loftandstillhasaswimmer’sphysiquealthoughshebarelyswimsatallthesedays.Whentheywereallsmallandgettingonhermother’snerves,shewouldzipthemintotheircoatsandlocktheminthebackgarden.Theywouldmoanforawhileandthenfindsomethingtodo.Usuallyinvolvingclimbingverytalltreesandswingingoffthingsthatweren’tdesignedtobeswungoff.SoSophieisverycomfortablebeingoutdoorsandconfidentinherabilitytofindherwayaboutanddealwithobstaclesalonewithoutassistance.Andsoshesetsoffintothewoods,sensiblydressedandequippedwithwater,energybars,amobilechargerforherphone,hercompass,someplasters,suncream,ahat,andapacketofbrightredplasticspace-markerconesthatshecandropontheforestflooratintervalsifsheneedstofindherwayback.
Insidethewoods,thetreecoverisimmenseandverylittleofthepalegoldAugustsungetsthrough.Withinafewfeetshefeelsthetemperaturebegintodrop.Sheholdshercompassinherrighthandandfollowsthepathalongsidethearrowtellingherwheretogo.
Aftertwentyminutesthedensenessofthemiddleofthewoodsstartstothinoutagainandthereareestablishedfootpathsmeanderingthroughthetrees,signsofhumanity,piecesoflitter,dogpooinagreenplasticbaghangingfromabranch.Shecheckshermapagainnowthatshehasbrieflyregainedherphonesignalandfindsthatsheisabouttoemergeontoabridleway.Shemovesthemapacrossherscreenwithherfingersandseesthelinearrepresentationofalargebuildingtoherright.
Afteramomentsheseesaturretandaweathervane.ThensheseesthecurveofanancientbrickwallandacurtainofbrightredVirginiacreeper.Shesqueezesthroughaparadeoftreesthatabutsthewallandfindsherselfinfrontofarustymetalgate,abrokenpadlockhangingfromitsbars,andthensheisthroughthegateandintoaclumpofwoodland;theshimmerofblueskyisvisibleaheadofherandthensheisonaraggedsun-bleachedlawnthatrollsdownwardviawidestonestepsovergrownwiththistlestowardahousethatlookslikesomethingfromaTimBurtonmovie.
Sophiecatchesherbreathandputsahandtoherthroat.
Assherunsdownthetieredlawnstowardthehouse,sheseesthepoolappear;it’sdarkgreen,arippedcoverhalfpulledacrossit,mulchydeadleavesfromthepreviouswinterstackedaroundit.Apagodaatoneendofthepoolhasbeencoveredinboldlycoloredgraffiti.
Theterracebetweenthepoolandthehouseislitteredwithemptybeercansandcigaretteends,drugparaphernaliaanddiscardedcrisppacketsandtakeawaycontainers.
How,Sophiewonders,couldahouseofthismagnificence,nottomentionmarketvalue,havebeenleftlikethis?Whyisitnotbeingcaredfor,evenwhileitisuninhabited?
Shepicksherawayaroundthehouse,tryingtopeerintowindowsthroughgapsintheshutters.Atthefrontofthehouseisanornatecourtyardandbeyondthatalongcypress-lineddrivewaythatappearstogoonforamileormore.Sheturnstolookatthefrontdoor.Abovethefanlight,carvedintothedarkbrickwork,isthedateAD1721.
Theairisthickandsilenthere,andnothingelseinsight.Thishouseexistsalmostonanisland.Sophiewondersaboutthefamilywholivedhere,thehedge-fundmanagerandhisglamorouswifeandtheirtalentedteenagedaughter.Wherearetheynow,andwhatonearthpossessedthemtoleaveaplacelikethistogotoseed?
Shechecksthetimeonherphone.It’snearlymidday.
Shestandsatthetopendofthegardentosurveythegrandeurofthehouseonemoretime.Shetakesaphotograph,thentucksherphoneintoherrucksackandheadsbackdownthebridlewayandintothewoods.
8
OCTOBER2016
“Zachcalledagain.”
Tallulahglancesathermum.
“Aboutanhourago.WonderedifIknewwhereyouwere,becauseyouweren’tansweringyourphone.”
Sheshrugsandheadstothebabymonitoronthekitchencounterandputshereartoit,listeningforthesoundofherson’ssleepingbreath.“Howlonghashebeendown?”
“Aboutthirty-fiveminutes.”
Sheglancesatthetime.It’sfourthirty.He’llbehungryanyminute.Shehasasmallwindowoftimetogetchanged,tohaveacupoftea,tosortouthercollegework.She’sbeenatcollegeforfourweeksnowandhasgotintoareallysolidroutine.
“Areyougoingtocallhim?”
“Who?”
“Zach,”hermumrepliesimpatiently.“Areyougoingtocallhim?Youcan’tignorehimforever.”
Tallulahnods.“Iknow,”shesays.“Iknow.”Sheunknotsthelacesonhertrainersandpullsthemoff.Thenshesighs.ZachaskediftheycouldgetbacktogetherwhenhecametovisitNoahonSaturday.ItwasweirdbecausewhenshewaspregnantallshewantedinthewholeworldwastobebacktogetherwithZach.Butnowshe’samum,nowshe’satcollege,it’slikeshe’snotthatsamepersonanymoreandthepersonsheisnowdoesn’twanttobewithanyone.Shejustwantstoshareherbed,herbody,withNoah.
SheandZachhadbeentogetherfornearlythreeyearswhenshegotpregnant.Shehadn’ttoldhimshewaspregnantuntilshewasfourmonthsgoneandthenhe’dfreakedoutandsaidheneededtimetodecidehowhefeltaboutit.Andnowheknowshowhefeelsaboutit,butTallulah’snolongersurethatshedoes.
“He’sagoodboy,youknow,”hermumcontinues.
“Yes.Iknow.”Shetriestohideherexasperation.Sheoweshermumeverythingrightnowanddoesn’twanttosoundungrateful.“Ijustdon’tknowwhattosaytohim.”
“Youcouldjustsaythat,”hermumsuggests.
“Yes,butthenhemighttrytotalkmearoundandIhaven’tgottheenergyforit.”
Tallulah’ssotiredallthetime.Duringthesummerithadbeenfine:Noahsleptmostofthedaywhenhewasanewborn,soshehadplentyoftimetocatchuponhersleep.Butnowhe’solderandmorewakefulandshe’satcollegethreemorningsaweekandhasstudytodoonherdaysathomeanddaytimesleepsareathingofthepast.
“IfZachstartscryingorsomething,I’llcave.IknowIwill.”
Hermumpassesheramugoftea,pullsoutthechairoppositeher,andsitsdown.“Butwhatisit?”shebegins.“Thatyou’renotsureabout?”
“Ijust…Idon’t…”Butshe’ssavedfromhavingtofindthewordstoexplainsomethingshecannotexplainbythesoundofNoahonthebabymonitor,rousingfromhisafternoonsleep.Hermumgoestostandup,butTallulahwantstheblissandthedistractionofscoopingherboyfromhiswarmbedsheetsandrollinghimintoherarms,againstherchest,thesweetheatofhisbreathagainsthercollarbone.
“I’llgo,”shesays,“I’llgo.”
ThefollowingdayTallulahhascollegeinthemorning.
SheleavesthehousewiththevignetteimprintedonhermindofNoahinhermother’sarms,RyaninhisschooluniformmicrowavingNoah’smilkforherbecauseshe’slateanddoesn’thavetimetodoitherself,andstandsatthebusstopoppositetheircul-de-sac.Thebusislate.Afterallherrushingaboutandnotsayinggoodbyeproperlytoherbabyson,shesighsimpatiently.She’sawarethenofapresencebesideherandturnstoseeScarlettJacquesslidingalongtheplasticbench.
“Haven’tmissedit,then?”shesaysbreathlessly.
Tallulahdoesn’trealizeforasplitsecondthatScarlettistalkingtoherandfailstorespond.
“I’lltakethatasano,”saysScarlett.
“Sorry,”saysTallulah.“Yeah.Imean,no.Youhaven’tmissedit.It’slate.”
“Phew,”saysScarlett,pullingearbudsfromthepocketofheroversizeraincoatandstartingtoputtheminherears.Thenshestopsandsays,“Iknowyou,don’tI?You’reatMantonCollege,yes?”
Tallulahnods.
Scarlettnodstooandsays,“I’veseenyouaround.Whatcourseareyouon?”
“Socialcare.Firstyear.”
“Ah,soyou’renewtoo?”
“Yeah.Afewweeksin.Howaboutyou?”asksTallulah,althoughsheknowsexactlywhichcourseScarlett’son.
“Fineart.Firstyear.”
“That’scool,”saysTallulah,andthenwishesshehadn’tsaid“cool.”
“Well,yeah,it’sshit,really.Imean,IwantedtogotoartschoolinLondonbutmyparentswouldn’tletme.Becauseofallthetraveling.AndIsaid,well,thenrentmealittleflat.Andtheysaidnoway,andthenIdidn’tgetagoodenoughgradeinmyartAleveltogetintoanyofthegoodcollegesanyway,notbecauseI’mnotgoodatart,butjustbecauseIdidn’tdotheworkIneededtodo,storyofmylife,andyeah.HereIam.”
Theybothturnatthedistinctiverumbleoftheold-fashionedgreenbusthatservicestheareaasitappearsonthefarsideofthecommon.
“Doyoulivearoundhere,then?”asksTallulah.
“No.Well,kindof.Abouttwomilesaway.ButIspentthenightwithmyboyfriend.He’sattheMaypole.”Sheshrugsinthedirectionoftheimposingoldmanorhouseacrossthecommon.
“Areyouallowedtosleepoverthere?”
“Nope.Mostdefinitelynot.ButIhavea‘special’relationshipwiththematronthere.Shelovesme.AndI’mkindoffriendswithherdaughtertoo,sosheturnsablindeye.”
Thebusapproachesandtheygettotheirfeet.Tallulahdoesn’tknowwhathappensnow.Willtheysittogether?Willtheycontinuetotalk?
Butthedecisionistakenfromher.ScarlettseesafriendatthebackofthebusandstridesawayfromTallulah,throwingherschoolbagdownontheseatandthenherself,hervoicetravelingloudly,almostgratingly,downtheaisletothefrontofthebus,whereTallulahsitsalone.ButwhenTallulahturns,justonce,tolookatScarlett,shefindsScarlettlookingstraightbackather.
9
JUNE2017
Kimstripsoffherclothesandgetsintotheshower,quickly,beforethewaterhasrunwarm.ThewholeepisodeatScarlett’shousehasleftherfeelingfilthyandexhausted.ShepicturesScarlett’smotherstandingatherfrontdoorwithherbigpantingdog,watchingthempushingNoah’sbuggyawkwardlydownthegravelpathwayandontothedrive.
“I’doffertodriveyou,”she’dcalledout.“ButI’vehadafewdrinks!Sosorry!”
Kim’scarwaslikeanovenbythetimetheyreturnedtoitandNoahwasnowtiredandhungryandscreamedallthewayfromthebottomofthedrivewaytotheparkingspaceoutsideKim’shouse,whereuponheimmediatelyfellasleep.Ryanissittingoutinthecarwithhimnow.
Intheshowershecantastethesaltofherownsweataswaterpassesdownherface.
Everyfewsecondsshepeersthroughthegapintheshowercurtainatherphone,whichshe’sleftperchedonthesink,balancedagainstthetoothbrushmug,lookingtoseeifshe’smissedacalloramessage.
Aftershoweringshegetsintocleanshortsandafreshbraandtop.Everythingshewaswearingearlierisdampanddankandheadingforthelaundrybasket.Sheglancesatherphoneagain.Stillnothing.
Feargripshergutagain;itcomesandgoesinwaves.ShesitsontheedgeofherbedandthinksaboutthewoodsbehindScarlett’shouse.ShetriestoimagineZachandTallulah,waitinginthedarkforataxithatdidn’tcome,givingupafterawhileandoneofthemsaying,“ThosewoodstakeusbacktoUpfield.Wecouldtrycuttingthroughthere.”Ithadbeenawarmnight;itmightevenhavesoundedappealing,andmaybetheythoughtthefreshairwouldhelpclearTallulah’shead.
KimcallsMegs.“Wouldyoumind,”shesays,“ifIdroppedNoahwithyouforawhile?IthinkIknowwhereZachandTallulahmightbeandI’dliketogoandhavealook?”
There’sapause,thenMegssays,“Sothey’renotbackyet?”
Kimcloseshereyes.It’sdifferentwithsons,sheknowsthat.Butstill,she’sfrustratedbyMegs’slackofconcern.Shepicturesherjustasshe’dleftherthismorning,stretchedoutinherbackgardenwithheredgyhusband,enjoyingnothavinganyresponsibilities,anyagenda.
“No,”shesays.“They’renot.Andnoneofthelocaltaxifirmshasarecordofpickingthemupfromtheirfriend’shouselastnight.SoIhaveatheorythattheymightbelostinthewoodsbehindthecollege.Iwanttogoandhavealook.”
“Oh,”saysMegs.“Right.”Then,“Seemsunlikely.Imean,it’salmostfiveo’clock.Thatwouldmeanthey’dbeeninthosewoodssincelastnight.Surelynoonecouldgetlostinthereforthatlong?”
“Well,maybetheyhadanaccident?Felldowna…Idon’tknow,anoldwellorsomething.Anyway.I’llbeoverwithNoahinabit.Seeyousoon.”
SheendsthecallwithoutwaitingtohearwhatelseMegsmighthavetosay.
Theyspendtwohoursscouringthewoodsbutthereisnosignofthem.Nowells.Noholes.Notraps.Nodroppedclues.Nothing.AstheypasstheaccommodationblockinthegroundsofMaypoleHouseafterward,Kimglancesupatthewindows.SheremembersScarletttellingthemthatKerryanneMulligan’sdaughterhadbeenwiththemthenightbefore;Lexie,shesaidhernamewas.SheandRyanheadforthesecuritygateandringonabuzzerthatsaysRESIDENCEMANAGER
Awomanreplies.
“Oh,hi.IsthatKerryanne?”
“Yes,speaking.”
“Hi,thisisKimKnox.Iliveacrossthecommon.IthinkmymumusedtolookafteryourmumwhenshewasatSpringdale?”
“Yes,yes.Iknowyou.AndIrememberyourmum.SheusedtobringJamaicagingerloaftomymum’sroomwhenIcametovisitherfortea.Paula,wasn’tit?”
Kimsmilesatthesoundofhermother’sname.“Yes!That’sright.AndyourmumwascalledVanda?”
“Yes!That’sright.Wellremembered.Howareyou?Doyouwanttocomein?”
“Er,yes,thankyou.I’vegotmysonwithme.”
“Lovely,”saysKerryanne.“Secondfloor,room205.”
There’sthesmellofcookinginKerryanne’sflat,somethingsteamingonahob.AyoungerwomansitsontheL-shapedsofafacingaterracethatoverlooksthewoodsthatKimhasjustbeentrawlingforherdaughterandherboyfriend.
“Comein!”saysKerryanne.“Comein.Thisismydaughter,Lexie,she’sstayingwithmeforafewdays.Lexie,thisisKim,she’sthedaughterofoneofNana’scarersfromSpringdale.Andyourmum.Isshe…?”
Kimshakesherhead.“No.No,shediedtwoyearsago.”
“Oh,I’msorrytohearthat.Shemusthavebeenveryyoung?”
“Sixty-two,”shesays.
“Ohno.Ohdear.Notthatmucholderthanme.I’msosorry.”
“Yes,well.Andyourmother?Isshe…?”
“Fouryearsago.Butshewaseighty-eight.So,youknow,Ican’tcomplain.Butshelovedyourmum.Shereallydid.”
Theysmilesadlyateachotherforaminutethinkingoftheirpoordeadmothers,thenKerryanneralliesandsays,“Anyway,whatcanIdoforyou?”
“Well,”saysKim,“actually,itwasLexieIwantedtotalkto.”
Lexieturnsatthesoundofhernameandsays,“Oh?”
Lexieisaprettyyoungwoman,withmahoganyhaircutintoabobwithabluntfringe,largeblack-framedreadingglasses,skinnyjeans,andanartfullyscruffyT-shirt.
“YouwereatScarlett’shouselastnight?”
“Yes!”sheanswersbrightly.“Howdidyouknow?”
“Well,becausemydaughterwastheretoo.Tallulah?Andherboyfriend,Zach?AndthethingisthatTallulahandZachhaven’tcomehome.Andapparentlytheyleftthereatthreea.m.We’vejustbeeninthewoodsattheback.”Kimgesturesthroughtheglassslidingdoor.“Ithoughtmaybethey’dgotlostcomingback,butnosignofthem.AndIknowyouleftearly,butIjustwonderedifyounoticedanything.Knewanything.Sawanything.BecauseI’mrunningoutofideashere!”She’sbeentryingtokeephervoiceonanevenkeel,keephertonenormal,butherwordsbegintocrackapartasshereachesherconclusion,andthenshefindsthatsheiscrying.KerryannerushestothekitchentofindheratissueandLexielooksatherwithgenuineconcern.
“OhGod,I’msosorry.Howhorrible.Youmustbesoworried.”
KimnodsandtakesthetissuefromKerryanne,holdsittohercheeks.
“Imean,”shesays,“I’msureit’snothing.I’msuretheyjust,youknow,kids,theyjust…”Butshepetersoffbecauseshe’snotsureofanysuchthing.Theonlythingshe’ssureofisthatTallulahwouldneverleaveNoahdeliberatelyandthatsomethingterriblemusthavehappenedtoher.
KerryanneleadsKimandRyantothelargesofaandinvitesthemtositdown.
“Honestly,”Lexiebegins,“IwishtherewassomethingIcouldtellyou.Buttherereallyisn’t.Iwasatthepub,theSwanandDucks,withanoldschoolfriend.Therewasthisgroupinthere,ayounggroup,lateteens,earlytwenties,andtheywerebeingquiterowdy.Irecognizedoneofthem,Scarlett.Sheusedtobeastudenthere.We’vealwaysbeenquitefriendly.SoIwenttosayhelloandbeforeIknewitIwasbeingdraggedintotheirlittlegroupanditfeltabitweirdbecauseobviouslyI’mquiteabitolderthanthem.PlusIwassober.Andtheywerenot.”
“AndwasTallulahtherethen?”
“Yes,shewasthere.Shewassittingwithaboy—herboyfriend,Ithink?”
Kimnods.
“Theyseemedabitquietatfirst.Inoticedthat.AndthenScarlettgotaloadofshotsforthetableandthenanotherandeveryonegotevennoisierandnoisierandthenitwasclosingtimeandtheywerealltalkingaboutwalkingbacktoScarlett’shousethroughthewoods,andIthoughtthatwasjustanaccidentwaitingtohappen.SoIofferedtodrivethemthere.”
“Allofthem?”
“No,notallofthem,justfiveofthem.Itwasabitofasqueezeandnotentirelylegal,butIstillthoughtitwassaferthanthemallwalkingthroughthewoodsofftheirheads.”
“Andwhathappenedwhenyougotbackthere?”
“Well,itwassowarmlastnight,asyouknow,andthelightswereallonintheirpool,andtheyalljuststrippedoffandjumpedin.”
“IncludingTallulah?”
“Yeah.Shejumpedininhertopandpants.Shelookedkindofself-conscious.”
“Well,yes,she’scarryingalittlebabyweightstill.”
“Shehasababy?”Lexielookssurprised.
“Yes.Noah;he’sone.”
“Gosh,shelookssoyoung.”
“Sheis.”Kimholdsdownanotherburstoftearsandforcesasmile.“So,theyalljumpedinthepool.Andthenwhat?”
“Well,Ikindof—atthispointIfeltlikeIneededtosupervise.Imean,Scarlett’smumwassomewhereindoors,sleeping,Ithink,andIrealizedIwastheonlysoberpersonatthepartysoIneededtokeepaneyeoneveryone.Iendedupstayinguntilaboutone.Bythattimeeveryonewasoutofthepoolandtherewasabitof”—shelooksatKimquicklyfromthecornerofhereye—“weed.Abitofvodka.Music.Butithadcalmeddownabit.Tallulahandherboyfriendwentindoors.ThenMimiwentindoors.SoIdecidedtoheadback.ThisguyLiamcadgedaliftbackwithme,becauseheworkshereattheschool.Andthatwasthat.”
“Liam?”Kimaskscagily.“WhoisLiam?”
“He’sateachingassistanthere.Helivesintheapartmentaboveus.HeusedtogooutwithScarlettbutthey’restillfriends.”
“Ishe,Imean,ishe…”Kimcan’tfindthewords.
Lexieshakesherhead.“Oh,”shesays,“no.God,no,youdon’tneedtoworryaboutLiam.He’sthenicestguyintheworld.Honestly.”
Kimnods,circumspectly.Thenshesays,“Andwasthereanything,lastnight—beneaththesurface?Didyougetthefeelingthattherewasanythinguntowardgoingon?”
Lexieturnsoutherbottomlipandshakesherheadslowly.“No.”
“Andwhenyouleft,whowasstillthere?”
“Tallulah.Herboyfriend.ScarlettandMimi.”
“Well,”saysKim,alreadystartingtogettoherfeet.“Thankyousomuch,Lexie.Ireallyappreciateyourtime,andthankyousomuchforgoingbackwiththemalllastnight,forkeepingthemsafe.Drunkkidsinswimmingpools.Doesn’tbearthinkingabout.”
“No,”saysLexie.“That’swhatIthought.”
“Well,thankyou.AndthisLiam.Doyouthinkit’dbeworthtalkingtohim?Mighthehaveanyidea?”
“Idoubtit,”Lexierepliesapologetically.“Hewouldn’thaveseenmuchmorethanIdid.”
Kimlooksatthetimeonherphone.It’snearlysixo’clock.SheturnstoKerryanne.“DoyouthinkIshouldcallthepolice?”sheaskssoftly.“It’sbeenfifteenhours.Whatwouldyoudo?”
Kerryannesighs.“Well,it’sdifferentforme,inlocoparentisandallthat,I’dmovequitequicklyifsomeonewentmissingfromschool.AndinfacttheyhaveandIcalledoutsearchandrescuewithinafewhours.Butasamother?”Shepauses.“Idon’tknow.Imean,TallulahandZacharetechnicallyadults.They’dbeendrinking,takingdrugs;soundslikethey’vegotresponsibilitiesbeyondthoseofnormalteenagers.I’dbetemptedtolookatthebiggerpicture.Imean,isitpossiblethey’vejustrunaway?Inamadmomentofspontaneity?”
Kimcloseshereyesandmeasuresherresponse.“No,”shesays.“No.Definitelynot.”
“Andbetweenthem,asacouple?Imean,wasthereanythingafoot?Maybetheyhadarow?Maybesomethinghappened?”
Andthereitis,thethingthat’sbeengnawingawayinsideKim’sheadalldaylong:thelittleboxshe’dfoundinZach’sjacketpocketthedaybeforewhenshewaslookingforthesparedoorkeysshe’dlenthim.Theboxwiththeringinitwiththesmallbutverycleardiamondsetonagoldenband.She’dbeenexpectingthemtocomebackfromthepublastnightengaged.Shewasn’tsurehowshefeltaboutit;theyweresoyoungandshewasn’tconvincedthatTallulahwasentirelycommittedtoZach.Butshe’dbeenreadyforit,readytolookamazedanddelightedandtohugthembothtoherandtellthemshewasthrilledandtotakeaphotoandtextittoTallulah’sdadandputitonFacebookandallofthat.She’dbeenreadyforit.Evenifshethoughtitwaswrong.Becausethat’swhatyoudid.Wasn’tit?Whenyouhadababy.Whenyouhadamanwholovedyou.Yougotmarried.
ButthenKimthinksofhowlongithadtakenTallulahtoagreetogetbacktogetherwithZachafterNoahwasborn.ShethinksofhowTallulahshrugsZach’stouchfromhershoulder,fromherarm,therollofhereyesbehindhisbacksometimes.She’sbeenmeaningtostartaconversationwithTallulahforafewweeks,justtocheckin,tomakesureshe’sstillhappythatshetookZachback.Butshehasn’t.Andthenthey’dplannedthisnightouttogetherandKimsawitasasignthatthingsweregettingbetterbetweenthem.Andthenshe’dfoundthering.
Sowhat,shewonders,ifZachhadaskedTallulahtomarryhimandTallulahhadsaidno?BecauseZachisagoodboy,buthehasatemper.She’sseenitflarefromtimetotimewhenhe’swatchingsportsontheTVorwhenhedropssomethingandhurtshimselforsomeonecutshimupwhenhe’sdriving.
Howmightarejectionofhismarriageproposalhavetriggeredthattemper?Howmighthehaveresponded?
10
AUGUST2018
SophieandShaunarriveatKerryanne’sapartmentateighto’clockthatevening,clutchingacoldbottleofwine.Theapartmenthasglassslidingdoorsalmostthefullwidthofherlivingroomfacingdirectlytowardthesettingsun.It’shotandstuffy;alargechromefanpluggedintothewallprovidesalittlerelief.
“Sorry,”shesaystoSophieandShaun,“itgetssohotinhereonasunnyday,theheatgetstrapped.Come,wecansitontheterrace.”
There’sawickerworksofaonherterraceandatablesetwithcrispsinbowlsandwineglassesandacandleinajar.
Sophiesitsdownfirst,followedbyShaun.Theviewacrossthewoodsisbeautiful;theskyisturquoise,streakedwithcoral,andahalf-moonisjustemergingfromtheshadows.
“Thisislovely,”saysSophie.“Likeadifferentworldtothecottage.”
“Yes,thecottageislovely,butyoudon’tgettheviews.Butthenagain,youdon’tgettheheateither.”ShepourswineintothethreeglassesandraisesherstoShaun.“Cheers,”shesays.“Tomyfifthheadteacher!Andtoyoutoo,Sophie,myfirstheadteacher’ssignificantother!”
“Arewethefirstunmarriedcouple?”Sophieasks.
“Youare,yes.”
“Isitascandal?”asksSophie.
“OhGod,no.Maybetwentyyearsagoeyebrowswouldhavebeenraised.Butnotnow.Idon’tthinkanyonecaresaboutthesethingsanymore,dothey?Andactually,JacintaCroft—yourpredecessor,Shaun—shearrivedmarried,butleftsingle.Herhusbanddidarunner.Oneofthose‘poppingoutforapintofmilk’scenarios.Nooneeverfoundoutwhy.That’sprettymuchwhysheleft,becauseofthescandalofit.Sono,youtwowillnotcauseanywaggingtongues,Icanpromiseyouthat.”
TheychatforawhileaboutShaun’sfirstdayatwork,abouttheschoolheusedtoteachatinLewisham,aboutthedifferencesbetweenthetwoareas,thetwoschools.ThenKerryanneturnstoSophieandsays,“PeterDoodytellsmethatyou’reawriter,Sophie?Detectivenovels,hesaid.”
“Yes.”Sophiesmiles.“ThoughIdoubtyou’dhavereadthem.They’requiteniche.I’mbiginScandinavia.”Shelaughsthelaughshealwayslaughswhenshehastoexplaintopeoplewhythey’veprobablyneverheardofher.
“Itoldmydaughteraboutyou,”Kerryannesays.“She’sthereaderinthefamily.Notme.Ithinkshemightevenhaveorderedoneofyourbooks.Whataretheycalledagain?”
“TheseriesiscalledtheLittleHitherGreenDetectiveAgency.IwriteunderthenameP.J.Fox.”
“Itellyouwhat,”Kerryannesays,“ifyouwantanyinspirationforyourbooks,Icouldtellyousomestoriesaboutthisplace.Imean,Icouldtellyousomereally,reallyhair-raisingstuff.Wehadthepoliceheretwicelastyearalone,trawlingthosewoodsformissingpeople.”
Sophiethinksoftheabandonedmansionbeyondthewoods.“Wow,”shesays.“Whathappened?”
KerryanneglancesacrossatShaunandsays,“Hm.Probablyabitindiscreet.Maybenot.”
ButshethrowsSophieasidewaysglancethattellsherthere’llbeanothertime
Thefollowingday,SophiegetsupwithShaunat6:00a.m.andtheybreakfastoutdoorstogether,thegoldenraysofanotherbeautifullate-Augustdaystrobingthroughthetreesandacrossthetablecloth.
“Whatwillyoudotoday?”asksShaun,collectingtheplatesandcutleryandpilingthemtogether.“Willyougoforanotherepicwalk?”
“No,”shesays.“Nottoday.IthoughtImightexplorethevillagetoday.MaybegetsomelunchattheinfamousSwanandDucks.”
“I’lltryandjoinyou,”saysShaun.
“Thatwouldbeveryniceindeed.”
AfterShaunleaves,Sophiespendssometimeunpackingboxesinthecottage.Thenshemakesherselfanothercupofcoffeeandtakesherlaptoptothekitchentableandrepliestosomeemails.SheisflyingtoDenmarkinjustoveraweek’stime,toattendacrimefestivalasP.J.Fox,andtherearesomelast-minuteadditionstoheritinerary,includinganinterviewwithaTVstation,whichmeansshe’llwanttodosomethingaboutherhairbeforeshegoes.Shethinksmaybeshe’lltakeadaytripintoLondon,visitherstylistthere,maybehavelunchwithsomeone,seeifherpublisherswouldlikehertovisit.Shefeelsherselfgetquiteexcitedattheprospect.
Afterawhilesheswitchesscreenstoherlatestmanuscript.Shehasn’tlookedatitfordays.Lifehasbeennothingbutpackingandunpackingandsayinggoodbyeandsayinghello.Shehasn’tbeenintherightheadspacetogetanyworkdone.Butnowshehasnoexcuse.
Thetailendofherlastparagraphstaresatherblankly,somethingshewroteinanotherworldwhenshewasaLondoner,whenshehadaboyfriendwhotaughtatasprawlingLewishamsecondaryschool,whenmovingtoSurreywasadateinherdiary,ratherthanherreality.Shestaresbackatitforamoment,thenscrollsupwardthroughtherestofthechapter,tryingtoslotherselfbackinto“LondonSophie,”butjustcan’tdoit.
Instead,sheflicksscreenstoherbrowserandtypesin“MaypoleHouse”and“missingperson.”Shesetsthefiltertonewsandclicksonthefirstlinkintheresults:
LocalTeenParentsRemainMissingAfterNightOut
UpfieldCommonresidentKimKnox,39,hasreportedthedisappearanceofherdaughter,19-year-oldTallulahMurray,andherboyfriend,ZachAllister,also19,whohavenotbeenseensincetheearlyhoursofSaturdaymorning.MurrayandAllister,whohaveaone-year-oldsontogether,spentthepreviouseveningattheSwan&Duckspub,beforetakingaliftwithalocalfriendtoaprivatehomenearUpleyFold,wheretheypartiedwithfriends,formerstudentsatMaypoleHouse,untilthreeo’clockinthemorning.Accordingtothesamefriends,theylefttocatchataxihomebutneverreturned.Ifanyonehasanyinformationabouttheirwhereabouts,pleasecontactdetectivesatMantonPoliceStation.
Sophiefeelsasmallchillofsomethingrippleupanddownherspine.Sheclicksthroughtherestofthelinks,lookingforanupdate,butcan’tfindanything,justvaryingversionsofthesamereportthatthelocalpapercarried.
Shethengoogles“KimKnox,UpfieldCommon”andafewhitscomeup,includingacoupleoflinkstoavillagenewslettercalledtheUpfieldGazetteer.OnearticleinthenewsletterisaboutavigilheldinJune,markingtheone-yearanniversaryofTallulahandZach’sdisappearance.Thereisaphotographattachedtothearticle:anattractivewomanwithdarkmid-lengthhair,wearingalongfloraldresswithbuttonsdownthefrontandapairofblackarmyboots,holdingthehandofaverysmallboy,alsodark-haired,clutchingasinglepinkrose.Ateenageboyinadarkshirtandcargotrousersstandsclosetothewoman;hebearsastrongresemblancetoher.Behindthemisaseaoffaces,alotofyoungpeople.
KimKnox,40,ofGableClose,UpfieldCommon,ledacandlelitprocessionthroughthevillageonSaturdaynighttomarkthefirstanniversaryofthedisappearanceofherdaughter,TallulahMurray,whowouldhavebeen20inMarch.AlsocommemoratedduringtheceremonywasZachAllister,Tallulah’spartnerandfatherofherson,whowouldalsohaveturned20inMarch.TheprocessionbeganonthecommonandconcludedatSt.Bride’sChapel,wheresongsofhopeandremembranceweresungbyachoirfromTallulah’soldschool,UpfieldHigh,whereshewasastudentuntil2016.TallulahwasstudyingsocialcareatMantonCollegeofFurtherEducationwhenshedisappearedinJuneoflastyearafteranightatafriend’shouse.
TheotherlinktakesSophietoanarticlefromthreemonthsbeforethat,arose-treeburialceremonyonthedateofTallulah’stwentiethbirthdayinMarch.
Therosetree,anAustralianshrubrosecalled“Tallulah,”hasbeenplantedbehindthebusstoponthecommon,whereKimKnoxusedtowatchherdaughterasshewaitedforthebustotakehertocollege.
Sophieturnsawayfromthescreen.Shefeelsachillofrawemotionpassthroughheratthethoughtofawomanholdingbackacurtain,peeringacrossthestreet,lookingfortheshadowofhermissingchild,andseeingrosesinstead.
11
DECEMBER2016
Tallulahsitsathermother’sdressingtable.Hermotherhasamagnifyingmirrorhere,plusthingslikecotton-woolballsandmakeupbrushesthatTallulahdoesn’townbecauseTallulahhasneverreallyenjoyedwearingmakeup.Sheputsonmascaraforspecialoccasionsandusescover-uponherunder-eyebagsandanybreakoutsbutdoesn’tbotherwiththerestofit.Thefrontsectionsofherdarkhairarecurrentlyakindofwashed-outnavyblue;she’dbeenhopingfortheelectricblueofthemodelonthepackaging,butlikeeverythinginherlife,itdidn’tturnouthowsheexpected.
Sheopensuphermother’smakeupbagandsearchesthroughitforliquideyeliner,thensweepsthelineracrosshereyelids,tryingtoemulatetheperfectwingsthegirlsatcollegealwaysseemtohave.It’sadisaster.Shewipesthemawayandstartsagain.Eventuallyshepicksupherphoneandtextshermum:
Canyoucomeupstairsandhelpmewithmymakeup?
Shefeelsabitbad.Hermumdoesenoughforherthesedays.Noah’snappingandhermumisenjoyingararemomentofpeaceonherown.
Butafewsecondslaterhermumreplieswithathumbs-upemojiandthensheisthere,herwarmthfillingtheroomimmediately.“Rightthen,whatdoyouneeddoing?”
“Thewings,”Tallulahreplies,passingtheliquidlinertohermother.“Ikeepmuckingthemup.”
HermotherpullsastoolacrosstheroomandstraddlesitsothatsheisafewinchesfromTallulah’sface.Tallulahcansmelltheperfumeonherneck:it’sfromtheBodyShopandhasmuskinit.Hermumsaysthatmuskmakesmenwanttohavesexwithyou.WhichstrikesTallulahasunlikely;whywouldanyonebotherdoingalltheotherthingsyou’resupposedtodotomakemenwanttohavesexwithyouifyoucouldjustwearaparticularperfumeandbedonewithit?
Theoutlineofoneofhermum’stattoosisjustvisibleoverthenecklineofhertop:thetipofafeatherthatfartherdownformspartofabird.Hermotherhassixtattoos;shehadonedonebeforeTallulahwasborn,andtherestaftershewasborn.ShehasTallulah’sbabyfootprintstattooedinpalepinkontheundersideofherarm,threeincheslong,withherinitialsinaflourishunderneath.OntheundersideoftheotherarmshehasRyan’sbabyfeettattooed.OnherbackshehasaJapanese-stylefish,onherankleshehasaflockofswallows,andonherringfingershehasadiamond.Shesaysthediamondistosymbolizehermarriagetoherself;aftershesplitupwithTallulahandRyan’sdadshevowednevertomarryagainandthetattooedengagementringwouldmeanshewasalreadytaken.
Tallulahcloseshereyesandanglesherfacetowardhermother’soutstretchedhand.
“So,”sayshermother,applyingthebrushtotherimofherlefteye.“What’swiththemakeup?”
It’sthecollegeChristmaspartytonight,adiscointhecanteen,famouslyawfulbutsheknowsthecoolkidswillbethere,Scarlettandherlot,becausethey’reonthesocialplanningcommittee,andshefeelsverykeenlythatifshedoesn’tgo,shemightmissoutonsomething,butshe’snotentirelysurewhat.
Sheshrugs.“Justfeltlikeit,”shesays.
Hermothercompletesthesecondwingandsheturnstoseeherselfinthemirror.Thewingsareperfect.“Thanks,Mum,”shesays.“You’rethebest.”
“Whatareyougoingtowear?”askshermum.
“Thattop,”shesays,“youknow,theonewegotwhenwewereattheBelfrylastweek.Withtheheartsonit.Withmyblackjeans.”
“Ohyes,”hermumreplies,“that’lllooklovely.”
Tallulahsmiles.It’snotthemostamazingtopintheworldbutit’llhideherpost-babystomach,whichjustwon’tseemtosnapbackintoshapenomatterhowhardshetries,andthat’stheimportantthing.
Anhourlatershecomesdownstairs.HermumhasNoahonherlapandthey’rewatchingCBeebiestogether.Ryanisatthediningtablewithheadphoneson,doinghishomework.
“Youlookgorgeous,”sayshermother.“Justgorgeous.”
TallulahleansdowntokissNoahonbothcheeks.
“Howareyougettingthere?”
“Chloe’sgivingmealift.”
Hermothernods.
“Areyousureyou’llbeallright?”Tallulahasks,touchingthecrownofherbaby’shead.“Idon’thavetogoifyou’dratherIdidn’t?”
“Ofcoursewe’llbeallright.It’sbathtimeinaminute,isn’tit,myangel?”Hermother’svoicerisesanoctaveortwoassheturnstoaddressNoah.“Andafterthatwe’llhavealovelystoryandalovelylongsleep.Yes!Yeswewill!”
NoahturnsandsmilesatherandTallulah’smumkisseshimhardonhischeek.“Offyougo,”shesays.“Havefun.Letmeknowifyou’regoingtobelate.”
“Idefinitelywon’tbelate,”shesays.“Chloe’smumwantsherhomebyeleven,sothat’swhenI’llbeback.”
Shehearsthesoundofacarpullingupoutsideanddashestothefrontdoor.Briefly,sheappraisesherselfinthemirrorthere.
Shelooks,shethinks,quitepretty.
ThefirsthouriseverybitascrapasTallulahhadexpectedittobe.Shitsoundsystemplayingbadmusic;thehatchinthewallwherethedinnerladiesusuallyservelunchisopenandservingbeerinplasticbottlesandwinebytheglass.SheandChloesitonabenchwiththeirbackstothewall,eachholdingabeer,watchingthepartyunfoldaroundthem.ChloewenttoschoolwithTallulah,primaryandsecondary;theywereneverparticularlygreatfriendsbuthavecometogetheroutofnecessityduringthisfirsttermatManton.
Thenabuzzpassesacrosstheroom,andinsidetheframeofthedoubledoorsappearScarlettJacquesandhergang.They’relaughingamongthemselvesandnoneofthemhasmadeanyefforttolooknice.Scarlett’sfaded-bluehairistiedbackintotwoshortpigtails.She’swearingbaggyjeansandaleopard-printvesttopandanoversizefake-furcoat.Thewholeatmosphereoftheroomchangesastheyenter.
Chloetuts.“Whatthefuckaretheydoinghere?”
Tallulahturns.“Whywouldn’ttheybehere?Theyhelpedtoplanit.”
“Iwouldhavethoughttheywerewaaaaytooedgyandcoolforthissortofthing.”
Tallulahfeelsastrangewaveofdefensivenesspassthroughher.“They’rejustpeople,”shecounters.
Butsheknowsthisisn’ttrue.They’remorethanjustpeople.They’reamood,afeeling,avibe,anaspiration.They’relikeamusicvideooratrailerforareallycoolmovie.They’reabillboardposterforahipclothingbrand.WithinthetinyfishbowlenvironsofMantonCollege,they’rebasicallycelebrities.
“Wantanotherdrink?”sheasks,gettingtoherfeet.
Chloeshakesherhead.“Thisismylimit,”shesays,mimingdrivingacar.
“Coke?”
“Sure,”saysChloe.“Diet,ifthey’vegotit.”
Tallulahtugsdownherheart-printshirtsothatthere’snogapbetweenthewaistbandofherjeansandthehemofhershirt,noglimpseofthericepuddingmessleftbehindbyherpregnancy.
SheheadstothehatchjustasScarlettandhercrewarrive.Theysmellasthoughthey’vebeendrinkingalready,makingakindofmockeryofTallulah’ssoberhourinfrontofamirror,herquietfarewelltoherbabysononhermother’slap,herbrothersittingathislaptop,diligentlydoinghishomework.Howdifferenttheirpre-partyeveningshavebeen.
Scarlettstaresatherphonewhilesomeoneelsequeuestogetheradrink.Herfurcoathangsoffhershoulders,revealingatattooonherupperarmandachiseledcollarbone.Shetakesthebeerfromherfriend’shandandasshedoessoshecatchesTallulah’seye.
“Oh!”shesays.“It’sTallulahfromthebus.”
Tallulahnods.“Yup,”shesays,“it’sme,fromthebus.”
They’dacknowledgedeachotheracoupleoftimesaftertheirinteractionatthebusstopthatdayafewweeksearlier,butthatwasasfarasithadgone.
“Youlooknice.”ShetipsherbeerbottletowardTallulah’sface,areferencetohermakeup,Tallulahassumes.
“Thanks.”Shealmostsays,Sodoyou,butthenthinksbetterofit.
Theguyservingbehindthebarlooksatherinquisitivelyandsheordersherdrinks.Sheexpects,assheturnsawayfromthebar,thatScarlettwillhavelefttojoinherfriendsonthedancefloor,butshe’swaitingforher.Tallulahtriestohidehersurprise.
“Cheers,”saysScarlett,knockingherplasticbeerbottleagainstTallulah’s.
“Cheers,”saysTallulah.
“Whoareyouherewith?”Scarlettglancesaroundtheroom.
“ChloeMinter.”Shepointsatherfriend,whoissittingscrollingthroughsomethingonherphone.“She’sinmyyear.Shelivesinthevillage.Nearme.Youknow.Andshewasdriving.So…”Sheshrugs,asuggestionthatherreasonsforbeingherewithChloeMinterarepurelypractical.Which,inaway,theyare.
TheDJputson“AllIWantForChristmasIsYou”byMariahCareyandthereisahugeswellofexcitement,armsintheair,adashtothedancefloor.
“Oh!Oh,oh!”saysScarlett.“Comeon.We’vegottadance!”
Tallulahblinks.Shedoesn’tlikedancingatthebestoftimes.Butshedoesn’twanttosoundmiserablesoshelaughsandsays,“I’mnotdrunkenoughyet.”
Scarlettdelvesintooneofthepocketsonherhugefake-furcoatandpullsoutacopperhipflask.“Quick,”shesays,“neckit.”
“Whatisit?”
“Rum,”shesays.“Really,reallygoodrum.MydadbroughtitbackfromBarbados.It’slike”—shemakesacircleoutofherthumbandindexfinger—“thebest.”
Tallulahsniffstherimoftheflask.
“Canyousmellthespice?”saysScarlett.
Tallulahnods,althoughreallyshecanonlysmellthealcohol.Shetakesasipandhandsitback.
“No,no,no,”saysScarlett.“Thatwon’tgetyoudancing!More!”
Tallulahtipstheflasktoherlipsagainandtakesfourhugeslugs.
“Drunkenoughtodancenow?”
ShenodsandScarlettpullsherontothedancefloor.TheydancetowardherfriendsandshetwirlsTallulahinfrontofherandTallulahisconsciousofhernewtopridingupassheliftsherarmsandshetriestolowerthembutScarlettkeepspullingthemup.
EveryoneissingingalongandTallulahcanseesometutorsjoininginnow,andpeopleshewouldn’texpecttobeonadancefloor,andthealcoholpumpsitswaythroughherbloodsupplyandintoherbrainandsuddenlyshedoesn’tcareaboutherporridgebellyorChloesittingonthebench,shejustwantstodance,dancelikeshe’seighteenyearsoldanddoesn’thaveacareintheworldandthere’snobabyathome,noput-uponmotherwhoshouldbeoutatapartyherselftonight,noex-boyfriendloiteringinthewingstryingtowooherback,justher,eighteenyearsold,inherfirsttermatcollege,herwholelifeaheadofherandthecoolestgirlintheworldholdingherhandsaboveherheadandgrinningather:Mariah,rum,glitterdescendingfromtheceilingandlandingatherfeetandinherhair.
ThesongcomestoanendandScarlettfinallyletsherhandsgo.
“Now,”shesays,“Christmashasofficiallybegun!”Shemakesawhoopingnoiseandhigh-fivesherfriendsandthen,justasTallulahassumesshewillfadeawayfromherandbackintotheprotectivebubbleofherlittlegang,Scarlettturnstoherandsays,“Comeoutsidewithme.”
TallulahlooksoverhershoulderanxiouslyatChloe.
“She’llbefine,”saysScarlett.“Comeon.”Shepullsherbythehand,outofthedoubledoorsandintotheentrancehall,thentothecarpark.TheairisimmediatelyicycoldandwhileScarlettisstillwearingherhugefurcoat,Tallulahisinonlyhershort-sleevedcottontop.“Here,”saysScarlett,openinguphercoat.“Roominherefortwo.”
TallulahlooksatheruncertainlybeforeshruggingandsmilingandnestlingherselfagainstScarlett’sbonyframeandpullingtheothersideofhercoataroundhershoulders.
“Wherearewegoing?”
“AlittleplaceIknow.”
Tallulahblinksather,startingtofeelstrangelyuneasy.
“Don’tlooksoscared.”
“I’mnotscared.”
“Yeah,youare.”
Theymoveasoneunderneaththecarapaceofthehugefurcoatandenduponabench.Scarlettgoesthroughthepocketsofthebigcoatandpullsoutapacketofcigarettes.SheflipsitopenandoffersittoTallulah.
Tallulahshakesherhead.She’sneversmokedandneverwantsto.
“Sorrytodragyououtofthere,”saysScarlett,pluckingacigarettefromthepacket.“JustrealizedIwastoodrunk.Waytoodrunk.Neededfreshair.Andfreshcompany.”Sherollshereyes.
Tallulahthrowsheralook.
“Imean,don’tgetmewrong,Ilovethemtodeath,Ireally,reallydo.Butwe’veallbeenhangingoutforsolong.Youknow,wewereallatMaypoleHousetogetherandthatplaceisreallyintense.Imean,reallyintense.”
“Whatwereyoudoingthere?”
“Oh,youknow,justAlevels.Ididthefirsttermofsixthformataboardingschool,butthenIgotexpelled.NobodyelsewouldtakemeexcepttheMaypole,somydadboughtahousecloseby,sothatIcouldbeadaygirl.”Scarlettshrugsandlightshercigarette.“Whataboutyou?Wheredidyougotoschool?”
“Oh,youknow,UpfieldHigh,justlocal.”
“Wheredoyoulive?”
“Inthatcul-de-sac,youknow,ontheothersideofthecommon.”
“Withyourparents?”
“Yeah.Well,withmymum.MydadlivesinGlasgow.Andmybrother.”
Herbreathcatchesonthenextthingsheshouldsay.Thethingaboutherson,Noah.It’sthere,halfwayupherthroat.Butshecan’tmakeitunstick.Shedoesn’tknowwhy.She’sprettysurethatagirllikeScarlettwouldactuallythinkitwasquitecoolthatshehadababyandshewasonlyeighteen.Butforsomereason,shedoesn’twanttobethatgirltonight,thegirlshowingremarkablelevelsofmaturity,thegirltakingherresponsibilitiesseriously,thegirlwhowakeswithherbabyeverymorningat6:00a.m.,evenattheweekends,whodoeshercollegeworkwhileherbabysleeps,whorememberstobuyherownnappiesandsterilizeherownmilkbottlesboughtwiththeallowancethathermothergivesher,whichothergirlswouldspendoncharcoalnosestripsandfalseeyelashesfromSuperdrug.She’sbeenthatgirlforsixmonthsandsheisgoodatbeingthatgirl,butrightnowsheishuddledunderafurcoatinthecoldwithaskinnygirlwhoprobablywouldn’thaveababyuntilshewasatleastthirty-six,whogetsexpelledfromboardingschoolsandsmokescigarettesandhastattoosandastudpiercedthroughhertongue,andfornow,atleast,Tallulahwantstobesomeoneelse.
“Yeah,”shefinishes.“Justus.”
“AndhaveyoualwayslivedinUpfield?”
“Yes.Bornandbred.”
“Sowhat’syourdaddoinginGlasgow?”
“He’sGlaswegian.Hemovedbackwhenheandmymumsplitup.”
Scarlettinhalesandnods.
“Andwhataboutyou?”Tallulahasks.“Whodoyoulivewith?”
Sheraisesherbrow.“Well,ostensiblyIlivewithmymotherandfatherbutmymotheriskindoftwo-dimensionalandmyfatherisalwaysaway.ButIhaveabrother.He’scool.Ilikehim.Andwehaveliterally,like,thebestdogintheworld.He’saSaintBernard.Like,thesizeofafuckingpony,butthinkshe’saregulardog.He’smybestfriend.Literally.I’dbelostwithouthim.I’dprobablydie.”
“I’dlikeadog,”Tallulahsays.“Butmybrother’sgotallergies.”
“OhGod,youhavetogetadog.Getacockapoo!Oranythingwithpoodleinit.They’rehypoallergenic.Cavapoosarenicetoo.Youjustabsolutelymustgetadog.”
ForamomentTallulahfindsherselfidlyfantasizingaboutacavapoo,maybeoneofthoseapricot-coloredones,withhugeeyesandsoftears.Shepicturesherselfwalkingitaroundthevillageandputtingitinashoulderbagtotakeitintoshopsandthenshestopsandremembersthatshecannothaveacavapoobecauseshehasababy.
“Maybe,”shesays.“Maybe.”
Scarlettrubsouthercigaretteonthegroundbeneathherheelandpullsthecopperflaskoutofherpocketagain.ShetakesasipandpassesittoTallulah,whotakesasipandpassesitback.
“You’reverycute,”saysScarlett,eyeingherquiteseriously.“Didyouknowthat?”
“Er,no,notreally.”
“Youreallyare.It’ssomethingaboutyour…”ShetiltsTallulah’sfaceupwardwithherfingertipunderherchinandstudiesher.“Ithinkit’syournose.Thewayitsortoftipsup,justattheendthere.YoulooklikeLanaDelRey.”
Tallulahlaughshoarsely.“Don’tbemad.”
“Ithinkit’stheeyeliner,plusthenose.”SheframesTallulah’sfacewithherhands.“Youshouldalwayswearyoureyelinerlikethat,”shesays,slowlypullingaway,buthereyesstilltakinginthedetailofTallulah’sface.
Tallulahfeelssomethingflashthroughher,thekindofadrenalinerushthatyougetwhenyounearlymissastepcomingdownstairs,asortofthrillingsickness
Andthenaflashlightappearsfromthedarkness,andthesoundofvoices,andthereisScarlett’sgang,incapableofsurvivingwithouttheoxygenoftheirleader’spresenceforeventenminutesbeforehuntingherdown.
“Oh,thereyouare,”saysone,almostcrosswithherfordaringtobeelsewhere.“Jaydensaidhethoughtyoumighthavegonehome.”
“Nope.Justouthere,chattingwithTallulahfromthebus.”
ThetwogirlslookatScarlettquizzically,andTallulahseesthemtakeintheshapeoftheirbodiespressedtogetherunderneathScarlett’scoatandseessomethinglikerecognitionpassacrosstheirfaces,asmallshockofunderstanding,andshewonderswhatitisthatthey’veseen.
Theynodatherandshenodsback,andScarlettsays,“ThisisMimiandthisisRoo.They’reapairofhobagsI’veknownforaboutahundredyears.ThisisTallulah.Don’tyouthinkshe’spretty?Don’tyouthinkshelooksabitlikeLanaDelRey?”
Theylookatherblankly,slightlyawkwardly.
ScarlettgetstoherfeetandhercoatfallsfromTallulah’sshouldersandsuddenlysheiscold,verycold.Shelooksatthethreegirls,allofwhomarelightingcigarettesanddancingtogethertothebackgroundthumpof“8DaysofChristmas”byDestiny’sChildemanatingfromthedininghallandsheremembersChloesittingalonewaitingforhercanofDietCokeandshesays,“I’dbettergetbackin.Myfriend’swaitingforme.”
Scarlettputsherhandsonherhipsandnarrowshereyesatherinmockannoyanceandthensmilesandsays,“Seeyouaround,Tallulahfromthebus.”
Tallulahgivesheranawkwardthumbs-up.Shedoesn’treallyknowwhatelsetosay.Andthensheturnsandheadsbackinside,whereChloegivesherapainedandquestioninglook.
“I’mreallysorry,”Tallulahsays,sittingdownnexttoher.“Idon’treallyunderstandwhatjusthappened.Shejustkindof…hijackedme.”
“Weird,”saysChloe,wrinklinghernoseslightly.
“Yeah,”saysTallulah,caressingthecurvesofaratherwarmplasticbeerbottleandstaringintothemiddledistance.“Yeah.Itreallywas.”
12
JUNE2017
KimleavesKerryanne’sapartmentandwalksacrossthecommonwithRyantoMegs’shousetocollectNoah.
He’sasleepinhiscarseatwhenMegsbringshimtothefrontdoor.Kimswallowsasurgeofannoyance.ShespecificallytoldMegsthatNoahneededtostayawakebecauseotherwisehewouldn’tbetiredatbedtimeandnowshe’llhavetowakehimuptogethimoutofhisclothesandreadyforbedandhe’llbegrouchyandmiserableandthenwon’twanttosleepwhensheputshimdownatbedtimebutMegsjustsmilesindulgentlyathiminhiscarseat,hisdarkhairdampwithsweat,andsays,“Blesshislittlesoul,hewasexhausted,Icouldn’tbeartokeephimawake.”
Kimsmilesgrimlyandtakesthehandleofthecarseat.“Nevermind,”shesaystightly.
“AndItakeit…?”Megsbegins.“Nothingaboutthekids?”
“No,”saysKim.“Nothingaboutthekids.Although—didZachhappentosayanythingtoyouaboutwhathehadplannedforlastnight?”
“No.Imean,Ididn’tevenknowtheyweregoingtothepubuntilyoutoldmeaboutit.Haven’treallyspokentohimthelastfewdays.”
“So,youdidn’tknowanythingabout…”Kimpauses,wonderingwhethertospoilthesurpriseornot,thendecidesthat,no,gettingtothebottomofthewhereaboutsofZachandTallulahismoreimportantthansurprisesrightnow.“…aring?”shefinishes.
“Aring?”
“Yes.Anengagementring.DidZachsayanythingtoyouaboutproposingtoTallulah?”
Megslaughs.“God,”shesays,“no!”
Kimnarrowshereyesather.ShehasnoideawhyMegsshouldfindthisconceptfunny.
“IsthereanyoneelsewhoZachmighthavetalkeditthroughwith?Afriend?Hisdad?”
“Hisfriends,Isuppose,butI’vealreadyspokentoallofthemandnoneofthemknowsanythingaboutwhathappenedlastnight.Andno,hewouldn’ttalktohisdadaboutit.Hisdad’snotthatsortofman.Notmuchemotionalintelligence,youknow.”
Kimstiflesawrysmile.She’srarelymetanyonewithlessemotionalintelligencethanMegs.Shesighs.“Fine,”shesays,“OK,well,I’dbettergetthislittlemanhomeandtryandpersuadehimtowakeupandthentryandpersuadehimtogobacktosleepagain.”
Megssmilesatherblankly.Shehasnoclue.
“Please,letmeknowifyouhearanything,won’tyou?”Kimasks.“I’mgoingtocallthepoliceaboutTallulahifshe’snotbackbythetimeNoah’sasleep.Youmightwanttodothesame.”
Megsshrugs.“Stillreckonthetwoofthemhaverunawaysomewhereforabreakfromitall.Butyes.MaybeIshouldbeworried.Youmightberight.”
Kimturnsthenandheadstohercar,shakingherheadalmostimperceptiblyasshewalks,hereyesclosingagainsttheimpossibilityofunderstandinghowamotherandagrandmothercouldhavesolittleengagementwiththeirroles.
Thefirsthalfoftheeveningpassesquicklyasshegoesthroughtheprocessofreadyingayear-oldchildforbed.Noah,asshepredicted,won’tsettleandit’salmost9:00p.m.bythetimehefinallydropsoff.
Kimcraveswinebutsheneedstoremainclear-headedandsoberbecausehereveningisfarfromover.Shesitsinthelivingroom.There’ssomethingontheTV;shedoesn’treallyknowwhat:someloudSaturday-nightfare.Ryansitsinthearmchairscrollingthroughhisphone,hisfootbouncingupanddowntheonlythingbetrayinghisanxiety.
ShecallsTallulah’snumberyetagain.Itgoesthroughtovoicemail,yetagain.
ShelooksatRyan.“DidZachsayanythingtoyou?”shesays.“AboutproposingtoTallulah?”
SheimmediatelyknowsthathehasbytheslightjerkofRyan’shead,theimmediatecessationofthefootbouncing.“Why?”hesays.
“Ijustwondered.Ifoundaringinhiscoatpocketyesterday.Ithoughtmaybehe’dbeenplanningtoproposelastnight.Itmadesense,youknow,givenhewastakingheroutforthenight.”
“Well,yeah,hedidkindofsayhewasthinkingaboutit.Buthedidn’tsaywhenhewasplanningondoingit.”
“Whatdidhesayexactly?”
“JustaskedmewhatIthought.Said,didIthinkshe’dsayyesifheaskedher.”
“Andwhatdidyousay?”
“IsaidIdidn’thaveaclue.BecauseIdidn’t.”
Shenods.
Thenshelooksatthetime.It’snineo’clock.It’senough,shethinks,enough.It’stime.
Witharacingheartandasickeningswirlinthepitofherstomach,shecallsthepoliceandshefilesamissingpersonscase.
Averyattractivemanisatherdoorthefollowingmorning.Hewearsagraysuitandacreamopen-neckedshirt,IDonalanyard.
Hepullsabadgefromhisjacketpocketandflashesitather.“DetectiveInspectorDominicMcCoy,”hesays.“Youcalledaboutsomemissingpersonslastnight?”
Kimnods,hard.“Yes,yes.God,yes.Please,comein.”
Shehasbarelyslept.ShebroughtNoahintoherbedeventuallybecausehewouldn’tsettleinhiscotafterhisnighttimewake-upandthetwoofthemhadlainthere,inthedark,blinkingupattheceiling.
Atonepointhe’dturnedtoher,grabbedhercheekwithonehothand,andsaid“umma.”HesaiditthreemoretimesbeforesherealizedthathewastryingtosayMumma.Thathewastryingtospeakhisfirstfullword.
“Comethrough,”Kimsaysnow,leadingDominicMcCoyintoherlivingroom.“CanIgetyouanything?”
“No.I’vejusthadacoffeesoI’mgood.Thankyou.”
TheysitfacingeachotheracrossthecoffeetableandKimpassesNoahapacketofricecakestokeephimquietforawhile.
“So,mycolleaguetellsmethatyourdaughterfailedtocomehomeonFridaynight?Isthatcorrect?”
Kimnods.“Mydaughter,andherboyfriend—heliveswithus.Theybothfailedtocomehome.”
“Andthey’rehowold?”
“They’rebothnineteen.TheyturnednineteeninMarch.”
DIMcCoylooksatherstrangely,asifsheshouldn’tbeworriedaboutacoupleofnineteen-year-olds.
“Butthey’reparents,”shecontinues.“Noah—he’stheirson.Soit’snotasifthey’relikelytojusttakeoffonawhim.They’regoodparents.Responsible.”
Henodsthoughtfully.“Isee.”
Shewonderswhatitisthathethinkshesees.ButthensheanswershisquestionsabouttheeventsofFridayandofSaturday.ShegiveshimScarlett’saddress,Lexie’saddress,Megs’saddress.Shealmostmentionstheengagementring,butthendecidesagainstitatthelastminute;she’snotsurewhy.
Halfanhourlaterhestandstoleave.
“So,whatdoyouthink,then?”Kimasks.“Whatdoyouthinkmighthavehappenedtothem?”
“Well,there’snorealreasontobelievethatanythinghashappenedtothem.Twoyoungsters,alotofresponsibility,theirfirstnightoutinalongtime,maybetheyjustmadeabreakforfreedom.”
“No,”sherepliesimmediately.“Absolutelynot.They’redevotedtotheirson.Bothofthem.Particularlymydaughter.Absolutelydevotedtohim.”
Henodsthoughtfully.“Andtheboyfriend,Zach?Washeinanywaycontrolling?Wouldyousay?Werethereanysignsofabusegoingon?”
“No,”sherepliesagain,almosttoofast,asshetriestooverridetheuncomfortablelittledoubtsshe’sstartingtohave.“HeadoresTallulah.Dotesonher.Almosttoomuch.”
“Toomuch?”
Sherealizeswhatshe’ssaidandretreats.“No.Nottoomuch.But,youknow,itgetsonhernervessometimes,Iguess.”
“Iwouldn’tmindbeingdotedonlikethat,”hesayswithasmile.
Kimcloseshereyesandnods.Mendon’tknow,shethinks,theydon’tknowhowhavingababymakesyouprotectiveofyourskin,yourbody,yourspace.Whenyouspendalldaygivingyourselftoababyineverywaythatit’spossibletogiveyourselftoanotherhumanbeing,thelastthingyouwantattheendofthedayisagrownmanwantingyoutogivehimthingstoo.Mendon’tknowhowthetouchofahandagainstthebackofyourneckcanfeellikearequest,notagestureoflove,howemotionalissuesbecometoocumbersometodealwith,howtheirloveforyouistoomuchsometimes,justtoomuch.Kimsometimesthinksthatwomenpracticebeingmothersonmenuntiltheybecomeactualmothers,leavingbehindakindofvacancy.
DIMcCoyleavesaminutelater.Hepromisesthathewillopenaninvestigation.Hedoesn’tsaywhenorhow.Kimwatcheshimfromherfrontwindow,climbingintohisunmarkedvehicle,adjustinghisrearviewmirror,adjustinghislanyardandhissuitjacketandhishair,turningontheengine,andleaving
SheturnstoNoah,whoisinhisbouncychair,amushed-upricecakeinthepalmofhishand,andsheforcesasadsmiledesignedtodistracthimfromthetearsrunningdownthesidesofhernoseandsays,“Where’sUmma,Noah?Whereisshe?”
13
AUGUST2018
Sophieleansdowntoreadtheinscriptiononasmallwoodenplaquebeneaththerosebushbehindthebusstop.Itsays:“TallulahRose,untilwemeetagain.”
Shestandsstraightagainandglancesaroundherself,lookingforthewindowatwhichpoorTallulah’smummighthavestood,watchinghergirlwaitingforherbustoschool.Therearenohousesdirectlyoppositethebusstop,butthereisasmallcul-de-sacjustofftheothersideofthecommon,veryclosetoMaypoleHouse.FromhereSophiecanseetheglintofsunlightoffwindows.
Shecrossesthecommonagainandheadstowardthecul-de-sac.Itconsistsofaboutsixhouses,setinahalf-moonaroundasmallpatchofgreen,carsparkedhalfuponthepavementstomakeroomforothercarstosqueezepast.Thehousesthemselvesaresmallpostwardwellings,withrenderedfrontsandwoodenporches.Sheturnsandlooksbackacrossthecommon,tryingtoascertainwhichofthehousesmighthaveaviewofthebusstop.Twoofthemappearto.Oneofthemseemsquiterun-down;theotherlooksbrightandmodern,withcactiincopperpotsinthewindowandabrownleathersofacoveredinbrightlycoloredcushionsjustvisibleagainstthebackwall.
ThearticlesaidthatthenighttheywentmissingTallulahandherboyfriendhadbeendrinkingattheSwan&Ducks,thelocalgastropubthathadbeenrecommendedtoSophieandShaunbyPeterDoodythedaytheyarrived.Sophiecarriesoncirclingthecommonuntilshefindsherselfoutsidethepub.It’sveryattractive,freshlypaintedinheritageshadesofgray;there’sagraveledfrontareawithroundwoodentablesandchairs,hugecreamparasols,andchalkboardsignsadvertisingthemenuandthebeerselection.
Shepushesopenthedoor.It’sclassicgastropub:tongueandgroove,funkyabstractartonthewalls,designerwallpaper,reconditionedfloorboards,andhalogenspots.Thewomanbehindthebarisforty-something,attractiveinanunconventionalway.She’swearingafittedblackcap-sleevedT-shirtwithblacktrousersandabartender’saprontiedtightaroundherwaist.Herdarkhairispulledbackinaponytail.AssheapproachesSophiesherestsherhandsagainstthebar,fixesasmile,andsays,“WhatcanIgetyou?”
“Oh,justacappuccino,please.Thankyou.”
“Comingrightup.”
SheturnstowardthebigchromecoffeemachineandSophienoticesthetattoosontheundersidesofherarms.Atfirstshethinkstheymightbeburnsorscars,thensheseesthattheyarebabyfootprints.
“Yourtattoosarereallycute,”shesays.“Thebabyfeet.”
ThewomanturnsandSophieseeshersmilefadealittle.Sheglancesdownatoneofherarmsandtouchestheimageofthefootgentlywithherotherhand.“Oh,”shesays.“Thanks.”
Shecarriesonmakingthecoffee;thehissandsplutterofthemachineisdeafeninglyloudandSophiedoesn’tattempttocontinuetheconversation.Hergazedropstothewoman’sfeetwhileshewaits.She’sdelicatelybuiltbutwearingsomewhatincongruousscuffedleatherarmyboots.SomethingtwitchesinSophie’smemory.She’sseenthosearmybootsbefore,recently,reallyrecently.
Andthensheremembers:thepicturesinthevillagenewsletterofTallulah’smemorialprocession—themotherhadbeenwearingarmyboots,withtheprettyfloraldress.
Thewomanturns,withSophie’scappuccinoinherhand.“Chocolateontop?”sheasks,holdingaloftthecanister.
AndSophieseesthatitisher.It’sTallulah’smother.KimKnox.
Foramomentsheissilent.
“Yes?No?”saysthewoman,wavingthecanister.
“Sorry,yes.Please.Thankyou.”
Thewomansprinklesthechocolatepowderoverthecoffeeandslidesittoher.Sophiefeelsinsideherhandbagforherpurse,barelyabletomakeeyecontactwithKimKnox,feelingasthoughshe’sabouttobecaughtoutinhersnoopingaround.Shepaysusinghercontactlesscardandtakesthecoffeetoasmallpurplevelvetarmchairsetnexttoalowbrasscoffeetable.FromhereshewatchesKimKnoxrestockingtheshelveswithFever-Treetonicwaters.Shehasanoddenergyabouther;shelooksasifsheweighsnomorethanonehundredtwenty-fivepounds,buthermovementsarethoseofsomeoneheavier.Ayoungmanwalksintothepubandheadstowardthegapinthebar.“Hi,Nick,”shecallsafterhimashepassesthrough.
Hecallsout,“Morning,Kim,”beforedisappearingthroughadooratthebackofthebar.
Soit’sdefinitelyher.KimKnox.
Themanreappearsaminutelatertyinganapronaroundhiswaistandthenrollinguphisshirtsleeves.“Wantahand?”heasksher.
“Sure,”shesays,scootingalongalittletogivehimspace.
Sophiedropshergazeandpretendstobelookingatherphone.
ShewondershowlongKim’sworkedhere.Shewondersifshewasworkingherethenightherdaughterdisappeared.There’ssomuchshewantstoknow,wantstoask.ShefeelsthetendrilsofherfictionalSouthLondondetectiveduo,SusieBeetsandTigerYu,starttothreadtheirwaythroughherpsyche.
Whenshe’swriting,herbraincomesupwithmysteriesandSusieandTigerhavetosolvethemforher;that’showitworks.AndSusieandTigerwouldhavenoqualmsaboutapproachingthissad,prettywomanandaskingherquestionsaboutwhathappenedtoherdaughter;theywouldjustdoit,becauseitwastheirjob.Butit’snotSophie’sjob.She’snotadetective.She’sanovelistandshehasnorighttoinvadethiswoman’sprivacy.
Whensheleavesafewminuteslater,KimKnoxsmiles.“Haveagoodday,”shecallsout,leaningtocollectSophie’semptycoffeecupfromthebarwheresheleftit.
“Yes,”saysSophie.“Youtoo.”
Sophiehaulsanoldbikeoutoftheshedattachedtotheircottage,ridsitofcobwebsanddeadleaves,andcyclesouttowardUpleyFold.
Afterahazymorningthesunisnowstartingtobreakthroughthecloud.Thehedgerowsmellsofcowparsleyanddeadstrawandtheairisheavyandwarm.Shedismountsthebikeoutsidethehouseandcrunchesacrossthegraveldrivewaytowardthefrontdoor,whereshecupsherhandstotheglassandpeersintothehallway.There’sasmallfanofmailspreadacrossthefront-doormatandagapunderthefrontdoorwithabrushstripattachedtotheunderside.Shedelvesintoherrucksack,herhandssearchingforthewirecoathangershe’dputinthereearlierforthisveryeventuality.Shegetsdownontoherkneesandslidesitthroughthebrushstrips.Ithitssomething.Shegetslowertothefloorandmanipulatesthehangerandtheobjectuntilshethinksitmightbecloseenoughforherfingertolocateitandthentugsitgentlyandthereitis:anenvelope.
It’saletteraddressedtoMr.MartinJ.Jacques.ShebreathesasighofreliefJacques.Anunusualname.AgoodnametoputintoGoogle.Shetakesaphotographoftheletterandthengentlypushesitbackunderthedoor.
Thetimeisapproachingeleveno’clock.Shehasanotherfewminutes,shereckons,tosnoopabout,beforeheadingbacktothevillageforherlunchwithShaun.Shecirclesthehouse,headingthroughtheprettywrought-irongatewiththearchedtopthatleadstothebackgardenandtheswimmingpool.Shepeersthroughwindows.Shegoesintoagreenhouseandliftsupfeatherlightplantpots,watchesspidersscuttlingintocorners.There’sasmallrustytrowelonthewoodenbenchandsheslipsitintotheoutsidepocketofherrucksack.Shehasanidea.
Thearrowonthepieceofcardboardnailedtothefencepointsdownandslightlytotheleft.Shehasnoideaif“DigHere”isapreciseinstructionorageneralsuggestion,butshestartsdiggingasclosetothetipofthearrowasshecan.Shehasbutterfliesasshedigs;herbloodisfilledwiththeadrenalineofdread.
FourteenmonthsagotwoteenagerswentmissingsomewherebetweenDarkPlaceandthevillage,possiblysomewhereinthesewoods.Thesignthatappearedsoinnocuoustwodaysago,thesignshe’dthoughtaleftoverpartofateam-buildingexerciseoratreasuretrail,thesignthatshestillfeelssostronglyshehasseensomewhereelse,atsomeotherjunctureofherlife,nowcarriesashadowofpotentialhorror.Mightitbeashredoftornclothing?Atinyshardofbone?Ahankofhairtiedinfadedsatinribbon?Sheholdsherbreathasthetrowelgoesdeeperanddeeperintothesummer-dryearth.Everytimeithitsastonesheinhalesagain.
Nineminuteslaterthetipofhertroweldislodgessomethingsmallandhard.Adarkcube.Shepullsitoutofthegroundwithherfingertipsanddustsitdown.There’sagoldlogostampedontoit,impossibletoascertainwhatitisexactly,andasherfingersfeelarounditsherealizesthatitisaringbox.
Shepullsitapartwithherthumbs.
Insideisaperfect,gleaming,goldenengagementring.
14
JANUARY2017
CollegerestartsandTallulahisglad.
ChristmasDaywasnice,Noah’sfirst.
Herdad,whosenameisJim,camedownonBoxingDay,onlythesecondtimehe’dseenNoahsincehewasborn.HestayedinaroomabovetheSwan&Ducksfortwonights,andevenpaidforthemalltohavedinnerthereonthetwenty-seventh.HewashugelytakenwithNoahandsathimonhiskneeandstaredathiminwonderandcalledhimthebonniestbabyhe’deverseen.Tallulah’sfatherwasnormallyveryself-centeredanddistant,butbecomingagrandfatherseemedtohaveremovedalayerofprotectionfromaroundhisheart.
ButtheChristmasmagicsoondissipatedandthenoveltyofseeingNoahinhisChristmaselfoutfitworeoff,andonNewYear’sEveshewastostayhomealonewhilehermumwenttothepubwithagroupoffriendsandRyanwenttoaparty.ItwasoneofthefirstmomentsthatTallulahfeltstifledbytheresponsibilitiesandlimitationsofmotherhood
SowhenZachofferedtocomeandsitinwithherthatnight,asmuchasshedidn’twanthimtogetthewrongideaandthinkthattheywereonagain,shealsodidn’twanttospendthenightalonewithaseven-month-oldbaby.Soshesaidyes.
Hearrivedat9:00p.m.,freshfromafriend’shouse,smellingslightlyofbeerandcigarettes,hishoodupagainstacoldwind,hishandsstuffedinsidehispocketswithanoff-licensecarrierbagloopedoverhiswrist.
Sheheldthedoorajarsohecouldcomeinandheleanedtowardherforaquickpeckonhercheek.“HappyNewYear,”hesaid.
“Notquite,”shesaid.
“IsNoahinbed?”Heglancedupthestairs.
Tallulahnodded.“Beendownforawhile.”
“SorryI’mabitlate.Theydidn’thavewhatIwantedattheco-opsoIhadtogointothepubforit.Hadtoqueueforages.Packedinthere.”
Heopenedupthebagandletherpeerinside.
Champagne,stillcoldfromthefridge.
Shesmiled;shecouldn’thelpit.Shelovedchampagne.
“Sawyourmum,”hesaid,followingherintothekitchen.
“Ohyeah?”
“Lookedlikeshewashavingfun.”
“Good,”shesaid,slidingthechampagneintothefridgeandpullingouttwobeers.
“Gotcrispsaswell.”Hepulledouttwobagsoftortillachipsandajarofsalsa.“Andthese,’cosIknowthey’reyourfavorites.”HepresentedherwithabagofCadbury’sminifingers.
Shesmiledagain.“Thankyou,”shesaid.
TheysettledinfrontoftheTVwiththeirbeersandthecrisps.Itwasthefirsttimeshe’dbeenalonewithZachinweeks,inmonths.UsuallyhecameoverduringthedaytospendtimewithNoahwhenhewasawake.She’dthoughtitmightfeelalittleawkward,butactuallyitdidn’t.SheandZachhadknowneachothersincetheywerefourteenyearsold,whenhestartedatTallulah’sschoolaftermovingfromaboys’schoolinthenextvillagewherehe’dbeenbullied.She’dbefriendedhimbecausehelookedniceandshe’dfeltsorryforhimandthenthey’dstarteddatingandthatwasthat.Theywereoneofthoseteencouplesthatwerepartofthefurniture,anunsurprisingcouple,notonetocreatechatterorintrigue.
Somaybeitwasn’tsostrangethatTallulahshouldhavefeltsocomfortableinhiscompanythatnight.They’dbeenfriends,they’dbeenlovers,they’dbeenex-lovers,andnowtheywereparents.Therewasnoreasonwhytheyshouldn’tbeabletobefriendsagain.
Theydidn’ttalkmuchthatnight,theyletthetellyentertainthem,theylookedattheirphonesandshowedeachotherthingsthatwereamusing.AtonepointZachsnatchedthephonefromTallulah’shandandsaid,“Here,Iwanttoseeyourcameraroll,letmesee.”
“Getoff!”She’dlaughed.“Why!”
“JustwanttoseephotosofNoah,”hesaid,andshelethimscrollthroughherphoneanditwasnearly100percentphotosofNoah.ButthentherollgotasfarbackastheChristmaspartyatcollegeandZachsloweddownandstartedlookingatthepicturesinmoredetail.
“Youlooknice,”hesaid,zoomingintoherfaceinaselfiesheandChloehadtakenjustbeforetheywenthome.“You’rewearingmakeup.”
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Justeyeliner.Mumdiditforme.”
“Suitsyou,”hesaid,turningandgivingherastrangelook.“Notlikeyoutogetalldolledup.Andwho’sthat?”heasked.
It’saselfie,takenonthedancefloorattheChristmasdiscowhensheandScarletthadbeendancingtoMariahCarey.Scarlettmusthavetakenit.Thecamerawashelduphigh,bothofthembeamingwithalltheirteethonshow,piecesofglitterjuststartingtofallfromthenettingoverhead,catchingthelight.
“That’sScarlett,agirlatcollege.”
“Youlookreallyhappy,”hesaid,zoominginontheirsmiles.“Ikindofthoughtyou’dforgottenhowtosmilelikethat.”
Shemadeadrysoundoflaughter.Therewassomethingaccusatoryinthetoneofhisvoice,asifshe’dsomehowlethimdownbybeinghappy.
“Yeah,well,”shesaid,“theywereplayingMariah.You’dhavebeensmilingtoo.”
“Justneverthinkofyouasthepartytype,”hecontinued,andshefeltherselfstartingtotenseup.This,shethought,thiswaswhyshedidn’twanttogetbacktogetherwithhim.Havingababyhadchangedher;ithadchangedeverythingabouther.Leavingschoolhadchangedheragain.Beingsingleafterthreeyearsinacouplehadchangedher.Shewasn’tthesoft,romanticgirlshe’dbeenbeforeshegotpregnant,beforehe’dwalkedawayandlefthertocopeonherown.AndsheknewdeepdownthatthatversionofTallulahMurraywastheonlyonethatZachwasreallyinterestedinbeingwith.
“Well,”shesaid,“thingschange,don’tthey?”
“Iguess,”hesaid,andtherewasanoteofsadnessinhisvoice.
Atafewminutesbeforemidnight,theytookthechampagneoutofthefridgeandapairofwineglassesandwentintothegarden.Thenext-doorneighbor’scatsatonthefence,curledintoitshaunches,eyeingthemcuriouslybeforeturningtolookupintothesky.ItwascoldandTallulahshiveredslightly.They’dhadacoupleofbeersbythenandwhenZachputhisarmaroundhershoulderstowarmherupshedidn’tshakehimoff.TheyusedtheirphonestocountdowntomidnightandZachpoppedthecorkandtheyheardpeopleallaroundthemcheerandcarshoottheirhornsandfireworkspopandsplutterintheblacknessoftheskyandtheyheldtheirglassesofchampagnealoftandsaidHappyNewYeartoeachotherandhuggedandastheypulledawayfromeachother,Zachlookedasifhewasabouttokissherandshethought,no.No,Idon’twanttokissyou.I’mnotsureI’mevergoingtowanttokissyouagain.
“Ohfuck,Tallulah,”Zachsaid.“IwishI’dneverdonewhatIdidlastyear.It’s,like,thegreatestregretofmylife.Youknowthat,don’tyou?”
Shenodded.
“Willyoueverforgiveme?”Hethreadedherhandsintohis.
“Ialreadyforgaveyou,”shesaid.“Iforgaveyouagesago.”
“Thenwhy?”hesaid.“Whycan’twestartover?”
“Ijust…Idon’tknow,Ijustdon’tfeellikeIwantarelationshiprightnow.Noah,he’senoughforme.”
Shefelthisgriptightenaroundherfingers.
“ButNoah,”hesaid,“he’sours,wemadehim,thatmakesusaunion,ateam.It’snotjustaboutourrelationshipanymore,isit?It’saboutallthreeofus.”
“Yougettoseehimallthetime.”
“Yeah.”Hesighedimpatiently.“Iknowthat,butit’snotthesame,notthesameasbeingwithhimtwenty-four-seven.Asafamily.”
“Yes,andthat’snotwhatI’msaying.ObviouslyitwouldbebetterforNoahifyouwerehereallthetime.ButIdon’tknowif…”Shepaused,buyingtimetofindexactlytherightwords.“…ifit’srightforme.”
Helaughed,slightlydismissively.“Lula,”hesaid,“forfuck’ssake.We’veknowneachothersincewewerefourteen.Weknowwe’rerightforeachother.Everyoneknowswe’rerightforeachother.Please.Givemeachance.”
“Imean,butwherewouldweevenlive?”
“Here!”hesaid.“Wecouldlivehere.You’vegotthatbigbed.Yourmumlovesme.Ryanlovesme.Itellyouwhat,tellyouwhat,”hecounteredquickly,clearlysensingherlackofenthusiasmfortheidea.“Let’sdoatrialrun,yeah?MaybeIcouldstayoveronenight.Nothinglikethat,”hereassuredher.“I’dsleeponthefloor.ImagineNoah’sfaceinthemorning,wakingupandseeingDadthere.AndIcoulddohismorningfeedandletyouhavealie-in.Yeah?Wouldn’tthatbegood?”
Hesmileddownather,usingherhandstopullherclosertohimsothattheirstomachsjustabouttouched,theirfacesjustaninchortwoapart,hiseyesboringdeepintohers.“Wouldn’tit?”hesaidagain,kissingherknuckles,lookingathercoquettishly,alazyhalfsmileonhislips.
Andsomethinginsidehergavewayatthatmoment,akindofsinkingfeelinginthepitofherstomachpairedwithaswooninhergroin,afeelingofwantingtobetouchedbysomeone,butnotbyZach,ofwantingtobewantedbutwantingtobeleftalone,allatthesametime;andshesawZach’smouthmovetowardhersandfoundherselfmovingtowardhimandthentheywerekissingandallhermisgivingsfellawayinamoment,allherambivalencecrystallizedintoasinglelongingforhim,forit,forflesh,forlimbsandmouthsandallofit.Withinamomentshewasagainstthebackwall,herarmsandlegswrappedaroundhim,anditwasalloverinunderaminuteanditwaswhatshewanted,itwaswhatshewantedsomuch,andhecarriedherafterward,stillinsideher,herarmsandlegsstillwrappedaroundhim,andtwirledheraroundandaroundthegarden,andshewassmiling,properlysmiling,thebloodpumpingthroughher,themoonshiningdownfromthevelvetsky,andwhenZachsaid,“Iloveyou,Lula,Iloveyousomuch,”shedidn’tstopforevenasecondbeforereplyingthatshelovedhimtoo.
Becauserightthen,forthatmomentintime,shereallydid.
15
JUNE2017
DIMcCoyleavesKim’shouseatabout10:00a.m.andataround11:00a.m.acallcomesthroughonKim’sphonefromanumbershedoesn’trecognize.Sheassumesthatitmustbehim,thatitmustbethedetective,thatthereisnews,anupdate,adevelopmentofsomekind,andherheartimmediatelybeginstogallopandadrenalinepumpshardthroughherbody.
“Yes.”
“Oh,hi,isthatKimKnox?”
It’sagirl’svoice.
“Yes,speaking.”
“Thisis,erm,Mimi?Scarlett’sfriend?Shesaidyouwantedtotalktome?”
“Oh!”Kimpullsoutadiningchairandedgesontoit.“Mimi.Thankyou.Areyouabletotalk?”
“Yeah.Sure.”
“Ijustwantedtoknow,”Kimbegins,“Imean,I’vealreadyspokentoScarlettandhermother.AndtoLexie.AndnoneofthemhasacluewhathappenedonFridaynight.ButIjustthoughtthatmaybeyoumighthavepickeduponsomething?Somethingthatnobodyelsepickedupon,thatmightexplainwhathappenedafterTallulahandZachleft?”
There’sabriefsilenceandshecanhearMimiinhaling,picturesherdrawingonacigaretteclutchedbetweentheknucklesofskinnyfingerswithbitten-downnails.
“Imean,”Mimibegins,“literallytheonlythingIcanthinkofisthattheymighthavehadafight?”
Kim’sheadrollsbackslightly.“Fight?”
“Yeah.Theyseemedabit,Idunno,liketherewassomethinggoingonbetweenthem?Abitoftension?”
Kimswivelstowardthediningtableandmovesthephonetoherotherear.“Likewhat?”shesays.“Canyoudescribeit?”
Mimisighs.“Iwentindoors,tochargemyphone,”shesays.“LulaandZach,theyweresittingin,like,thelittleroomjustbehindthekitchen.It’slikeasnugkindofthing.Theydidn’thearmegopast.ButIkindofpeeredthroughthegapinthedoorandIsawhehadhishandsreallytightaroundherwristsandshewastryingtogetthemfreeandhejustkeptthempinneddown,likehewastryingtostopherhittinghim,ormaybetryingtostopherleaving…Idunno.Helookedreallyangry.”
Kimblinksslowly.Mimi’swordsslotintothespaceinherheadwhereherownmisgivingshavebeengestating,theplacewhereshewondershowZachmighthavereactedtoarejection.Astheydoso,shefeelsajoltofnauseapassthroughher.The“whatif”startstotakeshape,andthepossibilityofZachhavingplayedsomepartinherdaughter’sdisappearanceoverwhelmsherforamoment.
“Didyouheareitherofthemsayanythingaboutaring?Maybe?Oranengagement?”
There’sasolidpauseonthelineandthen,“No.Nothinglikethat.Theywerebothquitequiet,really.Tobehonest,Iwasn’treallysurewhytheywerethere.Ididn’tfeelliketheyevenwantedtobe.Youknow?”
Sundayneverends.
Insteadofputtinghimdowninhiscot,KimtakesNoahforalongwalkaroundthevillageinhispushchairforhisdaytimenap,hereyesscanningeveryhedgerow,everyalleywayandcrevicebetweenhouses.AsshepassesMaypoleHousehereyesgotothebackofthegroundswherethestudentaccommodationis.ShethinksofScarlett’sex-boyfriendLiam,theonlypersonwhowasthereonFridaynightwhomshehasnotspokento.Butshe’ssure,asLexiehadsaid,thathedidn’tseeorhearanythingmorethanshehad,asheleftearlywithher.
AmomentlatershefindsherselfoutsidetheSwan&Ducks.Thefrontterraceisheaving,asitalwaysisonasunnySundaylunchtime:proseccoontablesinwinecoolers,jugsofPimm’s,childreninhighchairsbeingfedchopped-upsausageandmashbymumsinfloatydresseswithsunglassesontheirheads,cockapooscurledunderneathtablesintheshade.
Kimwheelsthepushchairthroughthethrongandintothebar,whereitiscoolandovercast.Therearefewerpeopleinhereandshegoesstraighttothebar.Sherecognizestheyoungguybehindthebar;it’sNick.He’sanout-of-workactorwholikesflirtingwithmiddle-agedmenjusttowatchthemblush.
“Hello,you,”hesays,“don’tnormallyseeyouhereduringtheday.WhatcanIgetyou?”
“Oh,”shesays,“no.Nothereforlunch.Justwondering…youwerehereonFridaynight,yes?”
“Asithappens,yes,Iwas.Theyworkmelikeadog.”
“AndMegstoldyou,aboutmydaughterandherson?”
“Yeah,that’sright.DidtheygetbackOK?”
“No,”shesays,hervoicethreateningtocrack.“No.”Shedrawsherbreathinhardandregainscontrol.“They’restillnotback.I’vereportedittothepolicenow.Iguessthey’llwanttotalktoyouatsomepoint,askyouwhatyousaw.”
“OhGod,Kim.That’sterrible.Youmustbeworriedsick.”
“Yes,”shesays,squeezingoutastrainedsmile.“Ireallyam.ButIjustwonderedwhatyousawexactly?”
“Well,notmuchreally,I’mafraid.Theystartedoffoverthere.”Hepointstoanookatthebackofthebar.“Allcozyandlovey-dovey.Heboughtabottleofchampagne.Theyhadtheseafoodplatter.Theyweresocute.Andthentherewasthisothergroup.AkindofMaypolegroup,youknow?Loud,inyourface.AndIthinktheyknewyourdaughter?Andsortofinfiltratedyourdaughter’sniceromanticevening.Ifeltreallybadforthem!”
NoahstartstostirinhispushchairandKimrocksitalittle,absentmindedly.
“Didyouseeanythingstrangehappen?”
“Strange?”NickturnsandfixeshislighthousebeamofasmileonacustomerwhohasappearedatKim’sside.Hetakestheirorder;thenheswitchesbacktoKimamomentlaterandsays,“Iwouldn’tsaystrange,no.Lotsofdrinking.AndgiventheamountofcashbackstheMaypolekidswereaskingfor,Isuspectmaybeadrugdeliveryofsomekind,butIdidn’tseeanyevidenceofthat.Andthenitwasclosingtimeandtheyalljustleft.Andthatwasthat.”Helooksathersadlyandsays,“Fuck,Kim.I’msurethey’llbehomeanyminutenow,they’reboundtobe.Youknowwhatteenagersarelike.”
Shecarriesonwalking.ShegoestoTallulah’sfriendChloe’shouse,justoutsidethevillage,thelastinarowofsmallflat-frontedcottageswithdoorsopeningdirectlyonthemainroad.Chloesaysno,shehasn’tspokentoTallulahinages.Butshealsosayssomethinginteresting.WhenKimmentionsthatTallulahhadlastbeenseenatthehouseofScarlettJacquesinUpleyFold,Chloe’seyesnarrowandshesays,“Weird.”
Kimsays,“Why?”
Chloeshrugs.“There’sjustsomethingoffaboutScarlettandthatlot.Something,Idunno,dark,andtherewasthisnight,lastyear,thecollegeChristmasparty,whenIwassittingwithLula,andScarlettsortoftookheraway,kindofrude,andIcan’treallyexplainit,butitwaslikeLulaalreadyknewher?Eventhoughshedidn’t?AndtheyweredancingforawhileandthentheywentoutsideforlikeabouttenminutesandLulawasallonedgewhenshecamebackin.Couldn’treallyworkoutwhatitwasabout.Imean,asfarasIwasaware,Scarlettandthatlotarejustthisuberclique,neverspeaktoanyone,yetshespoketoLula.Itwasweird.Anyway,Lulaandmedidn’treallytalkagainafterthat.”
Kimgrimaces.“AftertheChristmasparty?”
“Yeah.Imean,wesayhiifweseeeachother,butwedon’thangout.”
“ButwhataboutinFebruary?Whenyouwere…goingthroughthethingyouweregoingthrough?”
Chloegivesherablanklook.
“YouwerefeelingreallylowandTallulahcameandspentthenightwithyou?”
“Areyousureyoumeanme?”
“Yes,backinFebruary,Tallulahtoldmeyouwerereallylowandsheneededtospendthenightwithyouincaseyoudidanythingstupid.”
Chloeshakesherhead.“God,no.No,thatdefinitelyneverhappened.Ididnotfeellowandshedidnotstaythenight.Ipromiseyou,LulaandIhavebarelysaidawordtoeachotherthisyear.We’vebarelyseeneachother.Itsoundslikeshemighthavebeenlyingtoyou,tobehonest.”
16
SEPTEMBER2018
ThegroundsatMaypoleHousefillslowlybutsurelyduringtheweekendbeforetermbegins.Theemptybuildingscomealivewiththemovementofpeople,thesoundsofvoicesandmusic,ofdoorsopeningandshutting,ringtonesandcarengines,laughterandshouting.
Sophiefeelsstrange,lesslikeshe’sinthemiddleofnowhere,asshe’dfeared,andmorelikeshe’sactuallyinthemiddleofeverything.Fromthegardenoutsidethekitchenshecansitandwatchthestudentsleavetheirroomsandheadintothemainbuildingforbreakfast.Someofthemtakemorningjogsaroundthegrounds.Shestartstorecognizecertainfaces,certaingroupsoffriends,andshecantellevenfromadistancewhoisnewtothecollegeandwhoisareturnerbytheconfidencewithwhichtheytraversetheschoolgrounds.
OntheSundaynightbeforetermofficiallystarts,thereiswhatiscalledtheRegistrationDayDinner.RegistrationDayisthebusiestdayintherun-uptothenewterm,whenthemajorityofstudentsarrivefromhometoboardandsignupfortheirclasses.Inreality,mostofthisisdoneonlinebeforethestudentseversetfootoncampus,butit’sanoldtraditionandit’sagoodwayforstudentstoseteyesontheirclassmatesbeforetheyhittheclassroom.Andthenthereisthedinner,which,accordingtoShaun,iswhatitisreallyallabout.
Indaysgoneby,itwasasit-downaffair,butsincethenewaccommodationblockwasbuilttenyearsearlier,doublingthesizeofthestudentpopulation,thedinnerhasmorphedintoapartywithabuffetandaDJ.
Sophie,forsomereason,wantstolookstunningfortheparty.Notjustnice,butknockout,drop-deadamazingsothatthestudentswillalltalkaboutherbehindherback—sothey’llsay,“Wow,Mr.Gray’sgirlfriendisreallypretty,isn’tshe?”Shewants,forsomereason,towintheapprovalofsomeofthehandsome-lookingboysshe’sseenjoggingaroundcampus.Nottheyoungones,obviously,butthenineteen-year-olds,thenearlymenwiththeirsummertansandtheirthickhairandtheirswaggers.
Shepullsonablacksatincamisoletopwithlacetrimandalace-paneledback.Sheteamsitwithfittedblacktrousersandhigh-heeledblacksandalsandshefixesherhairintoasideponytailthatsitsonhershoulder.Sheblobsherfacewiththingsthatpromisetoilluminateandshimmer
Shaundoesadoubletakeasshewalksintothehallway.Hesays,“God,wow,Soph,youlooklovely.”Andshecantellhemeansit.
Thenoisefromthemainhallisdeafening.Ithasabarreled,wood-linedceilingandwindowssetupsohightheyonlyletinlight,noview.Buttherearethreepairsofhugedoubledoorsopenontothelawn,wherethereisamarquee,andtablesandchairslaidoutintheearly-eveningsun.SheandShaunwanderacrossthelawntogether,herarmlinkedthroughhis,throwingsmilesatpeopleandstoppingtosayhello.TheyfindanemptytableandShaunleavesSophietogoandgetthemdrinks.Hergazetravelsacrossthesceneasshewaitsforhimtoreturn,totheclustersoflovelyyoungthingscurledaroundoneanotherinlittlepockets,impenetrable,slightlyterrifying,thepowerandyetthepatheticnessofthem,theknow-all-andknow-nothing-ness.It’snotjusttheiryouththatglitters,shepondersasshewatchesthem,it’stheirbackgrounds,theirinnateprivilege,thesuggestioninthewaytheytouchtheirhair,thewaytheyholdtheirdrinks,thewaytheyscrollsononchalantlythroughtheirphones.Theycomefromplacesthataren’tliketheplacesmostpeoplecomefromandtheyhavethehigh-glossveneerofmoneythatshinesthroughthescruffiestofexteriors.
SophiecomesfrommodesthousesandcarsthatdrivetilltheydieandstateschoolsandweeklyTescoshopsandbiscuitsoffplatesathergrandma’sflateverySaturday.Shehadn’tmissedoutonanything:therewasalwaysfoodandholidaysabroadandshoppingtripstoOxfordStreetandtakeawaysonFridaynights;therewasalwaysenoughofeverything.Herlifewasperfect.Butitwasmatte,notgloss.
ShethinksaboutDarkPlace,abouttheJacquesfamily,abouttheswimmingpoolthatmustoncehavesparkledicyblueinthesummersun,theartthatmustoncehavesatonthePerspexplinths,themusicthatmustoncehavetumbledoutofdoubledoorsandacrossthemanicuredlawns,theespeciallaughterofpeoplewithnumerouscarsandhorsesandchaletsintheAlps.Theirdaughter,Scarlett,hadoncebeenastudenthere,accordingtoKerryanneMulligan.
ShaunreappearswithtwoglassesofwineandtakeshisseatnexttoSophie.“SorryItooksolong,”hesays.“Gotwaylaid.”
“Let’sdrinkthese,”shesays,“andthenwecanmingle.”
“Urgh,God,dowehaveto?”hesays,droppinghisforeheadagainstherbareshoulder.
Sherufflesthebackofhisneckandlaughs.“Ikindofthinkwedohaveto,yes.You’rebasicallytheking.Youhavetogetoutthere.”
“Iknow.”Heliftshisheadandputsahandonherknee.“Iknow.”
TheydrinktheirwineandwithinaminuteortwoarejoinedattheirtablebyacouplecalledFleurandRobinwhoarethegeographyteacherandthephotographyteacherrespectivelyandwholiveinacottagejustoutsidethevillageandhaveaBorderterriercalledOscarandarabbitcalledBaftaandarebothverytalkativeindeed.Halfwaythroughthisconversationtheyarejoinedbyamiddle-agedmancalledTroy,whohasamagnificentbeard.Heisthephilosophyandtheologyteacherandhelivesoncampusandhasalotofrecommendationsforlocaldelicatessens,wineshops,andbutchers.SomeonewhisksShaunawayandforawhileitisSophieandTroy,andthatisfine,Troyisveryeasytotalkto,andthentheyarejoinedbysomeonewithaFrenchaccentandsomeonewithaSpanishaccentandsoonhertableisoverrunwithpeoplewhosenamesshebarelyhastimetocatch,letalonetheirjobsorrolesattheschool,andthenshenoticesayoungerman,standingattheperipheryofthegroupthathasgatheredaroundhertable:he’sholdingabeerinonehand;hisotherhandisinthepocketofapairofnavychinoshorts.Hisbrownhairisshortandwavy;he’swearingawhiteshirtwiththesleevesrolleduptojustabovehiselbowsandwhitetrainers,withoutsocks.Hehasanicephysique.Helooksabitlikeafilmstar,oneoftheonescalledChris,Sophiecanneverrememberwhichiswhich.
He’stalkingtoanolderwoman;Sophiecantellhedoesn’tknowherallthatwell,thathe’smakinganefforttobecharmingandpolite.Sheseeshimturnveryvaguelyinherdirection,asthoughhecanfeelhereyesuponhim,andshelooksaway.Thenexttimesheglancesoversheseesthattheolderwomanhasturnedtotalktosomeoneelseandlefthimadrift.Heliftshisbeerbottletohislipsandtakesathoughtfulslug.Heseesherlookingathimandsmiles.“YoumustbeMr.Gray’spartner,”hesays,approachingher.
“Yes,”shesaysbrightly.“Myname’sSophie.Lovelytomeetyou.”
Hepasseshisbeerbottletohisotherhandandoffersherhishandtoshake.“Greattomeetyoutoo.I’mLiam.I’maclassroomassistanthere.Iworkwithsomeofthekidswithspecialneeds,youknow,dyslexia,dyspraxia,thatkindofthing.”
He’swell-spoken,butthere’sakindofroughGloucesterundercurrenttohisaccent.
“Oh,thatsoundsreallyinteresting.”
Henodseffusively.“Yeah,it’samazing.Imean,it’snot,like,mylife’sambitionoranything,it’sjusttemporary,butfornowit’sreally,reallysatisfying.”
“So,whatisyourlife’sambition,then?”
“Oh,yeah,right.”Hepasseshishandaroundthebackofhisneckandscrewshisfaceup.“Haven’tquiteworkedthatoneoutyet.Stilltryingtofindone,Ireckon.”Hesmiles.“Twenty-onegoingonfifteen.Failuretolaunch.”
HesoundsapologeticandSophiefindsherselfreassuringhim.
“No,”shesays,“you’reworking,youhaveareallyimportantjob,that’smorethanalotofyoungmenyouragethesedays.”
“Yeah,”hesays.“Maybe.”Thenhesays,“So,whatdoyouthinkofMaypoleHouse?”
Sheglancesaroundandnods.“Yes,”shesays.“Ilikeit.It’snotwhatI’musedto.Imean,I’maLondoner,bornandbred,I’veneverlivedoutsideLondonbefore,socountrylivingisabitofashocktothesystem.”
“Oh,thisisn’tcountry,”saysLiam.“Thisisnotcountry,believeme.IwasbroughtuponacattlefarminGloucestershire.Thatwascountry.Thisisjustaniceplaceforpeopletolivewhodon’twanttoliveincities.”
Sophiesmiles.“Fairenough,Iguess.”Thenshesays,“Howlonghaveyoubeenteachinghere?”
“Well…”Hesmilessheepishly.“Iactuallyusedtobeastudenthere,believeitornot.IwassentherebymyparentswhenIwasfifteentodomyGCSEsbecauseIwasgettingtoo,er,distractedbyotherthingsatmyoldschool.AndthenIlikeditheresoIstayedontodomyAlevels.Failedthemall.Retookthem.Failedone.Thoughtaboutretakingit…Soyeah,Iwasastudentherefor…”Henarrowshiseyesashemakesthementalcalculation.“…fourandabityears?Itmightpossiblybeanall-timerecordfortheMaypole.Moststudentsaren’thereformuchlongerthanacoupleofyears.Andnowtheycan’tgetridofme.”
HelaughsandSophielaughstoo.
Thenshesays,“So,youmustknowalotabouttheplace,aboutitshistory?”
“IamtheworldexpertinMaypoleHouse,yes,that’saboutright.”
“SoifShaunneedstoknowanything,you’rethemantotalkto?”
“Yeah,Iguessso.Justsendhimmyway.I’mhisman.”
“So…youwereherelastsummer,”shebeginscarefully.“Whenthoseteenagerswentmissing?”
Ashadowpassesacrosshisface.“Yeah,”hesays.“Iwasherethen.Notonlythat,butIwasthere.”
Sophiestarts.“There?”
“Yes.Atthehouse.Thenighttheydisappeared.Imean.IwasfriendswithScarlett,thegirlwholivedthere.Ididn’tseeanything,obviously.Ididn’tknowanything.Butyeah.Shockingtimes,really.Shockingtimes.”Hechangestack,swiftly,toSophie’sfrustration.“Andwhataboutyou?Whatdoyoudoforaliving?IfyouwereinLondon,didyouhavetoleaveyourjob,or…?”
Sheshakesherhead.“No,”shesays.“No.Imean,Iwasonceaclassroomassistant,likeyourself,infact.AtaprimaryschoolinLondon.ButnowI’mself-employed,Icanworkfromhome,sonothingmuchhaschangedformeinthatway.Youknow.Though,tobeperfectlyhonest,Ihaven’tquitemanagedtogetbackintoanykindofdisciplineyet.Ikeepgettingdistractedbythings.”Shelaughs,lightly,butactuallysheisworriedbyhow,afternearlyaweekatMaypoleHouse,shehasn’twrittenawordofherlatestbook.Everytimesheopensitupandbeginstotype,shestartsthinkingaboutTallulahMurrayandDarkPlaceandScarlettJacquesandtherosebushacrossthecommonandthepinkbabyfeettattooedontheundersideofKimKnox’sarmandtheengagementringinthedustyblackboxhiddeninsidehermakeupdrawer.ShethinksofMartinJacques,whomshegoogledaftersnoopingonhismail,thinksofthemanshesawonline,tallandhaggardwithaquiffofthinningsteelhairandasternexpression,themanwhoisdescribedonLinkedInastheCEOofaGuernsey-basedhedgefundandiscurrently,accordingtoanotherGoogleresult,livingaloneinDubai,havingseparatedfromhiswife.
She’dfoundnomentionofhisex-wifeorgrown-upchildrenonanypageoftheinternetbuttheseparationseemedtheobviousexplanationtoSophieofwhyDarkPlacehadbeenabandonedandlefttorot.
“Ohwell,”saysLiam,“I’msureoncethecollegegetsintoaroutine,youwilltoo.”
Shesmilesgratefully.“That’saverygoodwayofthinkingaboutit,”shesays.“Thankyou.You’reverywise.”
Asshesaysthis,sheseesShaunappearoverLiam’sshoulder.She’sstruckforasecondbythecontrastbetweenthem:thetwentyyearsthatdividethem.Shaunlooks,forallhishandsomenessandcharisma,oldenoughtobeLiam’sfather.
“Hi,”hesays,puttingahandouttoLiam,“Liam,isn’tit?”
“Yeah,that’sright.Goodtoseeyouagain.”
Theyconcludethatthey’vealreadymetandtheconversationbecomesdilutedwithotherpeopleandothertopicsandsoonSophieisnolongertalkingtoLiamatall;he’sbeenabsorbedintoanothergroup.Shefindsherselfaloneandwalksacrossthelawntowardthebarinsidethemarquee.Hereshegetsherselfasecondglassofwineandcarriesitbackoutdoors.ShecanjustseeShaunacrossthelawn,deepinconversationwithPeterDoodyandKerryanneMulligan.
ThensheseesLiamwalkingacrossthelawntowardthemainhalland,onawhim,shefollowshim.Hecarriesonwalkingthoughthehallandoutthedoorsontheotherside.Thenhecrossesthebackcourtyardandheadstowardtheaccommodationblock.Sheseeshimtappingthesecuritycodeintothepaneland,withabuzzandaclick,he’sgone.Shesitsonabenchinthecourtyard,gladofamomenttoherselfbeforegoingbackintothefray.Thewineiswarmbutshedrinksitanyway.Theeveningsunisstrobingthroughribbonsofpurplecloudandsheturnsherfaceintoit,hereyesclosed,listeningtothedistantdinofchatterandlaughter.
Sheshuddersslightlytorightherself,andthensheopenshereyesand,asshedoesso,sheseesapairoftannedfeetoverhangingthebarsofabalconyonthethirdflooroftheresidentialblock,theedgeofapaperbackbook,acoldbeersittingonatable.
It’sLiam.
Foramomentshetoyswiththeideaofcallinguptohim,ofinvitingherselfin,ofdrinkingacoldbeerwithhimandaskinghimwhathethinksreallyhappenedatDarkPlacethatnight.
Sheshakesherheadtoherself;thensheheadsbackthroughthecloisterstotheparty.
17
JANUARY2017
ZachspendsthenightwithTallulahonNewYear’sEveandnevergoeshome.WhenTallulahwakesupforherfirstdaybackatcollegefivedayslater,sheawakesinabedsharedwithherbabyandherbaby’sfather.SheandZachhaven’thadsexagainsinceNewYear’sEve,buttheysitsidebysideonthesofaatnightandtheykisseachothergoodbyeandhelloandtheyhugandtheytouch.
Tallulah’smumispleased.Tallulahknowsthatshe’salwaysfeltguiltyformarryingamanwhowasn’tcutoutforthehurly-burlyoffamilylife,whoranbackhometohismumtheminuteshesaidsheneededhimandleftthemallbehindwithoutaglimmerofremorse.AndTallulahcantellthatsheispleasedthatTallulahandZacharegoingtomakeagoofbeingaproperfamilyandthatZachisgoingtorelievesomeofthepressureonTallulahasasingleparent.
Tallulahkisseshermumgoodbyeonherfirstdaybackatcollege.InthefrontgardenshelooksupandseesZachandNoahatherbedroomwindow,ZachholdingNoah’stinyhandupandwavingitforhim.Sheseeshimmouthing,“Bye-bye,Mummy.Bye-bye,Mummy.”Sheblowsthemkissesandthenwalksaway.
AtthebusstopshefindsherselflookingforScarlett.ScarlettneverappearedatthebusstopagainafterthatfirsttimeandTallulahdidn’tseehertotalktoaftertheChristmaspartybutforsomereasonScarletthasleftanimprintonTallulah’spsyche.TheirtwointerludesfeelimportanttoTallulah,andshefeelslikesomethingismeanttohappennow,athirdact,aconclusionofsomesort.Thebusarrives;shetakesonelastlookacrossthecommon,towardMaypoleHouse,sighs,andgetsonboard.
AfterlunchthatdayTallulahdecidestovisittheartblock.She’sneverbeenintheartblockbefore;it’sasquatsquarebuildinginthemiddleofcampus,kindofugly.Thecorridorsinsidearedecoratedwithrowsofslightlyalarmingself-portraits.ShefindsadoortowardtheendofthecorridorthatsaysYEARONEFINEARTSandpeersthroughthewindow.Theroomisemptybutlocked.ShepassesthroughmorecorridorslinedwithmoreartandthenfindsonethatislabeledasSCARLETTJACQUESY1
Tallulahstops.It’saportraitofScarlettinacropT-shirtandoversizeshortsdrapedinsideahugeredvelvetthrone-likechair,wearingatiaraatanangle,high-toptrainers,herhairscrapedback,andhoopearrings,wristslayeredwithrubberbands.Atherfeetsitsagiganticbrowndog,almostthesamesizeasScarlett,alsowearingacrown.Bothofthemstaredirectlyattheviewer,thedoglookingproud,Scarlettlookingchallenging.
It’sanarrestingimage;itdrawstheeyefirsttoScarlettandthentoeveryotherdetail:apileofsilvercreamchargersonthefloorcatchingthelight,asmallwindowbehindwiththesuggestionofaface,staringasthoughwatchingher.There’sagunonatable,anApplephone,adishwithafreshredheartinitthatlooksasifit’sstillbeating.Onanothertablethere’sacakewithaslicemissingandtheknifeusedtocutithasadropofbloodonit.
Tallulahhasnoideawhatanyofitmeans,butit’sbeautifullypainted,allinsun-bleachedshadesofpinkandgreenandpalegraywithshockingslashesandspotsofred.Shefindsherselfmouthing“Wow”toherself.
“Amazing,isn’tshe?”
Sheturnsatthevoicebehindher.She’dthoughtshewasalone.It’soneofScarlett’sgang;shecan’trememberhername.
“Yes,Imean,Ihaven’tseenherworkbefore,butthispaintingisincredible.”
“Youknowsheleft?”
Tallulahblinks,feelsakindoftightnessinherstomach.“What?”
“Scar’sgone.She’snotcomingback.”Thegirlmakesakindofpoppingnoisewithhermouth,asthoughScarlettwereabubblethathadburst.
“Butwhy?”
“Noonereallyknows.Ikeepmessagingherandshekeepssayingshe’lltellmewhenshecan,butshecan’ttellmerightnow,so,yeah…”
Tallulahturnsbacktothepainting.“Whatawaste,”shesays.
“Yeah,”thegirlagrees.“She’safuckingidiot.Allthatworkandallthattalentandshe’sjustwalkedawayfromit.Butthereyougo.That’sScar.Anenigma.Wrappedinablanket.”Shesmiles.“You’reTallulahfromthebus,aren’tyou?”
Tallulahnods.
“Mimi.WemetattheChristmasparty.”
“Oh,yeah.Hi.”
MimicocksherheadatTallulahandsays,“Areyoudoingart?”
Tallulahshakesherhead.“No,justfanciedlookingattheart.Someonesaiditwasreallygood.”
Mimilooksathercuriouslyforamoment.Thenshepullsherheelstogether,straightensup,andsays,“Anyway,timetogeton.AndifyouseeScarlettaroundyourneckofthewoods,tellhertostopbeingafuckingdickandgetintouch.Willyou?”
Tallulahsmiles.“Iwill,”shesays.“Ipromise.”
Afterthat,TallulahlooksforScarletteverytimesheleavesthehouse.SheknowsthatScarlett’sboyfriend,Liam,isastudentatMaypoleHouse,soit’smorethanpossiblethatScarlettwouldbeinthevillagefromtimetotime.EverynowandthenTallulahflicksthroughherphotorolltogettothepictureofherandScarlettattheChristmaspartyandtriestorememberthewayshe’dfeltthatnight,thepersonshewaswhenshewasunderthered-hotglowofScarlett’sattention.ShegooglesScarlett’snamefromtimetotimetoo,idly,justincaseshe’sendedupinthenewspaperssomehow.Shedoesn’tknowwhereScarlettlives,justthatit’ssomewherewalkingdistancefromthevillage,whichcouldbeanywhere;thereareatleastthreehamletsnearUpfieldCommonandtheroadsbetweenarepepperedwithprivatedrivewaysleadingtothesortsofbighousesthatTallulahimaginesScarletttolivein.
Andthenoneday,duringthelastweekofJanuary,TallulahseesScarlettgettingoutofthepassengerseatofaSmartcarparkedoutsidetheco-oponthehighstreetofthevillage.
She’swearingwhatlooklikepajamas,withherfakefurcoatoverthetop.Herhairisstragglyandshe’swearingbeaten-uptrainersoverfluffysocks.Inthedriver’sseatofthecar,Tallulahseesayoungman.He’sstaringathisphoneandthere’sthedullthudofmusicemanatingfromthecar.AmomentlaterScarlettemergeswithacarrierbagandjumpsbackintotheSmartcar.Theboyinthedriver’sseatlooksatherbriefly,turnshisphoneoff,anddrivesthecartowardtheroadthatgoestoManton.
Tallulahstands,watchingitdisappearasthoughitmightcarrysomeclueastoitsfinaldestination.Thensherememberssomething.Hermumhadmentionedafewdaysagothatshe’dseenKeziah,oneofTallulah’sbestfriendsfromprimaryschool,workingattheco-op.Tallulahhasn’tseenKeziahformonths;lasttimewaswhenshewasjuststartingtoshowinherpregnancyandKeziahhadputherhandtoTallulah’sbumpandmadeasoundasifshewereabouttofaintbecauseshewassooverawedbyit.
Keziah’sbehindoneofthetillswhenTallulahwalksinamomentlater.Herfacelightsupwhensheseesher.“Lula!”shesays.“Where’veyoubeenhiding?”
Tallulahsmilesandshrugs.“Tendtodobigshopsnow,”shesays,“withthecar.Easierwithallthenappiesandformula,youknow.”
Keziahsmileswarmlyather.“How’sthebubba?”
“Oh.He’samazing,”shereplies.
“Intoeverything,Ibet.”
“Notyet.He’stooyoungforthat.Buthe’smellowanyway,youknow.He’salittleBuddha.”
“Athomewithyourmum?”
“Well,yeah,mymum.AndZach.”
“Oh,”saysKeziah.“Ithoughtyoutwohad…?”
“Yeah,wedid.Andthenwegotbacktogetheragain.AroundNewYear.”
Keziahbeamsather.“Oh,”shesays,“that’samazing!I’msopleased.Youtwoweremadeforeachother.”
Tallulahsmilestightly.“It’snice,”shesays,“niceforNoah.Andnicetohaveanotherpairofhands.Youknow.”
“Youlookreallydifferent,”saysKeziah.
“DoI?”
“Yeah,youlook,kindof,Idunno,reallygrownup.Reallypretty.”
“Oh,”saysTallulah.“Thankyou.”
“Youshouldcomeoutonenight.Withmeandthegirls.”
“Yes.I’dlikethat.”She’snotsureshewouldlikeit.She’salwaysthoughttherewasareasonwhyshehadn’tstayedintouchwithherfriendsfromprimaryschoolbuthasneverbeenquitesurewhatthatreasonmightbe—somethingdeep-seatedandsubconscious,somethingthatevennowmakesherfeelstrangewhencontemplatingtheideaofareunion.
“Thatgirl,”shesays,“whojustcameinwearingpajamas?Doyouknowwhosheis?”
“Theskankyone,youmean?”
Tallulahshakesherheadslightly,tryingtoalignthewaysheseesScarlettwiththewaysomeoneelsemightseeher,andthenshesays,“Yeah.Theonewiththefurrycoat.”
“Yeah.That’sthegirlwholivesinDarkPlace.”
“DarkPlace?”
“Yeah,youknow,thatbigoldhouseinUpleyFold?”
Sheshakesherhead.
“Youmustknowit,”Keziahsays.“It’slikethebiggesthouseinthearea.”
Tallulahshakesherheadagainandthensays,“Whatdidshebuy?”
Keziahscoffsalittle.“Whyd’youwanttoknowthat?”
“Idunno.She’sjust…Ikindofknowherfromcollegeandsheleftreallymysteriously,nooneknowswhy,andI’mjustbeingnosy,Iguess.”
“Sheboughtrum,rollingtobacco,andtampons.”Keziahrollshereyes.“Suchaskank,”shesays.
“Didshesayanything?”
“You’rekiddingme,right?Asifsomeonelikeherwouldmakeconversationwiththecheckoutgirlattheco-op.”ShetutsandthenhereyesdriftacrossTallulah’sshouldertoacustomerwaitingtobeserved.“Bettergo,”shesays.“Lovetothebubba.Bringhiminnexttime,soIcanseehim.Yeah?”
Tallulahsmiles.“Iwill.Promise.”
Shewalkshomeslowly,googlingDarkPlaceonherphonewithonethumbasshegoes.AWikipagecomesupforwhatlookslikeahouseoutofafairytaleoraghoststory;hereyesscanthetextandshecatchesfragmentsofastoryaboutcoffeeplantationsandSpanishfluandassassinationattemptsandpeoplehavingtheireyespeckedoutbycrows.Shewonderswhythehouseisn’tfamousoropentothepublic,howaplacelikethatcouldjustbeafamilyhome,theplacethatScarlettlives,wheresheisheadedrightnowwithhertobaccoandherrumandherpacketoftampons.
Curiositysuddenlyswampsherandshecrouchesdowntofeelthroughherrucksackforhercollegeplanner.SheflicksitopentothebackpageandscansthecontactslistedthereuntilherfingerhitsScarlett’sname.Beforeshecanchangehermindshewordsanemail:
Hi,Scarlett,thisisTallulahfromthebus,justcheckingin,hopeyou’reOK.Seeyouaround,luvT.
Shepressessendbeforeshechangeshermind,putsherplannerbackinherbag,andheadshometoherbaby.
18
JUNE2017
KimcallsDIMcCoyateighto’clockonMondaymorning.Heanswerswithinafewrings.
“DIMcCoy.”
“Oh.Hi.Sorrytocallsoearly.It’sKimKnox.FromUpfieldCommon?Iwonderedifyouhadanupdateaboutmydaughter,TallulahMurray?”
“Ah,yes,hi,Kim.”Shecanhearhimflippingthroughpapersinthebackground.“Sorry.We’venotgotanythingtoreportrightnow,I’mafraid.We’vebeenovertothehouseinUpleyFold;we’vespokentothefamilythere.Buttherewerenoleadsasaresultofthat.We’reheadingintothevillagerightnow,acoupleofmyofficersaregoingintothepub,the,er”—morepaperworkbeingflipped—“SwanandDucks,totalktothemanagerthere,seeiftheycanshedanylight.”
“Butthewoods,”saysKim,“areyougoingtosendanyoneintothewoods,because,youknow,it’sstillpossiblethey’reintheresomewhere.Thattheydecidedtowalkbackwhentheycouldn’tgetataxi,andthatsomething…theymighthavefallenintoanoldwellorsomethingor…”Shedrawsinherbreath.Shecanhardlybeartobringherselftosaywhatshe’sabouttosay,butshehasto,becauseit’srelevant,it’simportant.“Maybetheyhadafight,”shesays.Thewordsalltumbleoutontopofoneanother.“Scarlett’sfriendMimi,shetoldmeshesawthemhavinganargument,atScarlett’shouse.Apparently,ZachwasbeingabitphysicalwithTallulah.Hadherbythe—bythewrists.”
ShehearsDIMcCoyfallstill.Thepapersstopruffling.“Right,”hesays.“Andthatsortofphysicalaspect?Wastherealotofevidenceofthatbetweenthem?Fromwhatyoucouldseeathome?IgottheimpressionfromourchatonSundaythattheywerequitelovey-dovey.”
Thereitisagain.Lovey-dovey.ThesameexpressionNickatthepubhadusedyesterdaytodescribethem.
Shesighs.“Well,thethingis,heis.Zachislovey-dovey.He’stheromanticone.Tallulah,Ioftenfelt,wasjustputtingupwithit.Thatshe’dratherbeleftalone.Butno,Ineversawanythingphysicalbetweenthem.”
“Neverheardanythingbehindcloseddoors?”
“Nope.Nothinglikethat.Imean,Zachhasaquicktempersometimes.ButneverwithTallulah.Neverwiththebaby.”
“Sowhat…”DIMcCoybegins,andKimcanhearthecreakofachairashemovesposition,“whatdoyouthinkmighthavebroughtabouttherowTallulah’sfriendsaidshesawthemhavingonFridaynight?”
Kim’smindgoesbacktotheengagementringinZach’sjacketpocket,theconversationRyanrecallshavingwithZachabouttheideaofhimproposingtoTallulah.Itfeelslikesuchanintimatethingtosharewithastranger,asthoughshe’sgivingawayabitofZach’sheart.Butshehastotellthedetective—itmight,asshecan’tstopthinking,bethekeytoeverything.
“OnFridaymorning,”shebeginshesitatingly,“IfoundsomethinginZach’sjacketpocket.Aring.Lookedlikeanengagementring.Adiamondinagoldband.Andmyson,Ryan,saysthatZachhadmentionedsomethingvagueaboutproposingtoTallulah.AndyesterdayIwastalkingtothebarmanattheSwanandDucksandhesaidthatZachandTallulahhadbeendrinkingchampagnethatnightbeforetheyhookedupwithScarlettandhergang.Andit’spossible,youknow,thatheaskedher.Andshemighthave…”Sheswallows.“Shemighthavesaidno.”
There’saslightpauseandthenDIMcCoysays,“AndyouthinkZachmighthaverespondednegativelytothis?”
“Idon’t…”Kimdrawsinherbreath.“Idon’tknowwhatIthink.Butitisjustpossible,”shesays,“thattheygotintoarowontheirwayhomefromScarlett’shouseandZachlosthistemperand…somethinghappenedandnowhe’shidingsomewhere.It’spossible,that’sall.”
Butevenasthewordsleavehermouthsheknowsit’snotjustpossible,it’slikely.What’stheaphorism?It’salwaysthehusband.
“Right,”saysDIMcCoy,“well,Ithinkwenowhaveenoughtogoontolaunchasearchparty.Leaveitwithme,Mrs.Knox.”
“Ms.”
“Sorry.Ms.Leaveitwithme.AndIwillbeintouchwithexacttimings.Etcetera.”
“Wesearchedabitalready,”shesays.“OnSaturday.Afewofus.Inthewoods.”
“Oh.”
“Imean,wedidn’tfindanything,wedidn’t,atleastIthinkwedidn’ttouchanythingordisturbanything.Ithinkit’s—”
“It’sfine,”hecutsin.“I’msureit’sfine.Anyway.I’llbeintouchwithdetailsassoonasIhavethem.And,justbeforeIgo,I’dliketotalktoZach’sfamily?Doyouhappentohaveaphonenumberoranaddress?”
“Yes,ofcourse.”ShereelsoffMegs’saddressandthensays,“Youwon’tsayanythingtothem,willyou?AboutwhatIsaid,aboutZach?Imean,wehaveagrandchildincommon,Ican’thavesomethinglikethatbetweenus.Itwouldbeincrediblydifficult.Itwould—”
Hecutsinagain.“Absolutelynot,”hesays.“Pleasedon’tworryaboutthat.We’llbeverydiscreet.”
“Thankyou.Thankyousomuch.”
ShelooksatNoahassheendsthecall.He’sinhishighchaireatingdryCheeriosoffthetraytop.Helooksbackatherandhesmiles.
“Seeyos,”hesays,hiseyesblazingwithpride,hisfingerpointingatthecerealhoops.“Seeyos.”
Kimcloseshereyes.
“Yes!”shesays,musteringsomespirit.“Yes!Cheerios!Welldone!Cleverboy!Youaresuchacleverboy!”
Hervoicescatchesandsheturnsaway.
Noah’ssecondword.AndTallulahhasmissedthemboth.
ThesearchofthewoodsbeginsinUpleyFoldthatlunchtime.It’swhatKimwantedbutit’salsoterrifying.Thesuddenburstofenergyandpeople,whenforsomanyhoursit’sjustbeenheralone,rattlesher.
SheseesMegsandSimonstandingattheedgeofthewoodsassheapproaches.MegsturnsandlooksatherandKimseessomethinglikefearpassacrossherimplacableface.ShesayssomethingtoSimonandSimonglancesup.
“Thisismad,”MegssaystoKimasshenearsher.“Imean,Iknowit’soddthatthey’venotbeenhome,Igetthat,butstill,this…”Shespreadsherhandoutinanarctodescribethesquadofpoliceofficersinhigh-visattire,thesnifferdogs.“It’sallabitOTT,isn’tit?”
Kimdoesn’treplyimmediately;she’snotsurewhattosay.
“Didtheycomeandtalktoyou?”sheasksfinally.“Thepolice?”
“Yeah.Bloodyridiculous.Theywerethereforages.AskingallthesequestionsaboutZach,aboutwhatsortofboyhewas,abouthowhegotonatschool,abouthisjob.Iwasjust,like,whatonearthareyouaskingmeallthisfor?It’salmostliketheythinkhe’sdonesomethingwrong.”
Shesaysthisglibly,butKimcatchesaglintofsomethinghardinhereyeassheglancesupather.
RyanisathomewithNoahandthepolicehaveaskedfamilynottojoininthesearchyet.SofornowitisjustKim,Megs,andSimonstandingtogether,whilethedetectivesloitertogetherinahuddleafewmetersawayandthesearchteamandtheirdogsarrangethemselvestoheadintothewoods.
It’swarmagaintodayandKimfeelsclammyandanxious.
“Howlongdoyouthinkthiswilltake?”Megscallsoutstarklytothegroupofplainclothesdetectives.DIMcCoyturnsatthequestion,giveshiscolleaguesalookbeforewalkingovertojointhem.
“Well,”hesays,“there’snowayofknowing.Luckilyatthistimeofyearwehavedaylightonourside,sowecanjustkeepgoinguntilitgetsdark.Andthenitdependsonwhatwefind.We’resendingonepartythroughfromthebackoftheJacquesproperty,assumingthat’sthewaytheywent,andanotherpartythroughfromthisentrance”—hegesturestowardthewoodenstilethatformsthepublicentrancetothewoods—“incasethey’dalreadylefttheJacquespropertybeforedecidingtoheadbackthroughthewoods.Sowe’llhavetwoteamsinthereandthey’llsplinterastheygetdeeperintothewoodstocoverasmuchterritoryaspossible.”
“Andwhatareyoulookingforexactly?”Megsaskschippily.
“Yourchildren,Mrs.Allister.We’relookingforyourchildren.”
“There’snowaythey’reinthere.Kim’salreadylooked,andiftherewasanything,she’dhavefoundit.”
“Wellthen,we’relookingforproofthatyourchildrenwerethere.Thattheywerethereandthatsomethingbefellthemandthenwe’llusethatevidencetotryandputtogetherapictureofwhathappenedonFridaynightandwhereyourchildrenmightnowbe.”
“You’dbebetterofftalkingtothosecabcompaniesagain.Ibethalfthetimetheydon’tevenwritethingsdown.ThewomanwhorunstheoneinMantonisasleephalfthetime,literallyfacedownonthedesk,fastasleep.I’veseenher.Ireckonsherunssomanyjobsthatsheneveractuallygoestobed.Youshouldtalktoheragain.She’llhavesentthemataxibutforgottentowriteitdown.”
DCIMcCoysmilespatientlyatMegs.“IthinkyoumeanCaroleDodds?AtTaxisFirst?Yes,we’vespokentohertwice.Shewasn’tworkingonFridaynight,shewasunwell,soherhusbandtookhershiftandhetoldusthateverybookinggoesstraightintothecomputersystem,thattheycan’tactuallysendacarwithoutitgoingthroughtheirsystem.”
“Oh,well,youknowcomputers.Youcan’ttrustthemasfarasyoucanthrowthem.”
“Soyoustillthinktheydidgetataxi,Mrs.Allister?”
“Theymusthave.”
“Andwheredidthattaxitakethem?”
“They’rekids,”sherepliesloudly.“Whoknows?”
DIMcCoystiflesasigh.“Anyway,”hesays,“we’reaboutreadytogoin,I’dsay.You’rewelcometostayhereandwaitfordevelopments,orwecouldmeetyoubackatthevillage?Whicheveryou’dprefer.”
KimglancesatMegs.Megsshrugs.Kimsays,“Well,I’dliketostayherewhileyou’reatthisend,andthenheadintothevillagewhenthesearchteamsaregettingcloser.Ifthat’sOK?”
“Absolutely.”
MegsandSimonexchangealook.Megssays,“Yeah,Ithinkwe’lljustheadbacktoUpfieldandwaitatthatend.MaybeattheDucks.”ShetouchesKim’sarm,makingherjumpslightly.“Seeyouthere,”shesays,andthentheyallheadbacktotheroadwheretheircarisparkedinapassingplace,justinfrontofKim’s.
FromhercarKimwatchesMegsandSimon’scardoingasloweight-pointturninthenarrowlane,beforeheadingbacktowardUpfield.MegsissuesaslowwavefromthepassengerwindowastheypassbyandKimreturnsthegesture.
SheischilledbyMegs’sresponsetothiscrisis.Itmakesnosensetoherwhatsoever.Sheknowsthatboysarelessterrifyingtoparentthangirls—she’sdonebothandsheknowsthatshefeelslessanxiouswhenRyanisoutafterdarkthanTallulah.Butstill,it’sbeennearlythreedays.Thedisappearanceofanyoneforthatamountoftimeisjustfundamentallyworrying.YetMegsisnotworriedintheleast.Foramoment,itcrossesKim’smindthatmaybeMegsisnotworriedbecausesheknowssomething,becausesheknowshersonissafebutshecannot,forwhateverreason,tellanyone.Butno,sheimmediatelycorrectsthistrainofthought.IfMegswaslyingtoprotecthersonorthepersonresponsibleforherson’sdisappearance,shewouldsurelyatleastpretendtobeworried.Butherreactiontothisistooauthentic,tooreal,tooMegs.
Kimturnsandwatchesthehigh-vis-cladpoliceofficersandtheirdogsastheyfinallyheadintothewoods.Theplainclothesdetectivesstaywheretheyareforawhilebeforeheadingbacktotheirvehicles.
It’sstrangelyquiet.Acardrivespastafterafewmoments;theelderlycoupleinsidelookcuriouslyatthelineupofpolicevehiclesparkedonthevergeandthenslowdown.
“What’sgoingon?”theoldmanasksanofficer.
“Justalocalpoliceinvestigation,”theofficerreplies.
“Anotherbreak-in?”asksthelady.
“No,”hereplies.“We’rejustlookingforamissingperson.”
“FromUpleyFold?”saystheman.
“No,fromUpfieldCommon.”
“Oh,”saysthewoman.“Well,goodluck.Hopeyoufindthem,”andtheydriveon.
Kimlooksatherphone.It’soneforty-five.ShetextsRyan.
Everythingallright?
Allgood,hereplies.You?
Sofarsogood,shereplies,addingasmileyfaceandahearttoreassurehim.
Theminutespasshorrificallyslowly.Everytimesheseesoneofthedetectivesputaphonetotheirear,herbloodturnstoice.Herimaginationfabricatesadozenscenarios,allinvolvingZachsomehowsnuffingthelifefromherbeautifulbabygirlinthewoods;sheseeshimthrottlingherontheground,pinningdownherlimbswithhis.Sheseeshimproducingaknifefromsomewhere,whoknowswhere,maybehepickedoneupinScarlett’skitchen,apremeditatedmove,approachingherfrombehindandslicingthroughthesoftwhiteofherthroat,herbloodturningblackandstickyonthedryearth.Orjustbeatingher,beatingherandbeatingheruntiltherewasnothinglefttobeat,herbeautifulfacemashedintoapulp,hestaggeringbreathlesslythroughthewoodsafterwardwithbruised,bloodiedfists.
Eventuallyoneofthosedetectiveswilltakeacallfromoneofthesearchersandsomethingwilletchitselfontohisorherfaceandtheywillcometohercar,toherwindow,andshewillwinditdownandtheywillsay,“They’vefoundsomething,”andthenshewillknow.Shewillknowwhathasbefallenherbeautifulgirl.
Butfornow,shesits,shelooks,shewatches,andshewaits.
19
SEPTEMBER2018
ThefirstdayofthenewtermhasarrivedatMaypoleHouse.Shaunhasbeenatworkfordaysalready,ofcourse,butthere’ssomethingnewandshinyaboutthedayasshewatchesShaunreadyinghimselfthissunnyMonday.
ThedaywillstartwithanassemblyandShaunhasbeenwritinghisfirst-dayspeechfordaysnow.He’dpracticeditinfrontofSophielastnightstandingatthefootoftheirbedinjusthisboxershortsandsocks,whileshelayonthebed,playingtheroleofhisaudience.
“Wonderful,”she’dsaid,givingaroundofapplause.“Reallywonderful.Warm,relatable,inspiring.”
“Nottooshort?”
“Nottooshort,”she’dreassured,“perfectlength.Perfectpitch.Andjudgingbythewaypeoplereactedtoyouatthedinnertonight,theyallloveyoualready.”
“Youthink?”
“Theaffectionwastangible,”she’dsaid.“Truly.”
Anditwastrue.She’dfeltiteverywhereShaunwentthenightbefore,thefeelingofgenuineengagementheleftinhiswake,thesensethatpeoplehadbeenupliftedbyhim,flatteredbyhisattention,thathe’dcreatedakindofbuzzaboutthenewtermtocomemerelybybeingpresent,beforehe’dsomuchasheldanassemblyorreadaspeech.
NowShaunhasgoneandSophieisalone.Thecottageiscoolandquiet,herlaptopisopenonthekitchentable,hernovelisblinkingatherfromthescreen,heremailinboxisfullofwork-relatedthingsthatsheshouldreallybeattendingto,thedishwasherneedsemptying,andshestillhasboxeslefttounpack,butshedoesn’tdoanyofthosethings.Sheswitchesscreens,opensherbrowser,andgoogles“LiamBailey.”
Asshe’dexpected,thesearchtermbringsupahundredpeoplewhoarenotthecorrectLiamBailey.Sheadds“MaypoleHouse”tothesearch.Theschool’swebsiteappears.
Shedeletes“MaypoleHouse”andadds“ScarlettJacques.”
Noresultsfound.
Sheaddsthename“ZachAllister”tohersearchforLiam.
Noresultsfound.
Shesighsandleansbackintoherchair.HowcantwopeoplegotothepubonaFridaynightandnevercomebackandnobodyknowwhathappenedtothem?Themysteryconsumesher,whole.Shecanfeelitwhisperingtoherthroughthebranchesofthetreesinthewoods,downthecorridorsofthecollege,fromLiam’sbalcony,acrossthesurfaceoftheduckpondonthecommon,fromKimKnox’swindowfacingthebusstopandtheringinitsboxinthebackcornerofherdrawer.
Atthisthoughtshegetsabruptlytoherfeetandrunsupthestairstoherbedroom,wrenchesopenthedrawerinthedressingtable,andpullstheboxout.Shebrushesthedirtoffthelidagainwithherfingertipsbutit’sstillimpossibletomakeoutthewritingprintedonthetop.Shetakestheboxtothebathroomandrubsitwiththewettedcornerofatowel.Asshedoesso,theblacknessshiftsandgoldblockletteringbeginstoappear.Sherubsharder,dampensthetowelagain,rubsmore.Andthere,distinctly,arethewordsMASON&SONFINEJEWELLERY,MANTON,SURREY
Herheartskipsabeat.
Manton.
That’sthebigtownsixmilesfromUpfieldCommon.ThetownwhereTallulahwenttocollege.Sophiewantstogothere.Shewantstogonow.Butshecan’tdrive.AndshehasnoideahowonewouldsummonataxitocometoUpfieldCommonandmaybethereceptionistherecouldtellherbutshefeelsstrangelylikeshedoesn’twantanyonetoknowshe’sgoingtoManton.Andthenshethinksofthebusstop,byTallulah’srosebush.Shegrabsherbag,dropstheringboxintoit,stridesthroughtheschoolgroundsandacrossthecommontowardthestop.
Thebuscomeshalfanhourlater.
Shetakesaseathalfwaydown.Thereareonlytwootherpeopleonboard.AsthebustrundlesthroughthecountrylanesandthenoutontotheAroadtowardthebigroundabout,SophieimaginesTallulahsittinghere,assheis,herrucksackperchedonherlap,herdelicatefeaturessetpensively,thesunglitteringoffhernosering,herdarkhaircoveringhalfherface.
TherideintoMantontakestwentyminutes.Thestoponthehighstreetistheendoftherouteforthebusandthedriverflashesthelightsonandofftoencourageeveryonetodisembark.
SophieputsthenameofthejewelryshopintoGoogleMapsandfollowsthedirectionstoasmallturningjustoffthemainstreet.
It’satiny,ancientshop,withlow-setwindowsthataredesignedtobegazeddownupon.Sophiestopsandadmiresthedisplayforamomentbeforepushingopenthedoor.Herbreathcatchesalittle;it’sexactlythetypeofshopshewoulduseforoneofherLittleHitherGreenDetectiveAgencybooks,repletewithaslightlycomical-lookingownerbehindtheglass-toppeddisplaycabinet,sittingonatallstool,readingahardbackbook.He’sterriblysmall,withclose-croppedwhitehairandred-framedglasses,andwhenheglancesupatherhisfacebreaksintoasmileofpurejoy.“Goodmorning,madam,”hesays,“andhowareyoutoday?”
“I’mverywell,thankyou.”
“AndhowcanIhelpyou?”
“Ihaveastrangerequestactually,”shesays,puttingherhandintoherbag.
Themanjumpsoffhischairandputhishandsupintheair.“Don’tshoot!”hesays.“Don’tshoot!Justtakewhatyouwant!”
Sophiestaresathimblanklyforamoment.“I,er…”
Themanlaughsoverloudly.“Justkidding,”hesays,andSophiethinks,Thereyougo,youshouldnevertakeamanwearingredglassesseriously.
“Oh,”shesays.“Good.”Thenshetakestheringboxoutofherbagandputsitonthecounterbetweenthem.“Ifoundthis,”shesays,“buriedattheendofmygarden.Iwonderedifyouhadanyideawhoitmightbelongto?Imean,Idon’tknowifyoukeeprecordsanywhere?”
“Well,yes,Imostcertainlydo!”Hepatsthecoverofalargeleather-boundledgeronthedesktohisleft.“EverythingisintherefromthedayIgotthekeystothisshopbackin1979.So,let’shavealookhere,shallwe?”
Heopensupthesmallboxandtakesouttheringbetweenhisthumbandhisindexfinger;thenheholdsitunderabrightlightonabendypost,usingasmalleyeglasstoexamineit.
“Well,”hesays,“I’dliketosayIrememberthisringimmediately—IdotendtopridemyselfoncommittingeverythingIselltomemory—butobviouslysomepiecescarrymoreresonancethanothersandthiscarrieslittleresonance.ButIcantellyouit’scontemporary,notantique;thehallmarksays2011.It’snine-karatgoldandwhilethatisaverynicesparklylittlediamondindeeditisnotofgreatvalue.But,”hesays,flashingherawickedlook,“thankfully,Iamamanwhovaluestheimportanceofgoodsystems.AndoneofthethingsIdotoeverythingthatpassesthroughthisshopistoassignitanumber.Incaseofrobbery,ortheft.Insuranceclaims.Youknow.So…”Hepullstheringboxtowardhimselfandhookshisfingersunderthebluevelvet–coveredfilling.Heleversitoutandturnsitover,andthere,stucktotheunderside,isatinysticker.“There,”hesays,loweringtheeyeglassandbeamingatSophie.“Number8877.So,nowallIneedtodoiscross-referencewithmybiblehere.”
He’sthoroughlyenjoyinghimself,Sophiecantell.Shesmilesblandlyasheslowlyflipsthroughthepagesofhisledger,runninghisfingerdownlinesoftext,hummingquietlyunderhisbreathashedoesso,andthensuddenlyhestops,stabsthepagewithhisfingertip,andsays,“Eureka!Thereitis.ThisringwasboughtinJune2017byamancalledZachAllister.Hepaidthreehundredandfiftypoundsforit.”
AchillgoesupanddownSophie’sspinesofastitalmostwindsher.
“ZachAllister?”
“Yes.OfUpfieldCommon.Nameringsabellactually,cometothinkofit.Doyouknowhim?”
“No,”shesays,“no.Notreally.Imean,no,notatall.Doyouhappentohaveanaddressforhim?SoIcanreturnthistohim?”
“I…”Hepauses.“Well,IsupposeIcouldgiveyoutheaddress.Iprobablyshouldn’t,butyoulooktrustworthyenough.Here.”HeturnstheledgeraroundandSophiequicklytakesherphonefromherbagtophotographtheentry.Assheletsthelensfocusonthetextsherecognizestheaddress;it’sKimKnox’scul-de-sac.Ofcourseitis.ItmustbewhereZachwaslivingwhenheandTallulahwentmissing.
“Whataverystrangething,”saystheshopkeeper.“Buryinganicelittleringlikethatinyourbackgarden.Icanonlyassume,”hecontinues,“thattheladyinquestionmusthaveturneddownhisproposal.”Helookssadforaminute,beforerallying.“Areyougoingtoreunitetheringwithitsowner?”heasks.
“Er,yes,”Sophierepliesbrightly.“Yes,Iknowthisaddress.Icandefinitelyreturnit.”
“Iwonderwhatkindofapplecartthatmightupset?”hesaysinatonethatsuggestshe’dlovetobeaflyonthewall.
“I’llletyouknow!”
“Ohyes,pleasedo.I’dlovetofindoutwhathappens.”
“I’llbeback,Ipromise,”shesays,tuckingtheringintoherbagandheadingforthetinyshopdoorway.“Thankyousomuch.”
ThebusbringsSophiebacktoUpfieldCommonanhourlater.Sheglancesatthetime.It’snearlymidday.Shecrossesthecommonandheadstowardthecul-de-sac.Itlooksasifsomeone’sathome;thefrontwindowisopenacrackandshecanhearthesoundsofachild’slaughterandaTVonsomewhere.
Shepressesthedoorbellandtakesastepback,clearsherthroat,wonderswhatshe’sdoingforamoment,almostchangeshermind,butthensetsherjawandremindsherselfthatwhensomeone’schildismissing,whattheycravemorethananythingelseisinformationandtheringinherhandbagmightprovidesomekindofanswer.AndthenthedoorisopenedandthereisKim.She’swearingadenimminiskirtandablackcap-sleevedT-shirt.Herfeetarebareandherhairistiedbackinaponytail.ShelooksatSophiethroughtrendyblack-framedreadingglassesandsays,“Hi.”
“Hi,”saysSophie.“Er,myname’sSophie.IjustmovedintothecottageinthegroundsofMaypoleHouse.Aweekago.Andthere’sagateinthegardenthatleadsoutintothewoods,andIknowthissoundsweird,buttherewasasign,nailedtothefence,saying‘DigHere,’soIgotatrowelanddugandIfoundsomething.Aring.Andaccordingtothisguyatthejeweler’sitwasboughtbysomeonecalledZachAllister,wholivedatthisaddress.Here.”ShetakestheringboxfromherhandbagandoffersittoKim.
KimblinksatherandhergazegoesslowlytotheboxinSophie’shand.Shepicksitupandopensit.Thediamondcatchesthelightimmediately,sendingspotsoflightacrossKim’sface.Sheshutsitquicklyandthensays,“Sorry,wheredidyousayyoufoundthis?”
Sophietellsheragain.“IjusttookitintoManton.ToseeifIcouldfindoutwhoitbelongedto.Theguytherekeptrecords.HesaidthisringwasboughtbysomeonecalledZachAllister.InJune2017.Fromthisaddress.Look.”SheturnsherphonetoshowKimthepictureofthehandwrittenentryintheledger.Shecan’tsayanythingelse.Tosayanythingelsewouldbetosuggestthatsheknowsmorethanshefeelssheshouldknow.
Kim’sfacehaslostsomeofitscolor.TheTVinthebackgroundissuddenlyloud.“Turnitdown,Noah,”shecallsoutoverhershoulder.
“No,”comesafirmresponse.
Kimrollshereyes.Shelooksasthoughshe’sconsideringescalatingtheepisodeofintransigencebutinsteadshakesherheadslightlyandpullsthedoortobehindher.Sophiefollowshertothegardenwall,wheretheybothsit.
“Thisring,”saysKim,snappingtheboxopenagain.“Mydaughter’sboyfriend,heboughtitforher.Toproposetoher.Andthenthenighthewasgoingtoproposetoher,theybothdisappeared.Andallthistime,”shesays,“Iwonderedabouttheringandthenyoufindit,buriedinthegroundsofMaypoleHousejustnexttothewoodswherewesearchedandsearchedandsearchedforthosekids.Andtherewasanarrow,yousay?”
“Yes.”Sophienods.“Itookaphoto,actually,becauseitwassostrange.Look.”
Shescrollsthroughherphonetothephotoshetookbeforeshestarteddigging.
Kimstudiesitinfascination.“Thecardboard,”shesays.“Itlooksnew.Itdoesn’tlooklikeit’sbeensittingthereforlong.”
“Iknow,”saysSophie.“That’swhatIthoughtwhenIsawit.AtfirstIthoughtmaybeitwassomethingleftoverfromatreasurehunt,maybefromoneoftheresidentialcoursesthatwereheldattheMaypoleoverthesummer.Isortofignoredit.Butnow,Idon’tknow.Ican’thelpthinkingthatsomeonemighthaveleftittheredeliberately,formetofind.”
Kimthrowsheralook.“Whywouldtheydothat?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Justthatitwasourfirstdayandmypartner,Shaun,he’sthenewheadteacherattheschool,anditwasattachedtoourgardenfenceandIthought…”Sophierealizessheneedstobackpedalabittoavoidsoundinglikesheknowstoomuch.“Well.Idon’tknowwhatIthought.”
“I’llhavetotakethistothepolice,”Kimsays,somewhatabsently.“They’llneedtocomeback.They’llneedtosearchagain.Andthesign,”shesays,pointingatSophie’sphone.“Thecardboardsign.Isitstillthere?Didyouleaveit?”
“Yes.”Sophienods.“Yes,Ileftitthere.Ididn’teventouchit.”
“Good.That’sgood.That’s…”AndthenKimstartstocryandSophieunthinkinglythrowsanarmaroundher.
“I’msorry,”shesays.“Ididn’tmeantothrowyousuchacurveball.Ihadnoidea…”
“No.”Kimsniffsloudly.“It’snotyourfault.Pleasedon’tworry.Andthis.Thisisgreat.Honestly.Thepolice.They’vedonenothingformonths.Ranoutofavenues.Ranoutofresources.Basicallygaveup.Sothisisamazing.”Shesniffsagain.“Thankyousomuch,”shesays.“Thankyoufortakingthetimetofindthis,tofindus.Togiveitback.”
Fromindoorsachild’svoicecallsout,urgently,“Nana!Nana!Now!”
Kimrollshereyesagain.“Mygrandson,”shesays,gettingtoherfeet.“Noah.Wellintothethickoftheterribletwos.Honestly,IlovehimtodeathbutI’mlookingforwardtohimgoingbacktonurseryschoolnextweek.”
Shegoestothefrontdoor,theringheldinherfist.ShelooksbackatSophieandsays,“IfeellikeIknowyou.Havewemet?”
“Youservedmeacappuccinointhepubtheotherday.”
“Oh,”shesays,“yes,that’sright.”Shewavestheringboxatherandsmiles.“Thankssomuch.Ican’ttellyouhowgratefulIamtoyou,truly.”
Kimletsherselfbackintoherhouse,andfromtheopenwindow,Sophiehearshertalkingtohergrandson.“Look,”she’ssaying,“lookwhatakindladyfound.It’saringthatyourdaddyboughttogiveyourmummy,butheneverhadthechance.Whatdoyouthink?Isn’titpretty?”
20
FEBRUARY2017
Eachdaythatterm,Tallulaharrivesatcollege,scanningeverycornerofcampusforScarlett’sfurrycoat,listeningoutforthelackadaisicaldrawlofhervoice,feelingfortheenergythatalwaysspinsinhoopsaroundher.Butthere’snothing;theintensebuzzofScarlettisgone,takingeverythingelsewithitinitswake.DaysthathadoncefeltpiquantwithpossibilitynowfeelflatandmuffledandTallulahbecomesonceagainthestudiousteenmumwithaweightonhershoulders.
Buttheweightonhershouldersisn’tNoah.
TheweightonhershouldersisZach.
Heisgood,heissogood,withNoah.Hedoesn’tresentnighttimewake-ups,sharingabedwithawrigglingbaby,changingnappies,endlesswalksaroundthecommonwiththebuggy.He’shappytositandpeelthroughthesamefabricbookstimeaftertimeaftertime,repeatingthesamewordsagainandagain.HebathesNoah,toweldriesNoah,buttonsNoahintopajamas,mashesupfoodforhim,spoonsitintohismouth,cleansupafterhim,carrieshimwhenhedoesn’twanttobeputdown,sitsforagesatthesideofhiscotwhenhegoesdownforhisdaytimenaps,singstohim,tickleshim,loveshim,loveshim,loveshim.
Butthesameintensityofloveheusestocoddlehisbabyboy,healsoshowstoTallulah.AndTallulahdoesn’twantit.ShelovesZach,butsheloveshimmoreasthefatherofherchildthanasamaninhisownright.Shewantshimforhelpwiththebaby,toslowlycirclesupermarketswithher,pushthetrolley,puthisdebitcardtothecontactlessmachineasthetotalgoesthrough.Butshedoesn’twanthimforcuddlesorcompanionshiporemotionalintimacy.Shedoesn’twanthimtoalwaysbethere.Andheisalwayssothere.Ifshegoestothekitchen,hegoestothekitchen.Ifshedecidestohavealie-downwhenNoah’snapping,he’llliedownwithher.Ifshe’satthedeskinherroomdoingcollegework,he’llbelyingonthebedtextinghismates.Sometimesshehidesinthegarden,justtoescapehim,justforafewminutes,andshe’llhearhisplaintivevoicecomingfromindoors:“Lules.Lules!Whereareya?”
Andshe’llrollhereyesandsay,“I’mjustouthere.”
Andhe’llappearandhe’llsay,“Whatyoudoingouthere,then?Aren’tyoucold?”Andthenhustleherbackindoorsandmakeheramugofteaandsitwithhertodrinkitandaskheraboutthingsshedoesn’twanttotalkabout,orsay,“Comehere,”andbringherintoanembraceshedoesn’twant,andshetriesnottolethimfeelitinthesinewsofherbody,theneedshehasjusttopushhimaway,justtosaypleasepleasecanyounotjustleavemealoneforfiveminutes
OnSundaysthough,ZachplaysfootballwithhisfriendsonthecommonandTallulahhasthehousetoherself.SheandhermumeattoastandplaywithNoahanditjustfeelsniceandeasy.
OnthefirstSundayofFebruary,TallulahwaitsuntilZachhasleftthehouseandthensheheadsdowntothekitchen.
“Morning,beautiful,”sayshermum,takingherheadinherhandsandkissingheronthecrown.
“Morning,”shesays,hugginghermumbrieflyandthenleaningdowntokissNoah,whositsinhishighchair.“Howareyou?”
“I’mfine,sweetie.Howareyou?”
Shenods.“Good,”shesays,butevenshecanhearthedoubtinherownvoice.
“Youlooktired,”sayshermum.“Badnight?”
“No,”shesays.“No.Hesleptwell.Onlyonelittlewake-upandZachdidhisbabywhispereronhim,gothimbacktosleep.”
Sheseeshermumsmileindulgently.SheknowsthathermumseesZachlivinghereaskindofanexperimentandthatshe’swatchingitwithoptimisticinterestfromthesidelines.
Tallulahfeelsasuddenlongingtoopenhermouthandtalk,tosayeverythingthatshe’sbeenkeepinglockedupinsidethesepastfewweeks.Shewantstotellhermumthatshe’sfeelingsuffocated,controlled,thatZachhassuggestedsheswitchestohomelearning,thatZachalwaysgivesherastrangelookwhenshegetshome:hisheadcocksslightlytooneside;henarrowshiseyes,asthoughhesuspectsherofsomething,asthoughthere’ssomethinghewantstoaskherbuthecan’t.ShewantstotellhermumthatZachdoesn’tlikeherlockingthebathroomdoorwhenshe’shavingabath,thathesitsonthetoiletbyhersidesometimes,playingwithhisphone,tappinghisfootimpatientlyasthoughshe’stakingtoolong.Shewantstotellhermumthatsometimesshefeelslikeshecan’tbreathe,shesimplycannotbreathe
Butifshestartstellinghermumthesethings,thenwhathappensnext?Hermumwilltakeherside,theatmosphereinthehousewillcurdle,theexperimentwillbeafailure,Noahwillgrowupnotlivingwithhisdad.Itisonlyhermother’sbeliefintheexperimentthatiskeepingitalive.
“Whydon’tyougoandwatchZachplayingfootball?”hermotherasks.“It’sanicemorning.IcantakecareofNoah.Goon,”shesays.“Thinkhowhappyitwouldmakehimifyoushowedup.Maybeyoucouldevengoandhaveadrinktogetherafter,attheDucks?”
Tallulahsmilestightlyandshakesherhead.“Oh,”shesays,“no.Thanks.I’mhappyjusthangingoutherewithyou.”
Hermothergivesheraquestioninglook.“Really?”
“Yeah.”Shesmiles.“Imissjustthetwoofusspendingtimetogether.”
“SinceZachmovedin,youmean?”
“Yeah.Iguess.”
“You’renot…?”
Sheshakesherhead.“No.No,it’sfine.He’sjustabitclingy,isn’the?”
Hermothernarrowshereyesather.Shesays,“Isupposeheisabit.Iguesswithhisfamilysituation,itmustbesuchachangeforhimtobeherewithyoutwo,withsomuchlovearound.Maybehe’sjustgettingusedtoit?”
“Iguess,”Tallulahsaysagain,cuttinganothersliceoffthefarmhouseloaf.
“Doyouneedsomespace?”hermotherasks.
“No,”shesays,droppingthebreadintothetoaster.“No.It’sfine.Justgettingusedtoit,likeyousay.Andhe’samazingwithNoah.”Sheturnstoherbabyandbeams.“Isn’the?”shesaysinahigh-pitchedvoice.“Isn’tyourdaddyamazing?Isn’thejustthebestdaddyintheworld?”AndNoahsmilesandbangshishandsdownonthehigh-chairtray,andforamomentitisjustthethreeofthem,inthekitchen,smiling,asthesunshinesonthemthroughthewindow,and,foramoment,Tallulahfeelslikealliswell,allisgood.
ZachistherewhenTallulahwalksoutofcollegethefollowinglunchtime.He’swaitingintheshadowsofthesmallcopseoppositethemainentrance.Tallulahlooksbrieflyathimandthenatthetimeonherphone.It’sonefifteen.Zachshouldbeatworknow.Hedoesmidday-to–8:00p.m.shiftsonMondaysatthebuildingsuppliesyardjustoutsideMantonwhereheworks.
HestandsstraightwhenheseesTallulahapproachandgesturesatherwithhishead.Asshewalksshecanseehimcasingtheenvironment,hiseyesbehindher,aroundher,asifhe’sexpectinghertobewithsomebodyelse.
“Surprise,”hesaysasshecrossesthestreet.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”sheasks,brieflyallowinghimtopullhertohimandhugher.
“Pulledasickie,”hesays.“Well,beinghonest,Ididactuallyfeelabitill.ThoughtIwascomingdownwithsomething.ButnowIfeelfine.ThoughtI’dcomeandescortyouhome.”HesmilesandTallulahlooksintohiseyes,thesameeyesshe’sbeenlookingintosinceshewasvirtuallyachild:thegrayeyeswithdarklashes,thesoftskin,thesmalldimplejustnexttotheleft-handcornerofhismouth.He’snotthebest-lookingboyintheworld,buthe’snice-looking,hisfaceisgoodandkind.Butthere’ssomethingtherenow,somethingthat’ssetinsincetheywereapartlastyear,ahard,metallicglintinhiseye.Helookslikeasoldierbackfromwar,aprisonerbackfromsolitary,asthoughhe’sseenthingshecan’ttalkaboutandthey’retrappedinsidehisskull.
“That’snice,”shesays,“thanks.”
“ThoughtImightseeyoucomingoutwithfriends,”hesays,hisgazegoingbacktothecollegeentrance,tothestreamsofstudentsleavingfortheirlunch.
Sheshakesherhead.
“Whataboutthatgirl?”hesays.“Youknow,theoneinthepicturewithyou?”
“Whatgirl?”Sheknowswhatgirlandhearsherownvoicecatchslightlyonthelie.
“Theonewithherarmaroundyou.AttheChristmasdisco.”
“Oh,Scarlett,”shesays.“Yeah.Sheleft.”
Henods,buthiseyesstayonhers,asthoughwaitingforhertobetraysomekindofdeceit.
Agroupofsocialsciencestudentsleavesatthatmoment.Tallulahbarelyknowsthem,buttheyglanceoverathercuriously.Oneofthemraisesahandtentatively.Sheraisesahandback.
“Whoarethey?”
“Justpeoplefrommycourse,”shesays.Thenshelooksatherphone.“Buscomesinsixminutes.Weshouldgo.”
Helooksforamomentasifhe’snotgoingtofollowher,hiseyesstillrestingonthegroupofstudentsacrosstheroad.
“Comeon,”shesays.
Heslowlytakeshisgazefromthemandcatchesupwithher.
“Iwishyoudidn’thavetodothis,”hesaysafteraslightlyponderoussilence.
“What?”
“College.IwishIearnedenoughmoneysothatIcouldjusttakecareofyouandNoah,soyouwouldn’tneedtogetajob.”
Sheinhalesandthenbreathesoutslowly.“IwanttotakecareofNoahtoo,”shesays.“Iwanttohelppayforhim.Iwantacareer.”
“Yeah,but,Lules—asocialworker.Doyouknowhowdrainingthatwillbe?Howhard?Thehoursyou’llhavetowork?Thestuffyou’llbringhomewithyou?Wouldn’tyouratherjustget,like,ashopjoborsomething?Somethingeasy?Somethinglocal?”
Shestopsandturnsandlooksathim.“Zach,”shesays,“I’vegotthreeAlevels.WhywouldIwanttogetashopjob?”
“Itwouldjustbeeasier,”hesays.“Andyou’dbeclosertohome.”
“Manton’snotexactlytheothersideoftheworld,”shesays.
“No,butIhateitwhenwe’rebothsofarawayfromNoahduringtheweek.It’snotgoodforhim.”
“Buthe’sgotmymum!”shesayswithexasperation.
“Iknow.Butitwouldbebetterforhimtobewithus.Wouldn’tit?”
“Helovesmymum.”
ZachstopswalkingthenandpullsTallulahtowardhim,hishandstightaroundherforearms.Sheglancesathimandseesthatcoldmetalliclookinhisgrayeyes.“Ijust…”Theglintinhiseyesfades.“Ijustwantittobeus,thethreeofus,always.That’sall.”
Shepullsherarmsfromhisgripandstartswalkingfaster.“Comeon,”shesays.“Icanhearthebuscoming,quick,weneedtorun.”
Theyjumponthebusjustasit’sabouttocloseitsdoorsandsitforamoment,breathingheavily.Tallulahstaresfromthewindow,rubbingthesoftskinonherforearms,stillsmartingfromZach’sgrip.
ThefollowingSunday,whenZachgoestoplayfootball,Tallulahaskshermumifit’sOKifshegoesoutforawhile.
“Ofcourse,baby.Ofcourse.GoingtowatchZachplay?”
“No.”Sheshrugs.“No,justfancysomefreshair,mightpopbyChloe’s.”
Shewon’tpopbyChloe’s.SheandChloehavebarelyspokensincethenightoftheChristmasparty,whensheabandonedhertohangoutwithScarlett.
“CanIborrowyourbike?”
“Ofcourseyoucan,”sayshermum.“Butbecareful,won’tyou?Andwearahelmet.”
TallulahkissesNoahandhermothergoodbye,thenlugshermother’sbikeoutofthesidereturnandontotheroad.Tallulahhasn’triddenabikesinceshewasaboutthirteen.She’snotaltogethercomfortableontwowheels,butshehasnoalternative.
Afteraslightlywobblystart,shesetsofftowardthecommonandthenontotheroadouttoManton.Justbeforeshegetstotheroundabout,sheturnsright,upatinyone-trackturning,towardthehamletofUpleyFold,towardDarkPlace.
21
JUNE2017
Thepolicesearchpartyemergesfromtheothersideofthewoodsthreeandahalfhourslater.KimjumpsoffthebenchonthecommonandrunstowardthesmalllaneoppositethatleadsdownthesideofMaypoleHouse.ThedetectivesletthemselvesoutoftheircarandMegsandSimonappearlugubriouslyfromtheothersideofthecommon,wherethey’vebeensittingnursingdrinksoutsidetheSwan&Ducks.
Kimpullsbackatfirst,lettingthedetectivesconvenewiththesearchparty.Shewatches,herbreathheld.Theypointbehindthem,theyshrug,theyshaketheirheads.Shemovescloser,tryingtohearwhat’sbeingsaid,catchingonlypartsofwordsshe’stooscaredtohear.
“What’sgoingon?”saysMegs,appearingatherside,breathingwinealloverher.“Anynews?”
Kimshakesherheadandputsherfingertoherlips.“I’mtryingtolisten,”shewhispers.
“Whydon’tyoujustgoandask?”Megstutsandstridestowardthepolice.“Anything?”sheasksloudly.
KimturnsandglancessidewaysatSimon,wholooksatherfromthecornerofhiseye.ShefeelsaplumeofdiscomfortpassthroughherandwalksquicklyawayfromhimtojoinMegs.
“Nothing,”Megssays,almosttriumphantly.“Theyfoundnothing.Literally.”ShestaresatKimscathingly,asifthissomehowprovesthatKimiswrongtothinktheirchildrenhavecometosomeharm.
KimlooksatDIMcCoy.“Sosorry,”hesays.“Notatrace.Thedogsdidn’tpickupanythingeither.”
“Butdidtheycovereverypart?Whataboutthepartthatbacksontotheschool?There’sanotherentrancethere.Theymighthavecomethatway?”
“Ipromiseyou,Ms.Knox.Everyinchhasbeencoveredanditdoesn’tappearthatTallulahorZachhavebeenanywherenearthosewoods.I’mreallysorry.”
Kimfeelsherheartdropintothepitofherstomach.“So,”shesaysnumbly,“whatnow?”
“Well,we’vestillgottheinvestigationongoingofcourse.We’regoingtotakethedogsaroundthevillagenow,forawhile,acrossthecommon,eventhough,asweknow,nothingcameuponanyoftheCCTV.We’vetakensomeevidencefromaroundDarkPlaceandUpleyFold,sometiretracksthatwe’refollowingup.We’regoingtotalktothekidsagain,theoneswhowereatthehouseonFridaynight.We’retryingtogetawarranttosearchtheJacquesplace,tolookattheirhomesecurityfootage,butI’mnotsurewe’llgetit.We’relookingatalltheCCTVfromheretotheboundariesofthecountyforsightingsofyourchildren.Andwe’llbetalkingtoTallulah’steachersandZach’semployerstomorrow.Therearestilldozensofavenueslefttogodownandlotsofthingstofollowupon.”HegivesKimacautiouslyencouragingsmile.“We’reverymuchonthecase,Ms.Knox.Justkeepthefaith.”
Kimsmilestightly.Herstomachclencheswithangerandfearanddread.Angerthatnoonecantellherwhereherchildis,fearthatnooneeverwill,anddreadofwhatitwouldfeelliketofindoutthatZachhadhurtTallulah.
“Well,”saysMegs,sighingloudly.“Iguessthat’sasmuchaswecanhopeforfornow.Sowecanalljust,youknow,getonwithourdays.”
TheknotinKim’sstomachhardensandsheturnstoMegsandshesays,“Whatthefuckisthematterwithyou?Huh?Imean,whatthefuckisthefuckingmatterwithyou?Ourkidshavebeenmissingforthreedays.Threedays!Andallyoucandoismoanandtutandsighandactlikethisisallsomekindofmassiveinconvenience.Well,I’msosorrytodragyououtofthepub,outofyourbackgarden,sosorrytokeepyoufromgettingonwithyourday.Andwhatevenisyourday,Megs,eh?Whatdoyouevendo?BecauseItellyouonethingyoudon’tdo,andthat’sgiveashitaboutanyofyourfuckingchildren.Nottomentionyouronlyfuckinggrandchild.”
Kimreelsasshefeelshertiradecometoanend.Shecloseshereyeshardandthenopensthemagain.ShefeelsDIMcCoy’shandonherarmandsheshakesitoff.“I’mfine,”shesaysinadarkwhisper.“I’mfine.I’mgoinghome.”Shestraightensupandsays,“Thankyou,Detective.Pleasekeepmeup-to-datewiththings.”
Thenshestridesawayfromthepoliceandthedogsandthenosyneighbors,andMegswithherjawhangingopenandSimonwithhiscreepyhalfstare,andshegetsintohercarandshedrivesitaroundthecommonandintohercul-de-sacandthenshesits,astheenginedies,withherfaceflatagainsthersteeringwheel,tearsrollingdownherface,saying,“Tallulah,Tallulah,Tallulah,”againandagainandagain.
22
SEPTEMBER2018
SophiefindsherselfaimlesslycirclingtheschoolgroundswhenshegetsbackfromKimKnox’shouse.Intheory,sheismeanttobeclearingherhead,rebootingherthoughts,tryingtogetbackintoworkmode.Inreality,ashergazealightshopefullyuponeachpersonshesees,shefindssheislookingforLiam.
Shejustifieshersearchforahandsomeyoungmaninthegroundsofthebuildingwhereherpartnerworkswiththefactthatifshecanjustoff-loadthemysteryofTallulahMurrayandZachAllisterandScarlettJacquesthenshemighthaveenoughheadspacelefttofocusonherwork.ButthenherbreathcatcheswhensheseesafigureleavingthemainbuildingwholookslikeLiam,andasshedrawsclosertohimandseesthatitisinfacthim,herheartbeginstopoundandcolorfloodshercheeksandshehastobreatheconsciously,properly,tobringherselfbacktosomesemblanceofcalmbeforeshecangreethimwithabreezy“Liam!Hello!Nicetoseeyou.”
Herecognizesherimmediatelyandsays,“Sophie.Yeah?”pointingatherwithahandmadeintoagun.
“That’sright.How’sitgoing?”
“Yeah,”hesays,“notbad.I’mjustheadingbacktomyroom,fetchingabookforastudent.”
Hesaysthisasthoughtryingtoexplainhimself,asthoughshemightbetryingtocatchhimoutinsomeway,andshesuddenlyremembersthatsheistheheadteacher’s“wife”andthusmightbeseenasafigureofauthoritybysome.
“Oh,”shesays,wavingawayhisexplanation,“ofcourse.Whatever.I’mjustdoodlingabouttryingtoavoidwork.”
“Yes,”hesays.“Irememberyousaidyouwerestrugglingwithfocus.Whatisityoudo,exactly?”
“I’manovelist,”shesays.
Sheseeshisfacelightup.
“Oh,”hesays,“wow.That’samazing.Areyoupublished?Imean,Iguessyoumustbe,otherwiseyouwouldn’tsay‘novelist,’you’djustsay‘I’mwritinganovel.’?”
Shelaughs.“Well,yousaythat,butyou’dbesurprisedbyhowmanypeoplestillaskmeifI’mpublishedwhenItellthemI’manovelist.Butyes,Iampublished.Andno,youwon’thaveheardofme,unlessyou’reDanishorSwedishorNorwegian.Oh,or,forsomereason,Vietnamese.IsellalotinVietnam.”
Heshakeshisheadatherinawe.“That’sincredible,”hesays.“Wow.Thatmustbejustamazing,thinkingofyourworkoutthereinallthoselanguages,allthosepeopleinothercountriesreadingyourwork.Whatsortofnovelsarethey?”
“They’rewhat’scalledinthetrade‘cozycrime.’?”
Henods.“Yeah,”hesays.“IthinkI’veheardofthat.Likecrimeswithoutviolence,kindofthing?”
“Yes.”Shesmiles.“Thatkindofthing.”
“OhGod,”saysLiam,“I’dlovetoreadone.Doyouwriteunderyourownname?”
“No,Ihaveapseudonym.P.J.Fox.”
“Andwhat’sitcalled?Yourbook?”
“It’saseries,actually,calledtheLittleHitherGreenDetectiveAgency.I’mnotsureitwouldreallybeyour—”
“Wait,”hesays,pullingaphonefromhistrouserpocket,“wait.Iwanttowritethisdown.Whatwasitagain?”
Sherepeatsitandwatchesashepainstakinglytypesitintohisphone.Hejabsatthescreenwithonefingertip,notwithtwofast-movingthumbslikemostpeoplehisage.Sheswallowsdownasmile.
“There,”hesays.“I’mgoingtoordermyselfacouple.”
Shesmilesandthennoticesthathelooksasthoughheneedstobeonhisway.
“Listen,”shesays,“beforeyougo.Rememberwhenweweretalkinglastnight?AndyousaidthatyouweretheworldexpertonMaypoleHouse?”
Liamsmiles,butthennarrowshiseyesandsays,“WhydoIfeellikeI’mwalkingintoatrap?”
Sophielaughs.“Notrap,Ipromise.ButIjustwonderedwhatyouknewaboutthewoods?”Shegesturestowardthemwithatipofherhead.
“Thewoods?”
“Yes.Iknowitmightsoundstrange,butIfoundsomethingnearthewoods.Justbehindtheheadteacher’scottage.Somethingreallyinteresting,todowiththemissingteenagers.AndI’mstartingtothinkthatmaybeithadbeenleftthereonpurpose,formetofind.OrforShaunmaybe.Ijustwonderedifyouhadanyideas.”
Helooksatherandthentowardthewoodsandsheseessomethingshadowypassoverhisface.“Yeah,”hesays,“sure.Maybelater?Icould,Idunno,Icouldmeetyou?Ifinishworkatfour.ShallIcometothecottage?”
“Yes,”saysSophie,knowingthatShaunwon’tbebackuntilatleastsix,ifnotlater.“Comeatfour.I’llseeyouthen.”
SophiehasdiscoveredmoreaboutDarkPlaceoverthepastdayortwo.AswellastheWikipediaentry,thehouseappearsinmanyonlinedocumentsaboutbuildingsofarchitecturalnoteandhistoricalinterest.ShefindsanarticlefromalocalhistorianbasedjustoutsideManton.Hedescribesthehouseas“ahodgepodgeofstylesanderas,solderedtogetherlikeabrokencake,butsomehowappearingallthemoregloriousforit.”HeretellsthevariousstoriesattachedtothehouseinmuchmorecolorfullanguagethanthatusedintheWikipost,bringingthecharactersvividlytolife.Themomentwhentheassassinisbroughtdownbytheanimaltrapisdescribedinpainful,agonizingdetail.Itwashighsummerapparently,thetrapwaslaidinanunshadedarea,themanlayscorching,toasting,hisskinblisteredandlookinglike“thehideofaspitroastpig”whenhisbodywasfoundsixdayslater.
Towardtheendofthearticle,thehistorianmakesbriefmentionofthemostrecentinhabitants:
Currently,DarkPlaceisunderprivateownership,themainhomeofafamilyoriginallyfromtheChannelIslands.PlanningapplicationsshowthattheyhaveaddedaglassextensiontotherearofthecentralGeorgianwingandinstalledaswimmingpoolattheback,withaseparatepoolhouse,designedtoechothesurroundingarchitectureandboundedbyasweepofreclaimedPalladian-stylepillars,saidtohaveoncebelongedtoamansionjustoutsideYorkburnedtothegroundbyavengefullover.Asuitableadditiontoahousethathasneverstoppedevolvingandneverstoppedfindingtalestotellaboutitselfanditsinhabitants.
TherewasonesectioninparticularthathadreallygrabbedSophie’sattention.Abouthalfwaythroughthearticle,thehistoriancasuallytossesinthelines:
TherehaslongbeenarumorofanescapetunnellinkingDarkPlacetothewoodsthatabutit,dugduringtheEnglishCivilWar,butevidenceofeitheranentranceoranexittothistunnelhasneverbeenfound,despiteconcertedeffortsfrominhabitantsovertheyears.
AshiverhadrundownSophie’sspineasshereadthelines.
Shechecksthetimenowandseesthatit’snearlyfour.Sheturnsherphonecameratoselfiemodeandinspectsherface.Feelingshelooksalittlelackluster,sheappliesanextracoatofmascaraandsometintedlipbalm.Amomentlaterthere’saknockatthefrontdoor.
“It’sme,Liam.”
Shepullsthefrontsofhercardigantogetheroverhersummerdress,whichisslightlytoolow-cutforadoorstepgreeting.
“Hi,”shesays.“Thankyou.Soniceofyoutosparethetime.”
Hesmilesnervously.“IstronglysuspectIwon’tbeofmuchuse,tobehonest,butI’mhappytotry.ShallI…?”Heindicatesthehallwaybehindher.
Hefollowsherthroughthekitchenandintothebackgarden.
Sheholdsthebackgateopenforhimandturnstofacethesign.
Liamstaresatthesignforamoment,mutely.“Weird,”hesayseventually.“Didyou?”Hemimesadiggingaction.
“Yes.Idid.AndIfound…”Shescrollsthroughthephotosonherphone.“This.”Sheturnsthecameratofacehimandshowshimthephotoofthering.
Shewatcheshisfaceforsomekindofvisceralresponse,butthere’snothingthere.“It’saring,”hesaysafteramoment.
“Yes,Iknow.AndIfoundoutwhoitbelongedto.”
“Youdid?”
AgainthereisnothinginLiam’sreactiontosuggestthatheknowsanythingaboutthisring,itsprovenanceoritsbackstory.
“Yes.IwenttothejewelryshopandapparentlyitwasboughtinJune2017bysomeonecalledZachAllister?”
Sheseesasmallchargepassthroughhim.
“Theshopownergavemehisaddress,”shecontinues.“Iwentthereyesterdayandgaveittothewomanwholivesthere.KimKnox.Tallulah’smum.”Shewaitsabeatbeforeframinghernextquestion.Shedoesn’twanttosaythewrongthingandputhimofftalking.“What…whathappened?”shebegins.“Imean,thatnight?What’syourtakeonit?”
Hesighsandlooksathisfeet.Thenhelooksupatherandsays,“Howlonghaveyougot?”
PARTTWO
23
LiamhadbeenatMaypoleHouseformorethantwoyearsalreadywhenScarlettJacquesturneduphalfwaythroughtheschoolyear.Shewasn’taboarderlikehim,shewasadaygirl,alocal,justarrivedintheareafromGuernsey.
Sheappearedintherefectoryonthefirstmorningofthatspringtermwearingearmuffsandaminiskirt;shestilldressedlikeagirlatthattime.Herhairwasdarkandwornintwoplaitswithabluntfringe.Shehadapiercinginhereyebrowandpeeredoutofahugegreenscarfwrappedhighuphernecklikeaviperappearingfromabasket,shiveringlightlyinathinlambswoolsweatereventhoughitwaswarmintheschoolhall.
Liamwatchedhergrabbingfoodfromthedisplay:breadrolls,ham,abowlofcornflakes,hotchocolate,aboiledegg.Youcouldalwaystellthenewkidsbyhowhightheystackedtheirbreakfasttrays.Shestoodforamomentthen,hertrayheldinfrontofher,elbowsoutlikebabybirdwings,lookingaroundoverthetopofherhugescarf.Liamsawhershiveragainbeforeheadingtowardanemptytablenexttoaradiator.Hewatchedherforamoment,peelinghereggwithpink-paintedfingernails.
Liamdidn’tseeheragainforafewdays.Thenexttimehedid,shewassurroundedbypeople,adifferentpropositionentirely,aqueenbee,noshivering,noanxiouseyesoverthetopofascarfthatcoveredhalfherface.Inlessthanaweekshe’dgonefrombeingadorabletounapproachable.
LiampursuedScarlettquiteopenlyduringthosedarkJanuarydays;hewasafarmer,acountryboy:ifyoulikedagirltherewasnopointsittingabouthopingshe’dgetthemessage.Atfirstsheseemedresistanttohischarms:clearlyhewasn’therusualtype,hewastoowholesome,tooclean-cut,notcleverenough,notweirdenough.“Youknowwhattheissueis,LiamBailey?”shesaidtohiminthestudentbaronenight.“You’retoogood-looking.Ican’tdealwithhowgood-lookingyouare.”
Andhe’dpunchedtheairandsaid,“Yes!”becausebeingtoogood-lookingwasahurdletheycouldclear.
TheyfinallykissedduringtheFebruaryhalf-termbreakwhentheschoolwasalmostemptyandmostofScarlett’sfriendshadgonehome.Sheinvitedhimtothelocalridingschoolandtheytooksomehorsesoutfortheday;sheworeanavyjumperandanavyquiltedcoatthathesuspectedbelongedtohermotherandwithherridinghelmetonshesuddenlylookedlikeoneofthegirlsfromhome.Shehadrosycheekswhentheykissed,theairaroundthemfulloftheglitteroftheirbreath,andLiamknewthenthathewas,forthefirsttimeinhislife,madly,properly,justlikehismumanddad-ly,inlove.
Whenhalf-termfinishedandherfriendsreturnedtotheMaypole,Liamhadexpectedtobesidelined,butinsteadhewaswelcomedintotheinnersanctumofScarlett’sclique.
Mimi.Jayden.Rocky.Roo.
Theywereallstudyingartysubjects,andwerecolorful,intensecharacters,verydifferentfromLiam.Theytreatedhimlikeamascot,likeapetbear;theyteasedhimandcalledhim“Boobs”becausetheythoughthelookedlikeMichaelBubléalthoughhedidn’t,notevenslightly.TheycopiedhisfaintWestCountryburrandmadejokesaboutshaggingsheepandmarryingcousins,andLiamdidn’tmindintheleastbecausethatwashissenseofhumortoo;helovedteasingpeopleandgettingariseoutofthem.HecalledScarlett’sgang“thegroupies”becausetheyonlyhungouttogetherwhenScarlettwasaround.Theyneverhungoutwithoutherandoftenyou’dseeoneofthemalone,justsortofloiteringaboutcampus,staringattheirphone,andLiamwouldsay,“Whatyoudoing?”
“WaitingforScarlett,”they’dreply.
Scarlettchangedoverthatfirstyear,wentfromthesortofgirlwholikedridinghorsesoccasionallyandplaitedherhairtothesortofgirlwhousedafakeIDtogettattoosinSohoandexperimentedwithClassAdrugs.Shecutoffherdarkhairandbleachedit.Shepiercedherlip,hernose,hertongue(Liamhatedthetonguepiercing,everytimehesawaflashofithisgutclenchedwithdiscomfort).Shestoppedwearingfeminineclothesandstarteddressinglikeatwelve-year-oldboyfromtheBronx.Liamdidn’tmind.Whentheywerealonetogether,shewasjustScarlett,plainandsimple,thegirlhe’dlovedsincetheveryfirsttimehe’dseenherpeelinganegg.
TheyweretogetherforthewholeofhereighteenmonthsatMaypoleHouse.Liamwaseasygoinganduncomplicated,agoodfoilforScarlettandhermoodsandherweirdfriends,andforawhilehehadvirtuallylivedatScarlett’shouseinthenextvillagealong—DarkPlace.WordscouldbarelydescribethesplendorofScarlett’shome.Liamhadseenalotofstunningcountryhomesinhislife,butnoneasbeautifulasScarlett’splace.Itwasinaconstantstateofimprovementduringthoseyears,builders’vansonthedriveway,drilling,banging,squaresofduskyhuespaintedontowallsandpaintedoveragain,wallpapersampleseverywhere,boxesofexpensivetiles.
DoingthehouseupwasScarlett’smother’sjob.Josswasexactlywhatyou’dimagineScarlett’smumtobelike:loud,bossy,somethingofanarcissist.LiammetScarlett’sfatheronlyonceortwiceduringtheeighteenmonthsthattheyweretogether.MartinJacquesworkedintheCityandhadapied-à-terreinBloomsbury.Hewasverythinanddistant,withaplumeofsilveryhairandanalmostconstanttwitchinhischeek.
AndthentherewasScarlett’solderbrother,Rex,closerinagetoLiam,awesomeguy,rightupLiam’sstreet,ifabitfullofhimselfandloudonoccasion,verymuchhismother’sson.
TheJacqueseslovedLiam.Hewasmadetofeeloneofthefamily,apartofthefurniture.Jossalwayshadalittlejobforhimtodo;aleakyU-bendthatneededtightening,akettlethatneededrewiring,acarthatneededtobetakentoagarageforaservice.Andhewasalwayshappytobethatguy,thepracticalguy,theonewhocouldbereliedontoknowhowtorebootatreadmillorkeepfoxesoffyourlawn.
Andthenitallchanged.ScarlettfinishedherAlevelsinJune2016,afterwhichsheandherfamilywentsailingformostofthesummer—Liamwasinvitedtogowiththembutwasneededathomebecausehisdad’sbackhadgone.BythetimeScarlettwasbackfromhertravelsandLiamwasbackfromtheCotswolds,therewasbarelyamomentforthemtospendtogetherbeforeScarlettstartedherfineartcourseatMantonCollege.Liam,meanwhile,wasstillatMaypoleHouse,retakingonelastAlevel.Withouttheirregularlunchestogether,withoutthetimeswhentheyhadfreeperiodsbetweenlessonsandsneakedintoLiam’sroomintheresidentialblocktohavesexorwatchTV,withoutthesheerproximityofeachother,thewholethingseemedtoslideawayfromthem,theeasinessandthecloseness,andtowardtheendofthatfirstterm,justbeforeChristmas2016,ScarletttookLiamtotheSwan&Ducksandboughthimbeerandfishandchipsandtoldhimthatitwasprobablybestiftheywerejusttobefriends.AndLiamshruggedandsaid,“Yeah,Ikindofknewthiswascoming.”
“Areyousad?”sheasked,hereyeswide,herbottomlippinneddownononesidebyherteeth.
“Yes,”hesaid.“I’msad.”
“I’msorry,”shesaid,grabbinghishand.
“Youdon’tneedtobesorry.You’reyoung.Lifemoveson.Igetit.”
“AmIallowedtochangemymind?”
Helaughed.“Onlyifyouchangeitinthenextfifteenminutes.Afterthat,forgetit.”
Shedroppedherheadontohisshoulderandthenlookedupathimagainandsaid,“ImightjustgoAWOLwithoutyou,youknow.Imightlosetheplot.Imight…Idon’tknow,Imightdosometerriblethings.”
“Don’tbedaft.”
“No,”shesaid.“Imeanit.You’rethethingthatkeepsmeonthestraightandnarrow.You’retherock.AndI’mhackingmyselfoffyou.AndIdon’tknowwhathappensafterthat.”
“I’mnotgoinganywhere,”hesaidlightly.“I’mgoingtoberightthere.”Hepointedthroughthewindowofthepub,acrossthecommon,toMaypoleHouse.
“Yes,but…”Shetrailedoffandhesawsomethingdarkpassacrossherface.
“What?”hesaid.“What’sthematter?”
“Nothing,”shesaid.“Nothing’sthematter.”SheforcedanunconvincingsmileandthentheyembracedforawhileandLiambreathedinthesmellofherandtriedhishardestnottocry,nottoshowherthatshewaskillinghim.
LiamwenthomeforChristmas.Hewasquiet,butnobodynoticedbecausethatwasn’twhatitwaslikeinhishouse.Hehadthreebrothersandasisterandnowtherewerenephewsandniecesandtherewerecowstobecalved,fencestobefixed,andbalestobeshifted,andbythetimeLiamgotbacktoMaypoleHouseinJanuaryhewasalmostoverScarlett.
Almost,butnotquite.
Afterafewdaysbackatschoolhedecidedtoditchhisfinalretake.He’dsignedupforitonlysothathecouldbeclosetoScarlettandwithoutScarletthewasadriftinaschoolfullofpeopleyoungerthanhim.Hehadthegradesheneededforhisdegreeattheagriculturalcollege.Hedidn’tneedtobethereanymore.HeplannedtoleaveMaypoleHouseandgohometohelphisdadwiththefarmforafewmonths,butthedayhewasmeanttobeleaving,hegotacallfromScarlett.
“Ineedyou,Boobs,”shesaid.
Shedidn’tsoundlikeScarlett.Shesoundeddifferent.Shesoundedhollowandscared.
“What?”hesaid.“What’sthematter?”
“Ican’ttellyouonthephone.Canyoucomehere?Tothehouse?Please?”
Liamlookedaroundhisroom,atthebagshalf-packed,theemptybookshelves,theclosingdownofthischapterofhislife,readytobeginthenext.He’dintendedtohittheroadby6:00p.m.anditwasalreadynearlythree.Hesighedandhelethisshouldersslumpandhesaid,“Surething.Ofcourse.I’llbetherein,like,acoupleofhours.”
“No,comenow.Please.Comenow!”
Hesighedagain.
“Noproblem,”hesaid.“I’llbethereinten.”
“Andwhatwasit?”Sophieasksnow.“WhatdidScarlettwant?”
“Somekindofbreakdown,Ithink,”Liamreplies.“Shewasshaking,fetal.Hermothersortofmadeoutshewasattention-seeking.”Heshrugs.“Maybeshewas.Idon’tknow.ButIknewIcouldn’tleaveher.Iknewshestillneededme.ToldmydadIwasn’tcominghomeyetandmovedinwithherforawhile.ThenavacancyforaclassroomassistantturneduphereattheschoolandIthoughtIcouldjustdoitforafewweeks,justtostayclosetoScarlett.”Hesighs.“And,yeah,hereIstillam,morethanayearlater.”
“Why?”asksSophie.“Whydidn’tyougohomewhenScarlettleft?”
“Ijust…”Hegrimaces.“Ididn’tknowshewasn’tcomingback.Ithoughtthey’djustgoneawayforthesummer.AndthenitwasSeptemberagainandtheydidn’tcomeback.AndthenIthoughtthey’dbebackforChristmas,andtheyweren’t.Thenitwas2018andScarlettstoppedreplyingtomymessagesandmyphonecallscompletelyandIthought,well,she’smovedon.It’sover.ButIlikedithere.SoIstayed.”
“Andthepoolparty,”sheasksgently,notwantingtopushtoohard.“Whathappenedthatnight?”
Heliftshiseyestohersandsighs.“Christ.Whoknows.AllIknowisthatIhavenoideawhythosekidswereeventhere.Theguy,Zach,I’dsayhewaskindofdark.Ikeptpickinguponaweirdvibebetweenhimandthegirl.Atthepub,itfeltlikethegirlreallydidn’twanttocomebacktothehouse;hereallyhadtopersuadeher.Andthen,oncetheywerethere,atScarlett’splace,theyjustfeltkindofoutofplace.Theydidn’treallywanttojoinin.Youcouldtelltheguywasbroodingaboutsomethingorother.Jealous,probably.”
“Jealous?Ofwhat?”
Liamblinksandsheseeshimholdhisbreath.“OhGod,Idon’tknow.Thesizeofthehouse,theprivilege,allofthatkindofthing,Isuppose.Anyway,theatmospherewasawkward.AndthenmyfriendLexie—shelivesheretoo,she’sKerryanne’sdaughter?”
Sophienods.
“ShewasdrivingbacktotheschoolandI’dhadenoughbythenandweofferedthecouplealiftbacktothevillage,andshewaslike,yes,that’dbegreat.Buthesaidno,we’restaying.IsawhimsortoftugherbackintoherchairandIfeltreallysorryforher.AndItoldallthistothepoliceatthetime,obviously,andIthinkthegirl’smother,Kim,Ithinkshethoughttherewassomethingabitoffwithhim.Thatitmighthavehadsomethingtodowithhim.Thatheoffedher.Thendisappearedsomehow.Butyouknow,howcouldtherebenoevidence?That’swhat’salwaysconfusedme.Theywerethere,andthentheyweren’t.Notadropofblood,notasniffofdeath.Twowholepeople,justgone.Itdoesn’tmakeanysense.Doesit?”
HedropshiseyestoSophie’sphoneandlooksagainatthephotoofthering.
“Andnow,”hesays,makingtheimagelargerwithhisfingers,“it’sstartingalloveragain.”
24
FEBRUARY2017
Tallulahstaresdownthelongdriveway,throughtheelaboratemetalgatestowardScarlett’shousewhereitemergesfromacrownoftreesatthetopofasmallhillock.Itlookslikeitcouldstillbeanothermileaway.Shesqueezesherbikethroughthenarrowpedestriangaptothesideofthegatesandthenremountsandcyclesonward.
Shedoesn’tknowwhatshe’sdoingorwhyshe’sdoingit.Shejustfeelslikethewallsofherlifeareclosinginonherandsheneedstofindagapjustforaminute,justsoshecanbreathe.
Asshedrawsclosertothehouseshegaspsquietlytoherself.It’smagical,thesortofhousethatyouhaveareallyintensedreamaboutandthenwakeupthenextmorningfeelingsadthatit’snotreal.
Sheleansherbikeagainstawallandcrunchesacrosswhitegraveltowardthefrontdoor.
ForamomentsheconsiderscallingScarlett,givingherachancetopretendtobeoutortohide.Butthenshelooksatthetimeandseesit’sonlyanhouruntilZachgetsbackfromfootballandshe’smadeitallthewayandshejustreally,reallywantstoseeher.Shepressesthedoorbellandclearsherthroatandtouchesherhairandclearsherthroatagainandamomentlatershehearsafemalevoicecalling,“Coming!”Andit’sher,it’sScarlett,andshe’sgettingclosertothedoorandshe’sopeningthedoorandTallulahrealizesshehasbeenholdingherbreathandasthedooropensandScarlett’sgazetakesherinthereisatinyfractionofamomentwheresomeoneshouldsaysomethingbutnobodydoesandTallulahalmostsays,Ishouldgo.ButbeforethewordsleavehermouthScarlettgivesherheadasmallshake,blinks,andsays,“OhmyGod.It’sTallulahfromthebus.”
Alargedogamblesintoview.It’sthedogfromScarlett’sself-portraitintheartblockatcollege.It’sgigantic.
“Hi,”saysTallulah.“I’msorrytojustturnup,butIwaschattingwithMimiandshesaidifIsawyouinthevillageIwastosayhelloandtellyoutogetintouchandthenIdidseeyouinthevillagebutyoudroveoffbeforeIcouldsayanythingandthegirlintheshop,IkindofknowherandshetoldmewhereyoulivedandIjustkindofthought…Icouldcomeandpassonthemessageinperson.Kindof.”
“Youemailedme,didn’tyou?”
“Yeah,afterIsawyouinthevillage.”
“AndIdidn’treply.”
“No.Butthat’sfine.Totallyfine,Iwasn’texpectingyouto.”
“Howdidyougethere?”
Tallulahturnsherheadtowardthebike.“I,er,cycled.”
ThedoghaswalkedpastScarlettandisnowstandingrightnexttoTallulah,pantingloudly.“CanI…?”sheasks.“CanIstrokehim?”
“Ofcourseyoucan.MyGod.Yes.Helivesforbeingstrokedbystrangers.He’satotalwhore.”
Tallulahpressesherhandintothedog’sthickfurandsmiles.
“Iremember,”saysScarlett.“Youlikedogs.Yousaidyouwantedone.Didyougetone?”
Tallulahshakesherheadandcrouchesdowntobeface-to-facewiththedog.“What’shisname?”shesays,scratchingunderhishugejowls.
“Toby.”
“Yeah,helookslikeaToby.”
Foramomentitfeelslikethere’snothinglefttobesaid.Tallulahstraightensupandsays,“Anyway.Thatwasallreally.JustMimisaystostopbeingafuckingdickandtoleteveryoneknowhowyouarebecausethey’reworriedaboutyou.”
SheglancesatScarlett,assessingherresponsetothemessage.SheseesthatScarlettlooksthinnerthanever,thatherhairhasgrownoutintosurprisinglydarkroots,thatshe’sdressedlesstheatricallythansheusedtodressforcollege,inplain-cutjeansandanoldsweatshirtwiththewordsGUERNSEYYACHTCLUBandalittlered-and-whiteflagprintedonit.“Wannacomein?”shesays.
“Er,yeah.Sure.Ifthat’sOKwithyou?”
“It’sOKwithme.”
“Ican’tstaylong,Ineedtobehomebytwo.So…”
“Let’shaveacupoftea,”saysScarlett.“Everyone’soutsoit’sniceandquiet.”
TallulahfollowsScarlettthroughthehallwayandintoanextraordinarykitchen,whichlookslikeaglassboxstuckontothebackofthehouse.Evenonthisovercastdayitisdazzlinglybright,adozenhalogenlightssparklingofftheglossyworksurfacesandcabinets.Adelicatewoodentablesurroundedbygrayvelvetdiningchairssitsbyasetofhugeslidingdoorsthatopenoutontoasunterraceand,justbeyond,whatlookslikeaswimmingpoolwiththecoverdrawnoverit.OverheadisaPerspexchandelierdrippingwithredbeads.Thewallsarewhite-paintedbrickworkhungwithabstractcanvases.Attheotherendoftheglassboxisaseatingareawithanelectric-blueL-shapedsofaandthebiggestplasmascreenTallulahhaseverseen.
ThedogfollowscloselybehindTallulahandthencollapsesatherfeetwhenshesitsdown.
“Helovesvisitorsmorethanheloveshisownfamily.It’spathetic,really,”saysScarlett,fillingupthekettleandswitchingiton.
Tallulahsmilesandsays,“He’slovely.You’rereallylucky.”There’sabeatofsilence.“So,”shesays.“HaveyougotamessageformetosendbacktoMimiandthatlot?”
Scarlett,whohasherbacktowardher,sighs.“Idon’twantanythingtodowithMimi.OrRoo.Oranyofthem.Sono.Justdon’ttellthemyou’veseenme.”
“Oh,”saysTallulah.“Didyoufallout?”
“Well,no.Ijust…”Shepullsopenthefridgedoorandtakesoutabottleofmilkandsays,“Milk?”
Tallulahnods.
“It’scomplicated,”Scarlettcontinues.“I’drathernottalkaboutit.”
Shefinishesmakingtheirteaandbringsthemugsovertothetable.
“So,howarethingsatcollege?”sheasksTallulah.
Tallulahshrugs.“Boring.”
“Whatisityou’restudyingagain?”
“Socialscienceandsocialwork.”
“So,youwanttogointosocialwork,then?”
“Yeah.”Shenodsandpicksuphertea.“That’stheplan.”
“Well,that’sveryworthy.You’reclearlyaveryniceperson.”
Tallulahlaughsnervously.“Whataboutyou?Whatdoyouwanttobe?”
“Dead,mainly,”Scarlettrepliesdarkly.“Yeah.Deadwouldbegood.”Thensheralliesquicklyandsays,“Doyouwanttoseesomethingamazing?”
“Er,yeah?Sure?”Tallulahrepliesuncertainly.Sheputsdownherteaandgetstoherfeet.Thedoglumbersupontohisfeettoo.
“Now,”saysScarlett,“seriously,youcannottellasoulaboutthis,OK?Imean,thisisliterallymind-blowingandIamliterallytheonlypersoninthewholeworldwhoknowsaboutitandinaminuteyouwillbeliterallythesecondpersonintheworldtoknowaboutit.CanItrustyou?”
Tallulahnods.“Yes,”shesays.“Ofcourse.”
Scarlett’seyesstayonherforamoment,assessingher.Thenshesmilesandsays,“Comeon.Thisway.”
Theywendtheirwaythroughthehouse,throughsnugsandpianoroomsandbootroomsandhallwaysandstudiesanddiningroomsandsittingroomsanddrawingroomsuntiltheyreachasmalldoorsetintothecornerofwhatScarlettreferstoasthe“Tudorwing.”Theroomissmallandcontainsjustablacklacquereddesk,abrassstandardlampwitharedvelvetshade,andapieceofmodernarthangingfromanancienttimberedwall.Thedooriswoodenandhasalatchopening.
“So,”saysScarlett,openingupthedoorandpeeringupward.“Thisisthestaircasetotheturretroom.”ShemovesoutofthewaysothatTallulahcansee.It’sasetofspiralstonestairs,verysmall,verynarrow.Theylooklikethesortofstairstouristsqueuetogoupincathedralsandsuch.
“Oh,”shesays,“wow.”
“Well,yeah,butthat’snottheamazingthing.Theamazingthingisthis.”
Scarlettfallstoherkneesandpullsastrangetoolfromthebackpocketofherjeans.It’sancient-looking,slightlyrusted,hasalonghandlewithakindofflatfootonthebottom,whichsheinsertsintotheundersideofthefirststepandthenusestoleverawaythestonefromitssetting.Shecarefullyremovesthepieceofstoneandsetsitbehindher.AcolddraftblowsthroughtheholeandTallulahshiversslightly.
“Ifoundthisbook,”Scarlettissayingassheslidesherhandintotheopenholeinthestaircase.“Ahistoryofthishouse.Andtherewassomethinginthereaboutasecrettunnel.Likeanescapetunnel.ThiswingwasbuiltduringtheEnglishCivilWarin1643andthearchitectwasaskedtoincludeasecrettunnelincasetheinhabitantsneededtohideorrunaway.And”—herfacecontortsasshetriestogetholdofsomethinginsidethehole—“theplansweredestroyedinafirethatburneddownhalfofthebuilding.Infact,that’swhyitbecamecalledDarkPlace,becauseoftheblackcirclethatsurroundeditafterthefire,allthecharredwood.
“SothehousewasabandonedandemptyfornearlyseventyyearsuntilareallycoolyoungcouplefromLondonboughtit,probablyequivalenttohipstersoftoday,wantedadoer-upper,somethingwithabitofcharacter.AndtheyweretheoneswhoattachedtheGeorgianwing.Itwasseenassupersupermodernatthetime,noonecouldquitebelievetheireyes;itwasthetalkofthevillage.Anyway,thiscouplehadnoideawherethetunnelwasandspentyearstryingtofinditandmovedbacktoLondonwhentheywereoldwithouteverfindingitandbytheeighteenhundredseveryonejustthoughtitwasamyth.Thatithadneverexisted.
“Andthenearlyin2017,ayoungwomancalledScarlettJacques,whohadnothingtodoalldaybecauseshe’dleftcollegeunderacloudandwasdepressedandincrediblybored,decidedtomakeithermissiontofindthetunnel.Andfinally,aftermany,manydays,shehadabrainwave.Whatif?”Shepantsslightlyasshepullshardatsomethinginthehole,suddenlyliftingtheentirestonepanel,removingit,andputtingitnexttothefirstpieceofstone.“Whatif,”shecontinues,“thearchitectdecidedthatthebestplaceforanundergroundstaircasewasatthebaseofanovergroundstaircase?Andwhatifthatweirdmetalthingthat’sbeenhangingoffahookinthewoodstoresincethedaywemovedin,whatifthatmightbethekeytoopenthebase.”Sheleansbackandbrushessomehairfromherface.“Andloandbehold,”shesaystoTallulah,wavingherarmacrosstheopening,“shewasfuckingright.”
Tallulah’smouthishangingopen.ShestaresintotheholeandthenupatScarlett.“OhmyGod,”shewhispers.ThedoghasbeensnufflingatthepiecesofstoneandnowpassesTallulahtopeerdownthehole,sniffingtheairloudly.
“Wanttocomeandhavealookinside?”saysScarlett,turningontheflashlightonherphone.
“Erm,I’mnotsure.Ireallyneedtogetback.AndI’marachnophobic.Like,seriously.Full-blownpanicattacks.”
“Justcomeandseetheroomatthebottomofthesteps.There’renospidersthere,Ipromise.It’sreallycool.Come.”
Animagepassesthroughhersubconscious,animageofherinaspider-filledtunnel,lookingupatScarlett,whocacklesmaniacallywhilstpullingthestonecoverbackintoplace.
Tallulahtoldnooneshewascominghere.There’snobodyelseinthehouse.Allthat’shereishermother’sbike,whichScarlettcouldeasilydisposeof.ShecouldsealTallulahupdownthereandnoonewouldeverhearherandnoonewouldeverknow.
ShethinksofScarlett’sself-portraitintheartblockatManton,thecakeknifewiththebloodonit,thehandgun,thefreshbeatingheartontheplate,andshewondersaboutthisgirlwhomshebarelyknows.WhoisScarlettJacques?Whatisshe?
ButthenshelooksatScarlettandseesthecoolgirlfromcollege,thegirlwhoeveryonewantstobe,andshe’slookingbackatTallulahwithaplayfulsmile,saying,“Comeon.I’mnotgoingtoeatyou,”andshefollowsherintothehole,herhandsgraspingontodampbrickwallsasthestepsleaddownward.
25
JULY2017
JuneturnstoJuly.Noahturnsfromtwelvetothirteenmonths.Kimgivesupherpart-timejobattheestateagencyuptheroad.RyancancelshisfirstparentlessholidaytoRhodes.Onthecalendaronthekitchenwall,Kimseesherhandwritinginthesquarefor17July:“Lastdayterm,Tallulah.”Sheweeps.
ThepolicehadfinallygottenpermissiontosearchtheJacqueshousebuttheyfoundnothinguntowardanditturnedoutthattheJacqueses’securitysystemhadn’tbeenarmedthatnight,thatallthecameraswereoff.“Myfaultentirely,”JossJacquessaid.“Ineverfollowinstructionsproperly.DrivesMartininsane.”
Shortlyafterward,ScarlettandherfamilyflewouttotheirhouseintheChannelIslandsandnevercameback.
TowardtheendofJuly,KimcancelsherAugustholidaytoPortugal,tothecutelittlefamily-friendlyresortwiththecrèchethatsheandTallulahhadporedoverpicturesof,imaginingNoahthere,makingnewfriends,maybetoddlingbythen,splashinginthebabypoolwithinflatablearmbands,azip-upswimmingcostume,andasunhat.TheladyonthephoneisincrediblyunderstandingwhenKimexplainshercircumstancesandgrantsherafullrefund.Kimcriesforhalfanhourafterward.
Kim’sex-husband,Jim,comesandgoes;hestaysforafewnights,aslongashecangetoffwork,aslongashismotherwilllethimleaveher,andthenhegoesbacktoGlasgowagain.InawayKimwouldpreferitifhedidn’tcomeatall.Hebringsnothingtothesituation,noreassurance,nopracticalassistance,justextrafoodtobuyandcupsofteatomakeandbedsheetstowash.
InearlyAugusthecomesagainandthemomenthewalksintothehouse,Kimknowsthatsomething’supwithhim.Helookswashed-outandtense.
“Ijustsawthatwoman,”hesays,droppinghisjacketandhisbagontothefloorinthehallway.“Themother.”
“Megs?”
“Yeah.Whateverhernameis.Doyouknowwhatshesaidtome?”
Kimlowershereyes.ShehastriedherhardesttoavoidMegsandSimoneversincethedayofthepolicesearch.Shecrossesstreetswhensheseesthem,turnsandwalksoutofshops.“OhGod,”shesays.“No,tellme.”
“ShesaidthatshethinksTallulahandZachhaveeloped.Goneoffforaniceextendedhoneymoon.Shesaid,‘Itwasalltoomuchforthem,havingthatbabysoyoung.Ican’tsayI’msurprised.’?”
Kimsighsandshakesherhead.“Andwhatdidyousay?”
“Isaidshewasmad.Isaidsheneededherheadtested.”
“WasSimonthere?”
“Yeah.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
“Notalot.”
“Didyouremindherthatneitherofthemhasusedtheirbankaccountssincethenighttheywentmissing?”
“Yup.Shesaidtheywereprobablyusingcash.”
“Right,”saysKim,rollinghereyes.“Coursetheyare.They’reprobablyrollingaroundinbanknotesinthebridalsuiteattheRitzfuckingCarltonrightnow.”
“I’msoangry,”saysJim.“Soangrythattheycantakeitsolightly.Whentheirsonmighthave…youknow…”Andthenhestartstocry.
Andfinally,forthefirsttimesinceTallulahdisappeared,KimfeelslikesheandJimareinthesameplace,aplaceofsharedhorrorandfuryandrage,andsheopensherarmsandhecomesintothemandtheyholdontoeachotherforalongtimeandit’sthefirsttimethey’vetouchedlikethatinmorethantenyearsand,foramoment,Kimisgladhe’sthere,gladtohavesomeonetosharethiswith,tostandinthiscornerofhellwithherandholdontoher.Butthenshefeelshischeekpassacrosshercheekandhisgroinalittletooclosetoherthighandhislipsaresuddenlyonhersandshegaspsandpusheshimaway,hard,sohardhealmostloseshisfooting.Hestaresatherforamomentandshestaresathim,herbreathcominghard,andthenshewatchesashepicksuphisjacketandhisbag,opensthefrontdoor,andthenclosesitquietlybehindhim.
SoonitisSeptemberandKimseesthesquareonthecalendarinherkitcheninwhichshehaswrittenthewords“Tallulahbacktocollege.”Shefeelstoonumbtoweep.
Noahturnsfifteenmonthsandcanwalkandtalk.RyangetsagirlfriendcalledRosiewithwhomhespendsallhistimeinhisroom.Kimrunsoutofmoneyandhastotakeoutabankloan.
DIMcCoycallsoccasionallywiththatwhichseemmuchmoreliketheyshouldbecalleddowndates.Eachtimehespeakstoheritbecomesclearerandclearerthattheyhavenothingtogoon.ThetireprintsonthedrivewayoutsideDarkPlacebelongtoLexieMulligan’scar.CCTVfootageofthemainroadsinandoutofUpfieldCommonandenvironsshownothing.Zach’semployerssayhewasagoodlad.Tallulah’scollegesaysshewasagreatgirl.Aseaofblankfaces,shakenheads.Nobodyhasanexplanationforwhatmighthavebefallenthem.
KimishauntedconstantlybytheimageofZachgrippingTallulah’sarmsinthesnugatScarlett’shousethatmidsummernightandthesparklyringinthepocketofhisjacket.ShegoestoTallulah’sroomsometimes,tosearchagainandagainforthethingthatwillopenupthemysterytoher,dislodgethelogjam.Butshefindsnothingandmonthspass.
SoonitisJuneagainandNoahturnstwoandhashisfirsthaircut.OntheanniversaryofTallulah’sdisappearanceKimleadsacandlelightprocessionthroughthevillageinanattempttogetsomemorepublicityforhermissinggirl,inanattempttogetpeopletocareagain.MegsandSimonleavethevillagetoliveclosertotwooftheiradultdaughters,whohavebothrecentlyhadbabies.Theydon’tsaygoodbye.KimgetsaplaceforNoahatthenurseryschoolinthechurchhallatSt.Bride’sforfourdaysaweekandshegetsajobattheSwan&Ducksdoingthelunchtimeshifts.Shepaysoffherbankloan.RyanandRosiesplitupandRyangetsanewgirlfriendcalledMabelwhohasaflatinMantonandhemovesinwithher.AndthisisnowKim’slife:droppingNoahatnursery,shiftsatthepub,collectingNoahfromnursery,shopping,cooking,eating.Shedoesn’tgooutnowonFridaynightsbecauseshehasnoonetositwithNoah.Shedrinkswinealoneandwatchesprogramsaboutplasticsurgerygonewronganddogshavinghip-replacementoperations.
Andstillnothingchanges.
Nothinghappens.
UntilonemorninginearlySeptember,fifteenmonthsafterTallulahdisappeared,awomanappearsatherdoor,astrikinglyattractivewomanwithsoftblondhairandaprettysummerdress,andthiswoman,hernameisSophie,hasfoundaringinthegroundsofMaypoleHouseandit’sZach’sringandithad,apparently,anarrownexttoitsuggestingthatsomeonedigforit,thatsomeonefindit.
Andthereitis.Atlonglast.Asignthatsomeoneoutthereknowssomething.AsignthatTallulah’sstoryisnotyetover.
Whenthewomanleaves,Kimpicksupherphoneandshescrollsthroughhercontactstooneshehasnotusedformonthsandmonths.
“Hello,Dom,it’sKim.”(ShestoppedcallinghimDIMcCoysometimeago,andhestoppedcallingherMs.Knox.)“There’sbeenadevelopment.”
26
SEPTEMBER2018
“Erm,Soph.There’saDetectiveInspectorMcCoyheretoseeyou?Inreception?”
It’sShaunonthephone,soundingratherconfusedanddistracted.
“Oh,”shereplies.“Yes.That’sprobablyright.”
There’sabeatofsilenceduringwhichSophierealizesshe’smeanttosaysomething.“Idugthatthingup,”shesays.“Inthewoods.Turnsoutit’sconnectedtoamissing-personcase.”
“Thething?”
“Youknow.ThatsignItoldyouaboutonourgardenfencethatsaid‘DigHere’?Idug.Itwasanengagementring.”
“Oh,”saysShaun.“Right.Youdidn’ttellme.”
“Well,no,Ionlyfoundoutwhoitbelongedtoyesterdayandyouwereatworkand—”
“Well,anyway,”hecutsin.“WhatshouldI…?”
“ShallIcomeover?”sheasks,slightlybreathlessly.
“Isuppose.Yes.I’llgetsomeonetofindaroomforyou.”
Andthenhehangsup,ratherabruptly,andSophiethinksit’sthefirsttimehe’severspokentoherimpatiently.
DIMcCoyisdisarminglyattractive:adeepsummertan,sun-burnishedbrownhair,acrispbaby-blueshirtunderadarkbluesuit.
He’ssittinginasmallmeetingroomjustbehindthereceptionoffice.There’sapaneofglassinthedoorthroughwhichSophieisawareofaheadbobbingjustoutofsight.Thepresenceofapoliceofficerintheschooliscausingfrissonsofwarpedenergy.Thefactthatheisheretotalktothenewheadteacher’sgirlfriendisaddingevenmorecontroversytothesituation.
DIMcCoygetstohisfeetassheentersandshakesherhand.
“Thankyou,”hesays.“I’msorrytointerruptyouinthemiddleoftheschoolday.”
“Oh,no,honestly,that’sfine.Idon’tworkhere.Soit’s,youknow…”
“Well.”Hesitsdownagain.“IassumeyouknowwhatI’mheretotalktoyouabout?”
“Thering?”
DIMcCoycheckshisnotes.“Yes.Thering.Foundintheschoolgrounds?Byyou?”
“Correct.”
“Andthiswaswhen,exactly?”
“Afewdaysago.Iputitawayatfirst,inadrawer,becauseIdidn’tknowwhattomakeofit.Thenitkeptplayingonmymind.SoIgotitoutofthedrawerandcleanedtheboxandfoundthenameofthejewelryshop.Itookitthereyesterdayandthentookitstraightaroundtotheowner.Buthedoesn’tlivethereanymore.Apparently,well,thewomanwholivesthere,Kim,shetoldmethathe’samissingperson?”
“That’sright.HedisappearedonthesixteenthofJune2017,withhisgirlfriend.Andtherewasatheorythathemighthavetakenhisgirlfriendoutthatnighttoproposetoher.Sotheringsuddenlyreappearingafterallthistimeisquiteabigdevelopment.Essentially,itreopensthecase.”
Sophienods,somewhatfervently,tryingnottobetrayherexcitement.“Isupposeitdoes,”shesays.
“So,Ms.Knoxtellsmethatyoufoundthisringafterfollowingthedirectionswrittenonanote?”
“Kindof.Therewasasign,nailedtoourgardenfence.Withanarrow.Icanshowyouifyoulike?It’sstillthere.Ididn’ttouchit.”
“Yes.Yes,please.”Thedetectiveputshispenandnotepadbackintohisjacketpocketandgetstohisfeet.
Sheleadshimthroughthegroundsofthecollegeandthroughthecottage.“Isawitthefirstdaywewerehere,”shesays,openingupthebackdoor.“Ijustassumeditwasleftoverfromatreasurehuntorsomething.”Sheunclipsthebackgateandgesturesatthefencewithherlefthand.“Ididn’treallythinkanythingofitatallatfirst.”
DIMcCoylooksdownatthefence,andthenlooksupatSophiequestioningly.
Sophielooksdown.
Thesignisgone.
27
FEBRUARY2017
TallulahgetshomethirtysecondsafterZach.
He’ssittingonthebottomstep,unlacinghistrainers,atoweldrapedaroundhisneck,hishairshinywithsweat.Helooksatherstrangely.
“Hi,”saysTallulahcasually.
“Where’veyoubeen?”
“Justforacycle,”shereplies.
Henarrowshiseyesather.“Onabike?”
Shelaughsdrily.“Yes.Ofcourseonabike.Whatelse?”
“Youhaven’tgotabike.”
“BorrowedMum’s.”
“ButwhataboutNoah?”
“WhataboutNoah?”
“Youlefthim?”
“Yeah.IlefthimwithMum.Shetoldmetogooutandgetsomeexercise.Ihadaheadache.”
Hepullsoffhissecondtrainerandlaysitnexttothefirst.“Where’dyougo?”
“Justaround,”shesays,unzippinghercoatandtakingitoff.Shehangsitupthencallsoutforhermum.
“Inhere.”
Shefollowshermum’svoiceintothelivingroom,whereshe’ssittingonthesofawithNoahonherlap.
ShetakesNoahfromhermumandspinshimaround,thenkisseshimnoisilyonhischeekandhugshimtoher.“How’smygorgeousboy?”shesays.“How’smygorgeous,gorgeousboy?”ThefeelofhiminherarmsafterhertimeatScarlett’shouseisindescribablyrelieving.HerskinstillcrawlswiththedampmemoryofthewallsofthetunnelunderneathScarlett’shouseandshe’sbeenrubbingimaginarycobwebsoffherface,outofherhair,eversincesheclimbedoutoftheholeandbackintothedaylight.
“Isn’titthecoolestthingever?”Scarletthadsaid,hereyesshininginthelightfromherphone.
Tallulahhadsmilednervouslyandrubbedatthebareskinonherforearmsandsaid,“It’ssospooky.”
“Yes,butjustthink,”Scarletthadcontinued,“wemightbethefirstpeopletohavebeendowntherefor,like,threehundred,fourhundredyears.Thelastpeoplewhosetfootdowntherewouldhavebeenwearing,like,wimples.TalkingShakespearean.”
“Haveyouwalkedtotheotherend?”
“Fuck.No.”Scarlettshookherheadhard.“Godknowswhat’supthere.AfuckingDemogorgon!”Sheshudderedandpulledthesleevesofhersweatshirtdownoverherhands.
TallulahshudderedtooandputherhandsintothesoftcoatofToby,whostoodpantinglightlybesideher.
ThenScarlettputherhandintoToby’sfurandherfingersfoundTallulah’sandlacedthemselvesaroundthemandTallulah’sbreathcaughtatthesensation.SheglancedupandsawScarlettstaringather,asoftsmileplayingatthecornersofhermouth.
Tallulahhadleftafewmomentslaterandcycledhardallthewayhome,tryingtopurgethedarknessofthetunnel,thefeelofScarlett’sfingersentwinedaroundhers,andtheslightlynauseatingjoltofenergyshe’dfeltpassbetweenthemthatsuggestedsomethingsofarbeyondherselforthepersonsheperceivedherselftobethatitfeltalmostlikeawound.
NowshesitsNoahonherkneeandrestsherlipsagainstthecrownofhishead,relishingthesmellofhisscalp,thefeelingofbeinghome.Hermumsays,“Didyouhaveaniceride?”
“Yeah,”shesays.“Itwasgoodtogetout.”
Zachwalksin.
“Howwasthefootball?”Tallulahasks,wantingtomoveawayfromthetopicofherbicycleride.
“Great,”hesays,sittingdownheavilynexttoherandplacinghishandaroundthebackofherneck.“Wethrashedthem.Four–nil.”Hesmellsofthepitch,ofmen,offreshsweat.She’ssuddenlyrepulsedbyhisproximity,thefeelofhishandagainstherskin,hisveryprecisemaleodors.
“Aren’tyougoingtoshower?”
“DoIsmell?”Heliftshisarmandsniffshisownarmpit.
Sheforcesasmileandsays,“Ofcourseyoudon’t.You’recoveredinotherpeople’ssweat,though.”
Hereturnshersmileandgivesthebackofherneckasmallsqueezebeforegettingtohisfeet.“Messagereceivedandunderstood,”hesays.
Asheleavestheroomandtheylistentothesoundofhisbarefeetheadingupthestairs,Tallulah’smumturnstoTallulahandsays,“He’sagoodboy.Hereallyis.I’msogladyou’velethimbackintoyourlife.”
Tallulahsmilestightly.Shethinks,Youdidn’tseethelookhegavemejustnowonthestairs.Youdon’tknowhowhelooksatmewhenyou’renotintheroom;thewayhisvoicesetshardlikestone,hiseyesborethroughmelikelasers.Youreallydon’tknow.
ScarlettiswaitingatthebusstoponMondaymorning.
“MorningTfromtheB,”shesays,slidingalongthebenchalittletomakeroomforher.“HappyMonday.Youlooktired.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Tallulahreplies.“Areyougoingbacktocollege?”
“Hellno,”saysScarlett.“I’mheretoseeyou.”
Tallulah’seyeswiden.“Why?”
ScarlettloopsherarmthroughTallulah’sandrestsherheadagainsthershoulder.“BecauseImissedyou.”
Tallulahlaughsdrily.“Right,”shesays,castinghereyesacrossthestreet,towardherhouse,imaginingeyesuponherandthisblue-hairedgirlwithherheadonhershoulder.
Scarlettliftsherheadandpullsherarmback,stuffingherhandintothepocketofherfurrycoat.ShenarrowshereyesatTallulahandsays,“Doyoulikeme?”
Tallulahlaughsagain.“OfcourseIlikeyou.”
“Butdoyou,youknow,likelikeme.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
Scarlettsighsandblowsouthercheeks.“Nevermind,”shesays.“I’mjustsofuckingbored.Sofuckingbored.”
“Whydon’tyoucomebacktocollege?”
“Never,”shereplies.
“Butwhy?I’veseenyourwork.You’resotalented.Whathappened?Whydidyouleave?”
Scarlettsighs,dropsherhead,andthenraisesitagain.“Oh,youknow,juststuff.”
Theybothturnatthesoundofthebusapproachingfromtheothersideofthevillage.
“I’llcomewithyou,”Scarlettsays,gettingtoherfeet.“Keepyoucompany.”
Tallulahglancesacrossthecommonagain,towardherhouse.Shefeelsverystronglythatshe’sbeingwatched.
Onthebus,theytakethebackseat.ScarlettsqueezesclosetoTallulah,whohasthewindowseat.Shekeepsuparunning,slightlyhyperactivecommentaryaboutthescenery,aboutasmellonthebus(toenailcheese),abouthowmuchshelikesTallulah’strainers(theywere￡19.99fromNewLook),abouthowboredsheis,howshemissesherbrother,hateshermother,wishesshehadbiggerbreasts,wishesshehadbiggerteeth,abiggernose,wishesshelivedinLondon,hateshervoice,missesmakingart,wantsapuppy,wantsaSundayroastwithallthetrimmings.AndTallulahnodsandsmilesandthinks,Whyareyoutellingmeallthis?Whyareyousittingsoclose?
Finally,astheycrosstheroundaboutanddrawclosertotown,Scarlettstopstalkingandturnstolookfromthewindowontheothersideofthebus.Tallulahwaitsafewbeatsbeforesayinganything.Scarlett’slikeacat,thesortthatletsyoutickletheirstomachforquitesometimebeforesuddenlyscratchingyouandrunningaway.
Shegentlytouchesherarmandshesays,“AreyouOK?”
ScarlettshrugsandTallulahnoticesafilmoftearscometohereyes.
“Oh,youknow,”shesays,hervoicecrackingslightly.“Justyourtypicallevel-twofucked-uprichgirlhavingastupidcrisis.Justignoreme.It’sbest.”
“Whathappenedwithyourboyfriend?”Tallulahasks,wonderingifmaybeScarletthasabrokenheart.“Theonewho’sattheMaypole?”
Scarlettshakesherhead.“Wefinished,”shesaid.“JustbeforeChristmas.”
“Oh.I’msorry.”
“No.Really.Itwasfine.Iendedit.Ithadbeengoingonfortoolong.Iwasn’tinlovewithhim.But,youknow,insomanywayshemademehappy.Hekeptmesafe.Andnowit’sjustme.Andit’sallabitofacarcrashreally.I’mabitADHD,soIkindofneedsomeonecalmaroundme.Someonetoremindmehowtobehave.Liamwasreallygoodlikethat.”Shesighs.“Imisshim.”
“Can’tyougetbacktogether?”
Scarlettshakesherhead.“No.Ididtherightthing.Icuthimfree.”Shepauses.“Whataboutyou?”
Tallulahlooksatherquestioningly.
“Doyouhaveaboyfriend?”
“Oh,”shesays,“yeah.Kindof.Wesplitupayearagobutwegotbacktogether.JustafterNewYear.”
“Whatmadeyoudecidetogetbacktogetherwithhim?”
Tallulahstartstospeakandthenstops.Wordstodescribeherson,hermotherhood,herreallife,sitonthetipofhertongue,waitingtobespilled.Butshecannotbringherselftodoit.Oncethosewordsareoutofhermouth,shewillbeTallulahtheteenagemum,notTallulahfromthebus.
“Idon’tknow,”sherepliesafteramoment.“I’mstartingtothinkmaybeitwasamistake.”
Scarlettraisesaneyebrow.“Ohshit.”
“Yeah.Iknow.He’schangedsincewewerelasttogether.He’smore…”Shescrollsthroughadozenadjectivesinhermindbeforefindingtherightone.“Controlling.”
Scarlettdrawsinherbreath,audibly,andshakesherhead.“Oh,”shesays.“Ohno.No,no,no.Controllingmen.They’retheworst.Youneedtogetoutofthat.Youneedtogetoutofthatfast.”
Tallulahturnstothewindow,notsayingwhatsheshouldbesaying,thatit’snotthatsimple,thatheliveswithher,thattheyhaveababytogether.
“Yes,”shemurmurs.“You’reright.”
“Whowasthatgirl?Atthebusstopthismorning?”
Zachislyingontheirdoublebedinhisworkclothes.He’sstillsupposedtobeatworkandmakesherjump.
“God,Zach.”Sheputsherhandtoherheart.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Hadaheadache,”hesays.“Askedtoleaveearly.”
Shesquintsathim.“Couldn’tyouhavejusttakensomepills?”
“Didn’thaveanyonme.”Hesitsupandwrapshisarmsaroundhisknees.“Wasitthegirl?”hesays.“Theoneinthephotoonyourphone.FromtheChristmasparty?”
“Yes.Shelivesnearhere.”
“Thoughtyousaidshe’dleftcollege.”
Sheblinks.Howdidherememberhertellinghimthat?“Yes,”shesays.“Sheleft.Shewasjustgoingintotown.”
Henods.“Sheseemedquitetouchy-feely.”
Sheshrugs.
“Seemsstrange,”hecontinues.“Agirlyoubarelyknow,yetyouhaveselfieswithheronyourphoneandthenshe’scuddlinguptoyouatthebusstoplikeshe’syourbestfriend.”
“She’sjustthatsortofperson,”Tallulahsays,unzippingherrucksackandtakingoutherassignmentfolder.Noah’snappinginhermum’sroomandshe’dplannedtousethequiethourtogetsomehomeworkdone.“Abitintense,youknow?”
“Wheredoesshelivethen?Thisintensegirl?”
“Noidea,”shereplies.Thelastsyllablecatchesonagulp.“Somewherearoundhere.That’sallIknow.”
Henods,thenslowlypullshimselfoffthebed.Hetakesacoupleofstepstowardherandthendrawshimselfuptall.Helooksdownintohereyesandhooksafingerunderherchin,tippingherfaceuptowardhim.Hiseyestracecirclesacrossallofher.“You’redifferent,”hesays.
Shepusheshisfingerawayfromherchinandturnsaway.“NoI’mnot.”
Hepullsherbackhard,byherarm.“Don’twalkawayfromme.I’mtryingtotalktoyou.”
Herheadrocksbackslightlyattheforceofhiswords.“I’vegotcollegeworktodo.Ihaven’tgottimeforthis.”
“This?”hesays.“Youmeanus.Youhaven’tgottimeforus.”
“No,”shesays,feelingherheartpumphard,“Ihaven’tgottimeforus.I’vegottimeforNoah.I’vegottimeforcollege.Andthat’sit.Idon’thavetimeforus.You’reright.”
Thereisanimmediateandprofoundsilence.Zachshiftsfromonefoottotheother.“Whatareyoutryingtosay,Lula?”
“I’mnottryingtosayanything.YousaidIdon’thavetimeforusandI’magreeingwithyou.Idon’thavetime.There’snevertime.”
“But—ifyoureallywantedthistowork,you’dfindthetime.Sowhat’sthedeal?Doyouwantthistowork?Ornot?BecauseI’vegotajob,Lula.Iactuallyworktobringmoneyintothisfamily.Everyday.AndI’mhands-onwithNoah,twenty-four-seven.Butyeah,funnything,I’vestillgottimeforyou.Forus.Sowhyhaven’tyou?”
“Idon’tknow,”shereplies.“Idon’tknow.”
There’sabeatofsilenceandthenZachsighsandpullshertowardhim,pullshersohardthatshefeelsherribcagebendunderthepressure,herlungscontract,herbreathstophalfwayupherthroat.
28
SEPTEMBER2018
Thepolicehavecordonedoffthewoodsagain.Thesightoftheplasticribbonflutteringinthelate-summerbreezesendsKimbackintimetothehazy,burningheatofthatJuneafternoonlastyear,theweightofNoahinherarms,thesweatrunningdownherback,theblindingwhiteglamouroftheJacqueses’houseinUpleyFold,thecobaltblueoftheswimmingpool,theemptyeyesofMegsandSimon,thestalesmelloflunchtimeroséontheirbreath,theeagerrustleofthesnifferdogsastheyheadedintothedarknessofthewoods.Sheshiversatthesightofit,butthenstraightensupandsmileswhensheseesDIDomMcCoyclimbingoutofhisunmarkedcar.
“Hi,”shesays.
“Nicetoseeyou,Kim,”hereplies.“Herewegoagain.”
Sherollshereyesandsays,“Indeedwedo.”
Heleadshertoaspotawayfromthecars,intheshadeofalargetree.“Thesignhasgone.IwenttoviewitwithMissBeckthismorningandit’sbeentakendown.Thenailisstillembeddedinthefence,butthesignhasgone.However,thankfully,MissBeckdidthinktotakeaphotographofthesign,sowehavethattosendoutforanalysis.Shewritesdetectivenovels,apparently,soIguesshermindworkslikethat.”
Kimraisesaneyebrow.“Doesshe,really?”
“Yes.Iknow.Shedoesn’tlookthetype—notexactlyAgathaChristie,isshe?”
Kimsmiles.“No,notexactly.”
“Anyway,we’vesentthephotoforhandwritinganalysis.Etcetera.Butitdefinitelylookstomelikesomeoneisactivelytryingtodrawusbacktothecase.Someonewhoknewthatanewheadteacherwasarriving.Someonewhowantedtheengagementringtobeuncovered.Someone,itfeelslike,whowantstoplaygameswithus.”
“Butwhywouldsomeonewanttodothat?”
Domsighs.“Peoplewanttodoallmannerofthings,Kim.Ifitwasn’tforpeopledoingthingsthatthelikesofyouandIwouldneverdo,I’dbeoutofajob.Mytheory,currently,isthatthisissomeonewhohasknownsomethingallalongwhilstremainingintheshadows.SomeonewhoknowswhathappenedtoTallulahandZach.Andforwhateverreasonthey’vegrownboredofthesilence.Grownboredofnobodybeingcaught.”
Kimflinchesathisuseoftheword“caught.”“Caught”suggeststhatsomeonehasdonesomethingtoherchild.Itsuggeststhatherchildisdead.Andnotonce,notinallofthenearlyfifteenmonthsthathavepassedsinceshewatchedherdaughterleavethehouseincut-offdenimshortsandasmocktop,anuncertainsmileonherfaceasshekissedherbabysongoodbyeandheadedoutintothesoftwarmthofasunnymidsummernight,notoncehasKimimaginedthatpossibilitytobeanythingotherthanasliverofabaddreamthatshecouldeasilychaseawaywiththepowerofherownthoughts.
“Annoyinglytheschool’sCCTVdoesn’textendthisfar.Itcutsoffjustontheboundaryoftheresidentialarea.MissBeckandMr.GrayhaveCCTVonthefrontoftheircottage,butnotattheback.We’regoingthroughfootagenow,butunlesswehaveapictureofsomeoneflagrantlywalkingacrossthecampusholdingacardboardsign,anail,andahammer,it’llbealittlebitofaneedleinahaystack.But”—heshrugsandsmileshopefully—“youneverknow.”
Kimcloseshereyesbrieflyandmustersasmile.
“AreyouOK?”
“No,”shesays.“Ifeelsick.”
“I’mnotsurprised,”saysDom.Hereachesoutandtouchesherarm.“Butmaybethisisit,Kim,”hesays.“Maybethisistheturningpoint.Alittleflameofhope.”
“Yes,”shesays.“Maybeitis.”
ShecallsRyanwhenshegetshomeandfillshiminonthepoliceactivityinthewoods.It’slunchtime,butshe’snothungry.SheputsherhandintoabagofNoah’sfavoritecerealandeatsthenuggetsfromthepalmofherhand,likeaponyeatingsugarcubes.Shechecksthetime.ThreehoursuntilshecollectsNoahfromnursery.Domtoldherthathe’dhaveanupdateforherintheearlyevening.HernextshiftattheSwan&Ducksisnotuntiltomorrow.She’dbeenpleasedwhenshe’dseenthegapbetweenshiftsonherrotathepreviousweek,she’dbeenlookingforwardtothetimeoff,butnowshewishesshewasatwork,hermindtakenoffthepainfuleventsunfoldingbehindMaypoleHouse.
Sheopensupherlaptopandtypes,notforthefirsttime,thename“ScarlettJacques”intothesearchbox.Andonceagain,theinternetshowshernothing.AdefunctInstagramaccount.AdefunctFacebookpage.AdefunctTwitteraccount.
Shetypesinthename“JossJacques”andgetsnothingatall.ShecannotforthelifeofherrememberthenameofScarlett’sbrother,thehandsomeboywho’dopenedthefrontdoortoherallthosemonthsagowithabeerinhishand.
Asshe’sdoneatintervalsoverthepastyear,shetriescallingMimionthenumberthatremainedonherphoneaftertheirconversationwhenTallulahandZachhaddisappeared.Andashappenseverytime,ithitsadeadtone.Shesighsandrunsherhandsthroughherhair.Thekeyplayers,allthepeoplewhoweretherethatnight,thepeoplewhomightknowwhathappened,havevanished.TheonlyoneswhoremainaretheniceboyLiam,Scarlett’sex,andLexieMulligan,whocomesandgoesfromthevillageforlongintervals.
Itcan’tbeacoincidence,shethinksnow;itcan’tbeacoincidencethatthey’veallgone,thatthey’veabandonedhouses,socialmediaplatforms,collegeplaces,friends.Andnowthis:thedeliberatepresentationofthepreviouslymissingringtotheworld,someonepurposelyrestartingtheenginesoftheinvestigation.Butwhy?Whynow?Andwho?
Andasshethinksthis,shethinksagainoftheniceboycalledLiam,thebigbearlikeboywiththegentleWestCountryburr.Shethinksofthefactthatheisstillhere,hewhohadthemostreasontoleave.He’sstillinthevillage,stillatMaypoleHouse,whereheworksasateachingassistant.Hewouldhaveknownthattherewasanewheadteacherarriving.Hewouldhaveknownabouttheentrancetothewoodsatthebackdooroftheheadteacher’scottage.HewastherethenightthatZachandTallulahdisappeared.Maybehefoundthering?MaybeZachdroppeditandLiamfounditandkeptitforsomereason?
Ormaybe…?No.Sheshakesherheadagainstthethought.Suchaniceboy.There’snoreasonwhyhewouldwanttoharmZachorTallulah.Nonewhatsoever.Butmaybeheknowswhodidandmaybehe’stiredofkeepingthesecret.
SheswitchesonherphoneandtypesinamessagetoDom:
YoushouldtalktoLiamBaileyagain.
AmomentlaterDomreplies.
Goodidea.
29
SEPTEMBER2018
Thepolicearebusyattheentrancetothewoods.FromthekitchenwindowSophiecanseeapoliceofficerinahigh-visgiletholdingtheleadofasilver-and-whitespringerspaniel,alsowearingahigh-visgilet.Sheturnsatthesoundofthefrontdooropeningandclosingandcallsout,“Hello?”
Shaunwalksintothekitchen,lookingtiredandconcerned.
“Bloodyhell,Soph,”hesays,takingoffhislanyardandputtingitonthekitchencounter.“Whathaveyoustarted?”
“Thatring,”shesays.“Itbelongedtotheboywhowentmissing.Youknow,thatcoupleItoldyouaboutwhodisappearedfromthevillagelastyear.HeboughttheringfromashopinMantonandwasgoingtoproposetohisgirlfriendwithitthatnight.Andthentheydisappearedandsodidtheringandnow…”Herwordsspilloutinarush;shefeelsguiltyforsomestrangereason.
“Someonewantedustofindit?”
Sheblinksathim,surprisedthathehasworkedthisoutsoquickly.“Yes,”shesays.“Atleast,that’swhatitlookslike.”
Heopensthefridge,pullsoutapacketofham,andstartstomakehimselfasandwich.“Doyouwantone?”hesays,wavingthepacketather.
“No,”shesays.“I’llprobablyhavesomethingabitlater.Whenthepolicehavegone.”
“God,”hesays,“thisisthelastthingIneed.Newjob,newschoolyear,deadfuckingteenagersinthewoods.”Hesighs.
Herbreathcatches.“Youthinkthey’regoingtofindbodies?”
“No.Idoubtit.Apparently,theydidafullsearchofthewoodstwicewhentheydisappeared.Butstill,eveniftheydon’tfindanything,thepressaregoingtojumponit,aren’tthey?AndI’llbeoverseeingamediacircus.”Hesighsagain.
“Doyouhateme?”sheaskshim.
“OfcourseIdon’thateyou.ButIamwonderingwhyyoudidn’ttellmeaboutthering?Whyyoudidn’tmentiontomethatyou’dfoundit?Thatyouweregoingtotakeittothewoman,tothemother?”
Hespreadsbutterontofatwhitebread.Sheseesthemusclesofhisfacestrainingunderhisskin,hisknuckleswhiteandpronounced.ShethinksofthesuntannedmaninT-shirtsandshortsshe’dspentherlastfewLondonsummerweekswith,theguywiththereadysmileandthelookinhiseyeofamanwhocouldn’tquitebelievehisluck.Shewonderswherehe’sgone,aweekintothisnewlife.
“IsupposeIthoughtyouhadmoreimportantthingstoworryabout,”shesays.“Iwasbored,Iguess,andIthoughtitwouldbefuntofollowupamystery.ItjustwentabitfurtherthanIthoughtitwould.I’msorryit’slandedonyou,Ireallyam.Hopefullyit’llallfizzleout.”
“Hm,”hesays,snappingthelidontothebuttertubandputtingitbackinthefridge.“Unlikely.Theyjustaskedtospeaktoamemberofstaff.”
Sophie’sheartjumpsslightly.“Which…?Imean,who?”
“LiamBailey?”hesays.“He’saspecialedassistant.IthinkyoumethimattheRegistrationDayDinner?Apparently,hewasaroundthenightthosekidsdisappeared.”Heclosesuphissandwichandcutsitinhalf.“So,yeah.Isuspectthismightrunonabit.”
“Butiftheyfindoutwhathappenedtotheteenagers,thenit’llbeworthit,yes?”
Hebitesintohissandwichandleansupagainstthekitchencounter,hislegscrossedattheankle,hisgazefixedhardonthefloorathisfeet.Shewatcheshimwipeasmudgeofbutterfromthecornerofhismouth,hearshisjawgrindingdownonhisfood.
“I’msorry,”shesays.
Heliftshisgazefromthefloorandhiseyesmeethersandhisfacerelaxes.Hesmilesather.“Don’tbe,”hesays.“It’snotyourfault.Andyou’reright.Iftheyfindoutwhathappenedtothoseteenagers,you’llhavedoneagoodthing.Ijustwishyou’dinvolvedme,that’sall.Remember,we’reateamnow.Youandme.Weworktogether.Yes?”
Shesmiles,gratefulforthesofteningofhismood.“Yes,”shesays.“Iknowthat.Iloveyou.”
Hegazesatherforamomentandthen,afterabeat,says,“Iloveyoutoo.”
“Letmeknow,”shesaysamomentlaterasheplaceshisplateinthedishwasherandcollectshislanyard,“letmeknowwhathappenswiththeteachingassistant.WithLiam.Won’tyou?”
Sophiespendstheafternoonwanderingaroundcampus,tryingtopickupdevelopmentsviaosmosis.TheschoolgroundsmanagerandKerryanneMulliganareoverseeingthesearchofthewoods;studentsgoingbetweenlessonsslowdownastheyglimpsetheactivity.Shefeelsthebubbleofherpulseasthedramaripplesthroughthegrounds.ShethinksofherhandontheroughwoodofthetrowelfromtheJacqueses’greenhouse,herfingersscrabblinginthesoil,thefeelingofdreadthatshemightbeabouttofindsomethinggruesome;sheremembershowaloneshewasthen,howsmallamomentitwasintheschemeofherlifeandhowweirditisthatthattiny,lonelymomenthassomehowblownupintothis:detectives,dogs,apotentialmediacircus.
Ataroundthreeo’clock,Sophiefinallyfeelshungry,decidesshedoesn’tlikethelookofanyofthehealthystuffintheirfridge,andheadstothevendingmachineoutsidetheschoolrefectory.Shefindssomecoinsinthebottomofherpurseandslotsthemin,pressesthebuttonsthatcorrelatetothesalt-and-vinegarcrispsandtheDairyMilkbar,whichisallshecanface,collectsthem,andwalkstothecloistersatthebackofthehall.Hereshesitsonthesamebenchwhereshe’dsatontheeveningoftheRegistrationDayparty,lookingatLiamBailey’sfeet.
Thesunappearssuddenlyfrombehindacloudandshecloseshereyesagainsttherays.Whensheopensthem,Liamisstandinginfrontofher.Shejumps.
“Sorry,”hesaid.“Ithoughtyou’dseenmecoming.”
Shelaughstohideherembarrassmentatbeingcaughtwithhereyesclosedinpublic.“No,it’sfine.Howareyou?”
Heshrugsandsays,“Bitwrungout.Justhadthethirddegreefromthecops.Theyseemtothinkthatringbeingburiedthereissomethingtodowithme.”Heshakeshisheadinbafflement.
Sophiemovesupthebenchandgesturestohimtositdown.Helooksupatthewindowsofthecollegeandthenbacktoher.“Ishouldgobacktoclass,really,I’vealreadymissedawholelesson.”
“Justquickly,whatweretheyaskingyouabout?”sheasks.
“Just,youknow,moreofthesameaboutthenightthosekidswentmissing.Whowasthere.WhattimedidIleave.WhatdidIsee.Whatdidn’tIsee.ThesamequestionsIansweredahundredtimesafterithappened.Theyshowedmethering,askedifI’deverseenitbefore.Itoldthemyou’dshownmethephotoofit.”
Sophiestarts.“Youdid?”
“Yeah.Imean,Ijustwantedtoansweralltheirquestionsonehundredpercenttruthfully,andwhentheysaid,‘Haveyoueverseenthisringbefore?’IhadtotellthemthatIhad.Imean,it’sOK,theydidn’tseemtomakeanythingofit.Andanyway,hopefullythat’sthat.Hopefullytheywon’tbebackaskingmeanymorequestions,becauseIcantellyoufornothing,they’dbetotallywastingtheirtime.”Hepuffshischeeksandthenexhales.“Well,”hesays,“Ireallyshouldgetbacktoit.Enjoyyourlunch,”hesays,eyeinghercrispsandchocolatebar.
“Liam,”shesaysquickly.“Beforeyougo.TheJacquesfamily.Didyoueverthinkitmighthavebeenthem?Youknow,thattheymighthavehadsomethingtodowiththosekids’disappearance?”
“OfcourseIthoughtthat,”hereplies.“It’stheonlytheorythatmakesanysense.”
“Butwhywouldtheyhavewantedtohurtthem?Andhowdidtheygetawaywithit?Andthering?Whataboutthering?Whowouldhaveputitthere?Andwhy?”
Heshakeshisheadslowly.“Ireallyneedtogetonnow,”hesays.“Butmaybewecouldmeetup,anothertime?”
“Yes,”shesays,“yes.Please.”
Hetipshisheadather,throwsherasmile,andheadsaway.Butthenheturnsbackandhesays,“Oh,Imeanttosay!Iorderedyourbooks,thewholeseries;theyarrivedthismorning.Istartedreadingthefirstonestraightaway.”
“That’ssolovelyofyou.Youreallydidn’thaveto.”
“Iknow,”hesays.“ButIwantedto.”
BythetimeShaungetshomefromworkateighto’clockthatnight,thepolicehavegoneandtheschoolfeelsrestoredtoequilibrium.
Thesunhasalreadyset,thesummerydayturnedinstantlytoautumn,andSophieisonherkneesinthesparebedroom,finallyunpackingsomeofthemovers’boxes,almost,shesuspects,asasilentapologytoShaunformakinghisfirstfewdaysinhisnewjobmorestressfulthantheyneededtobe.
Hischildrenarecomingattheweekendandit’stimetomaketheplacelooklikeahomeforthem.Hecallsupthestairstoherandshecallsback:“Inthekids’bedroom!I’llbedowninaminute.”
Butshehearshisstepscomingupthestairsandthenheisthere.Heseesthatshehasdressedthebedsinfreshsheets,thesamebeddingthathadadornedtheirbedsinhissparebedroominLewisham.Heseesthatshehashungtheprintsonthewall,thatshehasfoldedtowelsontothefeetofthebeds,pluggedinbedsidelamps,andthrowndownsheepskinrugs.Hisdemeanorsoftensatthesightofit.
“OhGod,Soph,thankyousomuch.Thishasbeenhangingovermyhead.Iwasgoingtodoit…Iwasgoingto…Idon’tknow.Idon’tknowwhenIwasgoingtodoit.I’msogratefultoyou.Youreallydidn’tneedto.”
“It’snothing,”shesays.“I’mallovertheplacerightnowandIcan’tgetintoworksoit’sgoodtohavesomethingmindlesstofocuson.”Sherisestoherfeetandsurveystheroom.Itlookslovely.
“Shallwegotothepub?”hesays,pullinghertohim.“Fordinner?”
Shethinksofthecrispsandchocolateshehadforlunchandrealizesthatshewouldloveapropermeal,aglassofwine,sometimeawayfromthisplace,justherandShaun.
“Givemeaminute,”shesays.“I’llputsomethingwarmeron.”
“Thisiswheretheywere,”shesaystoShaunastheysettlethemselvesatatableinthesmallloungeareajusttotheleftofthebar.“ZachandTallulah.Theywereinhere,withthekidsfromMaypoleHouse.Theyallendedupbackatagirl’shousejustoutsidethevillage.LiamBaileywaswiththem.Kerryanne’sdaughtertoo.”
Shaunnods.“I’mstartingtogetthefullpicture.It’sallabitunsettling.”
“HaveyouspokentoPeterDoodyaboutit?”
“Yeah,Icalledhimearlierwhenthepolicewerehere.Hewasverydismissive.Veryblasé.It’sclearlynotatopichewantstogiveanyoxygento.”
“Butwasheinvolvedwiththeschool?Atthetime?Didheknowabouttheconnection?”
“Yes,wasverymuchpartofitatthetime.Hedealtwiththepress,thePRsideofthings,kepttheparentshappy.Imean,reallyit’snothingtodowiththeschoolorourchildrenortheirfamilies.Thestudentsinvolvedhadalreadylefttheschoolbythetimethecoupledisappeared,andLiamandLexiehadreturnedtotheschoolthatnightwaybeforeanythinguntowardhappened.Thewoodsaren’ttechnicallyschoolpropertyandasfarasPeter’sconcernedit’snothingtodowithus.Andhe’dlikeittostaythatway.”
“Andwhatabouttheprevioushead,JacintaWhat’s-her-name?Wassheherewhenthiswasallgoingon?”
“Yes,shewasrightinthethickofit.Itwasanightmare,byallaccounts.”
Awaiterappearsthen;it’sthesameguywho’dbeenbehindthebarwithKimwhenSophiecameinearlierintheweekforacoffee.Hesmilesabrilliantwhitesmileandsays,“Hi,guys!Howareyoubothdoingtonight?”
Sophiereturnshissmileandsays,“We’regreat,thankyou.Howareyou?”
“Knackered,”hereplies.“Theyworkmelikeadoginhere.”Herollshiseyes.“Haveyouhadachancetolookatthemenuyet?”
“No,”theybothreplyapologetically.
“Couldweordersomewine?”Shaunasks.
“Absolutely.Andwhowouldblameyou?Thedayit’sbeentoday.Policeallovertheplace.Again.”
“Oh,”saysSophie.“Weretheyinhere?”
“Yes.Youknowthosetwokidswhodisappearedfromthevillagelastsummer?Lookslikeit’sallbeingrakedupagain.Ontheplusside,thehotdetectiveisback.”Heflasheshiswhiteteethatthemagain.“Sorry.Anyway.Wine,yousay?”
TheyorderthewineandthenwaituntilthewaiterisbackbehindthebarbeforeShaunlooksatSophieandsays,“Well,thereyougo,thecatiswellandtrulyamongstthepigeons.WhatwouldTigerandSusiedo?”
ShesmilesatShaun’sjokeandshrugs.Butinsideshe’sthinking,sheknowswhatTigerandSusiewoulddo.TheywouldtalktothewomanwhowasrunningtheschoolwhenZachandTallulahdisappeared.
TheywouldtalktoJacintaCroft.
30
FEBRUARY2017
ScarlettmessagesTallulahlaterthatnight.ThephonechirrupsinherhandasshesitsnexttoZachonthesofaandshefeelshiseyessearchoutthescreenofherphone.SheswitchesitoffquicklywhensheseesScarlett’sname.
“Whowasthat?”
“Noone,”shesays.“JustChloe.”
“WhatdoesChloewant?”
“Idunno.Probablyjustwantstotalkshitaboutpeople.”
Shefeelshimbristlingwithquestionshewantstoask,buthermumisthereandZachisalwayssweetnessandlightwhenhermumisaround.
ShehastowaittwentyminutesforZachtoleavetheroombeforeshecancheckthemessage.SheputsthephoneonthesofaandswitchesitontheresothatshecaneasilytuckitoutofsightifZachcomesback.
YoTfromtheB.CanucomeroundaftercollegeonFriday?Mymum’soutoftownforthenight.Youcldsleepovermaybe?
Sheswitchesitoff,feelingherheartracingbeneathherribs.ScarlettbelievesTallulahtobeyouraverageeighteen-year-oldgirl,thetypewhocancomeandgoatherownpace,thekindwithnocommitments.AndnowTallulahthinksofthisotherversionofherself,theonewithnocommitments,andsheimaginesthatotherTallulahthinking,Well,Idon’thavecollegethenextday,IcouldgoovertoScarlett’s,wecouldhaveafewdrinks,stayuplate,eatcerealwithhangoversthenextmorninginherbigglossykitchen.Suddenly,shewantsthisotherTallulah’slifemorethananythingintheworld.Sheturnsherheadtothedoorofthelivingroom,checkingforZach,butthere’snosignofhim,soshetapsthescreenofherphone,asquickyasshecan:
Maybe.Yeh.I’llcwhatIcando.
Fortherestofthatweek,TallulahbuildsastoryaboutChloe.Chloe,shetellshermother,isbeingbulliedbyagroupofkidsfromcollege.Chloecan’ttellhermotherwhat’shappeningbecauseChloe’smotherwouldjustmakethingsworse.Chloeisfeelingsuicidal.Chloehasbeentalkingaboutslittingherwrists.
Hermothertellsherthatshereallyshouldtellsomeone,someoneatthecollege,maybe.Tallulahsaysno,Chloewoulddefinitelynotwanthertotalktothecollege,thatshedoesn’twantanyonetotalktothecollege.
Andthen,ataboutfouro’clockonFridayafternoon,TallulahtellshermotherthatChloehasjustcalledandthatsheisincrisisandthatsheneedsherandthatsheisgoingtoherhouse.“CanyoulookafterNoah,”sheaskshermum,“justuntilZachgetsbackfromwork?IsthatOK?”
Hermothernodsfervently.“Ofcourse,yes,ofcourse.Butpleasestayintouch.Letmeknowifyouneedmetodoanything.Callme,please,ifitlookslikeshe’sgoingtodoanythingstupid.”
ShetouchesTallulah’scheekandsays,“You’resuchakindperson,suchagoodfriend.I’msoproudofyou.”
Tallulahfeelssoguiltyshealmostwantstothrowup.Sheleavesbeforeshebetraysherselfinanyway,leaveswithoutevensayinggoodbyetoNoah.ShepassesChloe’scottageonthewayoutofthevillageandstops,justforamoment,justincasesomeoneiswatching,justsotheycouldsay,Ohyes,IsawTallulahoutsideChloe’shouse.Inthepocketsofherjacketareasparepairofunderwear,atoothbrush,andherdebitcard.
Shewaitsforaminuteortwoandthencarriesoncycling.Zachwillbeonthebusheadingbackalongthisroadonhiswayhomefromworkinjustoveranhour,soshekeepsherhoodupandstickstotheshadowsandthepavementswheretheyveerofftheedgeoftheroadbetweenavenuesoftrees.Sheturnsoffthemainroadwithasighofrelief;thenshecyclestothegatesofDarkPlaceandmessagesScarlett.
I’mhere,shetypes.I’moutside.
“Youlookpretty,”saysScarlett,wheelingherbikeawayforherandtuckingitoutofsightbehindthegarage.
“Er,no,”Tallulahreplies.“Idonotlookpretty.Iliterallycamestraighthereandhaven’tevenlookedinamirror.”
“Well,Ihavetwogoodeyesinmyheadandtheybothseepretty.”
TallulahsmilesandfollowsScarlettintothehouse.
Tobygreetstheminthehallwayandjoinsthemintheseatingareainthebigkitchenextension.
“Howwascollege?”asksScarlett.
“Ididn’tgotoday.Ionlygothreetimesaweek.”
“Oh,”saysScarlett.“Howcome?”
“Justthewaythecourseworks,”Tallulahreplies,notmentioningthatshe’dworkedcloselywiththecoursedirectortoconstructatimetablethatfitaroundherotherroleasaparent.
“Soyoustudyathometherestofthetime?”
“Yeah.”
“That’scool,”Scarlettreplies.“Doyouhaveyourownroom?”
“Yeah,”shesaysagain.Technicallyit’snotalie.Technicallyitisherownroom.Shejusthappenstobesharingitwithherboyfriendandaneight-month-oldbaby.
“What’syourhouselike?”
“It’s…Idunno.It’sjust,like,ahouse.Youknow.Adoor,somewindows,astaircase,somerooms.It’snotlike…”Shespreadsherarminanarcacrosstheextraordinaryglassstructurethey’resittingwithin.
“Yeah,well,notmuchislikethisplace,Iguess.”
“Whatwasitlike,youroldhouse?InGuernsey?”
“Oh,youknow.Prettyspectaculartoo.Rightonacliff’sedge.Overlookingthesea.Westillownit.”
“Wow,”saysTallulah,shakingherheadslowlyattheconceptofowningnotonebuttwopropertiesasincredibleasthis.
“Plusthere’smydad’sapartmentinBloomsbury.”
“HehasanapartmentinLondon?”
“Yeah.ApenthousewithviewsovertheBritishMuseum.It’sreallycool.”
Tallulahshakesherheadagain.“What’sitliketobesorich?”sheasks.
Scarlettsmilesandrisestoherfeet.“It’snice,Isuppose.But,youknow,itwouldalsobenicetohaveafatherwhowantstolivewithyouandamotherwholikesyouandabrotherwhodoesn’talwayshavesomethingbettertobedoing.Itwouldbenicejusttobeanormalfamily.LiketheonesonGogglebox.Youknow.”Shepointsatthedrinkscabinetbehindherandsays,“Rum?Orisittooearly?”
Tallulahlooksatthetimeontheoversizeclockhangingonthewallbesideher.It’sfiveo’clock.Zachwillbeleavingworknow.Inaboutforty-fiveminutesorthereaboutshe’llgethomeandTallulah’smumwillexplaintohimwhereTallulahisandhewilltrycallingherandshewillhavetoignorehiscallandthensendhimalieinatextmessage.Shedoesn’twanttobedrunkthen.Sheneedstokeepaclearhead.
“Sixo’clockwouldbebetter,”shesays.
Scarlettsmiles.“You,”shesays,turningawayfromthedrinkscabinet,“areagoodinfluence.Ihadafeelingyoumightbe.Cupoftea?”
“Cupofteawouldbelovely.”
Theskyisstartingtodarken.Tallulahseesitgrowingbruisesacrossthetopofthetreesbehindthehouse,feelsthenightstarttoclosedownheroptions.
“Willyoustayover?”asksScarlett,asifreadingherthoughts.
“Idon’tknowyet.Maybe.”
“Maybe?”sherespondsteasingly.
“Yes,maybe.”Tallulahsmilesandrealizesshe’sdoingsomethingshe’sneverdonebeforeinherlife.She’sflirting.Shewondersatthisforamoment,asshestaresattheoutlineofScarlett’sbody,thejuttinganglesofit,thelongstretchofoff-whitewristvisiblebelowtheturned-upcuffofherscruffysweatshirt,thetightlinesofcartilageandbonepressingattheskin.ShelooksatthebobblesonScarlett’ssportssocks,thepatchesofdoghaironthekneesofherjoggers.Shelooksatthewayherhairishanginghalfwayoutofascrunchie.Shelooksatthelargezitonherjawlineandnotesthatherlipslookdryandsheneedstoputsomebalmonthem.Shelooksatagirlwhoistoothinandtooscruffyandmightnothavehadashowerthismorningandmaybenoteventhisweek.Sheseesagirlwhodrinksrumwhenshe’saloneandcutsofffriendshipswhentheythreatentooverwhelmherandboyfriendswhenthey’retoogoodforher.Sheseesagirlwho’sontheedgeofoblivion,maybelookingforsomethingtoholdonto,andsheknowssomehowthatthatthingisher.
“Well,”saysScarlett,toppingupthekettlefromthetap.“I’llhavetoseewhatIcandotopersuadeyou,then.”
“Where’syourmum?”
“DatenightwithDadinLondon.Shedropsinonhimunannouncedwhenevershesuspectstheremightbesomeonehangingaround.Youknow.”
“Youmean,havinganaffair?”
“Yes.Thatsortofthing.”
“Andishe?”
“Havinganaffair?”Sheshrugs.“Fuckknows.Probably.He’srichandold.Richoldmengetmegamuff.”Shesniffsandputsthekettlebackonitsbase.“Whatever.Idon’tcare.It’sjustold-peoplestuff.”
TheysitwiththeirmugsofteaandScarlettputsaplaylistthroughtheSonosspeakersystemandtheychatforawhileabouttheirlives,theirparents,theirplans.AtsomepointitgetsentirelydarkandTallulahisquietlysurprisedwhenherphonebuzzes.
Sheturnsitover,glancesatthescreen,seesZach’sname,turnsitoff,turnsitover.
“Whowasthat?”
“Noone,”shereplies.
Afewsecondslaterherphonebuzzesagain.Thistimeshepicksitupandsays,“Sorry,Ishouldprobablygetthis.”
Zach’smessagesays:
Chloeisn’tyrproblem.TellhertocalltheSamaritans.Ineedyou.Noahneedsyou.
Shepausesforamomentbeforereplying.
I’llbehereaslongasittakes.Mightstaythenight.Pleasedon’tmessagemeagain.
Herphonestartstoringthemomentsheswitchesitoff.Sheendsthecallandputsthephoneonsilent.Adrenalinepumpsthroughher,sickeningly.Shebreathesinhardtobringherheartbacktonormal.
“Trouble?”Scarlettasks.
“No,”shereplies.“It’snothing.”
Sheglancesupatthehugeclockonthewallagain.Itsays5:51.
“Rumo’clock?”shesays,tippinganeyebrowatScarlett.
“Hellyeah,”saysScarlett,leapingtoherfeetandheadingtothecabinet.“Hellyeah.”
Tallulahwakesthefollowingdayinthecustard-yellowlightoftheearly-morningsunfilteredthroughthickcreamcurtains.Herphonetellsherthatitissevenfifteen.OnthepillowtoherleftisoneofScarlett’sfeet;softwhiteskin,perfecttoenailspaintedblack,donebyaprofessional,belyingtherough-and-readyimageshetriessohardtoportray.Tallulahstaresatthetoenails,imaginesheratthefancynailplacenearMantonStationwiththepinkwallsandtheglitterycushions,herphoneinherhand,herfeetextendedinaleatherchairtowardamaskedwoman,onminimumwage.
Tallulahhasneverhadamanicureorapedicure.Shewouldfeeltooembarrassed.
Herhangoverstartstoleakintohersystemasshepullsherselfuptositting.Shechecksthemessagesonherphone.ThirteenfromZach.Shedoesn’tbotherreadingthem.Onefromhermum,sentat2:00a.m.
Justcheckingin.Hopeall’sOKwithChloe.Zachtoldmeyouweresleepingover.AllgoodwithNoah,Loveyou,Mum.
SheslowlyunpeelsherselffromtheheavydownofScarlett’sduvetandslidesoffherhugeking-sizebed,herfeetlandingonsoftsheepskin.Scarlett’sheadisburiedunderthebottomendoftheduvet,justasmalltuftofbluehairvisible.AmemoryblaststhroughTallulah’shead,herfingersinthatmopofblue,herlipsonthoselips,Scarlett’shand…
Sheshakesherhead,hard.Reallyhard.
No,shethinks.No,no,no.
Thathadn’thappened.
Hermindisplayingtricksonher.
SheglancesatScarlettagain,attheshapeofher,upsidedown,undertheduvet.Whyissheupsidedown?
Thensheremembers,sherememberspushingScarlett’shandawaylastnight,pullingawayfromherlips,takingherhandfromherhair,sayingthewords,“No,that’snotwhoIam.”
Scarletthadpulledbackandlookedherhardintheeyeandsaid,“Well,then,whothehellareyou,Tallulahfromthebus?”
AndTallulahhadshakenherheadandsaid,“I’mjustme.”
Scarletthadputafingeragainsthernarrowlips,runitacrosstheplacewhereTallulah’sownlipshadjustrested,sighed,andsaid,“Ah,well.Thereyougo.Timingiseverything.”
Tallulahdidn’tknowwhatshe’dmeantbythat.Butsheknewthatshe’daskedScarletttocallherataxi,thatshewantedtogohome,andthatScarletthadsaid,“Don’tbestupid,it’stwointhemorning,stay.”She’dpressedherhandagainstherheartandsaid,“We’llsleeptoptotoe.OK?”
NowTallulahsighsandtiptoesfromtheroom,pickingupherjeansandherphone
Inthewhitemarblebathroom,shemessageshermum.
Justwokenup.Allgood.I’llbehomeinhalfanhour.How’sNoah?
Hermotherrepliesimmediately.
He’sfine.He’sjusthadhisbreakfast.Norush.Stayaslongasyouneedtostay.Comebackwhenyou’reready.
Shereplieswiththreelove-heartemojisinarow,andthen,withaheavyheart,sheopensZach’smessages:
Thisisbullshit.
Youdon’thavetimeforme,butyouhavetimeforher?
Noahiscryingforyou.
Callyourselfamum?
Youdon’tgettodothis!
Fuck’ssake,fuckinggetfuckinghome,I’mserious.
Whatthefuckareyouplayingat?
Fuckyou,Tallulah,fuckyou…
InbetweenarebriefvoicerecordingsofNoahcrying.Behindthesoundofherson’stearsarethesoundsofZachsoothinghiminwhispers,It’sOK,littleman,it’sOK.Mum’swithsomeoneshecaresaboutmorethanyou,butdon’tyouworry,littleman,Dad’shereforyouandDadlovesyou,don’tyoueverforgetthat…
Sheglancesupatthesoundofacreakingfloorboardoutsidethebathroomandquicklylocksherphone.
“Lula?”
“Yeah.”
“YouOK?”
“I’mgood.Justonthetoilet.”
“ThoughtIheardababycrying.”
“Weird,”Tallulahsaysquietly.
There’sabeatofsilenceandshehearsthefloorboardcreakingagain.ThenScarlettsays,“Yeah.Weird.”
Theyeattheirbreakfasttogether,justasTallulahhadimaginedtheywould.Barelegs,oversizeT-shirts,smudgedeyeliner,thickbreath.Theskyoutsideisdirtygray,fullofsnowabouttofall.Thebigglassboxatthebackofthehousefeelschilly.Scarletttossesherafake-furthrowwhensheseeshershivering.
ThisiswhereScarletthadkissedherthenightbefore.Righthere.Tallulahputsahandouttotouchthesquareofleathershe’dbeensittingonwhenScarletthadslidtowardherlastnight,putahandtoherface,andsaid,“Don’tyouknowhowbeautifulyouare?”
Sherememberstheshiverofenergythathadpassedthroughherassherealizedwhatwashappening.
“I’mnot…”she’dsaidquietly,thewordsalmostagasp.
“Notwhat?”
Shedidn’treplybecauseshecouldn’t.Shedidn’tknowwhatshewas.AllsheknewwasthatwhenshewaswithScarlettshefeltasthoughshecouldbeanyoneshewantedtobe.
NowScarlettsmilesatherindulgently.“God,”shesays.“Youaresuchacutie.”
Tallulahsmilesandsays,“You’resoweird.”Thenshedropshersmileandsays,“Haveyouever…Imean,areyou,like,gay?”
“Labels,”saysScarlett,faux-theatrically.“Boring,idioticlabels.”
“Well,then,amIthefirstgirl…?”
“Yes.Youarethefirstgirl.Oh,”shesayssuddenly,puttingherhandtohercheek,“apartfromalltheothergirls.”
“Really?”
“Yes.Really.Butyou’rethefirstgirlforalongtime.Along,longtime.”
Tallulah’sphonebuzzes.Shelooksatitvaguely.It’sanothermessagefromZach.
Whatthefuck,Tallulah?
Itbuzzesagain.Thistimeit’saphoto.It’sNoah.Zach’sfaceispressedclosetohisandhelooksangry.
ForamomentTallulahfeelsscared.ZachlookslikehecouldhurtNoah.Shegetstoherfeetandthensitsdownagain.No,shethinks,no.ZachwouldneverhurtNoah.Never.He’sjustusingNoahtocontrolher.
“YouOK?”
“Yeah.I’mjust…myboyfriend.”
“Ishegivingyougrief?”
“Yeah.Abit.”
“Can’tcopewithyouhavingyourownlifeawayfromhim?”
“Thatkindofthing.”
Scarlettrollshereyes.“Men,”shesays.“They’resuchlosers.”SheleansforwardtowardTallulahandfixesherwithherpalegrayeyes.“Whateveryoudo,”shesays,“don’tlethimplayyou.OK?Sticktoyourguns.Staystrong.”
Tallulahnods.She’dalreadydecidedthatthatwaswhatshewoulddo.
“Yougotohimnow,andhe’swon,andthenexttimeit’llbejustthatbiteasierforhimtocontrolyou.Yeah?”
Shenodsagain.
Scarlettleansbackagain.“Goodgirl,”shesays.“Goodgirl.”
Andasshesaysthesewords,Tallulahfeelssomethingbubbleupinsideher,somethinghotandliquidandrawandredanditrushesfromhergrointhroughherhearttoherlimbsandshejumpstoherfeetandshestridestowardScarlettandshestraddlesherwithherbarelegsagainsthers,andshekissesher.
31
SEPTEMBER2018
Thefollowingmorning,SophiecallsherhairdresserinDeptfordandmakesanappointmentforlaterthatday.
“I’mgoingintoLondontoday,”shetellsShaun,“togetmyhairdonefortheDenmarktrip.”
“Denmarktrip?”
“Yes.Itoldyou.Remember?NextMonday?It’sonlyforonenight.”
Henodsdistractedly.“Canyounotusethehairdresserinthevillage?”
“No,”shesays,“definitelynot.Andbesides,I’dliketogotoLondon.Imightmeetsomeoneforlunch.Makeadayofit.”
Henodsagain.“That’snice.”
Shesuspectsthatifsheaskshimagaininthirtyminutestotellherwhatshejusttoldhim,hewillhavenoidea.
“What’sgoingonwiththepolicetoday?”sheasks,watchinghimthreadhistiethroughthebackofhisshirtcollar.“Aretheycomingback?”
“Noidea.IguessI’llfindoutonceIgettomydesk.”
Heflattenshiscollardownagainsttheloopofhistieandstraightensitinthemirror.Ithadthrilledheratfirst,thesightofShauninasuitandtie,theflecksofgrayinhischesthair,thesmartleathershoes,smallpeoplecallinghimDaddy.She’dgofordrinkswithherfriendsandsay,“It’ssonicetofinallybewithagrown-up,youknow,arealman.”Andthey’dnodenthusiasticallyandtellherhowluckyshewas.Butnowthatreassuringmaturityhasstartedtosolidifyintosomethingelse;intoakindofrigidness.Thetieseemstositstraighterandtighter.Hisjawlineisharder.Hishugsarebriefer,almostabrupt.
Sheapproacheshimandkisseshimonthecheek.Helooksatherinsurprise.
“We’llhavealovelyweekend,”shesays.“Withthekids.Yes?”
“Ihopeso,”hesays,“Ireallyhopeso.”
JacintaCroft,thepreviousheadteacheratMaypoleHouse,hadbeeneasytofind.She’snowtheheadofalargeprivategirls’schoolinPimlico.HerfacesmiledoutatSophiefromthescreenofherlaptop,atthetopofapressreleaseabouthernewposition.Anagelessblondeinacreamblousewithagoldchainaroundherneck.
Sophieleavesherhairappointmentatmidday,takesthetrainfromDeptfordtoLondonBridge,andthengetsonthetube.
ThewarmthrumoftheLondonUndergroundenvelopsher,thefamiliarsmellofoiledmetalandrecycledbreath,thecopiesofMetrostrewnovertheseats,thegentlerockingbackandforth.Shecloseshereyesandbreathesitin.
AtPimlicoshefollowsthedirectionsonGoogleMapstoJacinta’sschool.It’shousedinaJacobeanbuildingwithcurvedmirror-imagestepsthatmeetupatthefrontdoor.
Shehasn’twrittentoJacinta.Sheknowsthatanemailwouldhavegonethroughanassistantorsecretaryandshe’dhavereceivedapoliteresponsesuggestingthatitmightbebesttoleavethecaseinthehandsofthepolice.Instead,sheringsthebellandtellstheyoungwomanonthedeskinsidethatshewantstopickupaprospectus.
Insidesheengagestheyoungwomaninaverydetailedconversationaboutherstepdaughter,Pixie,who’scomingtoLondonnextmonthfromNewYorktolivewithherandherfather.Pixieisverybright,verycreative,excellentatlanguages,wantstobealawyer.Sheaskstheyoungwomanlotsofquestionsabouttheschoolandthensheasksheraboutthenewheadteacherandtheyoungwoman’sfacelightsupandshesaysthatJacintaisanincrediblewoman,she’stotallytransformedtheplace,allthegirlsloveher,she’sinspiringandnurturing,andSophiesays,“Gosh,shesoundsamazing.Idon’tsupposethere’sanychanceIcouldmeether,isthere?”
“Oh,”shesays.“No,I’mafraidnot.She’sinmeetingsallafternoon.”
“Iunderstand.Mybrother’saheadteachertoo,ataschooloutinUpfieldCommon.He’salwayssobusy.”
“UpfieldCommon?”saystheyoungwoman.
“Yes.SurreyHills.Doyouknowit?”
“Well,no,notreally,butI’mprettysurethat’swhereJacintausedtobe,beforeshecamehere.What’sthenameoftheschool?”
“It’scalledMaypoleHouse.Ithink.”
Theyoungwomanclapsherhandstogetherandsays,“Yes!MaypoleHouse.That’swheresheusedtoteach.Well,whatacoincidence.Andyousaidyourbrotherworksthere?”
“Yes,hejuststartedthere.Wow,well,thatreallyisacoincidence.”
Sophiehasnoideawheresheisgoingwithhersubterfuge,butattheverymomentthatherunplannednarrativestartstounravelinherhead,theyoungwomanglanceskeenlyoverhershoulder,getshalfwaytoherfeet,andcallsout,“Oh!Jacinta!”
Sophieturnsandseesatinywomanstridingacrosstheentrancehallbehindherinablackpolo-neckjumperandredtartantrousers.Herblondhairistiedintoasculptedbunchatthebaseofherneckandshe’swearingincrediblyhighheels,inanobviousattempttoaddheighttoherbuild.Shesmilesquestioninglyatthewomanbehindthedesk.“Alice!”shesays.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Sorry,Icanseeyou’rebusy,butthisladywasinaskingforaprospectusforherstepdaughterandwewerechattinganditturnsoutthatherbrotheristheheadteacheratyouroldplace.”
Jacinta’seyesnarrowandsheglancescuriouslyatSophie.Shetouchesthechainaroundherneckandsays,“Oldplace…?Sorry,whatwasyourname?I’mafraidIdidn’tcatchit.”
“Susie,”Sophiereplieshastily.“SusieBeets.”
“JacintaCroft.”Sheoffersheratinyporcelainhand.“Lovelytomeetyou,Susie.Andyourbrother’satMaypoleHouse,yousay?”
“Yes,hejuststartedthisterm,butohmygoodness,he’sgoneinatthedeepend.Onlyacoupleofdaysintotermandthepolicearealreadyallovertheschool,apparently.”
ShewatchesJacinta’sreactioncloselyandseeshereyelidstwitch,amusclespasmslightlyunderhercheekbone.“Really,”shesays,guidingSophiegentlyawayfromthedeskandintoanalcovelinedwithwoodenpanelscarvedwiththenamesofformerheadgirls.
“Yes,”Sophiecontinuesdisingenuously.“Apparently,somechildrenwentmissingneartheschoollastyearandnowitlookslikethey’vefoundsomenewevidence,inthegrounds.Imean,actually,ifyouweretherelastyear,maybeyouknowaboutit?”
Shedropsthislasthumdingerofaquestionwithwideeyes.SheischannelingSusieBeetssoentirelythatthereisbarelyaniotaofSophieleft.
Jacinta’ssmall-bonedfacetwitchesagain.“Theteenagecouple,youmean?”
“Yes,”Sophiereplies.“Ithinkthat’sright.Mybrotherdidn’treallytellmethatmuch.”
“Theywereveryyoung.Theyhadababy.Itwashorrible.”Sheshakesherhead.“Theyneverfoundatraceofthem,asfarasI’maware.But,God,therumorsafterward.”Sheshakesherheadagainandputsahandtoherneck.“Somuchgossip,somanyconspiracytheories.Because,unfortunately,andIdon’tknowifyourbrotherisawareofthis,butthegirlwhosehousethecouplehadbeenatbeforetheywentmissingwasaformerpupilatMaypoleHouse.Andtheywerewithanotherformerpupiloftheschool,plusateachingassistantandthematron’sdaughter.Soitallgotverymessyforawhile,fromtheschool’spointofview,eventhoughnoneofthosechildrenwasunderourcareatthetime.Itwasoneofthethingsthatmademewanttoleave.”Shesighs.“Yourpoorbrother,havingitallrakedupalloveragain.Whatwasittheyfound,exactly?”
“Oh,”Sophiesays.“Somethinginthewoods,justbehindthecottage,hesaid?Aring?”
“Aring?”Jacintaarchesaneyebrow.“Howstrange.Ithoughtyouweregoingtosay—”Shestops.
Sophielooksatherquestioningly.
“Nothing,”shecontinues.“I’mjustnotsurewhyaringwouldbringthewholecasebackuptothesurface.”HereyesgototheclockonthewallbehindSophie.“I’mreallysorry,”shesays.“Idohavetogo.Butpleasewishyourbrotheralltheluckintheworldwiththenewjob.”
SophiesmilesandthanksJacintaagain.
ThensheturnstoleaveandwavesatthegirlcalledAliceatthedesk.
Assheheadstowardtheslidingglassdoor,Alicecallsout,“Mrs.Beets.Don’tforgetyourprospectus.ForPixie.”
Sophieturnsbackandtakestheshinybrochurefromthewoman’shand.“Thankyou,”shesaysbrightly.“Ican’tbelieveInearlyforgot!”
SophiebreathesouthardassheturnsthecornerbackontoVauxhallBridgeRoad.Shefindsarecyclingbinandtossestheprospectusintoit.ThenshelooksatthetimeandrealizesitisstillearlyandthatsheisinnohurrywhatsoevertoheadbacktoUpfieldCommon,soshetextsherfriendMolly,whoworksinVictoria,andasksifshe’sfreeforlunch.Mollyrepliesimmediatelythatsheis.
Assheslidesintothesoftleatherbanquetteofthebuzzy,pistachio-huedbrasserieafewminuteslater,shefeelsitallstarttofallawayfromher:theremotenessofherexistence,thesilenceatnightundertheslopedceilingoftheirbedroominthecottagebythewoods,thelittlerosebushbehindthebusstop,thesadfaceofKimKnoxpolishingglassesbehindthebaroftheSwan&Ducks,Shaun’sbrittleness,theprecisenessofhisnecktie,thesmileshehasn’tseenfordays.Suddenlyitisasifsheneverleft,asifnoneofitexists;itisjustherandMollyandaglassofwineandthethreebusinessmenacrossthewayeyeingthem,hungrily,anditalmostcomesasashocktoSophiewhenthelunchcomestoanendthatsheisnottoreturntoherflatinDeptford,thatsheisinsteadtogetonalumbering,creakingtrainoutofVictoriaandsitonitforforty-fiveminuteswatchingLondonfadeintothedistance.
“Youknow,”shesaystoMollyastheypullontheirjacketsandpreparetoleave,“ImissLondonsomuch.”
“Thegrassisalwaysgreener,”saysMolly.“I’dgiveanythingtogoandliveinthecountry.Withahandsomeheadteacher.Andnorent.”
Sophiesmilesatightsmile.“Iknow,”shesays.“Iknow.Ijust…Ifeelabitlost.”
“You’llfindyourway,”saysMolly.“It’snotevenbeentwoweeks.You’llfindyourfeet.You’resuchaflexibleperson,Soph.Youalwayshavebeen.”
It’snearlytwothirtybythetimeSophieandMollypartwaysoutsidetherestaurant.Foramoment,Sophiestandsonthespot,herfeetstrangelygluedinplace.ShelooksacrossthestreetatthedarkshapeofVictoriaStation.Shedoesn’tfeelreadytoheadback.Notyet.ShetakesatubetoOxfordCircusandspendsanhourtrawlingupanddownitsinfuriatingpavementsfullofpeoplewalkingeithertooslowlyortoofast.ShewandersblindlyaroundabranchofZara,abranchofGap;shegoesinonesideofSelfridgesandouttheotherwithoutreallylookingatanything.Herheadchurnswitheverythingandnothing.Shedoesn’twanttogobacktoUpfieldCommonandthethoughtchillsher.
Shekeepswalkingandshekeepswalking.ShesitsinaStarbucksanddrinksstrongteafromapapercup.Shelooksatbooksinabookshop,checksthespinesintheFictionD–Fsection,findsonlyonecopyofoneP.J.Foxbook,andsighs.Nowondershedoesn’tselliftheshopsdon’tstockany.ShespiralsthroughthehugePrimarkatMarbleArchandcomesoutwiththreepairsoflacyunderpantsforsevenpounds.
It’sfourthirty.Shestilldoesn’twanttogohome.
HerthoughtsgobacktoJacintaCroftasshethreadsthroughMayfairbackstreetsandontoParkLane.She’dstopped,hadn’tshe,atonepointduringtheirconversation.StoppedatthemomentthatSophiehadtoldheraboutthering.Whatwasitshe’dsaid?Somethingtodowithexpectingtheretobesomethingelsedugupinthewoods?
SophiefindsthenumberforJacinta’sschoolonGoogleandcallsit.TohersurprisesheisputstraightthroughandamomentlaterJacinta’swarmbutprofessionalvoiceisgreetingher.
“IhadafeelingI’dbehearingfromyouagain,”shesays.
32
SEPTEMBER2018
Kim’sphonerings.ShepicksitupfromwhereitwasbalancedontheedgeofthekitchensinkandseesthenameMegs.Atfirstshethinks,WhyonearthisMegscallingme?Andthensheremembers.
Shehitstheanswerbuttonandsayshello.
“Kim.It’sMegs.”
“Yes,”shesays.“Iassumeyou’vespokentoDom?”
“Yes,hecalledyesterday.What’sgoingon?”
“Hetoldyouaboutthering?”
“Yes.Hetoldmeaboutthering.Hetoldmethey’vesearchedthoseblessedwoods,yetagain.Andthat’saboutit.Anymoredevelopments?”
Kimsighs.“Nothing.TheytalkedtoLiamagain,they’vetalkedtoKerryanne’sgirl.Andthey’vegotahandwritinganalystlookingatthewritingonthesignthatwasnexttothering.”
“Fingerprints?”saysMegs.“Onthering?Havetheyfoundany?”
“Thepolicehaveit.I’msurethey’llbelookingforprints.Butthewomanwhofoundit,shehadtocleantheboxtofindthenameofthejewelersoit’sunlikelyanyprintswillstillbeonit.”
Megsmurmursdownthephone.Thenshesays,“Anyway,howareyou?”
Kimstartsslightly.Shewasnotexpectinganysmalltalk.“I’mOK.Youknow,abitfreaked-out.”
“Yeah,”saysMegs.“Itisabitweird,isn’tit?”
There’sapausethatKimleavesempty,deliberately,togiveMegstheopportunitytoaskafterhergrandson.Butshedoesn’t.
“Anyway,”Megssaysinstead.“Keepmeposted.Ican’tquitebelievethatwemightfinallyfindoutwhatactuallyhappened.”
“Meneither,”saysKim.Then,sensingahintofsoftnessinMegs’stone,shesays,“Howareyoudoing?AreyoucopingOK?”
ShehearsMegsdrawinherbreath.“No,”shesayseventually.“No.Notreally.Butitiswhatitis,isn’tit?Youjusthavetopullonyourbig-girlpantsandgetonwithit.”
“Haveyouhadanythoughts,”asksKim,“anytheories?Aboutwhathappened?Becauseyoualwaysthoughtthey’djustrunawaytogether.Didn’tyou?”
Sheasksthisquestiongently,asifitisatinyeggthatshedoesn’twanttocrack.
“Well,yes.Ididthinkthat.And,tobehonest,apartofmestilldoes.It’stheonlythingthatmakesanysense,really.”
“Icanseethat,”Kimcontinuescarefully.“Icanseethatsomepeoplemightthinkthatamotherandfatherwouldjustabandontheirsoninordertowalkoffintothesunsettogether,andyes,Iagreeitcouldhappen.Somepeoplemightdothat.ButTallulahwouldn’t.AndneitherwouldZach.HeworshippedNoah.HewasgoingtoproposetoTallulah.Hewassavingupforadepositonaflatforthethreeofthem.SoIknow,Megs,thatit’seasiertothinkofthemlivingsomewherehappilytogether,notwantingtobefound,butthatdoesn’tmeanitmakesanysense.Becauseitreallydoesn’t.”
“Idosometimeswonder…”Megsbegins,thenstops.“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“DidyoueverwonderifthebabywasreallyZach’s?”
Kimfeelssomethingcrashinsideherhead.Shesaysnothingbecauseshecan’tfindanywords.
“Imean,it’sjustatheory.Butitmightexplainit.”
“Explainwhat?”
“Youknow,whateveritwasthathappenedthatnight.MaybeZachfoundouthewasn’tthefatherandtherewasafight.Maybehewasjustsohumiliatedthathestormedoff,tooashamedtocomehome.AndmaybesomethinghappenedtoTallulahoutthereinthedark.Ormaybeshecouldn’tfacetheshameofiteither.Youknow.”
Kimopenshermouthtosaysomethingandthenclosesitagain.
Megscontinues:“BecauseIneverreallythoughtthatNoahlookedmuchlikeZachandusuallybabieslookjustliketheirdads,don’tthey?AndNoah,hejustneverdid.Ineverfeltthatsenseofconnectionwithhim,likeIhavemyothergrandbabies.I—”
Kimstabsthescreenofherphonewithherfingertoendthecallanddropsitontothekitchencounterasthoughitisburningher.Sherocksbackwardslightlyagainsttheedgeofthekitchencounter.
There,shethinks,thereitis.Finally.Megsdoesn’tbelieveNoahisZach’sson.ShethinksthatTallulahsleptwithanotherboyandgotpregnantandthenpretendedtoZachthatthebabywashissothathewouldlookafterthem.EventhoughZachvirtuallyhadtobegforsixmonthstobeallowedtobepartofthefamily.Andnotonlythat,butMegsthinksthatsomehowZach’sdisappearanceandTallulah’swereseparateevents.Thatpoor,emasculated,cuckoldedZachwalkedoff,leavingTallulaheithertobemurderedinthedarkortorunawayfromherchildinshame.
Kimlooksaroundherkitchen.Sheseestheghostsofthemomentsthathavenowpassedintounimaginablehistory.TinyNoahinhishighchair,hischeekshighwithcolor,thumpinghisfistagainstthetraywiththejoyofdiscoveringthathecouldblowaraspberry.Tallulahfilminghimonherphoneandlaughingsohardhereyesstreamed.Thepurewhite-hotlovethatconnectedthethreeofthem.ThewayitfilledKim’stinykitchentothefarthestcornersoftheroom.AndnowTallulahisgoneandNoahisatrying,screen-obsessedtwo-year-oldwhospendshisdayseitherawayfromhomeatnurseryorherepushingKim’sbuttonsashardashepossiblycan,whoblowsraspberriesnotbecausehecanbutbecausehewantstoexpresshisdisgustwiththeworldthatKimhascarvedforhimoutofwhatwasleftoverwhenhismotherdisappearedinthenight.AndKimissoaloneandherworldfeelssosmall.Andshewantsitallback,allofit.
Shedropsherheadintoherchestandsheweepsuntilsherunsoutoftears.
33
MARCH2017
ScarlettreturnstoMantonCollegeatthebeginningofMarch.TallulahwatcheshermotherdroppingheroffinablackTesla,seesthesuggestioninthedriver’sseatofblacksunglassesontopofdarkshinyhair,gemsglintingonclawedfingersgrippingaleathersteeringwheel,andthentheunmistakableoutlineofScarlettemergingfromthepassengerseat,herhoodup,hershouldersslumped.Thedoorslams,theTeslapullsaway,andScarlett’seyesmeetTallulah’s.
“Hello,you.”
Tallulahfeelsherstomachchurnatthesightofher.It’sbeentendayssincetheirsleepoverandshe’sbeenavoidingScarlett’scalls,hertextmessages,herSnapchats,hervoicemails,theslightlyunhingedsequencesofGIFsofpeopledancing,begging,kissing,jumping,spinning,huggingthatmakenosensewhatsoever.She’signoredthesad-faceselfies,thephotosofTobythedogaccompaniedbythewordsWheredogonicehooman?ShekeepsherphoneonsilentatalltimessothatZachdoesn’twonderwhatonearthisgoingon.
“Er,”shebegins,“hi?”
“It’smymum,”Scarlettbegins.“ShesaidifIdidn’tcomebackshewasgoingtosendmetolivewithmygrandma.SoshemadeacallandhereIam.”
Tallulahshufflesslightlyonthespot.It’sabitterlycoldmorningandtherearespotsoffreezingrainintheairthatstingwheretheyhittheskinonthebacksofherhands.Sheshovesthemintothepocketsofhercoatandsays,“SorryIdidn’treplytoanything.”
Scarlettshrugsbutdoesn’trespond.
“It’sZach.Youknow.He’salwaysthere.”
“YoucouldhavecomeonSunday.Whenhedoeshisfootball.”
Scarlettsoundsbrittle,lessofherusualblusterandvolume.
“He’sstillcrossaboutthatFridaynight.”Tallulahhatesthesoundofthewordsonherlips.Theymakehersoundsopathetic.
“Whocares?”Scarlettresponds.“WhocareswhatZachthinks?You’reeighteen,Tallulah.You’renotanoldmarriedwoman.Justtellhimthatyoudon’tcare.Tellhimtofuckhimself.”
“Ican’t.”
“Whynot?Whatdoyouthinkwouldhappen?”
“Nothing,”shesays,thinkingofthefeelofhisfistsaroundherwrists,thewayhetugsonherhairjustalittletoohardsometimes.“Nothing.”
Theywalktogethertowardthecollegegroundsandforawhiletheyaresilent.ThenScarlettsays,“So,what’sthedealwithyouandme?”
Tallulahglancesaround,makingsurethattheyarenotwithinearshotofanyone.
“Idon’tknow.I—”ShestopsandturnstofaceScarlettandtalkstoherinahushedwhisper.“Idon’tknowhowIfeelaboutit.Idon’tknowwhattothink.”
“Well,runningawayfromitisn’tgoingtohelpyouworkitout.”
“Iknow.Ijust…Ineedtime.It’sallnewtome.”
Scarlett’sfacesoftens.“Iwaslyingaboutmymum,bytheway.Shedidn’tmakemecomebacktocollege.Iaskedtocomeback.”
Tallulahlooksathercuriously.
“Ijustthought,thiswaywecouldhangout.Without,youknow,ZachtheBallsacktellingyouwhatyoucanandcan’tdo.”
Tallulahstiflesalaugh.ZachtheBallsack.Thenshesays,moreseriously,“Ihavetogonow.I’malreadylate.”
“I’llseeyouatlunchtime,then,maybe,inthecanteen?Yeah?”
Tallulahfeelstheresolveshe’sspentthepastweekbuildingupstarttocrackandcrumbleunderScarlett’sbright-eyedassumptionthattheyaregoingtomeetforlunch,thattheyaregoingtobecomesomething.
“Scarlett,”shesaysasScarlettturnstogo.
“Yes.”
Tallulahlowershervoicetoawhisper.“This,”shesays.Gesturingbetweenthetwoofthemwithahand.“Thisissecret,yes?Justus?Nobodyelse?”
Scarlettnodsandputstwofingerstohercheeksidebyside.“Scout’shonor,”shewhispers.“Youandme.Nobodyelse.”Thenshemovesthefingersdowntohermouthandkissesthem,beforeturningthemtowardTallulahandblowingonthem.Shemouthsthewords“Seeyoulater,”andgoes.
Forthenextfewweeks,TallulahandScarlettdeveloparoutineofsorts.OnMondaysScarlett’smumbringsherintocollegeonherwaytoheryogaclassattheleisurecenterandsheandTallulahmeetoutsidecollegeandwalkintogether.OnWednesdaysandThursdaysScarlettmeetsTallulahatthebusstopinUpfieldCommonandtheytakethebackseatandtheytalkandtheytalkandtheytalk.Atlunchtimesometimestheysitinthecanteen,whereTallulahplaystheroleofScarlett’squietnewfriend.Theothers,Mimi,Roo,Jayden,andRocky,talkoverherandactasifsheisn’tthere.Shedoesn’tblamethemassheistryingsoveryhardnottobenoticedorthoughtofinanywayassignificantinScarlett’slife.
OnMondayafternoons,whenTallulahandScarlettbothfinishearlyandZachworkslate,theymeetonthecornerofthenextroaddownafterclassesandgotothefunnylittleteashoponthehighstreetwherealltheoldladiesgobutnoneofthekidsfromcollege,andtheyorderslicesofhomemadecarrotcakeandmugsofteaandtheysitinaboothrightatthebackwheretheycanstareintoeachother’seyesandfiddlewitheachother’shandsandgrabeachother’slegsunderneaththetableandnoonecansee,andeveniftheycouldseetheywouldn’thaveanyonetoshareitwithbecausenobodyintheteashopknowswhotheyare.
AndthenonSundays,whileZachisplayingfootballandScarlett’smumisattheleisurecenterinMantonmeetingafriendtogoswimming,Tallulahborrowshermum’sbikeandcyclesthroughthecountrylaneswithherheartfullofanticipationandnervesandexcitementandglee,andScarlettmeetsheratthedoorofDarkPlaceandtheystumbleupward,quickly,hotly,madly,toScarlett’sbedroomandfallontoherbedandTallulahfeelsallthethingsthatanchorherdownallweeklongmeltawayintothegoldenplaceswheretheymeetinthemiddle.Theysaythingsintoeachother’searswithwarmbreathandsoftlips,theyfoldthemselvestogether,andtheyblockouttheworldwitheachother,andafterwardTallulahdoesn’twanttoshower,doesn’twanttowashthebeautifulstainofScarlett’stouchoffherflesh,soshegoeshometoherboyfriendandherbaby,stillsmellingofScarlett’smouth,Scarlett’sbedding,Scarlett’sold-fashionedFrenchperfumethatherauntgiveshereveryyearforherbirthdaybecausesheoncetoldhershelikeditwhenshewasfiveyearsold.Andnobodynotices.NotevenZach,whonowacceptsTallulah’snewhobby:herSunday-morningcyclearoundcountrylanes,togetfit,tohelpherloseherbabybelly.HethinkswhathecansmellisthesmellofTallulah’sexercise.Hethinkstheflushinhercheeksisdowntocountryair.
Tallulahcanfeelherselfbegintoblossomandgrowduringtheseweeks,aswinterturnstospring.Herlifenowbringshertwosourcesofjoy.Herbabyboy.Hersecretgirlfriend.Thedaysgrowlonger,thenightsgrowwarmer,Noahgetsbiggerandlearnshowtohug,ScarlettdyesherhairlilacandhasTallulah’sinitialstattooedonthesideofherfoot.
“Ifanyoneasks,”shesays,“I’llsayitstandsfortrademark.”
tm
ButZachisstillinTallulah’slifeandZachisnotasourceofjoy.
He’sworkingextrahoursatthebuilders’depot,desperatetogrowanesteggofmoneysothattheycangettheirownplacetogether.HehasaspreadsheetanddemandsthatTallulahsitdowneveryeveningtolookatitwithhim.
“Look,”hesays,pointingatfigures,scrollingupanddown.“IfIcangetthepromotiontoassistantaislemanagernextmonth,that’dbeanextrasixty-eightaweek.Plusovertime.Plusmymumsaysshecanlendusacoupleofthousand,soIreckonbythesummer,look…we’dhave13,559pounds.Inthebank.Andobviouslywe’dendupinasharedownership,mostlikely,buttherearesomereallyniceones,justoutsideReigate.Look.”Andthenheswitchesscreenstoanewtabwherehehasthedetailsofsometiny,boxyflatswithnooutsidespaceforNoah,milesandmilesawayfromhere,fromhermum,fromManton,fromScarlett,andTallulahnodsandmakesasmileandsays,“Theylookreallycute,”andallthewhilesheisthinking,No,no,no.No,Idonotwanttolivetherewithyou.
Instead,sheisthinkingofaworldwithoutZachinit,tryingtoimaginethecontoursofthatworld,howsmoothandperfectitwouldbejusttoexistforNoahandforScarlett,nottohavetoexistforanyoneelse.
AtthebeginningofApril,whensheisnineteenyearsandoldandZachisnineteenyearsoldandtheyhavehadtheirjointparty—asubduedaffairatanAmerican-themedrestaurantinManton,justfamily,notfriends,savingmoneyfortheflatthatTallulahhasnointentionofevermovinginto,forthelifethatshehasnointentionofeverliving—ZachbooksaviewingatoneoftheflatsonhisshortlistforSaturdaymorning.
He’sbuzzingwithitallthatmorningasheshowersanddresses.
“Nineteenyearsold,”hesays.“Nineteenyearsoldandabouttobuyhisfirstproperty.Ha!”
Tallulah’smumdrivesthemtothedevelopmentandtheyallpeerthroughthewindowsatthehalf-builtblocksofflatslinedupalongsidetheA25.Theyareconstructedfromakindofoff-blackbrick,withareasofdarkgrayplasticcladdingdesignedtolooklikewood.Eachblockisbuiltaroundacourtyardlinedwithtinysaplingsencircledwithwoodenfencingandnewbabygrasscoveredinnetting.Awomaninaglassofficegreetsthemeffusivelyandexpresseswonderattheiryoungage,atthecutenessofNoah,andexcitementattheconceptoftheirveryfirsthome
Shetakesthemtoseethreeunits.They’reallicycoldandsmellofpaintandlaminateglueandtheirvoicesechowhentheyspeak.OnehasviewsacrosstheA25,thenexthasviewsacrossthecentralcourtyard,andthelastacrossthescrappyedgesofReigate’ssuburbs.Thekitchensareshinyandwhite,designedtoemulatethehugeglossykitchensofrichpeople’smansions,butatenthofthesize.Aroundthebathtubtherearemetrotilesinshinydarkgraytomatchthecladdingontheoutsideofthebuilding.It’sallverysmart.It’sallverymodern.It’sallsoverynotwhatTallulahwants.ButhermummakesallsortsofpositivenoisesandaconversationbuzzesaroundherheadbetweenZach,thesaleswoman,andhermumaboutthelayouts,thepotential,whichwouldbeNoah’sroom,whatcoloryoucouldpaintthewalls,thelocalarea,thenewsupermarketabouttoopenintheretaildevelopmentacrosstheway,andTallulahfeelsnumbandscaredthatsheislettingthishappentoher;angrythatsheisnineteenyearsoldandinlovewithScarlettJacques,butlookingatflatsinacoldblockwithamanshewishesweredead.
InthecaronthewayhomeshesitsinthebackandholdsNoah’shandashesleeps.InthefrontZachandhermotherarechatting.AfteramomenthermotherturnstoTallulahandsays,“Whatdidyouthink,sweetie?”
“Theywerenice.”
“Whichonedidyoulikebest?”
“Theonefacingthecourtyard,”sherepliesdutifully,assheknowsthat’stheoneZachlikesthebestanditwilldrawtheconversationawayfromher.
Inbedthatnight,inthewarm,airlessspacebetweenNoah’sandZach’ssleepingbodies,TallulahdecidesthatwhensheseesScarlettthenextdaysheisgoingtotellheraboutNoah.SheisgoingtotellScarlettthatsheisamother,thatshehashadababy,thatthestretchmarksScarletthasrunherfingertipsoverarenotbecauseshe“usedtobefat”butbecausesheoncegrewaneight-pound,two-ouncebabyinsideher.Andthensheisgoingtoaskhertostopbeinghersecretgirlfriend,andbeherrealgirlfriend,andsheisgoingtotellhermother,andsheisgoingtotellZach,andsheisgoingtostopherlifeveeringoffintothisplaceofflatsonAroadsandcontrollingboyfriendsandsecrets.Sheisgoingtoownherdestiny,ownheridentity;sheisgoingtobetrueandrealandhonest,herbest,mostauthenticandpureself.
ThefollowingdayshewatchesZachleavewithhisfootballkitbagoverhisshoulderfromherbedroomwindowandshethrowsherthingsintoherbag,runsdowntothekitchen,kissesNoahandhermother,grabsthebikefromthesidereturn,strapsonherhelmet,andcyclesasshenevercycledbeforetoDarkPlace.
Butatthefrontdoorsheseesanotherbike,leaningupagainsttheplacewhereshenormallyleaveshers.Sheglancesaroundherselfbutcanseenosignofanyone.Maybe,shethinks,it’sthegardener,maybeit’sacleanerorsomeonecometoskimleavesofftheirswimmingpool.Sheringsthedoorbell,herheartpatteringunderherribcagewiththeexertionofcyclingsofast,theanticipationofseeingScarlett,andthedooropensandthereisScarlett,stillinherpajamas,herhairscrapedbackintoaspikybun,andthereisayoungman,injeansandanold-fashionednavy-bluejumperwithahighzippedneck.
ScarlettlooksatTallulahandthenattheman,andthenshesays,“Lules.ThisisLiam.Liam,thisisTallulah.”
TallulahthrowsScarlettaquestioninglook.SheseesScarlett’shandgotohernecktocoveramark.Sheseesthatunderherpajamatopsheisbraless.ShelooksatLiam,whoeyesherstrangelybeforesaying,“Nicetomeetyou.”
Hehasbarefeetandhisshoesarenowheretobeseen.
“Liamcameoverlastnight,”Scarlettsays,herhandstillclutchingherneck.“Iwashavingafreak-outandmymumwasout.Hedecided—well,we—”
“Itwasme,really,”Liamchipsin.“Idecidedtostayoverbecausewehadabittodrink—”
“Yes.Itwassafer.So,hestayed.”
“Yes.Istayed.Andnow,”hesays,“I’mgoing,ifonlyIcouldrememberwhereIputmyshoes.”Hestartstowanderaboutthehallway,huntingforhisshoes,andTallulahlooksatScarlett.
“Whatthehell?”Tallulahwhispers.
Scarlettshrugs.“I’mnotallowedtocallyou.SoIcalledhim.”
TallulahpeelsScarlett’sfingersawayfromherneckandseesthetelltalegray-redgrazeofalovebite.
Scarlett’sfingerssnapstraightbacktothespot.“Itwasamessynight,”shesays.“Wedidn’thavesex.Wejust…youknow…”
Tallulahopenshermouthtosaysomething,butseeingLiamreappearclutchingapairofbrownleatherhikingboots,sheclosesitagain.Shefeelstearspulsingthroughhersinuses.Shewantstocryandshewantstobesick.TheystandinsilenceuntilLiamhaslaceduphisbootsandisreadytoleave.ShewatcheshimleanintokissScarlettbrieflyonhercheek.Scarlettclearsherthroatandsmilestightlyandsays,“Thanksforcoming.You’reastar.”
“Bye,Tallulah,”hesays,“lovelytomeetyou.”
“Yes,”shesaysinatight,highvoice,“youtoo.”
AndthenheisgoneanditisjustherandScarlettinthehallway.ScarlettcomestowardhertotouchherandTallulahflinches.
Scarletttuts.“Iswear,”shesays,“itwasnothing.Itwasjust,youknow,he’sLiam.Meandhim.We’vegotahistory.Andwedrankfartoomuchanditwasjustsilly,youknow,muckingabout.”
Tallulahcan’tthinkofanywords.Shestandswithherarmsfoldedandsheglaresatthefloor.
“Imean,comeon,Tallulah.Youaren’treallyinapositiontojudge.Youlivewithyourfuckingboyfriend.Anddon’ttellmeyoudon’thavesexwithhim,becauseIknowyoudo.”
TallulahthinksofthesnatchedmomentssheoffersuptoZachbecausesheknowsthatiftheycangetitoutofthewayhewon’taskheratamomentthat’sevenworse.She’llsay,“Comeon,Mum’stakingNoahtothepond,we’vegotfiveminutes.Butbequick.”Andthenhewouldbequickandshecouldbuyherselfanothertwoweeksofhimnotpesteringher,ofnothavingtothinkaboutit.Soyes,theyhavesex,butno,itisnothingcomparedtotheSundaymorningsthatsheandScarlettspendinScarlett’sking-sizebedonher800-thread-countcottonsheets.Nothingwhatsoever.
“That’snotthesame,”shesays.
“Ofcourseit’sthesame.It’scomfort.It’shabit.It’sawaytokeepthemonside.Becauseweneedtokeepthemonside.”
“Whoa.”
“Whoa,what?Comeon,Lules.Youknowit’strue.YourZach,whatishefor?Whatisithegivestoyouthatmeansthatyouwon’tendyourrelationshipwithhim,thatyoustillsleepwithhim?Therehastobesomething.”
“There’snothing,”shesays.“Zachdoesn’tgivemeanything.”
“Sowhydoyouwanttostaywithhim?”
“Idon’twantto,”Tallulahsays.“Iwanttoleavehim.Butwe’vebeentogethersincewewerechildren.He’stheonlymanI’veever…”Shestopsbrieflyastearscometohereyes.“IsleepwithhimbecauseIhaveto.Forreasonsyoucouldneverbegintoimagine.Butwhataboutyou?Youdidn’thavetodowhateveryoudidlastnightwithLiam.You’renotinarelationshipwithhim.Heknowsyoudon’tlovehim,thatit’sover.Sowhy?”
ScarlettsighsandthrowsTallulahaninfuriatinglygentlelook.“Just…because?”
“Because?”
“Look,I’mnotreally…Imean,Icanprioritizepeoplebutneverentirelylimitthem.”
“Limitthem?”
“Yes,so,like,you’remypriority.Youareonehundredpercentthemostimportantpersoninmylife,like,ever,probably.Butthatdoesn’tmeantherewon’tbeotherpeopleinmylife.Whoaren’tasimportantasyou.WhoIdon’tfeelaboutthewayIfeelaboutyou.Butwhoarethere,andwhoIamnotgoingtogetridof.”
“Youmean,youdon’tdomonogamy?”
“Iguess,ifyouwanttoputitthatway.Buthonestly.Please.Justforgetaboutthat.”Shegesturesatthefrontdoor.“Let’sstartover.Comeon.There’repecanDanishesinthekitchen.They’refromyesterdaybutthey’restillreally,reallygood.Please.I’vemissedyousomuch…”
ThethoughtofsittingonthebluesofainScarlett’shugeglasskitchenandlickingtheicingoffapecanDanishunderafurryblanketandthenfindingtheanglesofScarlett’sbodyinherbedroomandsittingtogetherwiththedogafterwarddiscussingwhichbitsofhimtheylikethebestfeelslikeallshewantsinthewholeworld.Butthat’snotwhatshecameheretodo.She’dcometohandherselftoScarlett,all100percentofherself.Andnowsheknowsthatshewillneverbe100percentofScarlett,thatScarlettwillalwayshaveintimategapsandspaceswhereotherpeoplefitin,andthatisnotwhatshewantsforherself,orforNoah,orforherfuture.AndsherealizesthatshehasneverbeenmorethananexperienceforScarlett,justasLiamhadbeen.Anexperiment.Athingtodototryanddecideifshelikesitornot,sothatonedayshecantellwhoevershedecidesshewantstospendherlifewiththatwhenshewasyoungshetriedoutaposhfarmerboywithapenchantforzip-neckjumpers,andthenwhenshetiredofthatshetriedoutavillagegirlfromacul-de-sacwhowastrainingtobeasocialworker.Andthatafterhertherewouldbesomeoneorsomethingelse.
SoshelooksatScarlettwithtear-filledeyesandsays,“No.I’mgoinghome.Forgetit.Forgetthis.I’mworthmore.”
SheslamsScarlett’sdoorbehindherandmountsherbike,cycleshardallthewayhome,hereyesblindedwithtears,thinkingofherlastwordstoScarlettandwonderingiftheywereeventrue.
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SophiemeetsJacintaCroftinasmallwinebararoundthecornerfromVictoriaStationat6:00p.m.ShehasmessagesfromShaunonherphone,askingwheresheis.She’sabouttoreplytothemwhenshelooksupandseesJacintaapproaching.
“Ican’tstaylong,”Jacintasays,detachingahugeleatherbagfromhershoulderandrestingitonthetableinfrontofher.
“Meneither,”saysSophie.“Mytraingoesinthirtyminutes.”
“Good,well,then,let’sgetsomewine,pronto.”
ShecallsoverawaitressandorderstwosmallglassesofsomethingFrenchwithoutaskingSophieifthat’swhatshe’dlikeandthensheturnstofaceherandsays,“So,SusieBeets,Igoogledyouafteryouleft.Somethingaboutyoudidn’tquitestackup.”
“Oh.”
“Itakeityou’renotreallyafictionaldetectiveinapopularseriesofbookswrittenbysomeonecalledP.J.Fox.IassumeyouareinfactP.J.Foxherself,otherwiseknownasSophieBeck,borninHitherGreeninsoutheastLondonin1984.”Shesaysthiswithawrysmile.
“Yes.Sorry.I—”
“Look.Iworkinprivateeducation.There’snothingIhaven’tseenorencountered.Butwhydidyoulie?”
“Ididn’twanttocauseanymoreripples,Isuppose,”Sophiesays.“It’sactuallymyboyfriendwho’sthenewheadteacher,notmybrother.Anditwasmewhofoundtheringinthegrounds.”
TheirwinearrivesandJacintapicksitupimmediatelyandtakesalargesip,eyeingSophiecuriouslyovertherim.“Well,listen,Idon’tgettochatwithdetectivenoveliststurnedamateursleuthseverydayandsadlyIcan’ttellyoumuchyoudon’talreadyknow,butwhenyousaidthey’dfoundsomethinginthewoodsbehindthecollege,Ididassumethatyouweregoingtosaysomethingelse.”
“Yes?”
“Apparently,there’satunnel,”Jacintacontinues,“thatrunsfromthebighousewhereScarlettJacquesusedtolive.”
“Ireadsomethingaboutthat.Itwasdugoutduringthecivilwar?”
“Correct,”saysJacinta.“AndIalwayswondered,whenthiswasallgoingon,Iwonderedaboutthattunnel.Itoldthepoliceaboutitandtheylookedintoit,butScarlett’sfamilyhadneverfoundtheentranceandneitherhadthefamilywholivedtherebeforethemandbeforethatthehousehadlainemptyforquitesometime.Theyevengotahousehistorianintosearchforit,butnothing.Andthatwasthat.ButIstillthink,tothisday…Imean,thatfamily,theJacqueses,theywere,Idon’tknow,theywerequitethegangofnarcissists.Allofthem.”
“Inwhatway?”
“Well,thegirl,Scarlett,shewasn’tastudentattheMaypoleatthetimeofthedisappearance,butshewasthereforthetwoyearsbeforethatandshewassuchaprettygirl.Butsuchadamagedgirl,Ialwaysthought.Shehadthiswayofmanagingpeople,bymakingthemthinkthatsheneededthem,makingthemthinkshewasahopelessmessandthatonlytheycouldkeephertogether.ButunderneathitallIalwaysfeltsheknewexactlywhatshewasdoing.Andthemother—awfulwoman.Allimage,nosubstance.ThefatherIonlymetonce,atScarlett’sinitialinterview.Hedisappearedhalfwaythroughtheinterviewtotakeacall.Hewasverydistant.Cold.Thewholefamilyfeltlikethisgroupoficefloes,justsortofdriftingabout,nevertouching.Andso,whenthiscouplewentmissing,andIheardthey’dlastbeenseenattheJacqueshouse,IsupposeIwasn’tsurprisedatall.”
“Buttherewasnoconnection,wasthere?Imean,accordingtowhatI’veread,thecoupleonlymettheMaypolekidsthatnight.”
“Well,notquite.Remember,ScarlettandthegirlwereatMantonCollegetogether.”
“Yes,butaccordingtotheotherkids,theydidn’tknoweachotherallthatwell.”
“Well,that’snotentirelytrue.TherewasagirlcalledRuby,alsoaformerMaypolegirl.Shewasn’tatthepoolpartythatnightbutshetoldthepolicethatshethoughttheremighthavebeensomethingmoregoingonbetweenthegirl—Ican’trememberhername?”
“Tallulah.”
“Yes,ofcourse.Tallulah.ShethoughttherewassomethinggoingonbetweenScarlettandTallulah.Apparently,ScarlettwasbisexualandsheandRubyhadhadabitofathingthemselveswhentheywereyounger.TheownerofacakeshopinMantonnotfarfromthecollegesaidshe’dseenTallulahinthereafewtimesearlierthatyearwithagirlwhomatchedScarlett’sdescription.ButScarlettdeniedit,saidtherewereloadsofgirlswholookedlikeheratthecollege.”Jacintarollshereyesandliftsherglasstohermouth,puttingitdownagainbeforehavingtakenasiptosay,“AndScarlett’sboyfriend.Liam.Haveyoumethim?”
“Yes.Yes,Ihave.”Sophiefeelsherselfflushslightlyatthementionofhisname.
“Well,hewastherethatnightandheclaimsthathe’dnevermetTallulahbeforethenbut…”Shesighs.“I’mnotsosure.Ialwaysthoughthewasholdingsomethingback.IalwaysthoughtmaybehewasprotectingScarlett,somehow,becausehewassoinlovewiththatgirl,somadly,crazilyinlovewithher.Andhehadhisheartwellandtrulybrokenwhensheendedthingswithhim.Evenasteachersattheschool,wewereallawareofit,andconcerned—youknow?”
“Oh,”saysSophie.“WhenLiamtoldmeaboutit,hesaidhewasfineaboutitending.”
“Well,hewaslyingtoyou.Iwasthere.Weallsawhimwanderingaroundthecollegelookinglikeabrokenman.”
Jacintarunsherfingeraroundthebaseofherwineglass.“Youknow,”shesays,“thatwasprobablytheworstyearofmylife.Somuchstress.Ifoundoutmyhusbandhadbeenhavinganaffairthatyear,weseparated,andthenhewentforawalkoneafternoonandnevercameback.Tobefair,wewereinuttercrisisatthetime.Wewereintheprocessofdivorcing.Hewasonlythereattheweekends.So,whenhedidn’tcomeback,atfirstIwasn’ttooworried.Iassumedhe’djustgonebacktohisflatwithoutsayinggoodbye.Butthenwhenhedidn’tphonetospeaktooursonthatnight,orthenightafter,whenhedidn’treplytoanyofmyson’stextmessagesoraskaboutthedog,Ireportedhimmissingtothepolice.Theysentdogsintothewoodsbuttheyfoundnothing.AndIhadtoaccept,eventually,thathejustdidn’twanttobepartofourlivesanymore.Thathewantedtobegone.Tothisotherwoman.Exclusively.”Shesighsheavily,andthencontinues.“Andthenthoseteenagerswentmissinganditwasalltoomuch.Myannushorribilis.Theworstyearofmylife.IknewIhadtoleave.”
Sophiegetsbacktothecottageafewminutesbeforeeight.Shaunhasonlyjustreturnedfromworkandlooksdrainedashesearchesthestillunfamiliarkitchencupboardsforawaterglass.Shecomesupbehindhimandencircleshiswaistwithherarm,buryingakissintothecreasedcottonbeneathhisshoulderblade.“I’mback,”shesays.
“Icantell,”hesays,notturningtocompletethehug.“Howwastown?”
“Itwasnice.”Shepullsawayfromhimandsays,“Lookatmylovelyhair.”
Heturnsandtouchestheendsofitwhereitstillkicksoutwardafterherblow-dry.“Verypretty,”hesaysdistractedly.“I’mgladyouhadaniceday.”
Sophiehasn’ttoldhimabouttherealcontentofherday.Shewishesshecouldshareitallwithhim,butfeelsverykeenlythathewillnotapprove.
“Idid,”shesays.“Itwaslovelytogetoutandabout.”
Hepeersathercuriously.“AreyouOK?”heasks.
“Yes.I’mfine.”
“Imean,withthis?Withus?Withthemove?AreyougettingonOK?”
“Yeah,Imean.It’snot…Idon’tknow.It’snot—”
Hecutsin.“Areyouregrettingit?Comingoutherewithme?”
“No,”shesaysforcefully.“No.I’mnotregrettingit.”
Sheseeshisfacesoftenwithrelief.“Good,”hesays.
“IknewwhatIwassigningupfor,”shesays.“Ikneweverything.Andit’sfine.Honestly.Ijustwantyoutoconcentrateonyourjobandnotworryaboutme.Please.”
Heexhalesandsmilesandpullshertowardhiminanembracelacedwithregretandguiltandfear,because,despitethewordsthathavejustpassedbetweenthem,theybothknow,deepdown,thatthisisnotgoingtowork;thatwhatbroughtthemtogetherinLondon,withtheromanceofseparatehomesandseparatefriendsandjobsthattheybothknewhowtodowithoutthinkingtoohardaboutthem,isnothereanymore;thattheyrushedintothisinaflurryofsexandsummerandtheromanticnotionoftheEnglishcountrysideandmanicuredgroundsandforeignprincessesandnowtheyarefloundering.
Shaun’sphonechirrupsonthecounterbehindhimandhegoestolookatit.Heneverignoreshisphonebecausehedoesn’tlivewithhischildrenandSophieentirelyunderstandsthis.“It’sKerryanne,”hesays.“Shewantsmetocometoherapartment.Shesaysit’surgent.”
“ShallIcometoo?”
Sheseesindecisionpassacrosshisfeatures.Heshouldsayno.Butinthelightoftheconversationthey’vejusthad,henodsandsays,“Sure.Ofcourse.”
Theskyisjustgrowingdarkastheycrunchacrossthegraveledpathtowardtheaccommodationblock.It’sthefirstcoldeveningoftheautumnandSophieshiversslightlyinathincardiganandbarelegs.
Kerryanneiswaitingoutsidethedoorofherblock,herarmsfoldedacrossherchest.ShelooksrelievedwhensheseesShaunandSophieapproachingandsays,“I’msosorrytodisturbyouinyourfreetime.Ireallyam.Butyouneedtoseethis.”
Sheleadsthemaroundtothefrontoftheblock,wherethebalconiesoverlookthewoodsbeyondandwhereherownlargeterraceoverhangsthespotwheretheystand,andshepointsacrosstheflowerbeds.“Ididn’tseeit.ItwasLexie.ShejustgotbackfromFloridaatlunchtime,shewasvapingontheterrace,andthereitwas.Shehasn’ttouchedit.ThankgoodnessI’dalreadyfilledherinonalltheshenaniganssosheknewwhatitmeant.”
Behindtheflowerbedsisasmallstragglyareaoflawn,thenawidegraveledpathway,andbeyondthatasecondgatewayintothewoodlands.Butthere,tuckedawaybutapparentlyvisiblefromthebalconiesoverhead,isapieceofcardboardnailedtothebottomofatree,withthewords“DigHere”writtenonitinblackmarkerpenandanarrowpointingtothesoilunderneath.
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NoahfallsasleepassoonasKimputshimtobed.He’dbeentetchyallevening.Kimcan’tquiterememberwhathertwowerelikeatthisage.Hermemoryhasrecalibratedthedetail.SheknowsthatoneofthemusedtohavetantrumsinthesupermarketandshesuspectsitwasTallulah,butthatsuspicionhasbeensubvertedoverthepastfifteenmonthsbecauseKimcannotrememberanythingbadaboutTallulah.ShecannotrememberbeyondTallulah’supturnedfaceinherbedroomasshepaintedblackliquidwingsontohereyesbeforetheChristmaspartyatcollege:thepaleluminescenceofherskin,theperfectupwardslopeofhernose,thepinkofherrosebudlips,thefragile,barelynoticeablebeautythathadalwaysfeltlikeasecretjustbetweenthetwoofthem.Shecan’tsquarethatcalm,gloriousgirlwiththetwo-year-oldgirlscreaminginsupermarkets.Theycannotbethesameperson;thereforeshetendstoimaginethatthesethingshadn’treallyhappenedorthatithadbeenRyan,infact,ormaybesomebodyelse’schild.Nothers.NotTallulah.
Butshehasnosuchghostlyveilsacrossheropinionofhergrandson.Sheloveshim,butoh,shefindshimsovery,verydifficulttolivewith.Shehadnotwantedathirdchild.Shehadbeenofferedtheopportunity;there’dbeenamanayearorsoaftersheandJimsplitup,amanwhosaidhe’dgiveherababyandshe’dbeeninherearlythirtiesandRyanhadbeenabouttoleaveprimaryschoolandithadfelt,foramoment,liketherighttimetodoit.Butshehadn’tbeenabletofacetheprospectofthesleeplessnightsandtheworryandtheaddingofanothereighteenyearsontothejourneyofmotherhood.She’dimaginedherselftheagesheisnow,justforty,withtwogrown-upchildren,andshe’dlikedtheideaofit.Soshe’dsaidnotothenicemanwho’dofferedherababyandthey’dgonethedistanceaslovers,andthenhe’dleftwhenherealizedhewantedmoreandthatwasthat.Shehadspecificallychosennottohaveathirdchildandnowshehasoneandheisdarkandangryandsheistiredallthetime.Allthetime.
Butfornowheisasleepandtheyhavecrossedthebridgeofanotherdaytogetherandherloveforhimisascompleteastheloveshehasforthetwochildrenshegavebirthto,especiallynow,whenheisclosebutnotawake,whenshehastwelvehourstobeherself.
Sheopensabottleofwineandpoursherselfasmallglass.Thecoldkissofitasithitsthebottomofherstomachisimmediateandpleasurable.Shetakesanothersipandpicksupherphone,abouttospendsometimemindlesslyscrollingthroughherFacebookfeed.Butjustasherthumbhitstheblueicononherscreen,itisobliteratedbyanincomingphonecall.
DomMcCoy
Sheclearsherthroatandpressesanswer.
“Kim.It’sme.Dom.We’vehadadevelopment.AtMaypoleHouse.Areyouabletocomeover?”
Kim’sbreathcatches.“Erm.Ijustputthebabydown.I’malone.Idon’thaveanyonetoasktositwithhim.Canyoujusttellme?”
There’sabeatofsilence;thenhesays,“OK,Kim,givemefive.Tenminutes.I’llcomeover.Juststayput.”
ThetenminutesturntoeighteenminutesbeforeDom’sshadowfinallypassesacrossthepanesofglassinKim’sfrontdoor.Sheopensthedoorbeforehe’srungthebellandleadshimintothelivingroom.Whileshe’sbeenwaiting,she’stippedherwinebackintothebottleandputitinthefridge.She’splumpedhercushionsandputawaysomeofNoah’stoys.She’stiedherhairbackandputsomesocksonsothatDomwon’tseeherunpolishedtoenails.
“Howareyou?”Dombegins,takingthebluedenimarmchairhealwaystakeswhenhecomestoseeKimwithupdates.
“I’mOK,”shesays.“Tired.Youknow.”
“Yes,”saysDom,“Icompletelyempathizewiththat.”
Hedoesn’twearaweddingringanymore.Kimhadfirstnoticedthisaboutsixmonthsago.Andhe’slostweight.Shestaresathimeagerly,willinghimtosaysomethinggood.
“KerryanneMulligancalledusaboutanhourago.Herdaughtersawsomethinginthegroundsofthecollege,fromherbalcony.Shewenttoinvestigateandfoundthis.”Heturnshisphonetowardherandshowsheraphotoofwhatlookslikeexactlythesamecardboardsignthattheheadteacher’sgirlfriendhadfoundnailedtoherfencetheweekbefore.
“What?”sheaskshoarsely.“Whatwasit?”
Heturnshisphonebacktohimselfandswipesleftonthescreenbeforeturningitbacktoher.Shestaresattheimageforamoment.It’salumpyobjectinaclearbagwithwritingonit.Itdoesn’tmakeanysense.
“Whatisit?”sheasks.
“Well,”saysDom,“Iwashopingyoumightbeabletotellusthat.”
Sheplacesherfingertipsagainstthescreenandpullstheimageopen.It’sastrangemetaltool,withabentendwithaU-shapecutoutofit,almostlikeaverysmallgardenspade.“Idon’tknowwhatthatis.Ihavenoidea.”
SheseesaflashofdisappointmentpassacrossDom’sface.“Well,”hesays,“it’sgonetoforensics,sohopefullytheymighthavesomekindofideawhatitis.Andinthemeantime,we’restillwaitingtohearbackfromtheprintsguysabouttheringandtheringbox,butIhavetobehonest,Kim,it’snotlookingveryoptimisticthere.Andthehandwritinganalysisisback,apparently,soI’llbehavingalookatthatfirstthingtomorrow.So,stilllotstochewover.”
Hesmilesatherandsheknowshe’stryingtosoundupbeatbutshealsoknowsthatthisisn’tpanningoutashe’dhopeditmightbecauseasmuchasit’sKimwhosedaughterismissing,shealsoknowsthatnotbeingabletosolvethiscasehasbeendeeplyupsettingforDomaswell.
Shemustersasmileandsays,“Thanks,Dom.Thankyouforeverything.”
“Iwishtherewasmoreformetodo,”hereplies.“Thereneverseemstobeenoughformetodo.Butthis,”hesays,tuckinghisphoneintohispocket,“isbetterthannothing.Someoneknowssomethingandsomeonewantsustoknowwhattheyknow.Sokeepyoureartotheground,Kim.Keepyourwitsaboutyou.Ifyouhearanythingfromanyone,ifanyonetellsyouthey’veseensomethingstrange,letmeknowimmediately.OK?”
Heglancesatherseriouslyandshesmilesandsays,“Sure,”andforamomentshefeelsasthoughshemightjustopenhermouthandadd,Ihavewine.Doyouhavetime?butrealizesimmediatelythatofcoursehedoesn’thavetime,thathe’sinthemiddleofdoingajob,thathehasacartodrivehomeandalifetolive,childrentoputtobed,andthathehasdonewhathecameheretodo,andofcoursehedoesn’twanttostayanddrinkwinewithatired,sadwoman.Soshegetstoherfeetandseeshimtothedoor
“I’llbeintouchagain,firstthingtomorrow.Takecare,Kim.”
“Yes,”shesays,clutchingtheedgeofthedoor,feelingtheurgentpullofwantingtobeclosetoanotherhumanbeing,wantingsomethingmorethanjustherandNoahandthishouseandalltheseunansweredquestions,beforeclosingthedoorbehindhimandimmediatelyforcingherfistintohermouthtoholdbackhertears.
36
MAY2017
SpringwendsitswaytowardsummerinahazeoftediouscollegedaysanddullnightsspentwedgednexttoZachonthesofa,thebabymonitorblinkingonthetableattheirside.Noahgetstothestagewherehisheadistoobigforhisbodyandtheyjokeabouthowhelookslikeabobbleheadandhavetoprophishugecraniumupwithcushionswhenhefallsasleepinthebackofthecar.
TheapartmentontheReigateringroadfallsthroughwhenthebankrefusesthemamortgageandZachgoesbacktohisspreadsheetsandhisbankstatementswithanairofdarkresentment.Itseemsthatbuyingapropertyistheonlythingthatmatterstohimnow,thatbeingahomeowneratnineteenissomekindofbadgeofhonorthatwillmakehimfeellikeawinner.They’vetakentohavingsexonWednesdayafternoonswhenZachgetshomeearly,Kimisatwork,Ryanisatschool,andNoahishavinghisdailynap.It’sthesameeverytime,apracticedseriesofmovementsthatends,withinroughlytenminutes,withZachorgasmingsilentlywithhisfacepressedintoapillowandTallulahrunningontiptoetothebathroomafterwardandstaringatherselfinthemirrorwonderingwhothenaked,empty-eyedgirlwithblotchybreastslookingbackatheris.Butshealsofeelsasenseofrelief,asensethatitisdone,thatnowshehasaweekinwhichherbodyisherown.
Theweekstickbyandthedaysgrowlonger.SummerexamsbeckonandTallulahspendsmoreofhertimeathomerevisingandlesssittingonthesofawithZach,whostalksinandoutoftheirbedroomwhenshe’sstudying,findingstupidexcusestodistracther.
Atcollege,sheseesScarlettnearlyeverydayandtheyhavelearnedhowtoignoreeachothertothepointwhereTallulahcansometimesbelievethatmaybenoneofiteverhappened,thatitwasalladream.Scarlett’sfriendshadneveracceptedheraspartofScarlett’slifeinthefirstplaceandhappilyacceptthatsheisnolongerthere.Theywaveatheriftheypassoncampus,theysay,“Hi,Lules,”andTallulahsayshiback.Butinthecanteenatlunchtime,Tallulahsitswiththekidsfromhersocialcarecourse,oronherown.SheandScarletthavenotspokenawordtoeachothersincetheSundaymorningwhenTallulaharrivedtofindherwithherex-boyfriend’steethmarksonherneck.ScarlettsentplaintiveWhatsAppsandSnapsforafewdays,butTallulahsimplydeletedthemallimmediatelyandthenblockedher.
Butitdoesn’tmatterhowmuchtimepassesorhowefficientlytheyhavebeenabletopretendthattheydon’tknoweachother,thefeelingofwantingScarlettisstillasraw,asred,asrealasitwaswhentheyweretogether.Tallulahaches,physically,whenshethinksaboutthefeelofScarlett’shandonhersunderthetableattheirsecretold-ladycakeshop.AboutthoseSundaymornings.Whenshecloseshereyes,shegetsflashbackstothesmellofthescentedcandleinScarlett’sbedroom,theheatofScarlett’smouthonherskin,theflushofherfleshthatstayedforhoursaftershegothome.Andshewantsitallback.Butshecan’thaveitbecauseTallulahisamother,shehasachildandshehasresponsibilitiesandshecannothandanyofthatovertothecareofsomeonewhodoesn’tseethatitiswrongtoletyourexgiveyoulovebiteswhileyourcurrentloveisonabikecomingtoseeyou.SheowesittoNoahtogivehimstablefoundations,andScarlettislotsofthings,butsheisnotstable.
Butthen,onesunnyTuesdaymorning,asTallulahpushesNoahtothepondinhisbuggywithasmallplasticbagofdrybreadslicestuckedintothehoodofthepram,sheseesafamiliarfigureacrossthecommon.ScarlettisatcollegealldayonTuesdays.Sheshouldn’tbehere.Sheshouldn’tbeacrossthecommon,staringrightatTallulah.
Tallulahpanics.ForamomentshethinksshemightjustturnNoah’sbuggy180degreesandheadhome,butScarlett’spacehaspickedupandsheisheadingstraighttowardhernow,andTallulahcanseeherbrowisfurrowedinconfusion,hergazeoscillatingbetweenTallulahandthebuggy.
Tallulahletsherheaddropintoherchest,takesadeepbreath,andwalkstomeetScarlettinthemiddleofthecommon.
“OhmyGod,isheyours?”
Tallulahnods.“Yes.ThisisNoah.He’smine.”
Scarlettstaresatherindisbelief.ThenshecrouchesandreachesintothebuggyandforamomentTallulah’sheartstartstorace;shethinksmaybeScarlettisgoingtosnatchhim,pinchhim,hurthim.Shepullsthebuggytowardherself,butScarlettismerelygreetingNoah.
“Hello,gorgeous,”shesays,rubbingthebacksofherfingersagainstNoah’scheek.Noahstaresather,wide-eyedbutnotdisturbed.Scarlett’sgazetipsuptoTallulah.“OhmyGod,”shesays.“He’ssobeautiful.”
“Thanks.”
Scarlettissuesanervouslaugh.“God,Lules.You’reamummy.”
Tallulahsighsandnods.
“Whydidn’tyoufuckingtellme?”
“Couldyounot,”Tallulahbegins,hatingherselfforsayingit,butneedingtosayitbecausethewordsphysicallyhurtwhenshe’sinfrontofherbaby,“couldyounotswear?Doyoumind?”
Scarlettmuzzlesherselfwithbothherhands.“Shit,”shesays.“I’msorry.”
“It’sfine.It’sjust,he’satthatage,youknow,whenhe’sstartingtotryandtalk.AndIcouldn’tdealwithitifthatwashisfirstword.Youknow.”
Scarlettnodsandsmiles.“God.Yes.Ofcourse.”Shebringsherselfbacktostandingandputsherhandsinthepocketsofaweirdpatchworkblousonjacket.Herhairisshortandmessyandshehasanoutbreakofzitsaroundhermouth.ButstillshetakesTallulah’sbreathaway.
“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”sheasksagain.
Tallulahshrugs.“Idon’treallyknow.”
“Andsothisiswhyyou’restuckwiththatloser.Ifinallyunderstand.”
Tallulahfeelsherdefensesrise.“He’snotaloser.”
Scarlettshrugs.“Whatever.”
Theystandandstareateachotherforamoment.Noahstartstomoanalittleandkickhisfeet.“I’mtakinghimtothepond,”Tallulahsays.Shedoesn’tadd,Doyouwanttocome,butScarlettfollowsheranyway.
“Ican’tbelieveyou,Lules.YoubinnedmeoffbecauseIkissedmyex,andallthewhileyou’vegotasecretfuckingbaby.”
TallulahthrowsherasternlookandScarlettsays,“God.Sorry.Yes.ButIjustcan’teven…Imean,nooneatcollegeknowsyou’vegotababy.Idon’tgetit,whywouldn’tyoumentionit?”
“That’snottrueactually.ThereareplentyofpeopleatcollegewhoknowI’vegotababy,justnotpeopleyouwouldeverthinkabouttalkingto.”
Scarletttutsandsays,“Oh,right,yeah,makemeouttobethevillainhere.It’salwaysme,isn’tit?Neveranyoneelse.Andwhocares,anyway,thedealhereisthatyoukeptthis,like,hugesecretfrommeandIneverkeptanythingfromyou.Notever.Iwasalwaystotallyhonestwithyou.EvenonthatlastSunday.IcouldhavekickedLiamoutandmadesureyourpathsdidn’tcross.ButIdidn’t.BecauseeventhoughwhatIdidwasabitsuspect,Ididn’twanttodeceiveyou.Icouldn’tlietoyou.I’mincapableoflying,basically.That’soneofmybiggestproblems.So,wow,Imean,this…”Shegesturesatthebuggy.“Imean,justwow.”
TallulahputsthebrakeonthebuggyastheyreachtheedgeofthepondandleansdowntoundoNoah’sstraps,beforeliftinghimout.“It’snotthesamething,”sherepliestersely.“Notthesameatall.”Shetakesasliceofthestalebreadfromthebaggieandtearsabitoff.
NoahgrabsitfromherhandandtriestothrowitintothepondbutitdropsatScarlett’sfeet.Scarlettpicksitupandhandsitbacktohimandsays,“Tryagain,buddy.”
Sheputsherhandoverhisandgentlyguideshisarmintoaproperthrowandcheerswhenthebreadhitsthesurfaceofthepond.“Highfive!”shesays,touchingherhandagainsthisashestaresatherinwonder.
“YouknowIbloodylovebabies,Lula.IeventoldyouthatIlovebabies.Ijustdon’tgetanyofthis.”
TallulahtearsoffanotherpieceofbreadandguidesitintoNoah’shand.“Yes,”shesays.“Ishouldhavetoldyou.You’reright.ButIdidn’tbecauseIwantedyou…”Shepausestofindwordsthatwon’tmakehersoundasbadasshefeels.“IwantedyoutothinkIwaslikeyou.Youknow.Afreespirit.”
“Butyou’vegotabloodyboyfriend!Howlessfreecanyoupossiblybethanthat?”
“Yes,butaboyfriendisn’tpermanent.Achildispermanent.WhereverIgo,hegoes.WhateverI’mdoing,I’mhismother.Twenty-four-seven.Fortherestofmylife.Andit’salot,youknow.”
“Fuck,Lula.Lifeisalot.Allofitisalot.Youandme,wehadthisthing,thisamazing,amazingthingthatIthoughtwasthemostimportantthingthathadeverhappenedtome.Fromminuteone,thatdayonthebus,IsawyouandIknew,Ikneweverythingthatwasgoingtohappen,thatyouandIweredestinedtobetogether.Andthenwewere,andyoumademesof—”SheglancesatNoahandpauses.“Youmademesohappy.AndIknow,IknowwhatIdidwithLiamwaswrong,butIsupposeIjustthoughtthataslongasyouhadZachinyourlife,aslongasyoumadeasecretoutofyouandme”—shegesturesbetweenthemwithherhand—“thenweweren’treal.”
Theybothclapthen,asNoah’snextattempttothrowbreadlandssuccessfullyandagroupofducksdrawsquicklytowardit.ScarlettputsoutherhandandcupsthebackofNoah’shead.“God,”shesays.“He’ssoprecious.He’sso,soprecious.”
Tallulahfeelssomethinginhergut,akickofpleasure,butalsooffear.ShepullsNoahslightlycloserintoherbodyandScarlettletsherhanddropfromhishead.
“Youknow,”shesays,“wecoulddothis.Wecould.IfeellikeyouthinkI’msomekindofbeautifulidiot,youknow?AndIknowIdoplayuptothat.Ido.Peopleareeasiertodealwithiftheyunderestimateyou.ButI’mnotanidiot,Lules.I’velivedalife,thingshavehappened,badthings.I’vegrownandlearnedand…and…matured.Icouldtotallydothebabything.Withyou.Butthequestionis…areyoureadytobehonestaboutus?”
Tallulahglancesatherquestioningly.“Youmean,tellpeople?”
Scarlettnods.
Tallulahturnshergazebacktothewater,tothebowedheadsoftheducksbobbingforthewetbread.Shetriestopictureherselftellingvariouspeopleinherlife.Hermotherwouldbefine.Ryanwouldbesurprisedbutfine.Prettymucheveryonesheknowsatcollegewouldbefine.There’sonlyonepersonshecan’teverimaginetelling.
“IcannevertellZach,”shesays.“He’dkillme.”
“Killyou?”Scarlett’seyesarewide.
“Yes.He’dkillme.”
“Areyouserious?”
Tallulahcloseshereyes.Shepictureshisface,thewayhisjawclenchestogetherwhenhe’sdispleasedaboutsomething,thewayhisfistcomesdownuponinanimateobjectswhenhe’sannoyed,theflareofhisnostrils,theentitledtiltofhischinashesurveystheobjectofhisdispleasure.Andsheremembersthetightnessofhishandsaroundherarmswhenshetoldhimthatshedidn’thavetimeforhimandimaginesthatamplifiedtenfoldifshetoldhimthatshewasleavinghimforagirl.Zachisn’tliberal.Hehasnotimeforpoliticalcorrectness.Heishismother’sson:small-minded,self-absorbed,inward-thinking,alittlebitracist,alittlebithomophobic,alittlebitmisogynistic.Allthosethingsthatdon’tmatterwhenyou’refourteenandinlove,butstarttosproutinsidiouslytothesurfaceovertheyearsittakesyoutogofromchildtoadult,andevennowit’snotblatantbutsheknowshimwellenoughtoknowthatit’sthere.AndsheknowshimwellenoughtoknowthathewouldbehumiliatedifhefoundoutaboutheraffairwithScarlettandthatthathumiliationwouldspilloverintoangerandthatheisstrongandheisalreadyonlyoneflashawayfromhurtingher,constantly.
“Yes,”shereplies,openinghereyes.“Yes.Ithinkhewould.”
“OhmyGod,Lula.Hasheeverhityou?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Notreally.”
“Notreally?”
“No.No,hehasn’t.”
Scarlettlacesherfingersintohershorthairandtugsatit,takesacoupleofpacesawayandthenpacesbackagain.“Lula.God.Imean,thisisbad.Doyouevenlovehim?”
“Iusedto.”
“Butnow?”
Sheshrugsandsniffs.“No,”shesaysquietly.“Notanymore.Notreally.”
“Anddoyouwanttospendtherestofyourlifewithhim?”
Sheshakesherhead,hard.Shecanfeeltearscomingandshedoesn’twantthem.“No,”shesays,hervoicecracking.“No.Idon’t.”
“Thenfuck,Tallulah,youneedtosortthisout.Youneedtogetridofhim.Becauseyoucan’tliveyourlifelikethis.Youcan’tliveyourlifebeingscared.”
“ButhowdoIgetridofhim?”Tallulahsays.“How?”
PARTTHREE
37
MAY2017
Thefollowingafternoon,whenshegetshomefromcollege,TallulahtakesNoahforawalkaroundthevillageataroundthetimethatshewouldnormallyputhimdownforhisafternoonnapandhavesexwithZach.Sheturnsherphonetosilentandputsinherearbuds,themusicturneduploud,refusingtoallowtheimageofZachgettingbackfromworktoanemptyhousetotaintherthoughts.
Shepushesthebuggyintotheco-opandscopestheshopforKeziah.Shespiesherinthebakeryaisle,stackingtheshelveswithself-raisingflour.“Hiya,”shesays.
Keziahturnsaround.SheglancesatTallulahandthenintothebuggy.WhensheseesNoahsheclapsherhandstohermouthandmakesamuffledsqueakingnoise.“Oh.My.God.”Shetakesherhandsfromhermouth.“OhmyGod.Lula.Heissobeautiful.”
Tallulahsmilesandfeelstheswirlinhergutshealwaysgetswhensomeonetellsherthathersonisbeautiful.“Thankyou,”shesays.“Sorryhe’snotawake.ButIsaidI’dbringhimintoshowyou.”
“Howoldishenow?”
“Elevenmonths.”
“OhmyGod.Wheredidthetimego!Feelslikeitwasonlyaboutfiveminutesagoyouwerejustpregnant!”
Tallulahsmilesagain.
“How’sZach?”
“Oh,he’sfine.Youknow.”
“Stilltogether?”
“Yeah.Justabout.”Shelaughsdrily.
“It’stough,withababy,isn’tit?”
“Yeah,”shereplies.“Ithasitsmoments.Especiallylivingtogether.Actually,Iwasgoingtosay:rememberyoutalkedaboutgettingtogetherwiththeothers?Fromschool?”
“Yeah!”Keziah’sfacelightsup.“Oh,definitely.We’regoingouttomorrowasithappens.JusttotheDucks.Wanttocome?”
“Yes,please,”Tallulahsaysbrightly,feelingtheplanfallintoplace.“That’dbegreat.Whattime?”
“Sevenish?Orwheneveryoucangetaway,really.Whatwiththebubbaandeverything.”Keziahmakesthatpainedfaceagain,thefaceshemakeseverytimeshelooksatNoah,almostasifhisbeautyisaterribleblightofsomekind.
“Great,”saysTallulah.“I’llseeyouthen!”
Shepushesthebuggybackoutoftheshopandthenwalksforanhour,uptotheotherendofthevillagewheretheestateis,andtothecommonaroundthebacklanes.ShetimesherwalksothatshegetsbackhalfanhourbeforehermotherandRyanreturn,longenoughfortheargumenttoplayitselfout.Assheapproachesthecul-de-sacherheartraceswithanticipation.Sheturnsherkeyinthelockandpushesopenthedoor.“Hello,”shecallsout.
Noahisstillasleepandsheleaveshiminhisbuggyinthehallwayandpeersaroundthelivingroomdoor.
Zachsitsonthesofa,hisphoneinhishand.Helooksupatherdarkly.“Wherethefuckhaveyoubeen?”
Sheclosesthedoorbehindher.
“TookNoahoutforawalk.ItwastoonicetostayinandI’vedoneallmyrevision.”
“I’vecalledyou,like,ahundredtimes.Whydidn’tyoufuckinganswer?”
Shepullsherphonefromthepocketofherhoodieandglancesatit.“Oh,”shesays.“Shit.Sorry.Itwasonsilent.”
“Shit.Sorry.Itwasonsilent,”hemimicsher.“Whatsortofmothergoesoutwithouttellinganyoneandleavestheirphoneonsilent?”
“Er,me,Iguess.”Hertoneisglib,butbeneathherribcage,herheartishammering.
“Iliterallyhadnoideawhereyoubothwere.YoucouldhavebeendeadforallIknew.”
“Well,we’renot.Soit’sfine.”
Heshakeshishead.“Unbelievable,”hesays.“Totallyunbelievable.Andnotonlythatbutit’sWednesday.Youknow,ourWednesday.”
“Ohshit,”shesays.“God.Iforgot.I’mreallysorry.”
“No,you’renot.You’renotfuckingsorry.Icantell.”
“Iam.Honestly.IjustfinishedmyrevisionanditwassogorgeousoutandNoahwasgettingscratchyforhisnapandIjustthoughthowniceitwouldbetogetoutandaboutforawhileandItotallyforgotitwasWednesday.”
“YouforgotitwasWednesday.”Hegroansandrollshiseyes.“Andherewegoagain.JustwhenIthoughtwewerefinallygettingsomewhere,thatyouwerefinallytakingthisseriously.Ishouldhaveguessed.Thisisjustlikeajoketoyou,isn’tit?This.”Hegesturesbetweenthetwoofthem.“Me.You.Noah.Justagame.Youknow,Isometimesfeellikeifsomethingbettercamealong,you’djustwalkawayfromNoahandme,youknow,likeyoudon’tgiveashitaboutanyoneapartfromyourself.”
Tallulahswallowsdownaburstofrage.TheideaofwalkingawayfromNoahismonstrous,unimaginable.Shetipsherheadslightlyandsays,“Whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“Yes.Whatever.You’veclearlymadeyourmindupaboutmeandwhatsortofpersonIamandwhatIwantanddon’twant.AndIcan’tbebotheredarguingwithyou.”Shesighs.“I’mgoingtogetmyselfacupoftea,”shesays,turningtowardthekitchen.“Wantanything?”
Heshakeshisheadfirmlyandsheseesamuscleinhischeekpulsingwithanger.
“Oh,”shecallsbacktohim,“bytheway.IbumpedintoKeziahjustnow.RememberKeziah,whoIwenttoprimaryschoolwith?She’sinvitedmetoagirls’night,areunionthing,attheDucks.Tomorrownight.You’reallrightstayinginwithNoah,aren’tyou?”
There’sadullsilencefromthelivingroomandTallulahholdsherbreath.
AmomentlaterZachisinthedoorwayofthekitchen,flexingandunflexinghisfists.“Sorry,”hesays.“Keziahwho?”
“KeziahWhitmore.Iwenttoprimaryschoolwithher.Sheworksattheco-opnow.”
“Right.So.Let’sgetthisstraight.Afterknowingyoufornearlyfiveyears,I’veneverheardofthispersonbeforeandnowyou’rejustgoingfordrinks.”
“Yes,”shesays,closingthefridgedoor.“Tomorrownight.”
“Andhowareyougoingtopayforthat?”
Sheshrugs.“Idon’tknow.Mumwillprobablyletmehavesomemoney.”
“Sohere’sme,workingmy-fucking-selftodeath,dayin,dayout,neverspendapennyonanything,notafuckingpenny.Single-handedlytryingtogetusaplacetolive,andyou’rejustgoingtothepubwithsomeslagcalledKeziahwhoI’veneverevenfuckingheardof.”
“Idon’taskyoutoworksohard,”sherepliesevenly.“Idon’texpectyounottospendanymoneyonanything.Idon’ttellyouyoucan’tgoout.And,frankly,Idon’tevenwantustobuyaflat.IlikelivingherewithMum.”
Sheglancesathimbriefly.Shecanseetheclenchedjawstarttogrind.
“I’msorry?”
“Idon’twanttomoveout.Iwanttostayhere,withMum.”
Hegrunts.“Christ,youaresuchafuckingchild,Tallulah.Youstillhaven’tgrownup,haveyou?Youstillthinklifeisallswanningabout,doingwhatyoulike,goingtothepub,hangingoutwithMummy.Well,it’snot.Wehaveachild.Wehaveresponsibilities.We’renotkidsanymore,Tallulah.It’stimetogrowthefuckup.”Heloomsoverhernowandshecanfeeltheheatofhisbreathonherface.
“Ithinkyoushouldmoveout,”shesays.
Atautsilencefollows.
“What?”
“Ithinkweshouldsplitup.Idon’twanttobewithyouanymore.”
Tallulah’sgazestaysonthefloorbutshecanfeelZach’sragecoalescingintheairaroundher.
Anotherdrawn-outsilencefollowsandTallulahwaits.Waitstobehit,waitstobescreamedat,waitsfortheangerthatexistssoclosetothetightseamsofZach’spsychefinallytoburstthrough.Butitdoesn’t.Afterafewsecondsshefeelshispresencesoftenandshrink,seeshisshouldersslope,andthenheisgone.Shefollowshimintothehallway.HeisleaningoverNoah’ssleepingforminhisbuggyandwhisperingtohim.Tallulahfeelsaterriblechillrunthroughallofher.Shemovescloserandwatches,herbodyprimedandreadytodowhateverittakestoprotectNoahfromZach.ShehearstheclickofthesafetyharnessbeingunclippedandwatchesasZachcarefullyplucksNoahfromhisbuggyandliftshimtowardhisshoulder.Noahdoesn’tstir;heisheavywithsleep.HisbigheadflopsgentlyintothecrookofZach’sneckandZachkisseshimsoftlyonhiscrown.
HiseyesmeetTallulah’soverthetopoftheirchild’sheadandhesays,inavoicehardwithresolve,“Iamnotgoinganywhere,Tallulah,Iamnotgoingfuckinganywhere.”
38
SEPTEMBER2018
Sophiesitsatherdeskinthehallwayofthecottagebythefrontdoor.Theweirdburning-petrolsmellinthehallwaythat’sbeentheresincetheymovedinhasfinallystartedtofadeandshe’smovedherworkareaherewherethewindowoverlooksthecollegegroundssoshecanwatchthecomingsandgoingsintheschool.Shauntoldherlastnightwhatthedetectiveshadfoundburiedintheflowerbedoutsidetheaccommodationblock;hesaiditwasaleverofsomekind,apieceofmetalwithahandleandabenttip,veryold,apparently.Nobodyknowswhatitisorwhyitwasburiedthereorbywhom.It’satotalmystery.
Butthere’sanothermysterypreyingonSophie’smind.
ThecardboardsignhadbeenspottedbyLexieMulligan,Kerryanne’sdaughter,justhoursaftershereturnedhomefromatriptoFlorida.Sheclaimstohaveseenitwhilestandingonhermother’sterrace,vaping.Earliertoday,SophiehadgoneforawalkaroundtheaccommodationblockandstaredupwardtoKerryanneMulligan’sterraceandfeltajoltinthepitofherstomachatthestarkrealizationthattheterracewasfartoolowdowntoseeacrosstheflowerbedtothespotwherethecardboardsignhadbeenleft,andshe’dknownimmediatelythat,forsomereason,Lexiehadbeenlying.
SophieflipsopenthelidofherlaptopnowandgooglesLexieMulligan.SheclicksthelinktoherInstagramaccount,whichiscalled@lexiegoes.Lexielooksverydifferentinherphotosfromhowshelooksinreallife.Inreallifesheisattractivebuthasacertainflatnesstoherfeatures,alackofdelicacy,butintheseshotsshelookslikeamodel.Theresheisinablacksatindressinggownprintedwithroses,cross-leggedandsippingacocktailonherFloridabalconywiththebackdropofaheart-shapedswimmingpool.Theaccompanyingtextisathinlyveiledpromotionforthehotelandisfullofhashtagsrelatingtothehotelanditsparentcompany.SophieglancesatthetopofthepageandseesthatLexiehas72,000followers.Sheassumesthatthehotelwasafreebieasrecompenseforthepublicityandsheassumesthatwiththatmanyfollowers(Sophieherselfhas812)LexiemustgetlotsoffreebiesandlotsofpayoutsfromthebusinessesshepromotesandshewonderswhyagrownwomanwithwhatlookslikeagreatcareerisstilllivingwithhermuminatinyflatinaboardingschoolinSurrey.
AsshethinksthissheglancesagainthroughthewindowandseesLexieherselfstridingacrossthecampus.She’swearingpatternedleggingsandablackhoodieandherhairisintwoplaits.Shehasacarrierbagthatlooksliketheonestheygiveyouattheco-opandshelooksamillionmilesfromthegirlintheInstagramposts.Sophiewatchesherassheheadstowardtheaccommodationblock.AfewminuteslatersheseesthedooropenontoKerryanne’sterraceandLexieappearswithamugoftea.Shegazesoutacrossthecampusandintothewoodsbeyondforamoment,beforeturningandheadingbackindoors.
Forsomereasonthereissomethingunsettlingaboutthewayshedoesthis,somethingstrangelyforensic.SophieglancesdownatLexie’sInstagramfeedagainandscrollsdownwardanddownward,throughCuba,Colombia,Quebec,SaintBart’s,Copenhagen,Belfast,theHebrides,Beijing,Nepal,Liverpool,Moscow.HerheadspinswiththebreadthofLexie’straveling.Shekeepsscrollinguntilshegetstosomethingmorefamiliar:it’sLexieinfrontofthebeautifulmaindoorstotheschool.Behindherthelightfromthestainedglassinthereceptionareafallsintocoloredpuddlesonthetiledfloor.She’swearinganankle-lengthfake-furcoatandagreenwoolenhatwithafurrybobble.Byhersideisapairofhugesuitcases.Thecaptionsays,Homesweethome
Sophiedoesadoubletake.ShescrollsthroughthecommentsandseesthatLexie’sfollowersareundertheimpressionthatthesearethedoorstoherhouse.Thatthisisherhome.AndLexiedoesnothingtocorrectthesemisapprehensions.Sheletsherfollowersbelievethatyes,thisiswhereshelives.
Sophieseesacommentfrom@kerryannemulligan:
Andyourmummyissohappytohaveyouback!
Sheblinks.KerryanneappearstobesupportingtheillusionthatLexielivesinaGeorgianmansion.
She’sabouttostartscrollingdeeperintoLexie’sfeedwhenshehearsaknockatthebackdoor.Sheclosesherlaptopandwalksthroughthecottage.Shecallsouthello.
“Hi,Sophie,it’sme,Liam.”
Sophie’sbreathcatches.“Oh,”shesays.“Hi.Justoneminute.”
Shechecksherreflectioninthewallmirrorandpullsherhairawayfromherface.ThensheopensthedoorandgreetsLiamwithasmile.
Hestandsbeforeherclutchinganovelinhishands.
Sheglancesdownandseethatitisherbook,thefirstoftheseries,theoneshewrotewhenshewasstillateachingassistant,theoneshehadnoideaanyonewouldeveractuallyread.Andnowhereitis,beingheldinthegood,stronghandsofahandsomeboycalledLiam,andherwords,sherealizeswithajolt,havebeeninsidehishead.
“I’mreallysorrytodisturbyou,”Liamsays,breakingintohertrainofthought,“butIfinishedyourbook,lastnight.AndIjust—Ilovedit.Imean,Ireally,reallylovedit.AndIjustwondered,ifyouhadaminute,I’dlovetoaskyouaquestionaboutit.ButIcancomebackanothertimeifyou’rebusy?”
Shestaresathimforasecond;thensheshakesherheadalittleandsays,“Oh.Thankyou.Iwasn’texpecting…Imean,yes,sorry.Pleasecomein.”
Hefollowsherintothekitchenandpatsthespineofherbookagainstthepalmofhisfreehandacoupleoftimes.“Iwon’tkeepyou.Ijust,er…Butyourbook,therewassomethingIwantedtoaskyou.SusieBeets.Issheyou?”
Sophieblinks.It’snotthequestionshewasexpecting.
“Imean,”hecontinues,“youhavethesameinitials.Andshe’sblondandinherthirtiesandcomesfromSouthLondonandusedtobeaschoolteacher.”
“No,”shesays.“No.She’snotme.She’smorelikeareallygoodfriend.OrthesisterIneverhad.”It’sastockanswer,butshecontinues:“Ifanything,Tigerhasmoreofmypersonalitytraitsandopinionsinhim.”
“Really?”saysLiam,hisfacelightingup.“Wow.That’ssointeresting.Because,Idon’tknow,IfeltlikeIwasreadingaboutyou,whenIpicturedeverythinginmyhead;IjustsawyoudoingeverythingthatSusiedoes.Evendowntoyourshoes.”
“Myshoes?”
Theybothglancedownatherfeet.She’swearingwhitetrainers,asshenearlyalwaysdoes.
“Imean,youneverdescribehershoes,butIpicturedherinwhitetrainers.Becausethat’swhatyouwear.”
Sophiedoesn’tquiteknowhowtorespond.“DoInotdescribehershoes?”sheasks.
Liamshakeshishead.“No.Never.”
“Well,”shesays,slightlybreathlessly.“Thankyouforpointingthatout.NexttimeIdescribewhatshe’swearingIwillputinadescriptionofhershoes,justforyou.”
“Seriously?”hesays.
“Yes.Seriously.”
“Wow.Andwhichbookwouldthatbein?Areyouwritingonenow?”
Sheglancesbehindhertowardherlaptoponthedeskinthehallway.“Well,technically,yes.ButIhaven’twrittenawordsinceImovedhere,tobetruthful.Despitemybestintentions.”
“Writer’sblock?”
“Well,no,notstrictly.Writer’sblockisaseriouspsychologicalmalaise.Itcanlastforyears.Foreverinsomeparticularlytragiccases.”
“Sowhydoyouthinkyouhaven’tbeenabletowrite?”
“Oh,”shesays.“Lotsofreasons.Butmainly,Ithink,becauseoffindingthatring.Andnowalltheotherstuffgoingon.”
Liamnods.“It’sallabitfreaky,isn’tit?”Hetapsherbookagainstthepalmofhisotherhandagainandstepsfromonefoottoanother.Heseemsalittleanxious.“Iguessit’llallbecomecleareventually.Iwonderwhatthey’lluncovernext.Maybethere’ssomeoneoutthere,asI’mtalkingtoyou,buryinganotherlittlesurpriseforsomeonetouncover.”
“LikeEastereggs.”
“Yes,”hesays.“Isupposetheyare.Ijust…”Hestopstappingthebookandrubsthebackofhisneckwithhisfreehand.“Ijustdon’tgetit.Idon’tgetanyofit.Ifsomeoneknowswhathappenedtothosekids,thenwhythehelldon’ttheyjustgotothepoliceandtellthem?”
“Becausemaybetheyhadsomethingtodowithit?”
Sheseeshimshudderslightly.“Freaksmeout,”hesays.“Reallyfreaksmeout.Anyway…”Heappearstoresethimself.“I’dbetterletyougeton.Ijustwantedtoaskyouthat.AboutSusieBeets.Abouttheshoes.”Hetapsthebookonemoretimeagainsthishandandthenturnsandheadstowardthebackdoor.
Afterhe’sgone,Sophiegoesbacktoherdeskandsitsforawhile,imagininghandsomeLiam,aloneinhisroom,readingherbook.Shetriestorememberthecontentofthebook,butcan’t.ShegoestoherbedroomtofindthepackingboxthathasherP.J.Foxbooksinit.Sheslicesthroughthetapeandburrowsthroughthecontentsuntilshefindstheoneshe’slookingfor:thefirstintheseries.Perchedontheedgeofthebed,sheflicksthroughthepages,skimmingthemwithhereyes.Andthat’swhensheseesit.Thethingthat’sbeenhoveringinhersubconscioussincethedayshearrived.Sheflattensthetwosidesofthebookandshereads:
Susieopenedthecreakygateandpeeredupanddownthehighstreet.Itwasjustgettingdarkandthewetpavementswereglowingwarmamberinthestreetlight.Shepulledthesidesofherfurrycoattogetheracrossherbodyandwasabouttoheadbackoutintothenightwhenshesawsomethingfromthecornerofhereye,intheflowerbedtoherleft.Itwasaflapofcardboard,nailedtothewoodenfence.Inblackmarker,someonehadscribbledthewords“DigHere,”withanarrowpointingdownwardintothesoil…39
MAY2017
Zachsitsontheedgeofthebed,watchingTallulahgetreadytogotothepub.
“Thisisfuckingridiculous,”hesays.
“Canyoustopwatchingme,please.”
“Imean,forfuck’ssake.It’snotasifthesepeoplewouldevennoticeifyoudidn’tshowup.Theywouldn’tevencare.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
“Becausepeopledon’tcare.Everyonegoesaroundthinkingthey’rethecenterofthefuckinguniverseandthatpeoplemissthemwhentheydon’tcometothings,butnobodygivesashit.”
“So,ifyoudidn’tturnupforfootballoneSunday,youthinknobodywouldnotice?”
“That’sdifferent.That’sateam.Youneedacertainnumberforateam.Youdon’tneedacertainnumbertositinthefuckingpub.”
Tallulahdoesn’treply.Shefocusesinsteadonrearrangingherearrings,exchangingtheplainsilverstudsandhoopsshenormallywearsforafancysetofearringsthatlooptogetheronchainsfromthetopofhereardowntothelobes.They’resimilartothesortsofearringsthatScarlettwears.
“Whatthehellisthat?”
SheglancesatZach’sreflectioninthemirrorwitheringly,butdoesn’trespond.“Aren’tyougoingtogiveNoahhisbathnow?”shesays.“It’sgettinglate.”
“I’mprettysurethatyoudon’tgettodictateourschedulesinceyou’renotevengoingtobehere.”
Tallulahrollshereyes.“Ican’tbelieveyou’remakingsuchafussaboutmeleavingthehouse.”
“It’snotyouleavingthehousethat’stheissue.Youleavethehouseallthefuckingtime.It’syouspendingmoney.Whenwe’retryingtosaveup.”
Sheturnsandstaresathim.“Itoldyou,”shesays.“Idon’twanttomoveout.Idon’twanttobuyaflat.Iwanttostayhere.”
“Yeah,well,I’mnotparticularlyinterestedinwhatyouwantordon’twant.Thisisn’taboutyou.It’saboutNoah.”
“Noahdoesn’twanttogoandliveinaboxonthesideofanAroadeither.Hewantstostayhere.It’slovelyhere.Thecountrysideonourdoorstep.There’sthenurseryjustacrossthecommon.Hisnana.Hisuncle.Yourmum.”
There’sabeatofsilence.Henarrowshiseyesather.“Youknowmymumdoesn’teventhinkNoahismine.”
Tallulahfreezes.
“Shereckonsyou’rejustusingmeformoney.Andyouknowwhat,whenIthinkaboutit,she’sgotapoint.Imean,allthosemonthswhenyoudidn’twantmeanywherenearyou.Allthosemonthswhereyoujustkeptmeatarm’slength—”
“YoudumpedmewhenIwaspregnant,”sheinterjectsthroughbaredteeth.
“Andwhydoyouthinkthatwas?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Youtellme.”
“BecauseIdidn’tbelieveyou.DidI?Ididn’tbelieveyouwerereallypregnant;Ithoughtyouwerejusttryingtotrapme.BecauseweweresocarefulandIknewwe’dbeencarefulandIcouldn’tseehowitcouldhavehappenedandthenIstartedtothink,allthosetimesyousaidyouwererevisingforyourAlevels,allthosetimesyouweretoobusytoseeme.Ijustthought,youknow,Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifyouwereoffwithsomeoneelse.Andthatthat’showyougotpregnant.Becauseitcan’thavebeenme.”
“SoyoudumpedmebecauseyouthoughtIwaspregnantwithsomebodyelse’sbaby?”
“Yeah.Basically.”
“JesusChrist.”
“ButthenIsawyououtandaboutwiththebabyandyoulookedsohappyandsobeautifulandthebabywasjust,like,themostbeautifulbabyI’deverseenandIthought—”Hisvoicestartstocrack.“Ithought,well,Iwouldn’tbefeelingthatwayifitweren’tmine.IthoughtI’dknow.I’dknowifheweresomeoneelse’s.AndeverytimeIsawhimIjustfellmoreandmoreinlovewithhim,andeventhoughhedoesn’treallylooklikeme,Icouldjusttellthathewasmine.Youknow?Like,inhere.”Hebangshischestwithhisfist.“Mine.AndIthinkmymum’swrong.Imean,Iknowshe’swrong.Becauseheis.Isn’the?Noahismine?”
Zach’seyesarefilledwithtears.Helooksdesperateandpathetic.ForamomentTallulah’sheartfillswithakindofpitifulloveforhimandshefindsherselfmovingtowardwherehesitsontheedgeofthebedandputtingherarmsaroundhisneckandwhisperingintohisear,“God,ofcoursehe’syours,ofcourseheis.He’syours.Ipromisehe’syours.”
Andhisarmsreacharoundherandpullhertightertowardhimandshefeelsthewetnessofhistearsagainsthercheekandhesays,“Please,Lules,pleasedon’tgoouttonight.Pleasestayhome.I’llgooutandgetusabottleofwine.AndsomeDoritos.Justyouandme.Please.”
TallulahthinksofKeziahandherweirdlittlegangoflocalfriends,allsoalientoherwiththeirbarelybegunlivesandtheirsafelittlejobs,stillwaitingforboyfriendsandbabiesasifthatwasalltherewastolife.Shethinksofthemallstaringatherlikeanexhibitatazoo,talkingaboutmotherhoodandcohabitationasifitwasanendgoal,ratherthanaplaceyoumightfindyourselfbyaccident.ShepicturesthemsittingprimlyonthevelvetsofasattheSwan&Ducks,sippingcheapproseccoandlaughinginhigh-pitchedvoicesatthingsthataren’tparticularlyfunny,andthenshethinksofdrinkingwinewithZach,ofcapitalizingonthisraremomentofsoftnessafteralltheseweeksofhardedgesandcuttingcomments,ofpullingZachbackfromthebrink,persuadinghimthathecouldmovebacktohismum’s,thattheycouldjustco-parent,amicably,justasthey’ddonebeforehemovedin.Shethinks,iftheycanbenicetoeachothertonight,maybetheycanmoveontoaplacewherenooneisangryandeveryonegetswhattheywant.Andwhattheybothwant,morethananything,isNoah.AndmaybeZachwilllearntoacceptthatthisisenough,thathedoesn’tneedTallulahtoo,thathedoesn’tneedanuclearfamily,thatthereareothergirlsouttherewhowilllovehimforwhatheisandnotjustputupwithhimforthesakeofhappyfamilies,girlswhowouldwantafuturewithhim,whowouldwanttohavesexwithhimmorethanonceaweek—girlswhoaren’tintogirls.
Soshenodsherheadagainsthisfaceandsays,“Yes.Let’sdothat.It’llbegood.I’llsendKeziahatextnow.Wecanstayin.Wecanstayin.”
40
SEPTEMBER2018
Thefollowingmorning,SophiestaysinbedwhileShaungetsupandreadyforwork.Shehasnotsleptwell.She’snervousaboutthechildrencomingtonight.Shaun’sex,Pippa,isbringingthem,andthere’llbeanawkwardhandovertodealwith.Sheknowsthetwinswillbefine,theyarerobustanduncomplicatedchildren,mainly,shesuspects,becausetheyaretwins.Butshe’sstillstressedabouthavingtoplaymotherfortwonightsandtwodays,havingtofocusonsomeoneelseafterallthesedaysofhavingherheadinthemysteriousdisappearanceofTallulahandZach.It’sforecasttorainfortheentireweekend,whichmeansthatallthelovelythingsshethoughttheymightdotogetherarenotgoingtohappenandthey’llbestuckindoorsorhavingpublunchesacrossthecommon.ButmainlyshehasnotsleptbecauseofherchillingencounterwithLiamthepreviousdayandtherevelationofthepassageinherownbook.
Afterhe’dleftshespentsometimeonInstagramsearchingforhimandfinallyfoundhisaccounttwentydown;hisprofilephotowasapictureofhisfaceandhisprofilenamewas@BoobsBailey.Hehadveryfewposts,onlyabouttwentyorthirty.ButonehadjumpedoutatSophie.AphototakeninJune2017.ItappearedtohavebeentakeninthesmallcourtyardgardenatthebackoftheSwan&Ducks;Sophierecognizedthebigwrought-ironclockthathangsonthewalloutthere.ThephotowasofLiamandScarlettandLexie.TheyallhadtheirarmsaroundoneanotherandScarletthadhertongueout,aflashofsilverpiercingasitcaughtthesun.UnderneathLiamhadwrittenthewordBeauties
LiamandLexie,itappeared,werefriends.
TheposthadsevenlikesandSophieclickedittoseeifanywerefrompeoplesheknew.OnewasfromKerryanneMulligan,anotherfromsomeonecalled@AmeliaDisparue.Sheclickedonthisandbroughtupapageforayounggirlwithfineblondhairandanelfinface.HerbiodescribedherasSkinny,Mini,Lostinthemiddleoff***ingnowhere
Herfeedconsistedofafewstrangelyabstractshotsoflandscapesandthelastpostwasdated16June2017.Sophie’shearthadskippedabeat.Adarkshimmerofunderlitpoolwater,ahintofhot-pinkflamingo,ahandjustoutofshotcuppedaroundalitcigarette,theblurredoutlinesoffiguresbehindhuddledtogetherunderathrow.Sheclickedontheimageandzoomedinonit,butitwasimpossibletotellwhothepeopleinthebackgroundwere.Thephotohadnocaptionandnolikesandnocomments.Ithungsuspendedthere,likeanemptythoughtbubble,withoutcontextormeaning.Butitwas,Sophiewassureofit,atantalizingfragmentofthenightZachandTallulahwentmissing.
She’dbecomedistractedthenbyaflurryofactivityinherinbox,alwaysthewayatthattimeoftheday,aspeoplewhoworkedinofficestieduplooseendsbeforeleavingforhome.AndthenShaunhadreturned.Thatnightinbedherheadhadspunwithdisparatepiecesofinformation,dissonantfeelingsaboutthekeyplayersandunansweredquestions.Shedreamedaboutthepool,aboutinflatableflamingosandweirdmetalleversandLiamBaileyscribblingonhertrainerswithapinkhighlighterpenandtellingherthatsheneededtoshaveherlegs.
Nowshesitsinbed,scrollingthroughherphonemindlessly.Shehasafooddeliverycomingatten,lotsofgoodhealthystuffforthetwins,somewine,sometreats—whichthetwinswilllookatinaweandwonderasiftheyhadneverseenchocolatericecakesbefore—andextramilkforallthecereal.Apartfromthat,herdayisfree.SheshouldpackforDenmark.She’sleavingfirstthingonMondaymorning;shehasacarcomingtotakehertoGatwickatfourthirtyinthemorningandthechildrenwillbehereuntilearlyeveningonSunday.Sheshouldusethedaywiselyandsensiblytoclearheremailinbox,getreadyforhertrip,andberelaxedforthechildren’sarrival
Butshecanfeelitinsideherlikeastrangepieceofmusiconrepeat,theneedtokeepdigging,bothliterallyandmetaphorically.Shegoogles“AmeliaDisparue.”AgirlcalledMimiwastheonlyotherpersonatDarkPlacethatnight,apartfromLiam,Lexie,andScarlett’smother.LikeScarlettandherfamily,Mimihasalsoerasedheronlinepresence.DisparueisFrenchfor“Disappeared,”andMimi,thinksSophie,couldbeanabbreviationofAmelia.
ThesearchresultsbringupaYouTubeaccountforsomeonecalledMimiMelia.Sheclicksonit.
Immediatelyshesitsboltuprightinbed.
On-screenisthesameyoungwomanwiththefineblondhairandelfinface.Sheappearstobeinabedroom.Sheadjuststheangleofthecamerashe’susingtorecordherselfandthensays,“Hi,guys,welcometomychannel.MynameisAmelia.OrMimi.Oranythingyoulike,really,atthispoint,whoreallycares.Iwasgoingtotalktoyoualltodayaboutmystruggleswithceliacdisease.Butassomeofyouknow,Ihavehadanotherstruggleinmylifeforthepastyear,fifteenmonths.Post-traumaticstresscausedbyanincidentlastsummerthatIhavehithertonotspokenaboutinordertoprotectsomeoneveryclosetome.ButIhaverecentlydiscoveredthatthatpersonisnotthepersonIthoughttheywereand…”Shepausesthenandhergazeleavesthecameraandhoverssomewheretowardthebottomofthescreen.She’swearingawhitevesttopandherarmsareverypaleandthin.
Hereyescomebacktothecamera.“Well,”shebegins.“Ican’tsaytoomuch.Infact,Ican’tsayanything.But…”Shepausesfordramaticeffect.“…thethingthatcannotbenamedlookslikeitmightfinally,finally,finally”—shecrossestwopairsoffingers—“beabouttospillitsguts.Andjustyouwait,justyouwaituntilitdoes.”Shemakesherhandsintotwofists,sidebyside,andthenexplodesthem.“Pyow,”shesays.“Pyow.”
ThenitendsandSophiesits,dumbstruck,herjawhangingslightly.Shewatchesitagain.Thedateonthevideoisyesterday’sdate.
SophiehasnoideaifthisisthegirlcalledMimiwhowastherethenightthatZachandTallulahdisappeared.ButthisgirloncelikedaphotoofLiamandLexieandScarletttakenattheSwan&Ducksandnowsheisdiscussinganeventthathappenedoverayearago,thatshehasnotbeenallowedtodiscussbutthathasleftherwithPTSD.
Sophieturnsoffherphone,jumpsoutofbed,andgetsintheshower.
TwentyminuteslatersheisoutsideKimKnox’shouse.
Kimcomestothedoorholdingamascaratubeinonehandandthewandintheother.Behindher,SophiecanhearKim’sgrandsonshoutingaboutsomething.Kimcloseshereyes,turnsherhead,andsighsbeforeopeningthemagainandstaringstraightatSophie.“Oh,”shesays.“Sorry.IthoughtitwasgoingtobeanAmazondelivery.”
“Sorrytodisturbyousoearly,Kim.Icanseeyou’rebusy,butIjustwantedtoshowyousomething,quickly.Ifyou’vegotaminute?”
“Yeah,sure.Comein.Sorry,it’sallabitchaotic;youknow,mornings.Doyouhavekids?”
“No,”Sophiereplies.“No.Well,stepkids.Sortof.Nottechnicallybutjustabout.They’recomingtostaythisweekendsoIguessI’llbetheoneinchaosthen.”
Kim’shouseislovely,paintedinsoftshadesofgrayandtealandoyster-shellpinkwithsplashesofmadwallpaperwithbirdsofparadiseprintedonthemandcopper-shadedlights.Butit’samess.Thefloorislitteredwithshoesandtoysandemptycardboardboxes.TheTVblaresfromthelivingroomandtheboyisshoutingeverlouder.Inthekitchenhesitsonanaqua-bluechairatawhiteFormica-toppedtableeatingcerealwithaplasticspoon.
“Comeon,Noah,youneedtofinishupnow.Wehavetoleaveintenminutes.”
“No,”heshouts.“Nonursery.”Hethrowshisplasticspoondownontothetable,whereitsplattersmilkeverywhere.Kimgrabsadampclothfromthesinkandwipesupthespills,beforeremovingtheboy’scerealbowlandcarryingittowardthedishwasher.
“No!”theboyyells.“No.Giveitback!”
“OK,”saysKim.“Butyouhavetopromisetoeatitupniceandfast.OK?”
Henodssolemnlyandshereplacesthebowlinfrontofhim,whereuponheslidesitslowlyanddeliberatelyacrossthetableuntilitisnearlyhangingofftheedge.Kimgrabsitjustbeforeitfalls,whisksitawayfromhim,andsays,“Sorry.That’syourlastchance.Nowyouneedtofinishyourjuiceandweneedtogetreadytogo.”
“No,”heshouts.“Notgoing.”
“Icancomebacklater,ifyou’drather,”saysSophie.
Kimsighs.“Canyoujusttellmewhatitis?”
“Iwasjustlookingthroughsocialmedia,”Sophiebeginshesitantly.“ForallthekidswhowereatDarkPlacethatnight.AndIfoundaYouTubechannel,foragirl.She’scalledAmelia,butsheshortensittoMimi.AndIwonderedifmaybeitwasher?”
“Mimi?MimiRhodes?”
“Yes.Andthisgirl,shejustpostedsomethingyesterday,somethingstrange.Iwantedyoutoseeitsoyoucouldtellmeifit’sherornot?Ifit’sMimi?”
“Tellyouwhat,”saysKim.“LetmejustcorralthisoneandI’llmeetyouonthestreet.Wecanwalktothenurserytogether.Ifyouhavetime?”
“Yes.Yes.Ihavetime.Ihaveloadsoftime.I’llseeyouinaminute.”
Sheleavesthehouse,thesoundofKim’sgrandson’sfurioustantrumstillringinginherears.ShewaitsbytheedgeofthecommonforafewminutesandthenfinallyKimappears,herhairinahaphazardbunontopofherhead,black-framedglassesonandnomakeup,pushingthecryingboyinhisbuggy.
He’squietingdownnow,andSophieglancesathimandthenatKimandsays,“EverythingOK?”
Kimnods.“Yes.Wegotthereintheend.Wehavearewardchart.Don’twe,Noah?Andwhatdowegetifwegetuptothetopleveloftherainbow?”
“Legoland!”
“Yes.WegettogotoLegoland.Andhowfaruptheladderarewe?”
“Half.”
“Yes.We’rehalfway.Sowejustneedtokeeptryingtobegood,particularlyinthemornings,sowe’renotlatefornursery.Yes?”
“Yes.”Henods.“Yes.Andthen…Legoland!”
They’rehalfwayacrossthecommon,abouttocircletheduckpond.Sophieturnsonherphoneandsetsthevideotofullscreen,turnsitonitsside,andtheywatchitastheywalk.“Isthather?IsthatMimiRhodes?”
“God.I’mnotahundredpercentsure.Ionlysawheracoupleoftimes,atthepolicestation.Andshehadredhairthen,Ithink,notblond.Butyes,itdoessortoflooklikeher.”
“Mesee?”asksNoah.
ShesighsandsaystoSophie,“Doyoumind?Healwayshastoseeeverything.Everything.”
SophiepassesthephonetoNoah.Hegrabsitandstaresatthegirl.
“Lookssad,”saysNoah,“likesadperson.”
“Yes.Probably,”saysKim.“Sheprobablyis.”
Amomentlatertheyareoutsidethetinyprimaryschool,whichsitsdownasmalllanearoundthebackoftheSwan&Ducks.SmallchildreningrayandblueswarmpastandintothegatesandSophiefeelshersensestwitchwithechoesofherowntimeasaclassroomassistant.Oppositethemaingatesisasmallprefabbuildingsurroundedbyitsownpicketfence.Thisisthenursery.TheyseeNoahthroughthedoorintothecareofayounggirlwithabrightsmileandthentheyturntoeachother.
“Shallwegetacoffee?”asksKim.“AttheDucks?”
“Sure.”
Onceseatedtheywatchthevideotogetherinitsentirety.
“Well,”saysKim.“Ican’tseehowthiscouldnotbeher.Canyousendmethelink?SoIcansendittothedetectiveinchargeofthecase?”
“Sure,letmehaveyournumber.”
ShesendsthelinktoKimviaWhatsAppandtheywaitforittolandinherinboxbeforeputtingdowntheirphones.
“So,you’reinterestedinthecase,then?”saysKim,turninghercoffeecuparoundandaroundinhersaucer.
“Well,yeah.Imean,fromtheminuteIsawthatsignthatsaid‘DigHere,’mycuriositywaspiqued.Idon’tmeantosoundmercenary,butIwritedetectivenovels,soI’mkindofhardwiredtopickuponthingslikethat.Youknow?AndthenwhenKerryannetoldmeaboutpeoplegoingmissing—”
“Kerryanne?KerryanneMulligan?”
“Yes.”Shepauses,realizingthatshe’sjustbetrayedKerryanne’sconfidence.“Itwasprobablyalittleindiscreetofher,butwhenImentionedIwrotedetectivenovels,shementionedthatthere’dbeenacoupleofpolicesearchesinthosewoodslastsummer.SoIwonderedifthesignI’dseennearthewoodshadanythingtodowith…withTallulah.Andthen,well,youknowtherest.Butthereisonething…anoddthing.”
Kimglancesatherandstopsturninghercup.
“Youknowthatstrangeimplementtheyfound?Intheflowerbed?Outsidetheaccommodationblock?”
Kimnods.
“Imean,Icouldbewrong,butthecardboardsign—itdoesn’tlooktomeasifKerryanne’sdaughterwouldhavebeenabletoseeitfromtheedgeofherownterrace.Ican’thelpthinkingthatshewasinsomebodyelse’sroomwhenshesawit.”
“Likewho?”
“LikeLiamBailey?Maybe?”SheshowsherthephotoofLiamandLexieinthegardenattheDucks.“Look,”shesays.“They’refriends.Ididn’trealize.Somaybeshewasinhisapartment,nothers,whenshesawit.Ijustthink…”Shepauses,becausereally,shedoesn’tknowwhatshethinks.“Ijustthoughtmaybe,ifyouweretalkingtothedetective,maybeyoucouldmentionittohim?Justincasetheyhaven’tthoughtofitthemselves.WhichI’msuretheyhave.Imean,theymusthave.”
Kimnodsagain.Thenshesays,“Whyissomeonedoingthistome?”
Sophieflinchesattherawnessofhervoice.
“Whyissomeonenottellingmewhattheyknow?Whyaretheybeingsocruel?Andthisgirl,thisMimi.She’sobviouslybeentalkingtosomeoneinthevillage.It’stheonlywayshecouldpossiblyhaveknownaboutwhat’sbeenhappeninghere.Soitmustbethepersonwho’sbeenleavingtheclues.Anditdoesn’tmakeanysense.Itjustdoesn’tmakeanysensethathalfthepeoplewhoweretherethatnighthavedisappearedintothinairandtheotherhalfarestillhereandforsomeunknownreasonareleadingusallupthefuckinggardenpath.”
Hervoicehasgrownlouderandthewomanbehindthebarlooksacrossatthem.“YouOK,Kim?”shecalls.
Kimnodsandsighs.“I’mfine,”shesays.“I’mfine.”Shetakesherphoneandputsitintoherhandbag.“I’lltalktoDomaboutthevideo.Seewhatelsehe’sgottotellme.”
“Dom?”
“Thedetective.”
“Ah.”Sophiesmiles.“Therealdetective.”
Kimsmilestoo.“Yeah.Therealdetective.”Thenshesays,“AndI’msorry,Idon’treallyread.InfactIhaven’treadabooksinceIwasaboutnineteen.SincebeforeTallulahwasborn.OtherwiseI’daskwhatyourbooksarecalled.ButIwouldn’thaveheardofthemanyway.”
SophiethinksbrieflyoftellingKimaboutthepassageinherownbookthatsomeoneseemstobecopycatting,thebookthatLiamBaileybroughtintoherhomeyesterday,tap-tappingitsspineagainstthepalmofhishandinawaythatnowfeelsvaguelysinister,butshedecidesagainstit.Therevelationwilltakeawayfromherimpartiality,theimpartiality,shefeels,thatiskeytoKimtrustingher.
“No,”saysSophie,withareassuringsmile.“No.Probablynot.”
41
MAY2017
ScarlettisheadingfromtheartblocktowardTallulah.Shehasasmallportfolioclutchedagainstherchestandshelookslikeshe’sonamission.
Tallulahturnsandjumpsintoashadow,butit’stoolate,Scarlett’sseenher.Shestridestowardher,grabsherbyherarm,andpullshergentlyontoapathwaybehindtheartblock.
“Well?”Scarlettasks,hereyeswidewithdesperation.“Didyoudoit?Didyoufinishit?Whathappened?AreyouOK?”
Tallulahlowershergazetowardherfeet.It’sdankanddampbehindtheblock;thetarmacpathisgreenwithmildewandmoss.
“I’mfine,”shesays.“I’mworkingonit.IknowwhatI’mdoing.”
Scarlettpeersdownatherindisbelief.“OhGod,”shesays.“Youchickenedout,didn’tyou?Fuck,Tallulah.Whathappened?”
“Ijust…Idon’tknow.Imean,ItoldhimIwantedtosplitup.ItoldhimIdidn’twanttolivewithhimanymore,didn’twanttomoveinwithhim,didn’twanttobewithhim,andIthoughthewasgoingtoshout,scream,youknow,buthedidn’t.He…”Sheshuddersatthememory.“Hejustpickedthebabyupandheldhim,likethis,rightnexttohisface,andsaidhewasn’tgoingfuckinganywhere.Anditfeltlike—itfeltlikeathreat.Youknow?Likehe’dhurtNoahifImadehimleave.AndsoIjustleftit,youknow,Ididn’twanttopushhim.Andthenlastnight…”Shedrawsinherbreath.“Iwasmeanttobegoingtothepub,andhestartedcrying,sayinghowscaredhe’dbeenthatNoahwasn’thisandhowmuchheloveshim,andsoIdidn’tgotothepub,Istayedinandwejusttalked,allnight.Youknow?Wehadsomewineandwejusttalked,likewehaven’ttalkedforsolong.AndItoldhimhowIfeelandhowIdon’twanttobeinacouplewithhimanymore,butthatIdowanttoraiseNoahwithhim,andheseemedtotakeitreallywell.”
“So,he’smovingout?”
Tallulahshiftsawkwardlyfromonefoottotheother.“No.Well,notyet,anyway.Hesayshe’sgoingtobuyaflat,evenifwedon’tlivethere,sohe’sgotsomewheretohaveNoahonhisown,youknow.Becausehereallydoesn’twanttomovebackinwithhismum,andtobefair,Idon’tblamehimbecausehismum’snotveryniceandhisdad’satotalcreep,soIsaidhecanstay,justuntilhe’sgotaplaceofhisown.”
“Stay—inyourbed?”
“Well,yeah.Butit’sfine.We’lljustputacushiondownthemiddle.Youknow,it’snobigdeal.Imean,we’vebeentogethersincewewerefourteen.Sincewewere,like,kids.Anditwon’tbeforlong.He’salreadysavedupsomuchmoney.Itshouldn’tbemorethanafewweeks.”
“AndwhataboutyourWednesdayafternoons?Willyoustillbe,youknow…?”
“No,”saysTallulahdefiantly.“No.That’snotgoingtohappenanymore.Purelyplatonic.Purelyco-parents.Justforafewmoreweeks.Andthenhe’llgo.”
“Andthen?”
Tallulahlooksatherquestioningly.
“Thenwhat?Whenhe’sgone?Willyouandme,youknow?Canwe…?”
Tallulahsighs.“Ican’tjustjumpintosomething.Andyou’restillstraight,orbi,orwhateveritisthatyouare.Stillmuckingaboutwithboys.I’vegotababytothinkaboutandifIwasgoingtogetintosomethingwithyou,itwouldhavetobeserious.AndIdon’tthinkyou’recapableofthat.Ireallydon’t.”
SheseesScarlettflinchatthewords,butthenrally.“You’reright,”shesays.“Youare.I’mafuckingmoron.I’vealwaysbeenamoron.ButIcanchange.”Shesaysthisinahammy,put-onvoice,whichmakesTallulahsmile,butthenshegrowsseriousandputsherhandagainstTallulah’sarm.“I’maknob,Lules,butIcantry.Seriously.Imean,I’mnearlytwenty.I’mnotakidanymore.I’mnotachild.Willyougivemeanotherchance?Please?”
Tallulahpullsawayfromhertouchatthesoundofvoicesnearingthetopofthepath.WhenthevoicespasssheturnsbacktoScarlett.“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Ican’tthinkstraight.IjustneedtodealwithZachfornow.Ineedtogethimoutofmyhouseandgetmylifeback.ThenIcangetmyheadsorted.ButIcan’tdothisrightnow.Ireallycan’t.I’msorry.”
Scarlettnods.“Sure,”shesays.“Igetit.It’sfair.ButI’mgoingtowaitforyou.Iswear.I’mgoingtobelikeanunforyou.I’mgoingtobeliketennunsforyou.Seriously,Lules,justdon’tlethimmanipulateyou.OK?Don’tlethimtrickyouintostayingwithhim.BecauseIreckonhetotallywill.”
“Hewon’t,Iswear.Icantell.Hemeansit.”
ScarlettnarrowshereyesatTallulahandgazesatherskeptically.
“Iswear.”
Scarlettnods,justonce,brushesTallulah’scheekwiththefingertipsofherrighthand,thenturnsandleavesherstandingthere,hertouchonTallulah’sskinleavingbehindaflushofnamelessdread.
42
SEPTEMBER2018
“Hi,Dom.It’sme,”saysKim.“Iwonderedifyou’dhadachancetolookatthelinkIsentyou,tothatgirlonYouTube?”
“No,”hesays.“Notyet.I’mreallysorry.I’lllookatitnowandgetbacktoyou.Butwe’vehadsomegoodmovement.We’vefinallytrackeddownMartinJacques,Scarlett’sfather.Oratleast,we’vegotholdofhisPA,whokeepstellingusthathe’llgetbacktousbuthe’sabittiedupinAbuDhabi.We’restilltryingtotracetherestofthefamily.TheywereinGuernseybutapparentlynobody’sseenthemforacoupleofweeks.Butpleasebelieveme,Kim,we’redoingeverythingwecan.Thingsarehappening.Painfullyslowly,insomecases,I’llgrantyouthat.Butitjusttakessolongtogetanythingdonethesedays,withallthegovernmentcuts,andwhenit’sacoldcase,ittakesevenlonger…”
Whenthebonesarealreadyicycold,Kimthinks.Whenthebloodisdriedhard.Whenit’stoolatetosaveanyone.
“I’mpushingagainstitallashardasIcanforyou,Kim.It’sallI’mdoing.It’sallI’mthinkingabout.Iswear.”
Shehearsacrackofemotioninhisvoiceandfeelsitreverberateintoherownpsyche.Sheswallowsitdownandsays,“Yes.Ofcourse,Dom.Iknowyouare.Iknowyouare.I’mjustso…”
“Yes,”saysDom.“Yes.Iknow.”
There’saheatcontainedwithintheirexchange,createdfromtheenergyofdesperationandlossandfrustrationandmisguidedhope,butalsofromtheintimacythat’sbuiltupbetweenthetwoofthemaseverythingelsehaspeeledawayfromthemandthethingthatunitesthem.
Shesighs.“Thankyou,Dom.Thankyouforeverythingyou’redoing.”
“It’smypleasure,Kim.Always.”
HeendsthecallandKimstandsforamoment,staringthroughthekitchenwindowatthetreesattheendofhergarden.Shethinksoftheskinny,sadgirltalkingtoacamerainaroomsomewhere,agirlwhoknowssomethingaboutthethingsthatarecurrentlytakingplaceatMaypoleHouse.Andthen,clearasthoughitwereactuallyhappening,sheremembersthathotJuneafternoon,walkinguptoDarkPlace,thetrickleofsweatdownherback,RyanrockingNoahinhispushchair,thedropsofpoolwateronScarlett’sshouldercoalescingandcollapsing,thehandsomesonwiththebeersinhishand,thebrittlemotherinthewhitesundress,thewayScarletthadbeenunabletomakeeyecontact,butthenthewayshe’dsaidherdaughter’sname.Lula.Ineveryotherrespectshe’dbeensocoldanddistant,butwhenshesaidTallulah’sname,hervoicehadsoundedthickandheavy,asthoughthenamemeantsomethingtoher.ShethinksaboutthenightthatTallulahsaidshe’dspentatChloe’sbecauseChloewasfeelingsuicidalandwondersagainwhereshe’dbeen.ShethinksofallthoseSundaymorningswhenZachwasplayingfootballandTallulahtookherbikeandwentforarideinthecountryside.Shethinksofhowshewouldreturnwithaglowandaflush,lookingengorgedwithsecrets.SheevenremembersaskingTallulahonce,“Wheredoyouactuallygowhenyougoforyourbikerides?Youalwayslooklikeyou’vejustbeensomewheremagicalwhenyougetback.”
AndTallulahhadsmiledandsaid,“Justaroundthebacklanes,youknow.Wherethere’snotraffic.It’sgorgeous.”
“Anddoyoustop?”she’dasked.“Stopandexplore?”
“Yes,”she’dreplied,busyingherselfwithremovingNoah’sbib.“Istopandexplore.”
Andthere’dbeenarichnessinhertone,thesamerichnessthatshe’dheardinScarlett’svoicewhenshesaidTallulah’sname.Andasshethinksthis,anothermemoryjumpstotheforefrontofhermind,ofScarlett,inhertowel,thepoolwaterfallinginrivuletsfromherwethairandherfingersclaspinghernarrowfeet,andthen,justforthebriefestofmoments,asnatchedviewofasmalltattoojustbelowherankle,thelettersTM,andKimnoticingitonsomesubliminallevelbutalsonotnoticingitbecause,really,whywouldthisgirlshe’dneverheardofbeforehaveherdaughter’sinitialstattooedontoherfoot,andthehandhadslippeddownonceagaintocoverthemarksandKimhadbothseenitandnotseenit,butitwasthereallalong,likeasunspot.
ShegrabsherphoneandfindsSophie’snumberinherWhatsApp.Shetypesheramessageincrediblyquickly.
It’sme,Kim.Areyoubusy?CanItalktoyouaboutsomething?
Immediatelycomesareply.
Notbusyatall.Icantalknow.
43
JUNE2017
ForafewdaysafterthenightthatTallulahandZachdrinkwineandtalk,everythingisfinebetweenthem.Zachischilledandrelaxed.Hecooksdinnerforthem,hebathesNoahandkeepshimentertained,hesitsquietlyathisspreadsheetsplayingaroundwithhisfinanceswithoutconstantlyaskingTallulahtogetinvolved.HegivesTallulahspacetostudyandjusttobe.Atnighttheysleepinherbedwiththebabybetweenthemandhemakesnoattempttobephysicallyaffectionatewithher.Hequietlygetsreadyforworkeverymorningandquietlyreturnseverynightandalliswell.
Then,atthebeginningofJune,justafterNoah’sfirstbirthday,ScarlettmessagesTallulahtoaskhertowaitforheraftercollegesothattheycangetthebushometogether.Theymeetonthepavementjustoutsidecollege.Scarlettishalfwaythroughherend-of-yearexams.She’sbeendoingastilllifefortwowholedays.
“Anartichokeandabone,”shesaysastheystridetogethertowardthebusstop.“Seriously.Ihavespenttwodaysstaringatanartichokeandabone.”
“Whatdotheysymbolize?”
“Like,nothing.JuststuffIpickedupasIleftthehouse.TheboneisToby’s.He’snotimpressed.Buttheylookquitecool.Iputthemonblackvelvetandtheylookkindof,youknow,Dutchmaster-y.”
“When’syourlastexam?”
“Wednesdaynextweek.ThenIhavetohandinmyportfolioonThursdayandthenit’llbeFridayandIamgoingtothepubtogetabsolutelyshit-faced.”
“Whoareyougoingwith?”
“Theusuals.AndmaybeLiam.”ShelooksatTallulahsideways,togaugeherresponse.
ButTallulahjustshrugsandsays,“Whatever.It’snotmybusiness.”
“No,butseriously.Justasfriends.Becausewearejustgoodfriends.Honestly.Whathappenedthatnight,itwasjuststupid.Justastupid,stupidthing,becauseI’mastupid,stupidperson.”
“Scar,it’sfine.Youdon’tneedtoexplain.”
“Yeah,butIdo.Idoneedtoexplain.Ineedtoexplainittomyself,ifanything.I’vealwaysjustbeensucha‘doitfirst,thinkaboutitlater’kindofperson.IneverthinkthroughtheconsequencesofanythingIdo.Look.”Shedrawsinherbreathandturnshardtofaceher.“IknowyouthinkI’vehadthischarmedlifeandthatnothingbadhaseverhappenedtome.Butsomethingbadhashappenedtome.Somethingreallybad.Notlongafteryouandmefirstmet.It’swhyIdroppedoutofcollege.It’swhyIcouldn’tfaceanyoneforsolong.”
Tallulahglancesather,quizzically,andwaitsforhertocontinue.
Scarlettsighsandsays,“Cometothepubwithme?Whenwegetoffthebus?I’lltellyoueverything.”
TheyslideintoaquietcorneroftheSwan&DuckswithaDietCokeforTallulahandahotchocolatewithashotofrumonthesideforScarlett.Thepubisvirtuallyemptyatthistimeoftheday,thesummersunbrightthroughthewindows.AmansitsatthebarwithabeaglespreadoutathisfeetandScarlettpointsatthedogandsays,asshedoesabouteverydogsheeversees,“That’sagooddog.”
“OK,then,”saysTallulah,“I’mreadytohearyourdarkconfession.”
Scarlettwrigglesslightly.“Ican’tbelieveI’mgoingtotellyouthis.You’regoingtohatememorethanyoualreadydo.”
“Idon’thateyou.”
“Whatever.Justpromisemeyouwillnever,evertellanothersoulwhatI’mabouttotellyou.Notever.”
“Iswear.”
“Seriously.Never.”
“Never.”
Scarlettblinksslowlyandcomposesherself.“Earlylastsummer,”shebegins,“atthebeginningoftheholidays,Iwaskindofalonealot.Liamhadgonebacktohisfarm.MumwasbackandforthfromLondon.EveryonewasawayandIwasreallyboredandreallylonely.Imean,really,reallylonely.AndonedayIwentintoschool”—shepointsattheMaypoleacrossthecommon—“justtogoandsayhitoLexieMulligan.BecauseIwassodesperateforsomeonetotalkto.Itookthedogandwewentthroughthewoods.Itwasareallystunningday.Iwaswearing,like,aslipdressandbootsandIwassweatinghot,evenintheshadeofthetrees.AndthenIrealizedtherewasamancomingtheotherwayandIfeltabitscared,abitlikeIwishedIhadafuckingRottweilerinsteadofLordDrool-a-lot,andthatIwaswearingmoreclothes.ButthenhegotabitcloserandIrealizedIrecognizedhim.Hewasfamiliar.AndthenIsawhisdogandIknewthatitwasMr.Croft.”
“Mr.Croft?”
“MarriedtoJacintaCroft.Theheadteacher.Youknow,tinyweenywoman,lookslikeaPollyPocketonHRT?”
Tallulahshakesherhead.She’sneverpaidanyattentiontoanythingthathappensatMaypoleHouse.
“You’drecognizeherifyousawher.Anyway,she’smarriedtoGuy.He’skindoftallandbaldandquiet.He’sawebdesigner.Worksfromhome.Looksaftertheirkid.Keepshimselftohimself.AndIswear,I’dneverevennoticedhimproperlybeforethatday.Ionlyrecognizedhimbyhisdog.AblackLab.Nelson.Literally,justtheloveliestdogever.”
Tallulahglancesatthetimeonherphonefromthecornerofhereye.It’snearlyfour.She’dnormallybehomeaboutfourfifteen.ShecanfeelherwindowoffreedomshrinkingasScarletttellsheraboutadogcalledNelson.
“Anyway,soofcourseTobydraggedmeovertosayhellotoNelson,andwhileTobyandNelsonwerechatting,meandMr.Croftstartedchattingtooandhetoldmehewashomealone,thatJacintawasattheirLondonhousewiththeirsonforafewweeks,hewasgoingtojointhemlaterinthesummer,thathehadaprojecttofinish,yadayadayada.AndashewastalkingIcouldseehiseyeskeptgoingtomyboobsandIdon’tknowwhy,becauseitshouldhavebeenascreepyasfuck,butforsomereason,itjustreallyturnedmeon.”
TallulahbangsherglassofCokedownonthetableandcoughsastheliquidhitsthebackofherthroat.“OhmyGod,”shegasps.“Pleasestop.Idon’twanttohearanymore.”
“Iknow,I’msorry.It’sgross.Butbearwithme.Itgetsworse.”
“OhChrist,Scarlett.I’mnotsureIcan.”
“Soyes,wewerechattingaboutreallyboringshitandIwasthinking,Iwanttofuckyou,andIwasprobablyovulatingorsomething,Idunno,butIlookedathimandIthought:Now,doittomenow.And…”
Tallulahputsahandbetweenthemandcloseshereyes.“Honestly.Ican’t.”
“Please,”saysScarlett.“Ihavetopurge.Thisisimportant.”
Tallulahsighs.“Goon,then.”
“Icouldtellhecouldfeelittoo.Andseriously,he’s,like,inhisforties.Andbald.Andnoteventhatgood-looking.AndItoldhimIwaswalkinguptotheschoolandhesaidhe’dwalkwithmeandwewerechattingandthesexualtensionwasbuildingandthenwecameoutofthebackofthewoodsandwewerefacingthebackdoorofhiscottageinthegroundsandhesaid,‘Comeinforaglassofwater.’Andthatwasthat.”
Tallulahthrowsheranappalledlook.Shehasnoideahowtorespond.
Scarlettcontinues:“Wespentthewholeofthatmonthfucking.Literally,thatwasallIdidforamonth.Walkthedogthroughthewoods,knockonthebackdoorofMrs.Croft’shouse,he’dletmein,we’dfuck.I’dleave.Anditwasamazing.Kindofseedy,butamazing.It’slike,youknow,sexissuchaweirdstupidthingwhenyouthinkaboutit,aboutthemechanicsofit.Aboutwhatamandoesandwhatawomandoesandwhatit’sfor.Ifyouthinkaboutitfortoolongyou’dneverwanttodoitagainbecauseit’sgross.Butthatwasthething.Neitherofuswasthinking.Wewerejustboredandlonelyandhorny.Ican’texplainitanyotherway.WhenIlookbackonit,Idon’tevengetit.Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking.Itwaslikethiswarped,twistedholidayromance.Andanyway,afterafewweekshewentuptoLondonandIwentoffsailingwithRexandmymumandthenitwasSeptemberandLiamcamebacktocollegeandIstartedatMantonandmeandGuybothagreedtoquititandgetonwithourlives.Andforawhileitwasfine.Ididn’tseehimaroundandhedidn’tgetincontact.Butthen,kindofaroundthetimeIfirstmetyou,thatdayonthebus,hewasintheco-opandIwasintheco-opandoureyesmetandwemadesomekindofinanesmalltalkandIscuttledofffeelingreallyconfused.Nextthinghe’ssentmeafuckingdickpic.”
Tallulahgaspsagainandcovershermouthwithherhands.“No,”shewhispersthroughherfingers.
“Yes.AndIjustimmediatelydeleteditandtypedbackNO.Incapslock.Andthenitwentquietagainforawhileandthenonenight,Iguesshemusthavebeendrunk,hestartedbombardingmewithtextmessagesanddickpicsanddeclarationsofloveandhateandeverythinginbetween.HesaidMrs.Croftwasneverathomeandhissonhadgonetoboardingschoolandhemissedmeandhecouldn’tlivewithoutme.AndIjustdeletedeverythingandstoppedreplyingandthenthenightoftheMantonChristmasparty,Ijustreally,reallycouldn’tthinkstraightanymore.You’djustblownmymindandmyinboxwasfullofallthiscrazyshitfromMr.CroftandIjustdidn’twanttogoanywherenearMaypoleHouseorthevillage,Ijustwantedtostayawayfromeveryoneandeverything,soIfinishedwithLiamacoupleofdayslaterandthenitwasChristmasandIjusthunkereddownwithmyfamily,keptmyheaddown.IwasgoingtocomebacktocollegeinJanuary.Freshstart.Clearhead
“Butthenoneday,inthatweirdbitbetweenChristmasandNewYear,ItookTobyoutinthewoodsandIhadmyAirPodsin,itwaskindofearlyafternoon,startingtogetdark,darkerstillinthewoods,andIwasclosetomyhousesoIthoughtIwassafeandthensuddenly…”Shepausesandhergazedropstothetable.“Someonecameupbehindmeandputtheirhandovermymouth,likethis,andpulledmebackandInearlydiedofafuckingheartattack.Anditwashim,ofcourse,itwasMr.Croft,Guy.Andhewassmilingatme,likeitwasallacutejoke;hepointedatmyAirPods,totakethemout,triedtomakeoutitwasnormaltoputyourhandoverateenagegirl’smouthinthewoodsinthedark.SoItookthemoutandsaid,‘Whatthefuck?’Andhesaid,‘I’mleavingher.’Isaid,‘What?’Hesaid,‘I’mleavingJacinta.There’snothingleftbetweenus.It’sover.I’vegotaflat.Comewithme.’AndIkindoflaughedandsaid,‘I’meighteenyearsold.I’mastudent.Ilivewithmymum.Ican’tgoanywherewithanyone.’Imighthavesoundedabitflippant,Idon’tknow.Butseriously,itwasjustnuts.AndthenhestartedcryingandTobystartedwhiningbecausehealwayswhineswhenpeoplecryandthatsortofmademelaughbecause,fuck’ssake,agrownmancryingandaSaintBernarddogwhiningisfunny.Andthenhethrewmethislook,thislookthatsaid‘Shutup,’andhestartedkissingme,anditwaskindofroughanddesperate.AndIjustwentintothissortoftrance.Ican’texplainit.Iwentintoatranceandjustdidthemovements.Justdidthemovements,likeapreprogrammeddoll.Ijustthought:Letithappen.Justletithappen.Ithink,inaway,thatIwasjuststoppingitfrombeingrapebecauseIcouldn’tfuckingdealwithitbeingrape.SoIjustturneditintosexinmyhead.Andafterward—”Shestopsandpullsinherbreath.Tallulahcanheartearscatchingatthebackofherthroat.“Afterward,hejustsortofstaredatme,breathlessly.Hesaid,‘I’mgoingnow.’AndIjustnoddedandhewentandIcouldtellhewasreallyfreaked-outbecausewe’djustdonethisweirdthingthatwassogray,youknow,soambiguous,impossibletoknowwheretheconsentwasinitoreveniftherehadbeenanyconsent.AndheknewandIknewitbutneitherofusacknowledgedit.Andthenhejustwent.AndIneversawhimagain.”
Tallulahdoesn’tknowwhattosay.“God,that’shorrible.AreyouOK?”
Scarlettstirsherhotchocolateandshrugs.“Idon’tknow.Ifelt,like,raw…exposedafter.Ididn’tknowwhoIwasorwhatIwas.IkeptthinkingI’dwakeupthenextmorningandI’dfeelnormalbutIneverdid.Icouldn’ttellmymum;Icouldn’ttellanyone.Ifinallysnappedoneday,thoughtIwashavinganervousbreakdown,calledLiam,beggedhimtocomeover.Iwasgoingtotellhimeverything.ButthenhegotthereandallIwantedtodowasjustclimbintohisarmsandholdontohimandlethimrockme.ButeverytimeIclosedmyeyesIfeltGuy’shandovermymouth;Ifelthimonme.EverytimeIlookedatTobyI’dthink,youwerethere.Youwereawitness.Whatdidyousee?Whatdidyouthink?Didherapeme?AmIavictim?OramIawhore…?”
Scarlettrubstearsfromherfacewiththebacksofherhands.Shesighsanddropstheteaspoon,picksupherhotchocolate,anddrinksit.
Tallulahputsherhandagainstherarmandsays,“Thatsoundslikeanightmare.”
Scarlettnodsforcefully.“Yes,”shesays.“Yes.That’sexactlyit.Exactly.Thesetting,thedusk.Theunexpectednessofit.Thewayhedisappearedafterward.Nooneevertalkedabouthim;Ineverheardhisnamementioned.Likemaybehe’dneverreallyexisted;maybehewasjustafigmentofmyimagination.Ithadthatqualityofareallyunsettlingdream,oneofthoseonesthathauntsyoufordaysafterward,andIwaslost,justtotallylost,untilthatmomentafewweekslaterwhenthedoorbellrangonaSundaymorningandthereyouwere.Tallulahfromthebus,cometosaveme.”
Shestopstalkingthen,andTallulahglancesathercuriously.Itfeels,strangely,asthoughshehassomethingelsetosharewithher,asifshehasn’tquitefinishedoff-loading.
“Andthatwasthat?”
Scarlettnodsforcefully.“Yes,”shesays.“Andthatwasthat.”
It’snearlyhalfpastfourwhenTallulahleavesthepub.Shefeelswarpedandoutofsorts.Sheglancesatherphonebrieflytocheckthatnobody’sbeentryingtogetholdofherandthensheputsitinherjeanspocketandstartsacrossthecommon.AsshedoessosheglancesacrossatMaypoleHouse.Somewhereinthere,sheponders,isJacintaCroft,thewomanwhosehusbandScarletthadatawdryaffairwithlastsummer.SomewhereinthereisLiamBailey,themanScarlettcheatedonwiththeheadteacher’shusband.Andheresheis,TallulahMurray,alocalteenagemumhavingherfirstgayloveaffair,andoverthere—sheglancesatherownhome—isaboycalledZachAllister,whoisthefatherofherchild,andsomewhereelseisherownfather,wholoveshismothermorethanheloveshiswifeandchildren,andoverthere—sheglancesattheroadoutofthevillage—areMegsandSimonAllister,parentstofivechildren,noneofwhomtheyknowhowtoloveproperly.Andoverthere,beyondthevillage,arethewoods:theshadowyhalf-worldwhereScarlettmayormaynothavebeenrapedbyamanoldenoughtobeherfather.Andtherearenoanswerstoanything,anywhere,noclearpathsthrough.Theonlything,shepondersasshewalks,theonlythingthatisclearandplainandsimple,isNoah.
Shepicksupherpaceasshegetsclosertohome,desperatetoholdhiminherarms.Asshenearsthecul-de-sacshehearsthefamiliarrumbleofthebuspullingupatthestopoutsidetheMaypole.Thedoorshissopenandsheseesafamiliarshapeclimboffthebusandturnleft.It’sZach.He’slatehomefromwork;shethoughthe’dbebackbynow.Thatexplainswhyshehasn’thadanymessagesormissedcallsfromhim.Shepicksupherpaceandcatchesupwithhim.Asheturnsandlooksather,hisfacecontortsslightlyandsheseeshimstuffsomethingintothepocketofhisjacket,asmallbag.Shepretendsnottohavenoticedandsmilesassheapproacheshim.Heseemssothrownbyherhavingalmostcaughthimwithsomethingthathedidn’twanthertoseethathehasnotnoticedsheisreturninghomelateandfromthewrongdirection.
“You’relateback,”shesays.
“Yeah.Iwentintotownafterwork.Neededanewphonecharger.”
Theypausetocrosstheroadtoletacarpassby.It’sKerryanneMulligan,thematronfromtheMaypole.Sheknowseveryoneandeveryoneknowsher.Sheputsherhandupandwavesatthemfromthewindow.Theywaveback.Astheyenterthehouse,Zachtakesoffhisjacket,hangsitfromahook,andgoesstraightthroughtothelivingroom,whereshecanhearhimcooingatNoah.ShequicklyputsherhandinsidethepocketofZach’scoatandpullsoutthebag.It’sadarkgreenplasticcarrierbagwiththewordsMASON&SONFINEJEWELLERYprintedonit.Shepeersinsideandseesasmallblackboxwiththesamelogoprintedonitingold.She’sabouttoopentheboxwhenshefeelssomeoneappearinthehallway.Shestuffsthebagbackinthepocketandlooksup.It’shermum.
“AreyouOK,baby?You’relateback.”
Sheforcesasmile.“I’mfine,”shesays.“Examstartedlate,overranabit.”ShesmilesagainandmovesawayfromZach’sjacket,whichnowfeelsasthoughitissendingoutradioactiveparticlesthatcouldburnherflesh,andheadsintothelivingroom,whereNoahisinZach’sarmsandZachiskissinghisfingersandblowingraspberriesintothepalmofhishand,andeventhoughshedidn’topenthebox,sheknowswhat’sinitandshefeelsforamomentlikeshecan’tbreathe,likesomeoneissittingonherchest,becausesheknowswhatitmeansandsheknowsthatZachwillnevereverleaveher,thatheisjustpretendingtobemakingplanstogo.He’splayingagamewithher,sherealizes,keepinghersweet,keepingheronside,bidinghistime.
Noah’sfaceopensupintoahugegappysmilewhenheseesTallulahandheputshisarmsouttoher.ShegrabshimfromZachandtriesnottoflinchwhenZachencirclesthetwooftheminsidehisarms,tryingtomakeafamilyofthem,tryingtomakethemone.
44
SEPTEMBER2018
ThedoorbelltoSophie’scottagerings;it’sanold-fashioneddoorbell,thetypeyoudon’thearveryofteninthesedaysofappsandelectricchimes.It’sincrediblyloudanditmakesSophiejumpoutofherskineverytimeshehearsit.
Kimisstandingatthefrontdoor.
“Sorry,”saysSophie,clutchingherheartassheopensthedoor,“thatbellalwaysmakemejump.Sorry.Comein.”
KimfollowsSophieintothekitchenandwatchesherfillthekettleatthetap.“IjustspoketoDom,”shesays.“Hestillhasn’tlookedattheclipoftheAmeliagirl.It’ssofrustrating.Iknowthepolicearedoingeverythingtheycan,butthemoretimepassestheslowerthingsseemtomove.Ijustthought,youseemtohaveadifferentviewonthings.Imean,youfoundthatvideoofMimi,andbeingadetectivenovelist…”Shesmileswryly.“Idon’tknow,therearejustsomebitsandpiecesthatI’vebeentryingtoputtogetherinmyhead.Flashesofstuff.”
“Likewhat?”
“Oh,like,youknow,thedayaftertheywentmissing,IwenttotalktoTallulah’scollegefriend,hername’sChloe,shelivesjustoverthereontheroadoutofthevillage.ChurchLane.IalwaysthoughtsheandTallulahwerereallyclosefriends.TherewasonenightwhenTallulahevensleptoverwithherbecauseshethoughtChloewasfeelingsuicidal.SoshewasobviouslythefirstpersonI’dthinkoftoask.Tallulahdidn’thavemanyfriends,youknow.ShewassowrappedupwithNoah—andwithZachtoo,toacertainextent.Anyway,IspoketoChloeandshesaidnotonlyweresheandTallulahnotreallyfriendsanymore,shealsotoldmethatTallulahhadneverspentthenightatherhouse,andthatTallulahhadgoneoffwithScarlettJacquesattheChristmaspartytheyearbefore.YetScarlettwassoadamantthatsheandTallulahhadn’treallyknowneachotherbeforethatnight.Andthen,justnow,justbeforeImessagedyou,Irememberedsomething.Somethingthatdidn’treallyhitmeatthetime.I’dbeentoseetheJacquesfamilythedaybeforeandScarletthadjustgotoutofthepoolandshewassittinginatowelandInoticed,justhere”—Kimpointsatthesideofherfoot—“shehadatattooanditwasveryclearlytheinitialsTM.”
SophielooksatKimquestioningly.
“TM.TallulahMurray.Andnow,youknow,myheadisspinning,replayingthings,lookingateverythingfromadifferentangle,becausewhatifTallulahandScarlettwere,youknow,havinganaffair?AndwhatifZachhadfoundout?Andwhatifitallcameoutthatnight,atScarlett’shouse.Andwhatif—”Shestops.“Anyway.Thingsarehappening.Iknowthingsarehappening.Thelevertheyfoundintheflowerbed.I’mcertainit’sgotsomethingtodowithit.Iknowthey’retryingtotracetheJacquesfamilyandIknowlotsandlotsofthingsarehappening,butitjustfeelslikewe’regettingsoclosenowandIcan’tpushDomanyharderandIjustreallyneedsomeonetobounceoff.Thereisn’treallyanyoneelse,youknow.Imean,don’tgetmewrong,I’vegotfriends.I’vegotmyson.ButIhaven’treallygotanyoneelsewhomightwanttogetsuckedupintoallofthiswithme.AndIjustwonderedhowyou’dfeelaboutmaybeteamingupwithme?Iknowthatmightsoundabitweird—”
“No,”Sophieinterjectsforcefully.“No,itdoesn’tsoundweird,notatall,itsoundsgreat.Tobehonest,I’vebeenwantingtohelpyoubutIdidn’twantyoutothinkIwasbeingmorbidorghoulish.”
Kimsmiles.“Iwouldloveforyoutohelpme.Ireallywould.AndIthoughtitseemslikeyou’requiteuponsocialmedia,thatkindofthing?Andmaybewecouldseewhatelsewecanfind?Maybeseeifwecan’tgettotheJacquesfamilybeforethepolicedo?”
Sophienods.“Yes,”shesays,herheartbeginningtoraceslightlywithexcitement.“Yes.”Shegoestothefronthallwayandgrabsherlaptop,bringsittothekitchentable,andopensitwide.“Let’sfindthesepeople.”
KimandSophiesitsidebysideatthekitchentable,Sophiepoisedinfrontofthelaptop.TheylookatMimi’svideoagainonYouTubeandscrolldowntoseeifthereareanynewmessagesinthecommentssection.Therearethree.Theyscanthemquickly.Thelastonechillsthem.It’sfromsomeonecalledCherryanditsays,simply:
TakethisdownNOW.
45
JUNE2017
Smallgesturesofphysicalaffectionstarttoproliferateoverthenextcoupleofdays.
Zachtucksastrandofherhairbehindherearforher,runshisfingersacrossthebackofherneck,slingsanarmacrossthebabyinbedatnightthatsomehowencompassesTallulahalso.Thegesturesaren’tsexualandtheyaresofleetingthatshebarelyhastimetoregisterthemandcomplain.Sheseeshermother’sfacesometimes,whenshecatchesaglimpseofoneoftheseencounters,theflashofawarmsmile,nodoubtthinkinghowluckyTallulahistohavesuchaloving,attentivemaninherlife.ButthegesturesmakeTallulah’sfleshcrawl.Shewantstoslaphishandaway,hissathimtofuckoff.Andallthewhile,thememoryofthelittleblackboxinhisjacketpocketpulsesthroughherconsciousnesslikeaninsistent,low-levelalarmgoingoffsomewhereinthedistance.Shecanfeelitintheair,thebuilduptoit.EverytimeZachclearshisthroatorcallshernameshecatchesherbreath,terrifiedthatheisabouttoproposetoher.
Andthen,onesunnyJuneafternoon,heglancesupatherfromwhere’she’slyingonthebedwithhislaptopandhesays,“Youknow.I’vebeenthinking.I’vebeentooobsessedwiththisflat.Tooobsessedwithsavingup.I’mthinkingImightliketosplashabitofcash.”Hesmilesather.Histoneislightandplayful.“Howaboutanightatthepub?Youandme?Mytreat?”
“Well,”shebeginscarefully,“Ican’treallyatthemoment.I’vestillgotsomuchworktodoformyexams.”
Hesitsupright,eyeshereagerly.“When’syourlastexam?”
Sheshrugs.“Fridaynextweek.”
“Right,then,”hesays,“thatFriday.We’regoingtothepub.I’lltalktoyourmumaboutsittingwithNoah.AndI’llbookusatable.”
Herheartsinks.Thisisit.“Oh,”shesayslightly.“Honestly.Don’twasteyourmoneyonme.I’llbeshatteredthatnight;I’llbeshitcompany.Whydon’tyougowithyourmates?”
Heshakeshishead.“Noway!I’mnotpayingformymatestogetwankered.No,justyouandme.It’sadate.”
Hergazemusthavebetrayedherthoughtsashemovesacrossthebedtowardher.“Nopressure,”hesays,takingherhandsinsidehis.“Nobigdeal.Justanicenightoutbecausewedeserveit.OK?”
Shedoesn’thavetheenergytocountersoshenodsandforcesasmileandshethinksthatshewillcrossthebridgewhenshegetstoit.Andatleastthiswayshewon’tbelivingonhernervesexpectingtheproposalanymoment.Atleastthiswayshehassomebreathingspace,sometimetoprepare.Andthenhekissesherhandsbeforelettingthemgoagain.“I’llleaveyoutogetonwithit,”hesays.“I’lldoNoah’sdinner.Yeah?”
Shenods.“Yes,”shesays.“Yes,please.Thankyou.”
Heleavestheroom,pullingthedoorclosedquietlybehindhim,agesturesoincrediblyunlikeZach,whousuallyengagesinanimateobjectsforcefullyandnoisily,thatitchillshertothebone.
ThefollowingdayatcollegeshefindsScarlettatlunchtime.
Shetakeshertothepathatthebackoftheartblockandsays,“IthinkZachisgoingtoproposetome.”
“What?”
“Heboughtaring.Ifounditinhispocket.Andnowhewantstotakemeoutonadatenextweek.Andhe’sbeingjustsuperniceandattentiveandsweet.”
“Ohfuck,Lula.Whatareyougoingtodo?Pleasetellmeyou’regoingtosayno.”
“OfcourseI’mgoingtosayno.OfcourseIam.Butthenwhat?He’llgomental.He’llthreatentotakeNoahawayfromme.He’llmakemylifehell.Theonlyreasonhe’sbeingsoniceissothatI’llsayyes.OrthatifIsayno,he’llbejustifiedtogonuts.”
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”saysScarlett,claspingTallulah’sarm.“Itdoesnotmatterwhathesaysorwhathethinksorhowhereacts.Youowehimnothing.Thatbabyisyours.Yourdestinyisyours.He’lljustneedtoacceptthatnomeansnoandmoveon.”
Tallulahnods.Butshe’snotconvinced.Noahishers,buthe’sZach’stoo.AndZachisthesortoffatherwhoaboyshouldgrowuparound:physicallyaffectionate,loving,hard-working,loyal,reliable;agoodrolemodel.ForacrazymomentshewishesZachweremoreliketheyoungdeadbeatdadsbelovedofthetabloidpress,theoneswhospreadtheirseedandmoveon,theoneswhoforgetbirthdaysanddon’tturnupforaccessvisits.She’dhavenoqualmsaboutkeepingNoahoutofhislifethen.Shewouldn’tfeelguiltyaboutforcingthemtoliveapart,forwhittlingZach’srelationshipwithhissondowntorushedweekendvisitsinalonelyflat.
“Butwhatifhecan’tmoveon?”shesays.“Whatifhedoesn’ttakenoforananswer?Whatifhemakesascene?WhatifNoahneverforgivesme?WhatifIregretit?”
“Regretit?”Scarlettrepeatsincredulously.“Howonearthwouldyouregretnotmarryingaguyyoudon’tlove?Whowantstotrapyouinaboxsomewhere?Areyoumad?”
Tallulahshakesherhead.“No,butit’sjust…Idon’tknow.Thinkhowmanywomen,girls,wouldlovethechancetobeaproperfamily.Wouldloveaguywho’spreparedtoputhisfamilybeforeeverything.AndifIsayno,thatwouldbelikesayingnotosomepeople’sdream.”
“Yes.Butnotyourdream,FFS.Notyourdream.Tallulah.”Scarlettlookshardather.“Whatdoyouwant?What’syourgoalinlife?Onceyou’vefinishedcollege?Onceyourbaby’satnursery?Wheredoyoupictureyourself?”
Tallulahraiseshergazetothesky.Shecanfeelherselfstartingtobubbleupsomehow,liketreacleinapan,justontheedgeofburning.Overheadafatwhitecloudpassesslowlyacrossthesun.Shestaresintotheheartofit,wherethesunburnsapaleholethroughit.Sheclenchesherhandsintofistsandthenrelaxesthemagain.It’saquestionshe’salwaysbeentooscaredtoaskherself.Allherlifeshe’sbeenpassive.Herschoolreportsalwayssaidshewasagoodstudentbutthattheteacherwouldlovetoseehercontributemoretolessons,wouldlovetohearhervoice.Atprimaryschoolsheallowedherselftobesubsumedintofriendshipgroupswithchildrenshedidn’treallylike.Andthenshe’dmetZachatadifficultage,anagewherehercontemporarieswerestressingaboutSaturday-nightplansfailingtomaterialize,aboutboysnotreplyingtotheirmessagesquickenoughorfemalefriendstalkingshitaboutthembehindtheirbacks.Havingasteadyboyfriendhadjustallowedhertogetonwithstudying,getonwithlife,getonwithputtingonefootinfrontoftheother,mindlessly,unthinkingly,dayafterdayafterday.Untilthedayshe’drealizedshehadn’thadaperiodformorethanamonthandshe’dboughtatestfromtheinternetandtakenitonaTuesdaymorningjustbeforeschoolatthebeginningofhersecondyearinthesixthformandseenthetwolinesandimmediatelytakenanothertestandthought:Well,thereitis.I’mpregnant.She’dmentallycalculatedaduedatethatwaswellbeyondthedateofherlastA-levelexamandthought,MaybeIshouldjusthaveit.BecausethatwasthesortofgirlthatTallulahwas.Hermothermighthaveblessedherwiththenameofarebelandariverandafilmstar,butshehadfailedtoliveuptoit.ShehadfailedtodoanythinggenuinelyproactiveuntilthemomentshehadleapedacrossScarlett’skitchenthatmorningaftertheirsleepoverandkissedher.Itwas,sheknew,theonlymomentinherentirelifethatshehadmadehappen.
ShetakeshergazefromtheskyanddirectsitbackatScarlett.“Idon’tknow,”shesays,hervoiceanapologeticwhisper.
“Doyouwantme?”
Shenods,butshecan’tquitebringherselftosaytheword“yes.”
“Whatelsedoyouwant?”
“Noah.”
“And?”
“Idon’tknow.Ijustwant…Ijustwanttobefree.”
“Yes,”saysScarlett.“Yes.Exactly.That’sexactlywhatyouwant.Ofcourseitis.You’renineteen.You’rebeautiful.You’regood.Youwanttobefree.Andhavingababyshouldn’tstopyoubeingfree.Beingwithmeshouldn’tstopyoubeingfree.Nothingshouldstopyoubeingfree.Thelastthingyouwantatthispointinyourlifeisaringonyourfinger.Youneedtocutyourselfawayfromhim.Andmaybethisistheperfectopportunity.Lethimpropose.Sayno.It’skindofun-come-back-from-able.It’saone-wayexit.Seriously.Lethimdoit.Sayno.Thenyourlifecanbegin.”
TallulahhasbeennoddingharderandharderasScarletttalks.AsshefinishesTallulahfeelsasurgeofelectricenergypassthrougheveryelementofherbeingandshepushesherselftowardScarlett,pressesheragainstthewall,andkissesherhard.Afteraminuteshepullsbackbreathlessly.ShestaresatScarlett,atthebrightlightsdancingbehindhereyes,attheglazedwonderonherface,feelstheheatofScarlett’scaughtbreathagainstherskin,feelsdazzled,beyondanything,beyondwords,beyondimagination,bythebeautyofherandthinks,Iloveher.Iloveher.Iloveher.
“Iwish,”shesays,tracingherfingersaroundthecontoursofScarlett’sface,“IwishthatZachdidn’texist.Iwishhewouldjust,youknow.Disappear.”
46
SEPTEMBER2018
KimwatchesSophieflyingaroundtheinternet,herfingertipsclickinglightlyacrossthekeyboard,chasingthispersoncalledCherry.
“Cherry,”Sophieissaying.“It’sgottobeScarlett,hasn’tit?”
Kimstaresatherblankly.
“Red,”saysSophie.“They’rebothred.”
“OhGod,”saysKim,realizationdawning.“Ofcourse.ShallwesaysomethingtoDom?”
Sophiesighs.“Idon’tknow.ThepoliceareusingtheirowntechniquestolocateScarlettandherfamily.Maybeweshouldjuststickwiththisforawhile.Keepoutoftheirway.”
Kimnods.ShefeelsinstinctivelythatSophieisright.
SophiescrollsthroughtheInstagramaccountsofthemainplayersagain:Liam,Lexie,Mimi,Scarlett.ThenshescrollsthroughtheInstagramaccountsofpeoplewhohavecommentedonorlikedanythingintheirInstagramaccounts.Shemutterstheword“Cherry”repeatedlyunderherbreathasshedoesso,andthensuddenlyshestops.“Look,”shesays.“Look!”
SheanglesthescreentowardKimandpoints.
“Whoseaccountisthis?”asksKim.
“RubyReynolds.Roo.OneoftheScarlettJacquesclique.Shestilllivesinthearea,accordingtothephotos,look.”Sheclicksonaphotoofadark-hairedgirlstandingbyatree,wearingabatteredleatherjacketoverashortdress.“That’sjustoverthere,isn’tit?”Sophiegesturestowardthevillage.“Onthecommon?”
“Yes,”saysKim,peeringcloseratthephoto.“Yes.Justtotheleftoftheduckpond.”
“Thiswaspostedonlytendaysago.Andlook.”Shejabsthescreenwithherfinger.“SomeonecalledCherryjackhaslikedit.Cherryjack.ScarlettJacques.”
Theiconisaphotographoftworedcherrieshangingoffastalkandatonguepokingatthem.Thetongueispierced.SophieglancesatKim.“Scarletthasapiercedtongue,”shesaysbreathlessly.“IspotteditinanotherphotoonLiamBailey’saccount.”
Sophieclicksontheprofilepictureandanaccountcomesup.Amazingly,it’snotprivate.“Nofollowers,”shesays.“That’sweird.”Shescrolldownthroughthephotos,fasterandfaster.ThegirlcalledCherryjackappearstoliveonaboat.Theshotsareabstract:sunsetsoverendlessocean,thefrothytipsofwaves,thegleamingnubofadolphin’sbeakheldinthepalmofthephotographer’shand,tannedlegsoutstretchedoncreamleatherwithadog’slargepawrestingonhercalf.
Kimpeersmorecloselyatthephotoofthelegs.“Canyouzoominonthat?”sheasks.
SophieenlargestheimageandKimstaresatit.“There,”shesays.“There.Onherfoot,look,canyouseeit.Thatblacksmudge.Look.”
Sophienods.“Isthat…?”
“Yes,that’swherethetattoowas.TheTMtattoo.OhmyGod,”shesays.“ThisisScarlett.ThisisScarlettJacques!Whatdatesarethesephotosfrom?”
Sophiescrollsquicklythroughthem.Thelatestoneisdatedthepreviousday.Theoldestone,justtwoweeksbefore.
Kimpullsbackfromthescreenandexhales.ScarlettJacquesisonaboat.She’sonaboatwithherdogandherphoneandherperfectlypedicuredfeet,postingprettypicturestoInstagram.Shefeelsawaveofhotangerpassthroughherandsheswallowsitdown.
TheybothturnbacktothescreenandSophieclicksonallCherryjack’simagesinturn.EachhasahandfuloflikesandSophieclicksontheprofileofeveryuser.“Recognizeanyofthesepeople?”sheasksKim.
“No,”saysKim.
Butthentheybothstopanddrawintheirbreathhardwhentheyscrolldowntoanamethatisfamiliartobothofthem.
@lexiegoes.
47
JUNE2017
Tallulahsitsatherdressingtable.Zachisn’tbackfromworkyet;he’sdueinanhour.Noahisdownstairswithhermum,whojustsentherupstairstogetready.“Goon,”shesaid.“Takesometimeforaproperpamper.It’sbeensolongsinceyouwentanywhere.”
Herend-of-yearexamsaredone.Inafewweeks’timeitwillbetheendofthesummertermandtherewillbealongexpanseoffreedomaheadofher.AndtonightZachwillproposetoherandshewillsaynoandthatwillhopefully,finally,drawalineunderneaththisteenageromancethathasdraggedonforfar,fartoolong.ShehearshermothersingingsongstoNoahdownstairsandshesmiles.Shewantstohavethishousebacktoherself.Shewantstohaveherroom,herbedbacktoherself.Justher,hermother,herbrother,herbaby.Andthensomewhere,somehow,shewantstofitScarlettintoherlife.Shecan’tquitepictureit.TherearegaypeopleinUpfieldCommon.ThemaleteachersfromMaypoleHousewhoshareatinycottagejustpasttheSwan&Ducksandwalktheirrescuegreyhoundtogetherattheweekends.Gia,agirlTallulahwenttoschoolwithandalwayswantedtobefriendswithbecauseshewassocool,whonowwalksaroundthevillagehandinhandwithanolderwomanwhorunsmindfulnesscoursesinthevillagehallonceaweek.Itwouldn’tbehugelycontroversialinthecontextofwhereTallulahlives,butitwouldbehugelycontroversialinthecontextofTallulah’sownexistence.She’snotsureshecouldbeopenaboutityet;she’snotsureshecouldcopewiththesecondglancesandthedroppedjawsandthesensethatshewasanewsstoryofsomedescription.Ifithappened,itwouldhavetohappensoslowlythatnoonewouldreallynotice.
Butfornow,shehasanightatthepubtolookforwardto,anight,shenowrealizes,thatherwholefuturehingeson,whereherdestinywillpivotfromoneoutcometoanother.Shesighsanduntwiststhewandofhermascara.Shewantstolookpretty,notforZach,butforScarlett,whowillalsobeinthepubtonight,whosaidshewillkeepaneyeonherincasethingsgohorriblywrong,incaseZachloseshisshit,incaseTallulahneedsher.Shelayersthemascaratwiceontohereyelashesandthenplayswithherhair.ScarlettsayssheenviesTallulah’shair.Scarlett’shairissparseanddamagedbyyearsofcontinualbleachingandcoloring.ShetakesTallulah’shairinherfistsometimesandrunsherhanddownitandsays,“Whatisitliketohaveallofthis?Howcanyoubearbeingsobeautiful?”AndTallulahjustsmilesandsays,“Goodgenes,Iguess.Mymum’sgotlovelyhair.Andmydad.”
“Andyourbaby?”
“Andmybaby.Yes.There’slotsofgoodhairinmyfamily.”
“You’resolucky,”Scarlettwillreply.“Imaginebeingmeforjustaminuteandhavingtomakedowiththis,”andshe’lltugatherdamagedhairandmakenoisesofdisgustandTallulahwillsay,“Butitdoesn’tmatter.It’sjusthair.You’restillthemostbeautifulgirlinanyroomyou’rein.Andyouknowit.”
“I’mnotbeautiful,”she’llreply.“Mymumisbeautiful.ButI,unfortunately,lookjustlikemydad.”
Tallulahoncesaid,“DoyouthinkI’llevermeetyourparents?”andScarletthadnoddedandsaid,“Ofcourseyouwill.”
“WilltheythinkI’mrightforyou?Imean,Iguessthey’reusedtoyoubeingwithpeoplemorelikeyou,youknow?Peoplewithmoney.”
“Look,”Scarlettreplied.“MyparentsaresowrappedupinthemselvesandtheirownpatheticlivesthatIcouldbringafuckinghorsehomeandtheywouldn’tevennotice.Seriously.Theydon’tnoticeanythingIdo.Ever.Whataboutyourmum?”shecountered.“DoyouthinkI’llevergettomeether?”
Tallulahnodded.“Yes,”shesaid.“Yes.Ahundredpercent.Mymumissocool.Andallshewantsinthewholeworldisformetobehappy.Soifyoumakemehappy,she’lllikeyou.”
Theconversationatthetimehadfeltslightlyfanciful.Thereseemedtobesomuchgroundtoconquerbeforetheycouldreachthesunlitmeadowsoftheirhappyeverafter.Butnowit’shere.Thenightwhereeverythingchanges.
Shecombsherhairintotwosectionsandplaitsit.
Shechoosesalightandairymuslintopthatfallsflatteringlyoverherbellyandsheteamsitwithcutoffdenimshorts.
Shelooksatthegirlinthefull-lengthmirror.
Thegirllooksbackather.
Sheisastrongwoman.Agaywoman.Amother.Afuturesocialworker.Sheismorethanshealwaysthoughtshewas.Somuchmore.Itstartshere,Tallulahthinks,holdinginherstomach,pattingatthefabricofthesummersmock,imaginingthenewlifeshewillhaveontheothersideoftonight,whensheisfreeandcandowhatshewants.Allofitstartshere.
ShegoesdownstairstositwithNoahandhermotherwhileshewaitsforZachtogethomefromwork.
48
SEPTEMBER2018
KimandSophieheadacrosstheschoolgroundstowardtheaccommodationblock.Sophiehasthelaptoppinnedbeneathherarm.KimtapsinKerryanneMulligan’sapartmentnumberandafemalevoiceresponds.
“Hi,Lexie.It’sme,Kim.CanIcomein,doyouthink,justforaminute?”
“Er,yeah.Sure.”
Thelockbuzzesandtheypushopenthegateandheadtowardthelift.
“ShallIdothetalking?”KimasksSophie.
“Yes,”saysSophie.“Definitely.Definitelyyou.”
Lexiemeetsthematthedoortoherapartment.She’sbarefootinpatternedleggingsandahoodie.ShelooksfromKimtoSophieandthenquestioninglybackatKim.Shesays,“Oh.Hi,”beforeholdingthedooropenforthemandleadingthemintothelivingarea.Thesofaispulledoutintoabedandhersuitcaseisonthefloorbyitsside,withclothesspillingoutofit.“Sorry,”shesays.“Ihaven’tunpackedyet.I’mabitofanomad,I’msousedtolivingoutofasuitcase,youknow.”Shekickssomeclothesawaywithherbarefootandsays,“Let’ssitatthebreakfastbar.”
TheyperchthemselvesonthebarstoolslinedupinfrontofthekitchenetteandLexieturnstoKimandsays,“EverythingOK?”
SophiethrowsKimanencouraginglookthatshehopesconveysthefactthatsheishereifKimneedsbackup.
“Well,no,”Kimreplies,openingupherlaptop.“Notreally.It’sallbeenabitunsettling,allthisbusinesswiththesignsandthethingsbeingdugup.Gotmerakingeverythingup,allthestuffthat’sbeenracingaroundmyheadsinceTallulahwent,andthenSophiefoundavideoonline,postedbythatgirlwhowastherethatnight,Mimi.RememberMimi?”
Lexienods;thenshesays,“Yeah.Well,sortof.Imean,itallfeelsquiteblurrynow.ButIdoremembertherewasanothergirlthere.”
“Anyway,thisgirl,Mimi,inthevideoshemadesheseemedtoknowwhatwashappeninghereattheschool.Whichisstrange,astheonlypeoplewhoknowwhat’shappeningherearethepeoplewhoactuallylivehere.SoitlookslikesomeoneinthevillagehasbeenintouchwithMimi.Ormaybeevenbeenintouchwithherthewholetime.”
KimpausesandSophieseessomethingpassveryquicklyacrossLexie’sface,toofleetingforhertogetagriponit.
“Anyway,”Kimcontinues.“Thatsetmeoffthinking,soIcameovertoseeSophieandwe’vejustbeengoingthroughallthesocialmediaagain,butthistimefromthestartingpointofthisMimigirl,anditledustoanInstagramaccountforagirlcalledCherryjack.”
KimpausesagainandthistimethestartledlookthatcrossesLexie’sfaceismorepronounced.Buttheexpressionpassesquicklyandshegivesherheadthetiniestofshakesbeforenoddingandsaying,“Right.OK.”
“So,thisappearstobeScarlettJacques,onaboat.Andlook.”KimturnsthescreenslightlytofaceLexie.“Here,onthispost,fromjustlastmonth,you’velikedit,fromyouraccount.”
AnotherpausefollowsandnowtheatmosphereissothickwithLexie’sdiscomfortthatSophiecanalmosttouchit.
“Thatisyou,isn’tit?Lexiegoes?Yes?”
“Well,yes,”saysLexie.“Yes,that’smyaccountbutIhavenomemoryofeverlikingthatpost.AndIhavenoideawhothisCherryjackis.Imean,howdoyouevenknowit’sher?”
“Well,”saysKim.“Firstthere’sthename.CherryJack.ScarlettJacques.Thenthere’sthedog—look—notmanydogshavepawsthathuge.AndtheJacqueseshadthatbigdog,didn’tthey?Andthenthere’sthis…”ShezoomsinonScarlett’sfoot.“Thistattoo.WhichIsawwithmyowneyesthedayafterTallulahdisappeared.”
“Honestly,”Lexiecutsin.“Honestly.Kim.Idon’tevenfollowthisaccount.Look…”Sheswitchesonherphoneandstartsscrollingandtouchingthescreen.“Look.”Sheturnsherphonetofacethem.“Look,Ihardlyfollowanyone.See?Andthere’snoCherryjackhere.Seriously,Idon’tknowwhythatphotowaslikedbymyaccount.”
SophiegazesatLexie.Sheseemsincrediblygenuine,highlybelievable.Butthen,thisisthesameLexiewholetsherInstagramfollowersbelievethatshelivesinahugeGeorgianmanorhouse,thesameLexiewhotoldthepolicethatshesawthesecond“DigHere”signfromherterracewhenshecouldn’tpossiblyhave.
“Youdon’thavetofollowanaccounttolikesomeone’spost,”Sophiesaysmeasuredly.“Youjusthavetoknowit’sthere.”
“Doesanyoneelsehaveyourlog-in?”asksKim.
Lexieshrugs.“Well,mymumdoes.IsometimesaskhertoreplytosomeofmycommentswhenI’mtravelingorcan’tgettothem.”
“Yourmum?”
“Yes.”ShelooksfromSophietoKimandbackagain.“Well,obviouslyit’snotmymum.”
Sophieinhalessharply.“ButyourmumwasfriendswithScarlett,wasn’tshe?”
“Iguess.Butthere’snowaymymumwouldknowwhereScarlettisnow.There’snowayshe’dhavefoundheronInstagram.”
“Whynot?”Sophieaskssimply.
“Becausethat’sjustweird.WhywouldshestillbeintouchwithScarlett?”
Sophiesighs.“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“ButfromwhatI’veheardaboutScarlett,shewasacharismaticyoungwoman.Shehadalotofadmirers.Therewasherlittlecliqueoffriends.Liam.Herex-head,JacintaCroft,saidshehadawayofmanagingpeople,manipulatingthem.AndnowitlookslikemaybeTallulahandScarlettweren’tasunacquaintedasScarlettmighthaveledeveryonetobelieve.Soitispossiblethatyourmum’sstayedintouch.Behindthescenes.”
Lexieisalreadyshakingherhead,evenbeforeSophiehasfinishedtalking.“Nope,”shesays.“No.You’rebarkingupthewrongtree.Totally.”
Sophiesmilesathersadly.“Lexie,”shesays.“You’renothereverymuch.Yourmumlivesherealonenearlyallthetime.Whoknowswhatshedoeswhenshe’sonherown?She’saverycaringwoman.Itwouldn’tsurprisemeintheleastifshewasstillintouchwithScarlettJacques.”
Lexiedoesn’treplythistime.Shesays,“So,whatareyougoingtodo?Areyougoingtoaskher?”
SophieandKimexchangealook.Kimnodsandsays,“Yes.We’llprobablyhavealittlechatwithher.”
“Shewon’tknowanything,”Lexiesays.“Ipromiseyou,shewon’t.”
Sophieclosesherlaptopthenandisabouttopickitupandleavewhenhereyeiscaughtbysomethingpokingoutfromthehalf-disgorgedcontentsofLexie’ssuitcase.
It’sacopyofherbook.
49
JUNE2017
“Youlookgorgeous,”saysZach,appearinginthekitchenawhilelater.“Lookatyou.”HegrinsatKimandsays,“Yourdaughterisproperlyhot,”andKimlaughsandlooksatTallulahindulgentlyandsays,“Well,she’stheprettiestthingI’veeverseen.”
ZachapproachesTallulahandkisseshergentlyonhercheek.ThenhegrabsNoahfromhishighchairandtwirlshimaroundthekitchenuntilNoahishelplesswithlaughter.Zach’senergyisoffthescale,high-octane,almostinfectious.Almost,butnotquite.TallulahforcesasmileasZachpassesNoahintoherarmsandsays,“I’moffforashower.Iwon’tbelong.”
Whenhe’sgone,Tallulah’smumlooksatherandsays,“Well,someone’sinagoodmood.”
“Yes,”shereplies.“Heisabit.”
“Nicetoseehimsohappy.He’sseemedabit,youknow,preoccupiedlately.Withtheflat.”
Tallulahnodsbutdoesn’treply.
“So,tonight,anyparticularreasonforit?”
“No,”sherepliesairily.“No.Ijustthinkhewasgettingboggeddowninsavingupandwantedabreakfromitall.”
“Well,youbothdeserveit,”sayshermum.“Thetwoofyouareincredible.Sohard-workingandselfless.It’sabouttimeyouputyourselvesfirstforabitandwentoutandhadsomefun.”
“Areyousureyou’llbeallrightgettingNoahdown?He’sbeenanightmarelately.”
“I’llbefine,”hermumreassuresher.“Iftheworstcomestotheworst,we’lljuststayuplate.It’sthefirsttimeI’vebabysatforages;Idon’tcarehowchallengingitis.Ijustwantyoutohaveawonderful,relaxing,possiblyexciting”—shethrowsTallulahamischievouslook—“nightout.Idon’twantyoutothinkaboutNoahormeoranythingthatisn’tfun-related.OK?”
Tallulahwondersabouthermother’suseofthewords“possiblyexciting”andthestrangelookshe’dthrownher.Doeshermotherknow?shewonders.HasZachtoldher?Or,God,heavenforbid,maybeevenaskedherpermission?Thethoughtfreaksherout.
Butshesmilesandsays,“OK.Ipromisenottothinkaboutmymotherormychild.”
“Goodgirl.”Hermotherthrowsheranotherindulgentsmile.“Goodgirl.Andifyou’vegotahangovertomorrow,juststayinbed.I’lldothemorningforyoutoo,OK?”
Tallulahnods,thenplacesNoahbackinhishighchairandholdsoutherarmstowardhermotherandsays,“Hug?”
Hermothersmilesandsays,“Oh,yesplease.”Andtheyhugthere,inthekitchen,themidsummersunshiningonthemfromthegarden,Zachsingingintheshoweroverhead,Noahchewingthoughtfullyonthecornerofabookandwatchingthemcuriously,almostsagely,asifheknowsthatthisisanightthatwillshapehisdestiny.Attheverythoughtofit,Tallulahfeelsatearrolldownhercheek.Shewipesitawayquicklysothathermotherdoesn’tnotice.
50
SEPTEMBER2018
It’sfouro’clock.KimleftMaypoleHousetwohoursagotocollectNoahfromnurseryandnowSophiepullsonacardigan,grabsherphone,andheadsoutintothegrounds.Classesareoverforthedayandthepathsswarmwithteenagers.SheimaginesthesesamepathsswarmingwithScarlett’scohort.Shepicturestall,leanScarlettasLiamdescribedherbackthen,withherhairanaturaldarkbrown,aminidress,opaquetights,andclumpyboots,followedbyheradoringcoterie
AndthenshepicturesScarlettonaboat,herbleachedhairburningblonderinthesun,sittingwithherdog,postingabstractphotossporadically,possiblystrategically,forahandfulofpeopletosee,sothattheyknowthatsheisstillalive.ButwhatofTallulah?WhatofZach?Andwhat,shewonders,ofJacintaCroft’shusband?
Herthoughtsspiralasshewalks.Afewstudentssmileandsayhello.Shereturnstheirgreetingsblankly;shehasnoideawhotheyare,buttheyknowthatsheisMr.Gray’sgirlfriend,andnodoubt,bynow,theyknowsheisapublishedauthortoo.Shehasanephemeral,slightlyelevatedstatusherethatshefindssomewhatunsettling.
Shesitsonabenchinthecloistersandshegoogles“Cherryjack”onherphone.Itbringsupdozensofhitsforacherry-flavoredrumfromtheVirginIslands.ItalsobringsupatleasthalfadozensocialmediaaccountsforotheruserscallingthemselvesCherryjack.SheclickstheGooglefilterto“Images”andscrollsthroughthem.Shefindsendlessphotosofrumandrum-basedcocktailsandboyscalledJackCherrybutnothingthatlooksanythinglikeScarlettJacques.
Sheglancesupasshefeelssomeoneapproach.It’sLiam.Shesmilesandsays,“Justtheman.”
“AmI?”hesays.
“Yes.Iwondered,ifyou’renotbusy,couldwehaveachat?”
“Ofcourse,”hesays,“sure.Here?Or…?”
“Idon’tmind.”
“Imean,youcouldcomeuptomyroom.Iwasonmywaythere.Ihavecoldbeers.”
Shenodsandsmiles.“Sure,”shesays.“Thatwouldbegreat.”
Liam’sroomisnothinglikeKerryanne’s.It’sarectangularboxwithabedononeside,asofaontheother,slidingdoorsdirectlyontoasmallbalcony,andatinykitchentuckedawayinsideanalcove.
“Snug,”shesays,runninghereyesinstinctivelyacrosshisbookshelfasshewalkspastit.
“Yes,”hesays,pullingoffhisjacketandhangingitfromaknobbythefrontdoor.“Small,butbigenough.Youknow.Here.”HemovessomepaperworkfromthearmofthesofaandinvitesSophietotakeaseat.
Theroomisneatandfragrant,filledwiththeclutterofhislife,butinawaythatseemsveryorganized.
“So,”hesays,goingtohisfridge.“How’syourdaybeen?”
“Kindofweird,”shereplies.“I’vespentmostofitwithKimKnox.Youknow,Tallulah’smum.We’vebeentryingtofindScarlettJacquesonline.”
Hetakestwobeersfromthefridgeandpassesherone.SheglancesagainaroundLiam’sroom.Hehassomeinterestingartonhiswalls,themostoverpoweringofwhichisalargecanvasportrait.Shenarrowshereyestomakesenseofitandseesthatitisaratherjumbledpaintingofwhatappearstobeayoungwomansittingonathronewithadogbyherside,andthenthepiecesfallintoplaceandshepointsatthepaintingandsays,“Isthat…?”
“Yes.It’sScarlett.Aself-portrait.Shegaveittome.”
“IsitOKifIhavealook?”
“Ofcourse,”hesays.“Bemyguest.”
Sherestsherbeeronthecoffeetableandwalkstowardthepainting.Asshegetscloser,moreandmoredetailrevealsitself.BothScarlettandthedogarewearingcrowns.Scarlettlooksslightlyimperious,herhandsspreadoutuponheropenknees,eachfingersportingahugegoldenring,pickedoutinshinymetallicpaint.Therearevariousthingsontablesinthebackground,includingathrobbingheartonaplatterandacakeslicedrippingwithblood.
“Bloodyhell,”shesays.“Thisis,erm…odd?”
“Yeah.Itis.”Heshrugs.
“Whatdoesitallmean?Theheart,forexample.Whatdoyouthinkthatrepresents?”
“Sheneverreallyexplainedanyofittome,tobehonest.ShejustturnedupwithitonedayandaskedifIwanteditandIsaidyeah,becauseIknewitwouldlookreallycoolinhere,andalsobecause,youknow,itwasnicejusttohaveabitofher…”Hetrailsoffslightly.
“Youknow,”shebeginscarefully,“IsawJacintaCrofttheotherdayandwewerechattingaboutScarlettandshetoldmehowheartbrokenyouwereafteryousplitup.”
Henods,justonce,andthentakesaswigofbeer.“IguessIwas,”hesays.“Inaway.Imean,agirllikeScarlettdoesn’tcomealongveryoften,especiallynotforaguylikeme.Shemadethingsfeelkindofexciting.ShemademefeellikemaybeIwasspecial.Specialbecauseshechoseme.Youknow.But…”Hesighsandrallies:“…itiswhatitis.I’moveritnow.”
“Anyoneelseonthescene?”sheasks.
“No,”hesays.“No.Notreally.Imean,I’mondatingsites,soit’snotasifI’mnotactivelylooking,butI’malsonotthatbotheredeither.Youknow?”
“So,youandLexie…?”
Helooksupathersmartly.Heseemsconfused.“LexieMulligan?God.No.Imean,we’refriendsandeverything.Butno.Notinthatway.Youknow,I’mprettysureshe’snotevenstraight.ShehadabigcrushonScarlettforawhile.Butanyway.No.NotLexie.Notanyone.Justme.”
“Youknowtheothernight?Whenthepolicewerehereaftertheyfoundthesecond‘DigHere’sign?”
Henods.
“HadLexiebeenupherethatnight?”
“Here?Youmean,inmyroom?”
“Yes.Inyourroom.”
“No.Definitelynot.Iactuallydon’tthinkLexie’severbeeninmyroom.”
“CanIgooutonyourbalcony?”
“Sure,”hesays.“It’snotlocked.”
Sheslidesthedooropenandgoestotheedgeofthebalcony.Shepeersoverandouttowardtheflowerbedandshestepsontohertiptoesandleansoutevenfartherandsherealizesthatevenatthisangleandatthisheight,shecannotseethespotwherethe“DigHere”signhadbeenposted.Sheturnsaroundandlooksoverhead,buttherearenobalconiesabove.Lexiehaddefinitelybeenlyingaboutseeingthe“DigHere”signfromherapartment.Orfromanywhere,forthatmatter.Sheknewaboutitnotbecauseshe’dseenitbutbecauseeithersheorhermotherhadputitthere.
Sophiewalksbacktowardthesofa,butasshedoesso,hereyeiscaughtbyanotherpaintingonLiam’swall;it’sasmallercanvasthanScarlett’sself-portrait,butpaintedusingthesamestrokesandthesamejolting,in-your-facecolorpalette.It’sastonespiralstaircase,withthestepspaintedingarishrainbowshadesallblendingandbleedingintooneanotheralmostlikemeltedwax.Apoleofbrightgoldenlightbeamsdownfromacircularwindowatthetopofthetowerthatthestepsarehousedinandpiercesthestoneflooratthebottom,creatingaplumeofpurply-graysmokeandsparksofglitter.Justtothesideoftheholeisanotherknife,againsmearedwithwhatlookslikeblood.
“Whatthehellisthisone?”
Liamshrugs.“It’sanotheroneofScarlett’s.Shepainteditduringherbreakdown.Shesaidsheneededmetotakecareofitforher.Forposterity.”
“Butwhat’sitof?”
“Idon’treallyknow.Imean,Iknowwhatitlookslike—there’sastaircaseinherhouse,inthereallyoldpartofthebuilding.Itgoesuptoakindofturretwithatinyroomatthetopwithlittlesliteyesforarrows.Theyneverusedthelittleroom.Itwastoosmalltoputanyfurniturein.”
Sophiestaresatthepainting,hard,tryingtodivinesomemoremeaningfromit.“Didsheeversayanythingabouttheroom?”
Shestandscloserandpeersatthedetail.There’sakindofrectangleoflightaroundthebottomstep.Itbleedsthroughasmallgap.Thebloodfromtheknifetricklestowardthisgapandthendisappears.Asshestaresattheknife,shenoticesthatit’snotactuallyaknifeatall,thatithasabentendwithaU-shapecutintoit.It’snotaknife,it’salever.Shefeelsherheartstopbeatingforasplitsecond,andthenstartagain,twiceasfast.
“Wouldyoumind,”shesays,“ifItakeapictureofthis?”
“Sure,”hesayscasually.“Doyouthinkit’saclueofsomekind?”
Shenods.“Yes,”shesays,hercooltonebelyingtheelectricinstinctssettingallhernervesonedge.“Ithinkitmightbe.”
51
JUNE2017
ThebrightsunstrobesthroughthewillowhanksasZachandTallulahcrossthecommontowardthepub.Zachtakesherhandastheywalkandkeepsuparunningcommentary.Hetellsheraboutaguyatworkwhojustgotarescuedogthatcan’tbarkandanotherguyatworkwhosekidwasarrestedlastweekforvandalismandhetellsheraboutthepossibilityofacaravanintheNewForestthathemightbeabletoborrowforaweekoffafriendofoneofhissisters—theycouldgotherefortheirsummerholiday,maybe,andTallulahnodsandsmilesandmakesalltherightnoisesbecauseshehasnothingtolosenowbybeingnicetohim.Bytheendofthiseveningtheywillneverholdhandsagain,hewillneverchattoherlikethisagain;bytheendoftonighttherewillbeasolidwallbetweenthemthatwillbe,sheknows,becauseitishowZachworks,absolutelyunbreachable.Sofornow,whilethesunshinesandthereiswinetobedrunkandnomoreexamsandanightout,whynotbenice,whynotpretendthateverythingisfine?
Thegardenatthefrontofthepubispacked.TheSwan&Ducksisadestinationpub,notjustalocal.Peoplecomefromallthesurroundingvillagesandhamlets,especiallyonasunnyFridaynightinJune.
It’squieterinsidethepub.ThebarmanpointsouttheirtabletothemandTallulahcatchesherbreath.There’sabottleofchampagnechillingonthetableinachromebucket,andtwochampagneflutes.
“Ta-da,”saysZach,leadinghertothetable.
ShegoestopulloutherchairbutZachintervenesandsays,“No,allowme,”beforepullingthechairoutforherandthentuckingherinonit.
Tallulahsmilesandsays,“Wow,thankyou.Thisisamazing.”
“Theleastyoudeserve,”Zachreplies,pullingouthisownchairandseatinghimself.
Tallulahglancesupathim.Hisfaceissoft,wreathedinsmiles.Helookslikethesweetlostboywhostartedsecondaryschoolhalfwaythroughandshefeelsherresolvestarttodiminish.
“Webothdeserveit,”shesays.“It’sbeenquiteayear.”
Hissmilefaltersthenandhesays,“Yes.Itreallyhasbeen.”Heturnstograpplewiththechampagnebottle.“Right,”hesays,“pleasedon’tletmefuckthisup.”HeeasesthecorkfromthebottleandTallulahbringsherfluteclosetothebottleneck,justincase,butthecorkleavessmoothlywithagentlepopandZachpoursheraglassandthenhimselfandthenhesays,raisinghisglasstohers,“Tous.ZachandTallulah.AndtoNoah,thebestlittlemanintheworld.Cheers.”
TallulahtouchesherglassagainstZach’sandisgratefulwhenhedoesn’tholdhergazeorexpecthertoreciprocatehissentimentsinanywayandinsteadturnshisattentiontothepapermenuinfrontofhim.“Right,”hesays.“Literallyorderanything.Priceisnoobject.Whateveryouwant.”
Sheglancesatthemenuandseesawholeseabassservedwithbroccoliniandpilauriceforthirty-fivepounds.Shegulpsandsays,“Well,Iwon’tbehavingtheseabass.”
“Havetheseabass,”saysZach.“Seriously,havewhateveryouwant.”
“Idon’tevenlikeseabass.”
Herollshiseyesatheraffectionatelyandsheseeshishandgotothepocketofhistrousersashe’sdoneafewtimessincetheyleftthehouseandsheknowsthatthat’swheretheringisandhermouthfeelsdryandshethinks:Whyisshedoingthis?Whyhassheletitgetthisfar?Sheisgoingtohumiliatehimandcrushhimandallofthis,thisgoldenmidsummernightofchampagnetoastsandchivalry,willcurdleintosomethingunbearableandcruel.Butno,sheremindsherself,no,tonightisnotreal.Tonightisamirage.SheremindsherselfofthenightshesleptoveratScarlett’s,thebarrageofincreasinglyabusivemessagesandvideos,thewayhepressedhisfacesoclosetoNoah’s,usinghimtogettoher,toscareher,tobendhertohiswill.Shethinksofthefeelofhisfingerunderherchin,pokinghardanddeepintothesoftnessthere,forcinghertolookhimintheeye.Shethinksofhowhewantshertogiveuphercollegecourse,giveupherfriends,stayathome,savemoney,beagoodmother.Shethinksofhowhehasmanipulatedhiswayintostilllivinginherhome,stillsharingherbed,andshethinksofhowshelethimandshethinksno,no,thiscan’tbeakindsplit,thiscan’tbeambiguous,thiscan’tleaveanyroomforanythingbutanimosityandpain.BecauseZachisacontrollerandshehastoshowhimthatshecannotandwillnotbecontrolledandthatallthechampagneandbig,softeyesandcomplimentsandexpensivefishintheworldisnotgoingtochangethat.
Shepullsinherbreathtocalmherself,andlooksdownatthemenu.
Asshedoesso,shehearsacommotionatthedoor,thesoundsofhootinglaughterandloudchatter.SheglancesupandseesfirstMimi,thenRoo,thenJayden,thenRocky,withScarlettandLiambringinguptherear.Zachlooksupandsheseesdispleasureregisteronhisface.Hehatestheposhkidsfromtheschoolacrossthecommon.Hegroans.“That’stheendofthepeaceandquiet.”
Theyheadtowardthebar,andTallulahcanfeelScarlett’seyesburninguponher,butshekeepshergazefixedonthemenu.Thewordsswimbeforeher,meaninglessly.Cannellini.Jus.Anchovy.Rigatoni.Chorizo.Shedoesn’tknowwhatanyofitmeans.ShejustknowsthatScarlettisatthebarandScarlettislookingather.Shefeelsherphonevibrateandglancesatthemessage.
Hasithappenedyet?
No,shereplies.
I’mhereifyouneedme
K
“Who’sthat?”
“JustMum,”shereplies.“WantstoknowwhichpajamastoputNoahin.”
Zachsmiles.Thenhesays,“Fancysharingaseafoodplatterwithme?”
“Oh,”shesaysdistractedly.“Maybe.What’sitgotonit?”
“Kingprawns.Smokedsalmon.Clams.Pottedshrimps.Andcaviar.”
Sheglancesattheprice.“Areyousure?”
“Yes,”hesays.“Itoldyou.We’refinediningtonight.”
“OK,then.”Shenods.“Imean,it’suptoyou.Idon’treallylikecaviar…”
Zachlaughsandsays,“Don’tworry.I’lleatyourcaviar.”
Shesmilesandtakesalargesipfromherchampagneglass.Scarlettandhermatesarestillatthebarputtinginalongandverycomplicatedorderandaskingforcashbackandbeinggenerallyloudandirritating.SheglancesupandcatchesScarlett’seyeverybriefly.Shecanfeelherfaceflushpinkandshequicklylooksawayandsays,“Shallweordersomefries?”
“Hellyes,”saysZach.“Triple-cookedchips.Frenchfries.Ortrufflechips.Shallwejusthaveoneofeach?”
“Yes,”shesays,notreallyknowingwhatshe’ssayingyesto.Shehasnoideawhatatrufflechipis.
“Excellent.”Hesmilesandfoldshisarms.
TallulahcanhearScarlettfromhere.“HaveyougotanyrumfromBarbados?”sheasks.“It’scalledMountGay?”
“?’Fraidnot.We’vegotBacardi.Kraken…”
“Krakenwilldo.ButyoushouldtotallygetsomeMountGay.It’s,like,thebest.”
Shesoundssoposh,Tallulahthinks.Soentitled.It’salmostimpossibletoimagineherassheiswhenthetwoofthemarealonetogether.
“Christ,”saysZach.“Listentothem.Whodotheythinktheyare?”HeimpersonatesScarlettunderhisbreath,“It’s,like,thebest.”
Tallulahnodsandsays,“Yeah.Iknow.They’rereallyannoying.”Thenshedrawsinherbreathandsays,“Theygotomycollege.They’reallstudyingart.IthinksomeofthemusedtogotoMaypoleHouse.”
“Thatfigures,”hesays.Thenhegetstohisfeetandsays,“I’mgoingtoorder.Wantanythingelsetodrink?”
Shetapsherfingernailsagainstherchampagnefluteandsays,“I’mgoodwiththis,thankyou.”
Hethrowsheranindulgentsmileandthensheholdsherbreathasheapproachesthebar.HeisstandinginchesfromScarlett,whohasherbacktohimasshetouchesherdebitcardtothescreenofacardreader.Shewaitsforthereceipttorolloutandthentakesitfromthebarman.“Thankyou,”shesays.Thenshepicksupherdrinkandturns,andnowsheisface-to-facewithZach,andTallulahcanbarelybreathe.
“Sorry,”shehearshimsay,bobbingtohisrighttoletherpass.
Tallulahseeshersmiletightlyathimandhearshersay,“Noworries.”
AsshepassesTallulah’stableonherwaybackoutside,Scarlettstaresmeaningfullyather.Shetouchesherbreastbonewithafistandblinks.Tallulahnodsandthenlooksaway.Adrenalineispulsingthrougheverypartofher.Sheswallowsdownsomechampagnetodistractherselffromthehorriblesensationofherheartpoundingbeneathherribcage.Herphonebuzzes.It’sScarlett.
YouOK?
No,shereplies.Ifeelsick.
Youcandothis.I’mhere.
Tallulahtypesinaloveheartandsendsit,thenplacesherphoneunderthemenusothatshecan’tlookatit.
Zachreturnsandtakeshisseat.“That’sthegirl,isn’tit?Fromyourselfie?”
Shearrangesherfaceintoanexpressionofconfusion,butshecantellit’sunconvincing.“Whichgirl?”
“Theonewithscraggyhair.Whowasgoingonaboutrum.TheoneIsawyouatthebusstopwiththattime.”
“Oh,”shereplieslightly.“Yes.That’sScarlett.”
“Howcomeshedidn’tcomeandsayhello?”
Sheshrugs.“Maybeshedidn’tseeme.”
Hetakesthechampagnebottlefromthebucketandtopsthembothup.Tallulahcantellthattheatmospherehasalreadysouredslightly,thatacloudhasdriftedacrossZach’sburningsunofoptimism.
“Yeah,”hesays.“Maybe.”
TheychatforawhileaboutNoah,aboutZach’ssisterwho’sjustfallenpregnantwithherfirstchildandthinksshemightbehavingtwins,butitfeelstoTallulahthatsheisdoingallthework,thatZachiselsewhere,andsheknowswhereheis.He’sinsidehisheadchewingoverhisbriefexchangewithScarlett.Zachisveryperceptiveandhewillhavepickeduponherenergy,andnowhewillbepickinguponTallulah’senergyandhewillknowthatsomethingisnotquiterightbuthewillhavenoideawhatitis.
Theirfoodarrivesanditisquiteaspectacle:awhiteplatterlaiduponabrassstandandstrewnwithshinynecklacesofsamphireandruby-redpomegranateseeds.
Theybothsaywowandgrabcutleryoutofapotonthetable,andthenbegintodismantletheplatter,butTallulahhasnoappetiteandtakesaninordinateamountoftimetounpeelaprawn.
“AreyouOK?”asksZach.
“Yes,”shesays.“I’mfine.”
“You’renotreallyeatingmuch.”
“It’sjustabitfiddly.”
“Eatsomechips.”Hetipsapotofmassive,oily-lookingchipstowardherandshetakesafew.
“More,”hesays.Andthatedgeisbackinhisvoice.Itisnotasuggestion,butademand.Shetakesacouplemoreandheplacesthechipsbackonthetable.
Herphonevibratesandsheanglesittowardhertolookatit.It’sScarlettagain.Sheseesthefirstfewwordsofthemessagebutdoesn’topenit:Doyouneedme?Ican…
Zachthrowsheraquestioninglook.
“Mumagain.”
“Ohyes,”hesays.“Whatdoesshewant?”
“Justaskingifwewerehavinganicetime?”
“And?”hesays.“Arewe?”
Thequestionisloadedandshewaitsabeattoreply.“Yes,”shesays.“We’rehavingalovelytime.”Andsheputsoutherchampagneglasstohisandsays,“Cheers.”
Shecanfeelthenightcrumbling.Shecantellthatsmalltalkhasbecomeimpossibleandthattheywilleithersithereinsilenceortheywilltalkaboutthemandeitheroutcomewillruintheevening.Soshehandshimaprawnandsays,“Goon.Peelitforme,willyou?I’mtoolazy,”andshehitshimwiththebestsmileshecanmuster.Herollshiseyesaffectionatelyandtakesitfromherandforamomentitfeelsasifthecordialatmospheremighthavebeenrestored.Butthenherphonebuzzesagainandhetutsandsays,“Fuck’ssake.”
“Probablymymum,becauseIdidn’treplytoherlastone.”
“Well,goon,then,”hesayscrossly,wrenchingtheheadofftheprawn.
SheswitchesonherscreenandclicksonScarlett’smessage.Thenshetypesinquickly:He’sinabadmood.Idon’tthinkit’sgoingtohappen.
Scarlettreplies:PlanB?
Tallulahtakesadeepbreathandtypesback:Yes.PlanB.
PARTFOUR
52
JUNE2017
Scarlettstridesintothebar,tryingandfailingtolooknaturalandnonchalant.ShestareshardatTallulah,andZachglancesather,thendoesadoubletakebeforelookingatTallulah,andsheseessomethingfallintoplace.
Heturnstoherandsays,“What’sgoingon?”
“What?”
“Youandthatgirl?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Nothing.”
Scarlettisheadingtowardthem.Shepullsacrossachairfromanothertable,sitsdown,sticksachipintoadishofmayonnaise,andeatsit.“Hi,Lula,”shesays.“Howareyou?”
Tallulahnodsandsays,“I’mfine.I’msorryIdidn’tsayhelloearlier.YouwerewithallyourfriendsandIdidn’twanttointerrupt.”
“Oh,it’sfine,”Scarlettrepliesbreezily,pickingupanotherchipandstickingitbackinthemayonnaise.“Iunderstand.Anyway…”Shewavesherhandacrossthedisplayofseafoodandthechampagnebucket.“Specialoccasion?”
“No,”saysTallulah,“notreally.Wejusthaven’tbeenoutforawhile.”
“Ah,that’snice.”Shepicksupathirdchipandputsittohernose.“Isthisonetruffled?”sheasks.ZachnodsstifflyandScarlettsays,“Nice,”beforeeatingit.“Ididn’tquitecatchyourname?”shesaystoZach.
“It’sZach.”Hisfaceisbrittlewithrage.
Scarlettisactingcool,butTallulahcanseethemanicenergypumpingthroughher.
“YouknowTallulahfromcollege?”Zachsays.
“Thatiscorrect.Lovely,lovelyTallulah.”
“Shenevertalksaboutyou.”
“Howrude!”Scarlettmocksaffrontandgrabsanothertrufflechip.
“She’sgotaphotoofyouonherphone,though.”
“Uh-oh,”saysScarlett,wideninghereyes.“Stalkeralert.”
“It’sjustthatselfie,fromtheChristmasparty.That’sall.”
“Whatselfie?”
“Youdon’tremembertakingit?”asksZach.
“Ican’tsaythatIdo,butthen,Iwasoffmyfaceatthetime.Anyway,”shesays,“Idon’twanttodisturbyoutwowhileyou’rehavingsuchagorgeousromanticevening.Lovelytoseeyou,Lula.Lovelytomeetyou,Zach.”
“No,”saysTallulah.“Stay.”
“Oh.”ShebeamsatTallulah.“OK,then.”
Zachlooksasthoughheisabouttosaysomething,butthenMimiwalksin,scanningthepubforScarlett.“Oh,”shesays.“Thereyouare.Wewerewonderingwhereyou’dgotto.”
“Sorry,”saysScarlett,“IgotsidetrackedintoeatingallofTallulahandherboyfriend’sdeliciouschips.Whydon’tyoujoinus?”
Withinafewmoreminutes,Scarlett’swholecrewissquashedaroundthetableandallthechipsaregoneandalltheprawnsaregoneandsomeonehasgonetothebarandcomebackwitharoundoftequilashots,andJaydenandLiamhavecorneredZachintoanintenseconversationaboutfootball,andTallulahistalkingtoScarlettandRubyandMimiaboutweirdteachersatcollege.AwaiterappearsandreachesthroughthemtocollecttheemptyplatesandbowlsandasksthemiftheywantanythingelsetoeatandsomeoneordersastickytoffeepuddingandsomeoneelseordersmorechipsandTallulahhasnoideawhoispayingforwhatorwhatexactlyishappening,butitfeelsstrangelylikesomething,somewhereisonfireandit’salreadytoolatetoputitout.
Moretequilashotsarriveaswellastheextrachipsandthestickytoffeepudding,whichisservedwithsixspoons,andJaydengetsamessageonhisphoneandsays,“He’soutside.I’llberightback,”andeveryoneseemstoknowwhathe’stalkingaboutandacoupleofpeoplepasshimten-poundnotesfromtheirwalletsandamomentlaterhereturnsandpassespillstohisfriendsunderthetable.
TallulahwatchesZach’sreactionandisamazedtoseehimtakeapillfromJaydenandswallowitdownwithwarmchampagne.Zachhasnevertakendrugsbefore,asfarasshe’saware,apartfromsmokingalittleweedwithhisoldersisterinthebackgardenwhenshestilllivedathome.Shegazesathim,tryingtocatchhiseye,buthestudiouslyignoresher,andTallulahrealizesthatratherthantryingtofightthissituationthatsheandScarletthavedeliberatelyengineered,heisonsomekindofmission.Amissiontounnerveher,toundermineher,tocatchheroutsomehow.Hehatesthesekids,sheknowshehatesthem,yethe’ssuckinguptothemandlaughingattheirjokesandtakingtheirdrugs.
ShefeelssomethingtouchherhandunderthetableandlooksuptofindScarlettlookingather.“Ibrokeoneinhalfforyou,”shesays.“Wanttoshare?”
Tallulahshakesherhead.
“Aquarter?”
Tallulahblinksandsays,“Maybelater.”
Scarlettpassesherthetinychunkandsheclaspsitinsideherfist.
Thenighthastransmogrifiedintosomethingalienandelectric.Sheisbeingplayedfrombothsides,byZachandbyScarlett.Meanwhile,themusclesofherheartacheforNoah,lyingnow,sheassumes,atnearly10:00p.m.,sleepinginhiscot,hishandsfurledintofists,hishairdampfromtheheatofhisbedtimebathandwarmmilkandthehotsummernightairthroughtheopenwindow.
OnceagainshefeelsScarlett’shandunderthetable,cuppingherbareleg,afingerslidinguptowardthehemofhercutoffshorts,andshegaspsandjumpsveryslightly.
Shegetstoherfeet.“Youknow,”shesays,“it’sgettinglate.Ishouldprobablygetback.”Shedoesn’twantthistohappenanymore.She’schangedhermind.ShewantstogohomewithZach,tiptoeupstairs,andstandwithhimstaringattheirbabytogether,talkinginalmostsilentwhispersabouthowbeautifulheisandhowluckytheyaretohavehim.Theycansplitupanotherday.Nottoday.Notnow.
“No,”saysScarlett,pullingherdownbyherarm.Shefixesherwithaterrifyingstareandsays,“Stay,pleasestay.Justhaveonemoredrink.OK?”
Tallulahsighsandsomeonebringsheranothertequila,whichshedulydowns.She’sabouttotrytoleaveagainwhensomeoneelsearrivesattheirtable.It’saslightlyolderwomanwhomshevaguelyrecognizesfromaroundthevillage,anduponherarrivalScarlettscreeches,“Lexie!”;shehugsthewomantoherandsaystoTallulah,“LexieisKerryanne’sdaughter.Youknow,thematronattheMaypole.NotonlyhasLexiegotthebestmumintheworld,shealsohasthebestjobintheworld.TellTallulahwhatyoudo,Lex.”
Lexierollshereyesgood-naturedlyandsays,“I’matravelblogger.”
“Yeah,”saysScarlett,“butnotsomefake-arsetravelbloggerwhotriestoblagfreebiesathotels.Likeaproperblogger.WiththousandsoffollowersonInstagramandastupidlyjet-setlifestyle.Wheredidyoujustgetbackfrom?”
“Peru.”
“Peru.Fuck’ssake.Thatissocoolit’sridiculous.”
StucknowinaconversationwithScarlettandLexie,Tallulahgivesinandhasanothershotoftequilawhenit’sofferedtoherandusesittoswallowdownthechunkofpillshestillheldinherhand.ThebellisrungatthebarforlastordersandScarlettgetstoherfeet.“Anyoneforapoolparty?”shesaysloudly.
TallulahlooksatZachandZachlooksatTallulah,alookfilledwithbadintentions.Hesays,“Countmein.”Hispupilsaredilatedandhe’ssmiling.“Comeon,Tallulah,”hesaystoheracrossthetable,“we’regoingtoapoolparty.”
53
SEPTEMBER2018
Sophiestandsatthefrontdoorofthecottage,herhandsclaspedinfrontofher,herhairneatlycombed,herteethfreshlybrushedtotakeawaythescentofLiam’sbeer.Pippacrunchesacrossthegravelpathwayholdingatwin’shandineachofhers,eachtwintowingasmallwheelycasebehindthem.
“Hello,hello,hello!”saysSophie.“Welcome!”
It’s6:00p.m.andShaunisrunninglateatschoolandhascalledSophieinafrazzleofanxiousapologiestoaskhertobetherewhentheyarrived.She’dheldbackalong,deepsighandsaid,“Ofcourse,ofcourse,noproblem.”
“I’lltryandbethereasquicklyasIcan.Ipromise.”
“It’sfine,”she’dsaid.“Justdowhatyouhavetodo.”
“Thankyou,darling,”hereplied.Andshe’dstarted,becausehe’dnevercalledherdarlingbefore.HealwayscalledherSophes.Orbaby.Darlingseemedtoherlikesomethingyoucalledawifeyou’drunoutofgenuineenthusiasmfor.Darlingwaswhatherfriends’parentscalledeachother.Darlingwasold.
ShemovestowardPippaandthechildrenandleansdowntohugthemtoher.TheyarebothinGaphoodies:Jack’sisgreen,Lily’sisbabypink.Theyhugherbackhardandshefeelsasenseofreliefbecauseit’sbeensolongsinceshe’sseenthemandshe’dbeenscaredtheymighthaveforgottenthattheylikeher.
“Comein,”shesays.“Comein.”
“IsthisreallyDaddy’shouse?”asksJack.
“Well,sortof,”Sophiesays,holdingthedoorforthemtotroopthrough.“Itreallybelongstotheschool.Buttheylendittotheheadteacherforwhenthey’reworkinghere.”
“SodoesDaddystillhavehisotherhouseinLondon?”asksLily,wheelingherpinkTrunkidowntheflagstonesandtowardthekitchen.
“Yes.DaddystillhashisotherhouseandIstillhavemyflat.We’rejustborrowingthiscottageforawhile.”
“It’snice,”saysJack,wholikesmostthings.
“Itlooksabitspidery,”saysLily,whoalwaysfindssomethingtomention.
“Ipromiseyou,”saysSophie,straighteningtheirsuitcasesforthem,“thatIhavecleanedeverylastinchofthiscottageandthereisnotonesolitarytinyweenycreatureanywhereinit.”
“Idon’tmindothercreatures,”saysLily.“Ijustdon’tlikespiders.What’sthatsmell?”
“Whatsmell?”
“Likeaburnedsmell.”
“OhGod,Idon’tknow.IthoughtI’dmanagedtogetridofit.Imusthavegotusedtoit.Sorry.It’sjustanoldhouse,Isuppose.”SheturnstoPippa.“CanIgetyouacupoftea?”
Pippaheavesatravel-wearysigh.“No,”shesays.“No.Verykind.ButI’mexpectedfordinnerinN5ateightthirty.I’monlyjustgoingtomakeitasitis.Imustsay,I’mnotsurehowtenablethisisgoingtobeasanongoingthing.Imean,ifShauncan’tevenmakeitbacktoahousethat’sactuallyinthesameplaceashisschoolontime,howonearthishegoingtogetthesechildrenbackandforthfromN1everyotherweekend?Icansmelldisasteralready.”
Sheanglesherfaceslightlytotheright,almostasifsheissniffingtheairfortheoncomingdisaster,thenchecksherphoneandsays,“JesusChrist,GoogleMapsissayingtwohoursandfiveminutes.Shaunsworeblindthisdrivewasonlyanhourandahalf.”Shesighsandrunsherfingersthroughhershinychestnuthair.“So,children,begoodforSophie.AndforDaddy.Makesureyoudoeverythingyou’retold.”
“Doyouwanttoseetheirroom?”asksSophie.
“No,”sherepliescrisply.“I’msureit’sfine.Shaunsaidyou’dmadeitlovelyforthem,andI’msureitis.”
SophiefeelsasmallflushofpleasureatPippa’swords,attheinnatesuggestionthatsheistobetrustedtodotherightthingwithregardtoherpreciouschildren.
Pippaleansdownandkissesherchildren.ThenshekissesSophielightlyoneachcheekbeforeheadingupthepathbacktowardthemainbuildingandthecarpark
Whenshe’sgone,Sophiebreathesasighofrelief.SherealizesimmediatelythatPippa’svisithadbeenhangingoverherfordayswithoutherevenreallybeingawareofit.Andnowitisdoneandthetwinsarehereandshecancasttheanxietyawayfromherlikeloosenedchains.
“Right,kids,”shesays,comingbackintothekitchen.“Who’shungry?”
Shaunreturnshalfanhourlater,andforanhourorsothecottageisalivewiththeenergyofajoyfulreunion.Heloseshisheavydemeanorthemomentheremoveshistieandletsthechildrencrawlontohislap.Sophieputsachickenlasagnaintheoven(Lilywon’teatcows,sheep,orpigs,butsaysthatchickenshavescaryfacessoit’sOKtoeatthem)andopensabottleofwine,andafterward,Shaunpoursthetwinsabathandoverseesthemgettingintotheirpajamasandtheybothrundownthestairsbare-footedanddamp-hairedwithpinkcheeksandSophiefindsamovieontheTVandtheyallsitbunchedtogetheronthesofawatchingsomethingthatswirlsandtwirlsdrunkenlythroughthepillarsofSophie’sconsciousnessbecauseshecannotfocusonanythingrightnowapartfromthepaintingofthespiralstaircaseonLiam’swall.
Shepullsherphonefromthearmofthesofaandswitchesiton.Sheopensupthephotoshetookofthepaintingandzoomsinonitwithherfingertips,thenmovesaroundtheimagefromcornertocorner,tryingtofindthethingthatmakessenseofit.Ashappenswhenshe’splottinganovelinherhead,shementallylinesuptheplayersandthetimelineandthecluesandtriestoarrangethemintoalogicalnarrative.
Andthenshefeelsashiverrunthroughherassherealizesthatshe’sgotit.Oratleast,she’sgotthekeytoit.Themetaphoricalmonkeywrenchtopullthewholethingopenwith.Shegaspsslightly,loudenoughforShaunandthetwinstoallturntoherasoneandlookatherquestioningly.
“AreyouOK?”asksShaun.
“Yes,”shesays.“Yes.Ijust,er,Ihadathoughtaboutthenewbook,awaytomakeitwork.IthinkImightjust,er…”Shegetstoherfeet.“Doyoumind?”shesays.“IfIdoabitofwork?Iwon’tbelong.”
Shescurriesfromthelivingroomandtoherdesk,wheresheflingsopenthelidofherlaptop.Shescrollsquicklythroughoneofthearticlesshe’dfoundafterhermeetingwithJacintaCroftaboutthehistoryofsecrettunnelsinoldhousesanddiscovers,asshe’dsuspected,thatmanysecrettunnelswereaccessedvia“camouflageddoorshiddenbehindpaintingsorslidingbookcases,orevenbuiltintoanarchitecturalfeature.”Shefindsmanypicturesofstonespiralstaircasesinmedievalbuildingsandcastles,allofthemspiralingupward,towardturretsliketheoneinScarlett’spainting.ButwhatifthearchitectofDarkPlacehaddesignedaspiralstaircasethatwentdownaswellasup?Andwhatifyoucouldaccessitthroughasecretslabofstoneatthefootofthevisiblestaircase?AndwhatifthatweirdmetalimplementinScarlett’spaintingwasactuallydesignedtoliftupthesecretslabofstone?
ShescreenshotsthearticleandthenWhatsAppsthepageandthephotoofScarlett’spaintingtoKim.
Isthiswhatthetoollookedlikethatthepolicefoundintheflowerbed?shetypes,addinginanarrowpointingtotheimplementinthepainting.
Shepressessendandwaitsforthetickstoturnblue.AlmostimmediatelysheseesthatKimistyping.
Yes,comesherresponse.Nobodycouldworkoutwhatitwas.
AshiverrunsthroughSophieassherealizeswhatthismightmean.Lookattherectangleoflightonthepainting,atthebottomofthesteps.
Kimreplies,OK.
ThisisapaintingthatScarlettmade.Apparentlyit’sofastonestaircaseinDarkPlace.
Kimreplieswithanemojiwithaslackjaw.
Thenshesays,CanIsendthistoDom?
Yes,ofcourse,Sophietypes.Bemyguest.
ShaunandSophieputthetwinstobedatninethirty,finishthedregsofthewinethey’dhadwithdinner,andthenheadtobedthemselves.SophiewatchesShaunremovehisclothesandpullontheT-shirtandcottontrousershewearsinbed.ThepullingonoftheT-shirtandthecottontrousersisasilentsignalthattherewillnotbeanysextonightandthat’sfinewithSophie.Thedayhasbeeninordinatelylongandintense.Herheadispackedwiththingsthathavenocorrelationwithsex:dustytunnelsandmissingteenagersandgrievingmothersandhaunted-lookinggirlswithPTSDonYouTube.Sheuntiesherhairfromitsponytailandsheslipsintoherownpajamasandtheneasesherselfgratefullyundertheduvet.
“Didyoumanagetogetsomegoodworkdone?”Shaunasks.
Sheshouldtellhim,shethinks.Sheshouldtellhimwhat’sbeenhappeningandwhomshe’sbeentalkingto,sheshouldtellhimaboutthepaintingsinLiam’sroom,abouttalkingtoKim.Butshecan’t.Shejustcan’t.Thisweekendismeanttobeaboutthetwins.Hehasn’tseenthemforthreeweeks.It’sthelongesthe’severbeenwithoutseeinghischildren.TheonlyreasontheyevercametothisstupidschoolinthefirstplacewassothatShauncouldaffordtoeducatehischildrenthewaytheirmotherwantedthemtobeeducated.ThiswasneveraboutShaun’scareer.Ifthishadbeenabouthiscareer,he’dberunningahuge,sprawlingstatesecondaryschoolininnerLondonrightnow,notthisglorifiedcrammercollegeinachocolate-boxvillage.Hesacrificedsomuchtodothisandshedidnothavetocomewithhim;itwasherchoicetobehere.Hedidn’tcajoleorpersuadeher.
Andnowhischildrenarefinallyhereandthisweekendneedstobeperfect,absolutelyperfect:twowholedaysunsulliedbyworkordetectives.Justthefourofthemdoingwholesome,countrysidethingsasafamily.
Soshenodsandshesays,“Yes,Igotafewwordswritten.”
Hesmilesatherandsays,“Well,that’sgood.Maybeyou’vefinallybrokenthroughyourwriter’sblock?Maybeit’llallstarttoflownow.”
“Yes,”shesays.“Let’shopeso.”
Asshesaysthisherphonebuzzeswithamessage.Shepicksitupandlooksatit.It’sKim.
Domsaysthey’lldefinitelygetawarranttogointoDarkPlacenow.Hopefullyassoonastomorrowmorning.Thanksforeverything.You’reamazing.
Shetypesareply.Noworries.GladIcouldhelp.
“Whowasthat?”asksShaun.
“Oh,”shesays,“justthefamilyWhatsApp.”
Sheturnsherphoneoff,plugsitintocharge,andcloseshereyeswithherheadfullofstaircasesthatspiralaroundandaroundanddownintothedarksoftsandsofsleep.
54
JUNE2017
ScarlettturnsupthevolumeontheradioinLexie’scarandopensthewindow.TallulahissittingonZach’slap,squashedinthebackwithLiamandMimi.Herheadisspinning.Shehasn’tdrunkmorethanhalfabottleofwineinmonths.Shehasn’ttakenrecreationaldrugssinceshewasfourteen.ShecanfeeltheoutlineoftheringboxinZach’spocketagainstthebackofherleg.Shesticksherheadoutofthewindowtosuckingulpsofwarmnightair.Treesflashbyinstreaksofblackandgold,lightsracetowardthemcomingtheotherwayinblurreddisksofwhite.Theskyisstillholdingontoitslastmouse-grayshredsofdaylight.
ScarlettwasmeanttotellZachaboutthem.ThatwasplanB.ShewasgoingtotellZachthatsheandTallulahwereinlovewitheachother,andZachwasgoingtolookatTallulahwithwideeyesofdisbeliefandstifleaharshlaughandsay,What?AndTallulahwasgoingtosay,It’strue.I’vebeentryingtotellyouforweeks,butIcouldn’tfindtherightmoment.AndthenZachwouldhavestormedofforthrownuporstartedafightorscreamedorcriedorragedorsomething.Anditwouldhavebeenover.Itwouldhavebeendreadful,butitwouldhavebeenamomentofnoreturn.
ButScarletthasforsomeinexplicablereasonextendedtheagonybydraggingeveryonebacktoherhouseforapoolparty.Tallulahhadmessagedherearlierinthepub:Whatrudoing???
ScarletthadrepliedALLUNDERCONTROLandthensentheraconspiratoriallookacrossthetable.
TheypullthroughthegatesofDarkPlaceandheaddownthelongdrivewaytothehouse,theoutlineofwhichTallulahcanseeinthreeseparateanddistinctversions.Sheblinkstotrytobringthethreeimagesintoalignment,butitdoesn’twork.
Lexieparksupandtheyalldismount,tumblingfromthetightlypackedcarontothegraveleddriveway.Scarlettleadsthemallthroughthemetalgateatthesideofthehouseandontothepoolterraceandheadsstraightintothepoolhouse,wheresheswitchesonthegardenlightingandtheSonossoundsystemandreturnsamomentlaterwithahandfulofcoldbeersfromthefridge.ZachperchesontheedgeofasunloungerandTallulahsitsbehindhim.ScarlettissingingalongloudlytothemusiconthesystemandLiamisjoiningin.LexieandMimiareontheirphones.
ScarlettpassesTallulahabeerandshetakesitfromher.“Cheers,”saysScarlett,dancingassheholdsherbeerbottleouttowardTallulah’s.“Andcheerstoyoutoo,Zach.It’sgreattofinallymeetyou.”
Zachtoucheshisbottleagainsthersandsays,“Likewise,”butevenfromhere,sittingbehindhim,Tallulahcanfeelthedislikeemanatingfromhim.
ScarlettdancesbacktowardLiamandMimiandtoaststhemaswell.ThensherestsherbeeronatableandpullsoffherT-shirt.She’swearingasmallvesttopunderneath.Sheunbuttonshershorts,stepsoutofthem,revealingtheunsexyblackunderpantsthatTallulahissofamiliarwith,andthen,inaflash,she’sinthepool.
Tallulahstaresasshesoarsacrossthebottomofthepool,thedistortinglensofthepoolwatermakingherlookevenlongerandleanerthansheis.Thensheemergesattheendandpullsherselfupontothepooledge,pullsherwethairoffherface,andsaystoTallulahandZach,“Areyoucomingin?”
Tallulahsays,“No.Idon’twanttogetmyhairwet.”
AndScarlettsays,“Oh,comeon,Lula,Iknowhowmuchyoulikegettingyourhairwet.”
AndTallulahseesZach’sshouldersflinchbeforehetipshisbeerbottletohislips,briskly,anddrinkshardfromit.
Shelaughsnervously.“Seriously.Iwasheditthismorningandblow-drieditandeverything.Ican’tbebothereddoingitallagaintomorrow.”
“Oh,Lula.Youandyourprecioushair.Comeon!Don’tbemoist.Getin!”ShepullstwohandfulsofwaterfromthepoolandthrowsthematTallulah,splatteringZachintheprocess,whogetsquicklytohisfeet,yells,“Fuck’ssake!Watchit!”
“Youmayaswellgetproperlywetnow.Comeon,Zach.Showyourgirlfriendhowit’sdone.”
Zachstartsunbuttoninghisshirt.HepullsitoffandthenhepullsoffthewhiteT-shirthewaswearingunderneathandTallulahcanseethemusclesinhisbackrippleandwrigglebeneathhisflesh.ThenheunzipshistrousersandpullsthemoffandheisnakedapartfromhisfittedLycraboxershorts.
HeturnstoTallulahandsays,“Comeon,then.Doasyourfriendtellsyou.”
ThereissomethingintheatmospherethatissosourandsoswollenthatTallulahcanbarelybreathe.It’sformeddirectlyinthespacebetweenScarlettandZach,andit’sgettingbiggerandbigger.Shenodsandpullsoffhershortsbutnotherfloatytop,feelingself-consciousinfrontofMimiandLiamandLexie.Shetwistsherhairintoaknotandthenjumpsstraightin,waterrocketingintoherearcanals,gushingoverherskin,blowinghertopupintoabillowingcottonjellyfish.Sheburstsoutagainandfindsherselfface-to-facewithScarlett,whobrushesherlipsquicklyagainsthersbeforegoingunderagain.TallulahturnsandseesZachjustasheemergesfromthewaterandhemakesthenoisethatpeoplemakewhenaswimmingpooliscolderthanyouexpectittobeandheshakeshishead,dropletsofwatercatchingthelightastheyflyfromthetipsofhishairlikecrystals.AndnowTallulahissittingbetweenZachandScarlettandtheenergybetweenthetwoofthemissotoxicthatyoucouldchokeonit.
OnceagainTallulahfindsherselfthinkingofherbabyboy,thefamiliarityandwarmthofhistinybody,thefeelofhiminherarms,againstherbody,thesmellofhisnighttimebreath,andshefeels,suddenly,thatshedoesn’twantanyone.NotScarlett,notZach.Shejustwantstobealone.
Shekicksherlegsbehindhertogethertothestepsandclimbsout.Asshedoesso,MimiandLiambothjumpin.Shegoestothepoolhouseandgrabsabigblacktowelfromaperfectlyarrangedstackofrolled-uptowelsandshewrapsherselfinitandsitsonaloungerandwatchestheothersinthepoolforawhile.TheloudmusicdrownsoutthesoundsofscreamingandsquealingandTallulahwatcheswithdiscomfortasZachputsScarlettonhisshouldersandentersintoabattlewithaninflatablehammerwithMimi,whositsatopLiam’sshoulders.
Sheshakesherheadalittle,todislodgesomewater,butalsototryandrightthewrongnessofwatchingherloverandherpartnerentwinedinwetunderwear.SheseesZachturnslightlytoacknowledgeher;thelookhegivesherislikeashotofice.Shenodsandforcesasmile,shiveringslightlyasherbodytemperaturestartstodrop.“I’mgoingtogetdressed,”shesays,collectinghershortsandZach’sshirt,herphoneandherbag,andheadingintothehouse.
There’sasmallroomoffthekitchen;Scarlettcallsitthesnug.It’slinedwithbookshelvesandlitwithlow-levellighting,hastwosmallredsofasfacingeachotheracrossabigwalnutcoffeetablecoveredwithinterestingobjects,bigglossyhardbackbooks,andafanofinteriorsmagazines.Sheslidesthedoorclosedbehindherandpeelsoffherwettop,thenputsonZach’sT-shirt,takesoffherwetknickers,andpullsonhershorts.Sheturnsherheadupsidedownandtwiststheblacktowelintoaturbanoverherwethair.Shewantstostayinhere.It’swarmandit’ssafe.Shefeelsprotectedfromthestrangenessoftheevening,fromtheterribleenergyintheair.Shetapsonherphoneandseesthatitisnearly1:00a.m.Shethinksabouttextinghermum,butthenthinksthatsheisprobablyasleepbynowandthatshewouldbewakingherupunnecessarily,sosheturnsitoffagainandsitsdownonthelittleredsofaandpicksuponeofthebigglossybooksandstartstoflickthroughit,thewordsandimagesblurringinfrontofhereyes,remindingherthatwhilesheislessdrunkthanshewas,sheisstillfarfromsober.
“Thereyouare,”saysadeepvoiceatthedoor.It’sZach.He’sbackinhisshirtandtrousers,hiswethairslickedawayfromhisface.“What’sthematterwithyou?”
Heslidesthedoorclosedbehindhimandstandsframedbyit,ahalogenjustabovehisheadthrowingsinistershadowsdownhisface.
“Nothing,”shesays.“Justcameintogetdryandwarm.”
“Andleftmeouttherelikeadick?”
“Zach,”shesays.“Itwasyourideatocomehere.Iwantedtogohometwohoursago,remember?”
“Yes,Idoremember.ButthenIthought,youknow,maybeyouwerejustsayingyouwantedtogohomeformysake,andIdidn’twantyourfriendstothinkIwascrampingyourstyle.”
“Ididn’twanttocome.Iwantedtogohome.Istillwanttogohome.I’mcallingacabnow.”
Shegetstoherfeet,andasshedoesso,Zachstridestowardherandsays,“No.No,we’renotgoinganywhere.Notyet.”
Hestandscloseenoughforhertosmellthechlorineonhim,tofeeltheheatofhisbreath.
“Iwanttogohome,”shesaysagain,ahintofdefeatinhervoice.
Shegoestomovepasthim,buthegrabsherarms,hard.“DoyouknowwhatIwasgoingtodotonight,Lula?DoyouhaveanyideawhatIwasgoingtodo?”Hereleasesoneofherarmsanddipshishandintothepocketofhistrousers,pullsoutthesmallblackbox,andshovesitagainstherbreastbonesohardshecanalreadyfeelabruisestarttoform.
“Ow,”shesays,rubbingathersternum.“Thathurt.”
“Openit,”hesnarls.
Sheinhalesdeeplyandunclicksthefastening,thenstaresinnumbhorroratthetinynubofdiamondglitteringatherunderthelowhalogens.Thereitis,shethinks.Thereitis.Thereasonforeverylastdreadfulminuteofthisevening.
Sheclickstheboxshutagain,handsitbacktoZach,andsays,“Iwouldhavesaidno.”
Thepowerofherownresponseleavesherfeelingwinded.
Herocksslightly.“Right,”hesays.“Right.”
Foramoment,Tallulahthinksmaybethat’sit.Maybeit’sdone.MaybeherjourneywithZachisfinallyoveranditreallywassimpleasthat.ButshestaresatZachandseeshisexpressionpassfromnumbacceptancethroughconfusionandthen,quickly,soquickly,intoblackrage.
“It’sher,isn’tit?”hesays.“Thisissomethingtodowithher.”
“Who?”
“Thatgirl.Scarlett.Eversinceshewalkedintothepubtonightyou’vebeenonedge.That’swhyIcamebackhere.Iwantedtoseewhatwasgoingon.So.What’sthedeal?”
Tallulahfeelssomethingsurgethroughher,likeastampede.“We’retogether,”shesaysbluntly.
Zach’sfacecontortsintoanuglymaskofincomprehension.“What?”
“Me.AndScarlett.We’vebeenseeingeachother.”
There.It’sdone.It’ssaid.It’sover.Tallulahbreathesoutheavilyandwaits.
“Youmean,like…”Hecannotfindthewordstodescribesomethingthathecannotcountenance.“Youandher?Like…”
“Havingsex.Yes.”
“Oh.OhmyGod.”Hestumblesslightlyandgroans.“OhmyGod.OhJesus.Iknewit.JesusfuckingChrist,fromtheminuteIsawthatphotoonyourphone,Iknewit.Itwassoobvious.So,wereyouhavingsexthen?Youandher?”
“No.God.No.ThatwasonlythesecondtimeI’devenspokentoher.”
“Butdiditstartthatnight?”
“No.No.Notforages.Notuntilyouandmestartedhavingproblems.”
“Whatproblems?Wehaven’tbeenhavinganyproblems.”
Sheblinksathim.Shehasnoideaifhe’sbeingdeliberatelyobtuseorifhegenuinelybelievesthisrewritingoftheirhistory.
“Fuck’ssake.Lula.Imean.Fuck’ssake.Withher?Ofallthepeople.She’snotevengood-looking.She’sliterallyugly.”
“She’snotugly.She’sbeautiful.”
Heclutcheshishead.“Thisis…thisisinsane,Lula.Thisisn’tyou.You’renotfuckinggay.Thisisher.She’sdonethistoyou.She’sfuckinggroomedyou.Canyounotseethat?She’sgroomedyou.”
HepacesaroundforamomentandTallulahhasnoideawhetherhe’sontheedgeofcalmingdownandcajolingherintoastateofsubmission,orwhetherhe’sabouttokillher.Buthedoesneitherofthesethings.Hedrawshimselfuptallandstraight,looksdirectlyather,andsays,“Youknowthat’sitnow,don’tyou?Youknowyoucan’tbeNoah’smotheranymore.Notnow.Nocourtintheworldwouldletapersonlikeyouraiseachild.Nocourtintheworld.I’mgoingnow,Tallulah.I’mgoingbacktothehouseandI’mtakingNoah,andyouwillneverseehimagain.Doyouhearme?Youwillneverseehimagain.”
Hehurlstheringboxatheragain,andasheturnsaway,Tallulahfeelsherheadfillwithsplinteredshardsoffearandrage.No,sayseveryatominherbody;no,youdonotgettotakemybaby;no,youdonotgettotakemybaby.Andshefollowsbehindhim,andshescreamsout,herarmsoutstretched,readytopullhimback,tostophimdoingwhathe’sdoing,goingwherehe’sgoing.ButassheleavestheroomsheseesthatScarlettisinthedoorwayinherwetunderwearandthatsheisholdingsomethinginherhand,abronzelump,carvedintoashapethatsomehowresemblesagroupofpeopleinahuddle,andthatsheisliftingitbackwardoverherheadandthenswingingitforwardagaintowardthecrownofZach’shead.SheseesthebronzelumphitthebackofZach’sskull.ShehearsScarlett’sscreamofanger,Zach’sdullyellofpain.Andsheseestheblowfellhimsothathelandsinaperfectarc,face-firstontothewhitegranitefloor.
55
SEPTEMBER2018
Thefollowingmorningstartsearly,asisalwaysthewaywhenShaunhasthetwins.Jackisfirstontheirbed,tryingtostealShaun’sphoneoffthebedsidetableandhavingamockbattlewithhim.Lilyfollowsaminutelater,herfinebrownhairfuzzedupintoathickknotatthebackofherheadthatSophieknowsshewillhavetospendtwentyminutesbrushingoutbeforetheycanleavethehouse.OverLily’sshoulder,throughagapinthecurtains,SophieseesaninchofthegraydampdaythattheforecastershadpredictedandsheturnstoShaunandsays,“Lookslikeit’sthewaterparktoday.”AndShaunpeersthroughthegapinthecurtainsandsighsandsays,“Lookslikeit.”
ThechildrenaredelightedandeveryonerunsdownstairstoeatthespecialbreakfaststhatSophiegotinforthem:fatAmericanpancakes,Nutella,andCocoPops.Sophiedrinkscoffeefromabigmug,Shaundrinksanespressofromatinycup,thechildrenchatandeatanddropCocoPopsonthefloorandtalkabouthowiftheywereathometheirdog,Betty,wouldhooverupthespilledcereal.Rainsplashesgentlyagainstthewindowpanesandforamoment,Sophiefeelsatone,asthoughmaybethisishowshe’sbeenwaitingtofeeleversincetheyfirstarrived.SouthLondonseemsdistant,andforamomentshethinksthatmaybeshecandothisafterall.Alltheyneededwastoseethechildren.Shaunhasalreadylostsomeofthebrittlenesshe’sbeendisplayingsincehestartedhisnewjob.Theharshhaircuthehadbeforetheyarrivedhasstartedtogrowoutandsoften,andhecan’tstopsmiling,evenwhenthetwinsarebeingtesty.
ShepicksupherphonetogoogletheopeningtimesoftheleisurecenterinManton,andasshedoesso,amessagearrivesfromKim.
They’vegotawarrant.They’regoingtoDarkPlace.Ifeelsick.
Sophietakesasharpintakeofbreath,beforetypingherreply.
OhmyGod.Thatwasquick.Whenwilltheygiveyoumoredevelopments?
They’rejustputtingateamtogether.Maybeinacoupleofhours?Ican’tbreathe.
IsthereanythingIcando?
Sheknowsit’sthewrongthingtohavesaidtheminuteshepressessend.
Couldyoucomeover?Maybe.Ifyou’renotbusy?
Sophielooksupfromherphone.LilyandJackarestandingoverthetoasterwaitingfortheirsecondroundofpancakestowarmup,Shaunisloadingthedishwasher,everyoneisstillintheirpajamasandinvaryingdegreesofunreadinessfortheday,thedaythatwasverymuchintendedtobeadayaboutthefourofthem.Shesighsandtypes,Mypartner’skidsarehere.We’regoingtothesplashpoolinManton.
Shepauses.Itsoundssoharsh.Thiswomanispossiblyonthecuspofdiscoveringthatherdaughterisdead.Splashpool.Really?
Sheaddsanotherline,Butwe’renotgoingforawhile,soIcouldcomeoverforalittlebit.
Thankyousomuch,Kimreplies.Ijustcan’tfacebeingonmyownrightnow.
SophiegetstoKim’shalfanhourlater.Shaunhadlookedalittleconfusedwhenshe’dtriedtoexplaininasfewwordsaspossiblewhereshewasgoing,andwhy.
“I’llbebackinanhour,”shesaysassheleaves.“Probablyless.”
“Buthowdoyouknowthiswoman?”
“Fromthering,”shesayslightly.“TheoneIfoundinthewoods.IguessI’vegotalittlebitsuckedintothingswithher,youknow.”
“Well,don’tbetoolong,willyou?”
“IpromiseI’llbebackintimetogotoswimming.”
KimlooksgraywhensheopensthedoortoSophie.She’snotwearingmakeupandherusuallyshinyhairishanginginmatteropesovereachshoulder.
Thesoundofchildren’sTVblaresfromthelivingroom,whereSophiecanseethebackofNoah’sheadastheypassby.Kimleadsherintothekitchenandpullsoutachairforher.
“Tea?”
“Yes.Please.”
KimfillsthekettlefromthetapandSophiehearshersigh.
“Anymoreword?”sheasks.
“No,notyet.Thisistheworstfeeling.Ican’tbearit.”
Kim’sshoulderslooksmallandpointythroughthecottonofherlong-sleevedtopandSophiewantstotouchher,comforther,butshedoesn’tknowherwellenough.
“It’sgoingtohappen,”saysKim.“They’regoingtoopenthatslabinthattower,they’regoingtogodownthere,andthey’regoingtofindsomething.Iknowtheyare.Anditcouldbesomethingthatbreaksmyworldapartcompletely.AndI’mnotsureI’mreadyforthat.I’mnotsureI’llever,everbereadyforthat.IwantittohappenbutIdon’twantittohappen.AndIneedtoknow,butIdon’twanttoknow.Whatifshe’sdownthere?Mybabygirl.Whatifshe’sdownthere?Withspiders.Youknow,shesuffersfromarachnophobia.She’sterrifiedofspiders.Literallytothepointwhereshecan’tbreatheifsheseesone,whereshewouldphysicallyshake.Andwhatifsomeonelockedherdownthere,withspiders.Inthedark.Alone.That’swhatIcan’tbear.Theideaofherbeingdownthere,alone…”
AndthenKimstartstocryandSophiegetstoherfeetandencirclesherinherarmsandsays,“OhKim.OhKim.I’msosorry.Thismustbesotough.Sotough.”ThekettlecomestoaboilandclicksoffbutKimdoesnotmakethetea;instead,shecollapsesontoachairandstaresattheclockonthekitchenwallasitturnsfrom10:01a.m.to10:02a.m.
ThenKim’sphonebuzzesandSophiecanseefromherethenameDomflashuponherscreen.
KimstrapsNoahintohiscarseatinthebackofhercarwhileSophiegetsintothepassengerseat.ShetakesoutherphoneandmessagesShaun.
KimandIaregoingtoDarkPlace.Apparentlythey’vefoundsomething.
Hermessagegoesunreaduntiltheyarealmostoutofthevillage,whenShaunreplieswith,OhGod.Ihopeit’snothingtooawful.We’llwaitheretillwehearfromyou.
KimdriveshardthroughthecountrylanesoutsidethevillageandthenrathertoofastupthetinylanethatleadstoDarkPlace.There’safemalepoliceofficerinhigh-visstandingatthegatestothehouseandKimwindsdownherwindowandsays,“DIMcCoytoldmetocome.I’mTallulahMurray’smother.”
Theofficerletsherthroughthegatesandtheydriveupthepotholeddrivewaytothefrontofthehouse,whichiscircledwithmarkedandunmarkedpolicecars.AnotherpoliceofficerapproachesthemandKimonceagainwindsdownherwindowandexplainswhosheisandthepoliceofficertalksintoawalkie-talkieandthenaskshertowaitinthecarforamoment.
Thefrontdoorofthehouseiswide-open.InsideSophiecanseeanelegantmarblehallwaywithacreamystonestaircasecirclingthroughthemiddletoaglassbalustradeabove,withahugemodernistchandelierhangingatitscenter.Thewallsarehungwithabstractartandatthebaseofthestaircasethereisapairof1960sleatherloungingchairsfacingeachotheracrossalowcoffeetable.It’sexquisitelytasteful,aperfectblendofoldandnew.Butthisbeautifulhousehasbeenleftabandonedformorethanayear,andnow,finally,everyonewillknowwhy.
DomappearsatthefrontdooramomentlaterandKimstepsimmediatelyoutofhercarandheadstowardhim.SophiewouldliketofollowbutneedstostayinthecarwithNoah,sosheopensherdoorandswivelsaroundsothatsheishalfinandhalfoutofthecar.ShewatchesasDomsayssomethingtoKimandthensheseesKim’sbodycrumpleatthekneesandDomandanothermanbringherbacktostandingwithahandundereachelbow,beforeDomtakesherintohisarmsandholdsontoherhard.
SophieturnsandlooksatNoah.“I’mjustgoingtocheckyournana’sOK,allright?Iwon’tbelong.Youjustwaitthere,likeagood,goodboy.OK?”
Noahstaresatherandthensticksouthistongueandblowsheraraspberry,andshestartsslightly.Nochildhaseverblownaraspberryatherbeforeandtheclassroomassistantinsideherwouldliketoreacttoitinsomeway.Butinsteadsheignoresitandstridestowardthefrontdoor.
SherestsahandgentlyonthesmallofKim’sbackandsays,“Kim?What’shappened?”
AndKimisbreathingtoohardtospeaksoDomspeaksforherandsays,“We’vejustgotintothetunnel.Therearehumanremainsdownthere.”
Sophiefeelsaveilfallacrosshervisionandwobblesslightly.“Isthereanyideayetwhoseremains?”
“No.Notyet.ButKim,”hesays,turningtoaddressher,“youshouldknowthatitisamale.”
Kimsobs.Achokingsound.
“Andwefoundthis,aswell.”Heholdsupasealedclearplasticbag.“Areyouabletoidentifyit,Kim?”
Sophielooksattheobjectinthebag.It’saphoneinaclearplasticcasewithsomekindofdesignprintedonit.ShefeelsKim’sshoulderscrumpleunderherhandandshehearsanoisecomefromKimthatshehasneverheardbefore,halfbansheewail,halfferalgrowl,andKimcollapsesontoherkneesthereonthegraveleddrivewayandsays,“No,no,no,no,no,no,notmybaby.No,no,no,no,notmybeautifulbabygirl.”
InthebackseatofKim’scarNoahstartstoscreamandcryandsoonthedampairisfilledwiththesoundsofrawhumanagonybeingplayedoutinstereoandeveryoneelsefallscompletelysilent.
56
JUNE2017
“Zach?”
Tallulahshovesathisshoulder.
“Zach?”
Hisbodyseemsoddlysolidandresistant,shethinks,asthoughithasbeenemptiedandrefilledwithballbearings.
“Zach?”shehissesintohisear.“Oh.Fuck.Zach.”
Sheputsherfacetohisface,whichisturnedatastrangeangle,andfeelsforbreathfromhismouthandnose.Butthereisnothing.Shetriestomovehimontohisbackbutheistooheavy.Thereisasmallpatchofbloodonthetilebeneathhischeeksandsheseesatricklecomingfromhisearcanal.
“OhmyGod.Scarlett.Whathaveyoudone?”
Scarlettthrowsheralookofdismay.“Hewasgoingtotakeyourbaby,Lula!Hewasgoingtotakeyourbaby!”
“Yes.Butyoudidn’tneedto…ohmyGod!”TallulahgetstoherfeetandshestaresfromScarletttoZachandbackagain.“Scarlett.He’sdead.OhJesusChrist.Scarlett.”
“Youtoldmeyouwantedhimtodisappear,Lula.Youtoldmethat.Remember?Yousaidyouwishedhecouldjustdisappear.Thatitwouldeasier.IheardwhathesaidaboutthebabyandIheardhimthreateningyouandIjust…”
TheybothlookupataclickingnoiseacrossthekitchentilesandseethatitisToby.Helooksattheminquisitively,andthenpadstowardZach’sbody.HesniffsthetoesofhisbarefootandthensitsdownandlooksatTallulah.Behindhimanotherfigureappears:amiddle-agedwomanwithasilkenkimonowrappedaroundhersmallframe,apalepinkeyemaskpushedhalfwayupherforehead.
Thewomansquintsandgrimacesatthetableauinfrontofher.Thenshepeelsofftheeyemaskandsays,“Ijustcamedowntoaskyoukidstoturndownthepoolmusic.Whatthehellisgoingon?”
Tallulahcan’tspeak.Sheshakesherhead.
“OhChrist.”ThewomanstridestowardZach’sbody.“Whoishe?Whoareyou?Whoisthis,Scarlett?”Thewoman’seyesgototheobjectinScarlett’shand.“Oh,”shesays,sadlyandsomewhattheatrically.“NotmyPipin.”
Tallulahshakesherheadagain.Pipin?
ThewomanleansdowntowardZach’sfaceandsaysagain,“Pleasecansomeonetellmewhothehellthisis?”Sheplacestwofingerstotheundersideofhisneckandpeersintohiseyes.
“He’s…Zach,”saysTallulah.“He’s,he’smyboyfriend.”
“Andyouare?”
“Tallulah.I’mTallulah.”
“OhChrist.He’sdead,”saysthewoman.“Willoneofyoupleasetellmewhat’sgoingon?”
“Idon’tknow,”saysScarlett,lookingfromthestrangemetalobjectinherhandthathermothercalledher“Pipin”tothelifelessformofZachandbackagain.“Idon’tknow.Hewasgoing—hewasgoingtotakeNoah.Andthen—”
“Who’sNoah?”asksthewomanwithasigh.
Scarlettreplies,“NoahisLula’sbaby.Hewasgoingtotakehimawayfromher.Andthen…”HereyesdroptothePipinagainandshestopstalking.
There’sablacksquareinTallulah’sheadoverthespacewherethememoryofwhatjusthappenedshouldbe,likearedaction.ShecanrememberchasingZachintothekitchen.ShecanrememberthedogwalkingintothekitchenandsniffingZach’stoes.Inbetweenathinghappened.Aterriblething.Itflashesthroughherheadlikealightningbolt.Shestartstocry.“Oh,”shesaysinatiny,tinyvoice.“Oh.”Sheputsherhandsoverhermouthandstartstorock.“Oh.”
“So,right.Let’sthinkstraight,”saysScarlett’smother.“Thetimeis…”Sheturnstolookatthebigmetalclockonthewall.“Justaftertwoa.m.Whoelseishere?”
“JustMimi.LiamandLexiehavegone.”
“Andwhere’sMimi?”
“Idon’tknow.Shecameinsideafewminutesago.Tochargeherphone,shesaid.”
“Soit’sjustus.Andthisboy,thisZach,washetryingtohurtyou?”
Tallulahshakesherhead.“No,”shesays.“Hewasleaving.”
“Hasheeverhurtyou?”
“No,”shesays.“No,he’sneverhurtme.”
“Andyou,Scarlett.Hasheeverhurtyou?”
Scarlettshakesherheadsullenly.
“Anddidyouthinkhewasgoingtohurtyou?”
Sheshakesherheadagain.
“So,youhithimontheheadfrombehindbecausehesaidhewasgoingtotakeyourfriend’sbaby?”
“Yes.”
“Andwhywashegoingtotakeyourbaby?”sheasksTallulah.
“Because…Itoldhim…”ShelooksatScarlett,whonods,justonce.“ItoldhimthatIwasinlovewithScarlett.”
ShewaitstoseewhatthispronouncementdoestotheperfectanglesofScarlett’smother’sface,butitdoesnothing.Herfacedoesnotmoveinanywayorregisteranykindofreaction.Instead,shesimplysighsandsays,“OK.Sohewasangry.Andhurt.Andmaybeslightlydisgusted.Hesaidhewasgoingtotakeyourbaby.Hewenttoleaveandthen…”Allthreeofthemlookagainatthebodyonthefloor.
Foramoment,nobodysaysanything.ThenScarlett’smothersighsandsays,“Whatafuckingmess.Right.Whoknowsyoutwowerehere?”sheasksTallulah.
Tallulahtriestoarrangeherthoughts.“Er,nobody.MymumknowsI’matsomeone’shouse,butIdidn’ttellherwhose.”
“Andwhataboutyourfriends,Scarlett?”
“Well,theyallknewbecausewewereallatthepubtogether.AndLiamandLexie,obviously,becausetheywerehere.AndMimi.Andmaybesomeotherpeople.”
“Right,soeventually,peoplearegoingtorealizethatsomething’supwhenthisboydoesn’tcomehome.”
Tallulahnodsandthinksofhermotherandthinksofherbabyandthinksofherbedandthinksthatallshewantsisherbabyandhermotherandherbed.
“Whattimewasyourmotherexpectingyouhome?”Scarlett’smotherasksTallulah.
“Idon’tknow,really.Noparticulartime.”
“Right,sowehaveafewhoursatleastbeforeweneedtomakeanaccountofourselves.”
“Aren’twegoingtocallthepolice?”Tallulahasks.
“What?No.Thisismanslaughter.Scarlettwillendupinprison.Youtoo,probably.Andyou’llneverseeyourbabygrowup.No,thisisadisaster,thisisanabsolutefuckingdisaster.”Sheputsherhandsonherhipsandsurveysthearea.“So,”shebegins.“Mimi.WhatarewegoingtodoaboutMimi?Whereisshe?”
“Itoldyou.Idon’tknow.Shecameindoorstochargeherphone.”
“Goandfindher,”shesaystoScarlett,withoutturningaround.Shegoestothesink,poursherselfaglassofwater,andknocksbacktwopainkillerswithit.“Urgh.Myhead.”
Scarlettnodsanddisappears.Thenforamomentortwo,itisjustTallulah,Scarlett’smother,andthedog.“Well,lifeisneverdullwithScarlettaround,that’sforsure,”sayshermother.“JesusChrist.Onethingafteranotherafteranother.Fromthemomentshewasborn.IwassoexcitedwhenIfoundoutIwashavingagirlafterthewhirlwindofRex.Ithoughtitwouldbeallcalmafternoonsdoingcraftsandplayingwitheachother’shair.Butno,ScarlettwasevenworsethanRex,ifanything,alwayswantingtobeoutdoors,alwayswantingtorun,todisobey,totalk.OhmyGod,totalk.”Sherestsadelicatehandagainsthercheekboneandthenrubsitacrossherforehead.“Suchanightmareofachild.Andthentheteenageyears.Ohmygoodness.Theboys—youknow,shelosthervirginitywhenshewasthirteen.Thirteen.Shewasobsessedwithboys.Thencamethegirls.Thenmoreboys.Moregirls.Alwaysbeingsuspendedfromschoolafterschool.Neverwhereshesaidshewasgoingtobe.Nevercared,thatwasthething.AsmuchasIbroketheruleswhenIwasateenager,Ialwayscaredabouttheconsequences.ButScarlettneverdid.Andwhatcanyoudowithachildlikethat?”
Scarlettreturns.“She’soutcoldonmybed,”shesays.
“Good,”saysScarlett’smother.“Leaveherthere.OK.Now.Firstthingsfirst.Weneedtogetridofhim.”
Tallulahshakesherhead.Althoughsheisalmostentirelynumb,shealsocan’tquiteacceptthatZachisnowanobject,thatheisnodifferentfromthestrangepieceofbronzeonthefloornexttohim,thePipin,athingtobegotridof.Itfeelswrong.Shebattleswiththesesickening,dizzyingemotionsforashortmoment,tryingtountwinethemfromoneanother,thenfeelsweakwiththerealizationthatthereisonlyonesolutionanditistheonethatScarlett’smotherissuggesting.
SheseesScarlettandhermotherexchangealook,analmostimperceptiblenod.“Thetunnel?”sayshermother.
“Yes,”saysScarlett.“Thetunnel.”
57
SEPTEMBER2018
KimandSophiearesentawaybeforethebodybagisbroughtfromthehouse.Noahhascriedhimselfintoastupefiedsleepandissnoringgentlyinthebackseatastheyturnontothemainroadbacktothevillage.
Kim’shandsgripthesteeringwheelhard,herknuckleslikenubsofivorythroughherskin.“Thosepeople,”shesays.“Thatwoman.Thatgirl.Iknew.IknewwhenIwasthere.Theywerebadpeople.Icouldfeelitinmygut.Youknow?Thathouse,ithadbadnessinit.Evenonthatperfectsummer’sday.Andtheretheywere!Intheswimmingpool!Laughing!Drinkingbeer!Itsickensme.Butwhy?Why,forGod’ssake?Andthentocarryonlivingthereforweeksafterward.Withthat…downthere…”Kimstartstocryagain.
“Shallwepullover?”Sophiesuggestssoftly.“Justforaminute.”
Kimnodsandsignalsandtucksthecarintothecurb.Sheflopsherheadontothesteeringwheelandcriesforashortwhile.Afteraminuteortwoshepullsherselftogetherandmovesthecarbackintothetrafficandbacktowardthevillage.
AtKim’shouse,SophiemessagesShaun.
Theyfoundabody.Amale.AndTallulah’smobilephone.I’mwaitingwithKimuntilthere’snews.I’llstayintouch.
ShaunrepliessimplywithOKandakiss.
KimsitsinthekitchenwithNoahandgiveshimsomethingtoeatwhileSophiesitsinthelivingroom,lookingaroundheratthephotosinframesonshelvesandonthewalls,allofwhichshowafamilythatwasonceunexceptional,ineverywayotherthanintheirhappiness.Tallulahisaprettygirl,butlookslikethesortofgirlwholikestoblendintothebackground,whodoesn’tlikecomplimentsorfuss,thesortofgirlwholikesroutineandnormalityandsimplefood,whodoesn’texperimentwithclothesormakeupincaseshegetsitwrong.YetsomehowshefoundherselfembroiledinaBohemian,self-centeredfamilyliketheJacqueses.Howdidithappen?Whendidithappen?Andwhydiditendthewayitappearstohaveended?
Shechecksherphoneformessages,forupdates.ShegoestothelinkforMimi’sYouTubevideoagaintoseeifshe’suploadedanythingnew.Butthevideoisgone.Thewholeaccountisgone.MimihasbeenmadetodisappearbyScarlettJacques,stillsomehowwieldingherinexplicablepowerfromaboatinthemiddleofanocean.
58
JUNE2017
TheslablandsinplaceoverthestepsdowntothetunnelandScarlettlocksitintoplacewiththeoldlever.Allthreeofthemaresweatyandgray.Theygettotheirfeetandrubtheirhandsdowntheirlegs.Theairinthistinydampturretisthickwiththesmellofoldalcohol,sweat,andfear.
Thedogiswaitinganxiouslyoutsidethedoortotheanteroom,whininggentlyunderhisbreath.Hefollowsthemintothekitchen,wherethetinypuddleofbloodsitsinthemiddleofthefloorlikeasplashofspilledBeaujolais.Scarlett’smummopsitupwithkitchenpaperandspraybleachandthenburnsthepaperoverthesinkbeforeswirlingtheashesdowntheplugholeandcleaningthesinkwithmorespray.
Itisnearly3:00a.m.TheglassoftheslidingdoorsreflectstheLEDlightsfromtheswimmingpool,whichswirlslowlyfrompalepinktohotpinktopurpletoblue.
Tallulahsitsheavilyontheedgeofthebigleathersofaandsays,veryquietly,“CanIgohomenow?”
“No,”Scarlett’smotherrepliesimmediatelyandfirmly.“No.Youareinastateofshock.Ifyougohomenow,yourmotherwillknow.Ican’tletyougoanywhereuntilwe’vefixedthis.OK?”
Tallulahstaresatherandathousandobjectionsjumptothesurfaceofherconsciousness.Butsheissotired.Sotired.Andallshewantstodoissleep.ShewatchesinakindofblankfascinationasScarlett’smothermakesthemhotchocolateinasaucepan.“God,”sheissaying.“JustwhatweneedwithRexcominghometomorrow.AndMajorcanextweek.Life,”shesays,stirringthechocolateslowlywithawoodenspoon.“Life.”
Shepoursthehotchocolateintomugsandpassesonetoeachofthegirls.
“There,”shesays.“Drinkthat.”
Thehotchocolateisdelicious,creamy,smooth,butwithastrangelychemicaltastetoit.
“I’veputatotofruminit,”Scarlett’smotherexplains,“justtocalmyourstomachs.Youmustbothbeso,soexhausted.Allthatadrenaline.Youknow,adrenalineisterriblyaging.It’samiraclehormone,butit’sterribleforyou.Inthelongrun…”
TallulahwatchesScarlett’smother’smouthmovingasshetalks,andasshewatches,akindofdisconnectoccurs,thewordsnolongermatchtheshapeshermouthismaking,theystarttosoundweird,elongated,asthoughthey’reonaDJ’sdecksandthey’rebeingslowedrightdownanddraggedoutofshape,andTallulah’seyes,hereyesaresoheavyandshewantstoclosehereyesbutshewantstokeepthemopenbecausesheneedstostayawake,butshecan’tstayawakeandthenallthelightsintheroomfunnelinwardtowardthebacksofherretinasandthen…
WhenTallulahopenshereyes,itisdark.Andcold.Herbodysingsoutwithachesandpainsandhermouthissodrythatatfirstshecannotremovehertonguefrombehindherteeth.Ashereyesgrowaccustomedtothedark,sheseestheflickerofacandleinajar.Sheseestheoutlineofalargeplasticbottleofwaterandsheopensitanddrinksfromitgreedily.Sheiswrappedinfurblanketsandthereisapillowandthereischocolateandexpensive-lookingbiscuitsandatoiletrollandabucket.AlongthetunnelisahumpedformandsheknowsthatitisZachandsheknowsthatsheisunderthehouse,andthataboveherissolidstone,andthatsheistrappeddownherewiththedeadbodyofherboyfriend.
Thereisaboxofmatchesandmorecandlesinabox.Andthereisherphone.Sheswitchesitonbutthereisnosignaldownhereandshehasonly16percentofherchargeleft.
Sheputsthephonebackdownandasshedoesshefeelssomethingrunacrosstheskinofherbareankle.Shelooksdownandseesaspider,sittingonherflesh,allanglesandlegsandcoiledenergy,andshejumpstoherfeetandshescreamsandshescreamsandshescreams.
59
SEPTEMBER2018
ThemorningdriftsslowlytowardlunchtimeandKimsays,“Youcangonow,Sophie.I’mOKherenow.Ryan’sonhisway.”
“Ryan?”
“Myson.I’vebeentryingtogetholdofhimallmorning.Hadhisphoneonsilent.”Sherollshereyes.“Buthe’llbehereinaminute.Yougo.I’llbefine.”
SophiewaitsforKim’ssontoarrive;whenhedoes,afewminuteslater,heimmediatelycollapsesintohismother’sarmsandstartstocryandSophieclosesthedoorquietlybehindherandheadsbacktowardtheMaypole.
AfigureacrossthecommonisalsowalkingtowardtheschoolandittakesamomentforSophietorealizethatitisLexie.She’scarryingshoppingbags,onherwaybackfromtheco-op.Sheslowsdowntowaitforhertocatchupandthengreetsherwithatightsmile.
“They’vefoundsomething,”shesaystoLexie.“InthesecrettunnelatDarkPlace.”
Lexie’sjawdropsandhereyesopenwide.“OhmyGod,”shesays.“Isithim?”
“Him?Who?”
“Theboy.Zach.”
“Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”sheaskscarefully.
“Well,ifthepolicehavefoundsomething.Andthatwasthelastplacetheywereseen…?”
“?‘They’?Butyousaid‘him.’Theboy.Asif…”Shestopsandthenpullsinherbreath.“Lexie,”shesays,“Ihopeyouwon’ttakethisthewrongway,andI’mnotinsinuatinganythinghere,Ipromise,but…IsawyouhadacopyofmybookinyoursuitcaseyesterdayandIthinkyouknowthatthere’sapassageinthebookaboutadetectivefindingacardboardsignjustliketheoneshereanditseemslikesuchaweirdcoincidence.Imean,the‘DigHere’signs?Didyouhaveanythingtodowiththem?”
Behindthemthechurchbellrings,justonce.Thequestionsticksintheairbetweenthem,thickandraw,likeaclampholdingopenanincision.
Lexiedoesn’tansweratfirst.Andthen,almostimperceptibly,shenods.
60
JUNE2017
Tallulahdoesn’tknowhowlongshe’sbeendownhere.Thelasttimesheswitchedonherphonebeforeitfinallyranoutofcharge,itwas10:48onSaturdaynight.Itfeelsasifanothersixhoursatleasthavepassedsincethen.ItmustbeearlyonSundaymorning,morethantwenty-fourhourssinceshedrankthedruggedhotchocolategiventoherbyScarlett’smother.Twenty-fourhourssincewhateverhappened,happened.ThethingthathappenedwhenZachthreatenedtotakeherbabyaway.ThethingthatmeansZachisdead.
Shecloseshereyesagainandthenagain,tryingtobringthatmomentbackintofocus—anditneverdoes.She’ssureitwasScarlettwhodidit.SheseesthemetallumpinScarlett’shands.SheseesZachonthefloor.Butthenshefeelsthethrumofherownadrenalinearoundherownbody,thethumpofherownheartunderherownribcage,andshedoesn’tknowwhathappenedjustbefore.Justbefore.
Thefurblanketiswrappedhighupherneck;shehasmadeaspider-proofbagoutofit,butstillshefeelstheshiveroftinyfeetonherflesh.Shefeelsthemintheplacesthattheblanketdoesn’tcover:hereyes,hernostrils;climbingintoherearcanals.She’sneededtogotothetoiletforhoursnowbutisholdingit,tooscaredtounwrapherselffromhercocoon.She’sthirstybutshedoesn’twanttodrinkthewaterbecauseitwillmakeherneedtogomore.Sheeatsthebiscuitsinstead.Shehasn’tmovedforhoursandallherjointsache.
Sheassumes,becausesheisalive,becauseshehasbeenleftwithfoodandwaterandlightandablanket,thatsheistoberescued,thatsheisdownheretemporarily.Butshecan’tbesure.Thethoughtofbeingwrong,thethoughtthatshemightdiedownhere,istoomuchforherbraintoprocess.
Anhourgoesby.Maybelonger.Theneedtogotothetoilethaspassedagain.Sheimaginesthatherbodyhassomehowabsorbedthecontentsofherbladder,likeasponge.Shebravesstickinganarmoutofthefurryrugandliftsthecandleup,letsthelightitcastsrundownthetunnel,overthehumpofZach’sbody.Therearelampsatintervalsattachedtothewallsandshemarvelsbrieflyattheageofthem,imaginesthemlitandguidingescapeestowardsafety.Shewondershowfarthetunnelgoes.Shewondersifthere’sanexitattheotherend,anescapehatch.Butinordertofindoutshe’dhavetotakeofftheblanketandshedoesnotwanttotakeofftheblanket.Becausetherearespiders.
AcrackoflightappearsaboveTallulah’shead.She’sbeensittingonthesteps,ascloseaspossibletotheopeningintheroomabove,asfarawayaspossiblefromthespidersonthetunnelfloorandZach’sdeadbody.Shedoesn’tknowhowlongit’sbeen.Longenoughtoburnthroughasecondcandle.Tohavefinishedthebiscuits.Tohavefinishedthewater.Tohaveslepttwice.Sheturnsatthesoundofthestonelidcreakingopenandpeersup.
“Shh!”
It’sScarlett.IttakesafewsecondsforTallulah’seyestoadjustenoughtomakeoutthesliceofherfacevisiblethroughthecrack.
“Shh,”shesaysagain.Thenshesays,“AreyouOK?”
Tallulahtriestotalkbutnowordscome.Sheshakesherhead.
“Look,”saysScarlett.“We’regoingtogetyououtofhere.Justonemoreday,Ithink.Policeeverywherestill.ButI’mprettysurethey’redonewithus.Andthen…”
“WhataboutNoah?”shecroaks.
“Noah’sfine.Isawhim.He’sfine.Yourmum’sfine.Listen,Tallulah.It’sgoingtobeOK?Yes?Justholdoninthere.AndlookwhatIgotforyou.It’sapecanDanish.Yourfavorite.”ShepassessomethingwrappedinakitchentowelthroughthegapandTallulahtakesit.“Doyouneedmorewater?Anythingelse?”
“Iwanttogetout,”shesays,hervoicestillcracking,butgrowingstronger.“Iwanttogetoutnow.Iwanttogohome.Ican’tbedownhere,withZach,withhis…Ijustcan’t.Andthere’sspiders.Please.Letmeout.Ican’t…It’s…”
SheseesScarlettputafingertohermouth,hereyestrackquicklybackbehindher.“Shh,”shesaysagain,beforeslidingthestonecoverbackintoplace.
Andthenitisdarkagain.
PARTFIVE
61
SEPTEMBER2018
POLICETRANSCRIPTOFINTERVIEWWITHAMELIABOORHODES8September2018MantonPoliceStationInattendance:DIDominicMcCoyDCIAishaButt
DIMcCoy:Amelia,orwouldyoupreferMimi?
AmeliaRhodes:Mimi.Please.
DM:OK,Mimi.Thankyouforcomingin,ofyourownvolition.
AR:I’vebeenwantingtosaysomethingforages.Formonths.Solong.But…Iwastooscared.
DM:Scaredofwhat,Mimi?
AR:Scaredof…It’shard.Idon’tknowhowtoexplainit.It’sScarlett.She’sgotthiskindof…power?
DM:Canyouexplainalittlewhatyoumeanbythat?
AR:Ijustmean…Idon’tknow.Shejusthasthiswayofmakingyouthinkthatyou’dbenothingwithouther.It’slike,beingwithherisamazingandexciting,butthere’salwaysthethreatthatshewouldcutyouout,justlikethat,ifyoudispleasedher.Soyoujustneverwantedtodispleaseher.
DM:WhendidyoufirstmeetScarlettJacques?
AR:AtMaypoleHouse.WhenIwassixteen.WewerebothdoingartAlevel.Andtextiledesign.Sowewereinalotofthesamelessongroups.
DM:Andhadyouknownherbeforethat?
AR:[doesn’treply]
DM:Couldyousayyesorno,please?Fortherecording?
AR:No.I’dnevermetherbefore.Butwehititoff,like,immediately.Shewasjust,kindof,excitingtobearound.Everyonewantedtobefriendswithher,andshechoseme.AndonceScarletthadchosenyou,youwerehersforlife.Orthat’swhatitfeltlike.Imean—allofus,me,Ruby,Jayden,Rocky—weallfollowedhertoManton.Wecouldhavegonetoothercolleges.EspeciallyJaydenandRocky—theywere,like,geniuses,JaydencouldhavegotintotheRoyalCollegeandRockygotaplaceattheLondonCollegeofFashion.Theyweresotalented.ButtheywenttoManton.Becausethat’swhereScarlettwent.It’skindoflame,really,whenyouthinkaboutit.Whenyoulookbackonit.Butshejusthadthiswayofmakingyoufeelasifyourlifewouldbemeaninglesswithouther.Notinanythingshedid.Sheneverdidanythingbad.Justinthewayshemadeyoufeel…Ican’texplainit.It’sweird.Likesheneededyou.Butalsolikeyouneededhermore.
DM:Andso,goingbacktothenightof16June2017.Pleasecanyoutellme,inyourownwords,exactlywhathappened?
AR:Erm,from,like,thepub?
DM:Yes.Startatthepub.
AR:ItwasaFriday.WeallmetupattheSwan&Ducks.Inthevillage.Justafun,normalnight.Thewholecrew.PlusScarlett’sexLiam.Weallsatoutside,hadafewdrinks.ThenScarlettwentintogetaroundandshedidn’tcomeback.Sowewentintofindherandshewassittingwiththem.WithTallulahandherboyfriend.Reallyweirdatmosphere.Reallytense.
DM:Asfarasyouwereaware,wasthereanythinggoingonbetweenScarlettandTallulah?
AR:Kindof.Yeah.Weusedtotalkaboutit,theirfriendship.Itseemedstrange.Like,Idon’twanttosoundhorrible,butTallulahjustwasn’tlike…us.Youknow?Shewasveryquiet,dressedvery,like,ordinary.Shewasniceandeverything,butIneverreallyunderstoodwhyScarlettwantedtohangoutwithher.ThenRubysaidshesawsomething,inthecollegegrounds,thetwoofthemholdinghandswhentheythoughtnoonewaslooking,andthenafterthatweassumedthatsomethingwasgoingon,orsomethinghadgoneon.Butshenevertoldusandweneversawanythingelse.So,youknow…
DM:Andthen,atthepub?
AR:Yes.So,weallendedupsittingwiththemandweallgotquitedrunk.ThenJayden,Rocky,andRooallleft;Roo’sdadwascomingtopickherupandJaydenandRockywerelodgingwithRoo.SoitwasjustusandLiam,andthenLexiecameovertooandshedroveusovertoScar’shouse…
AR:[pauses]
DM:Carryon.
AR:Yeah.Sorry.So,erm…wewentbacktohersandwehadbeerandsmokedsomedrawandplayedinthepoolandthenZachandTallulahwentindoorsandIwentinabitafter,togoandchargemyphone,andIcouldhearraisedvoicesfromthesnugoffthekitchenandIpeeredthroughagapintheslidingdoorandIsawZachkindofmanhandlingTallulah.Theywerehavingarow.ZachwassayingtoTallulahthathe’dbeengoingtoaskhertomarryhim,Ithink.Andthenhethrewtheringather.Istoppedwatchingthen,backedawayandthenwenttochargemyphone,buttherewerenoAndroidchargersinthekitchenandIhadoneinmybagupstairsinScar’sroom,soIwentuptheretogetit.Ittook
AR:[pauses]
DM:AreyouOK?Doyouneedaminute?
AR:No.It’sOK.IheardTallulahshouting,Whathaveyoudone?AndScarlettsayingsomethinglike,Youwantedthis,yousaidyouwantedhimtodisappear.AndInearlywentintothekitchen.ButIdidn’t.Idon’tknowwhy.Butitwaslike—itwasScarlett.SomethingbadhadhappenedandIwasscaredforScarletttoknowthatI’dseenit.IwasscaredofScarlett.Youknow?SoIranbackupthestairsandwasgoingtograbmyclothesandmyovernightbagandrun.ButthenIheardhercomingupthestairssoIflungmyselfunderthecoversonherbedandpretendedtobeasleep.Ilaytherelikethatforhours.Ikeptexpectingtohearsirensorsomething,orforScarletttocomeupandtellmewhatwasgoingon.Ikeptexpectingsomethingtohappen.Butitjustdidn’t.Itwassilent.Likenothinghadeverhappened.Isawthesuncomeup,andthen,ataboutsixo’clock,Ishovedallmystuffinmybagandcamedownstairs.Iwentintothekitchen.Itwasempty.IlookedinthesnugandScarlettwasoutcoldonthesofainthere.Itriedtowakeher,butitwaslikeshewasunconscious.Ishookhersohardandshedidn’twakeup.AndthenIsawthislittleblackbox.Itwasaring.Onthefloor.ItwastheoneZachhadthrownatTallulah.AndIpickeditupandshoveditinmybag.Idon’tknowwhy.Ijustthought
AR:[pauses]
DM:It’sOK.Carryon.
AR:IknowIshouldn’thave.ButIwantedtoprotectScarlettfromwhateveritwasshe’ddonethenightbefore.AndIknewtheringwasevidence—ofsomething.Ofsomekind.I…I’mreally,reallysorry.Ishouldhavehandedittothepolice.IshouldhavetoldthemwhatIheardhersayinginthekitchen.IknowIshould.It’ssobadthatIdidn’t.Iknowthat.Ireallydoknowthat.
DM:Sowhathappenedafteryoupickedupthering?
AR:Ileft.Iwalkeddownthedrivewayandmymumpickedmeupfromthegatesanddrovemehome.Andthatwasthat.
DM:DidyouhearfromScarlettagain?Afteryouleftherhouse?
AR:Yeah.Shecalledaboutlunchtime,saidshe’djustwokenup,askedwhereIwas.ItoldherIwasathome.ThenshecalledagainafewminuteslaterandsaidthatTallulah’smumwantedtotalktomebecauseTallulahhadn’tcomehome.Shegavemehernumberandaskedmetocallher.AndI…Ididn’taskScarletttherightquestion.Ididn’taskanyquestions.Ijustsaidyes.Shesaid,AreyouOK?AndIsaidIwasjusttired.Andthatwasthat.ThatwasbasicallytheonlyconversationScarandmeeverhadaboutit.Aboutanyofit.Ididn’ttalktoheragainreallyafterthat.IwenttoLondontolivewithmydadforthesummer.AndbythetimeIgotbacktoMantonthatSeptember,Scarlettandherfamilyweregone.
DM:Soyoudidn’ttalktoScarlettatalloverthewholeofthatsummer?
AR:No.Notonce.Shedidn’tcallme.Ididn’tcallher.
DM:Andwhatabouttherestofyourfriendshipgroup?
AR:Yeah,Imean,wemessagedandstuff,butneveraboutthatnight.Wenevertalkedaboutthatnight.Whichiskindofweird,whenyouthinkaboutit.
DM:So,Mimi,earlieryoutoldusthatyougavetheringtoLexieafewweeksago.Couldyoutellusaboutthatplease?
AR:Yes.Sure.So…IhadtheringallthistimeandI’vewantedtodosomethingaboutitsinceforever.I’vewantedtocomeforwardandtellsomeonewhatIheard.OrwhatIthoughtIheard.Because,youknow,I’dbeendrinkingthatnight.I’dbeentakingdrugs.WhatIsaw,whatIheard,itwasallsofleeting.Justaglimmerofathing.ButIjustkeptthinkingthatthepolicewouldfindsomekindofevidenceofwhateverthehellhappenedthatnight,orthatScarlettwouldcomebackorTallulahwouldcomeback,oreventhatZachwouldcomeback…like,maybeI’dimaginedthewholething.Ijustthoughtthewholethingwouldsortitselfoutwithoutmehavingtodoanythingorgetinvolved,butthenmonthsandmonthsandmonthswentbyandnothinghappenedandthenthegirl’smumdidthatcandlelitvigilfortheyearanniversaryandstillnobodyknewanythingandIsawhermumonce,inManton,pushingTallulah’sbabyinapram,andshelookedsosadandsobrokenandIfeltsobad.AndI’vebeen…I’vebeeninhell.Inactualhell.SolastmonthIwenttoseeLexieandIfinallytoldherwhatIsawthroughthedoorofthesnugthatnight,ZachandTallulahfighting,Zachthrowingtheringboxather.AndthenItoldherwhatIheardafterward,Tallulahshoutingwhathaveyoudone.AndScarlettshoutingbutyousaidyouwantedhimtodisappear.AndthenLexietoldme
AR:[pauses]
DM:Takeyourtime.It’sOK.
AR:[crying]
AR:Lexietoldme…shetoldmethatshe’dheardfromScarlett,thatScarlettwasonaboat,withhermumandherbrother.ShesaidthatScarlett’smumwasmakingthemgoonaround-the-worldtripforayearandthatshewantedcompleteanonymity.Somethingtodowiththefather.Apparently,he’dbeenviolent.Idon’tknow.Itdidn’tsoundrighttome.Imean,thefatherwasneverevenwiththem.Andtheywerestillmissing.ZachandTallulah.Andtherewasjustthishugegapingholeineverything.AndsoIgaveLexietheringlastmonth,justbeforeshewenttoFlorida,andshesaid,I’llsortthisout.OK.I’llsortthisout.
62
JUNE2017
Tallulahawakesfromasleepsodeepthatshecanremembernothingaboutit.Sheawakesandthereislightshiningthroughtheskinofhereyelids.Sheawakesandsheisonasoftsurface.Sheawakestothesoundofagentlepantingandakindoflip-smackingnoiseandsheslowlyopenshereyesandsheseesToby’sface.Heisstaringatherplacidly.Helickshislipsagainandthenpantssomemore.Ashereyesgrowaccustomedtothelight,sheseessheisinthesnuginScarlett’shouse.Thedoorisopenjustacrackandshecanhearvoicesbeyond.Gentlelaughter.
Shetriestositupbutstopswhensherealizesthatsheistieddownsomehow.Sheglancesatherfeet—theyaretiedtogetherwithaplasticcord.Herhandsaretiedatthewrists.
“Hello!”shecallsout,hervoiceacroak.
Shehearsitgoquietinthekitchen.
“Hello!”
ShehearsfootstepsacrossthestonefloorinthekitchenandthenthereisScarlett.She’swearingblackjoggersandanoversizeLevi’sT-shirt.
“Oh,”shesays.“You’reawake.Mum!”shecallsoutbehindher.“Tallulah’sawake.”
ShewalkstowardherandsitsperchedontheedgeofthesofabetweenTobyandTallulah’shead.Sheputsoutahandtoherfaceandstrokeshercheek.“Howareyoudoing?”shesays.
“What’shappening?WhyamItiedup?”
“Tokeepyousafe,”saysScarlett’smother,appearinginthedoorway.She’sclutchingablackmug,dressedinajade-greencottondress,whichtiesatthewaist.Herhairispulledbackhardfromherface.
“Safefromwhat?”
Scarlett’smothersighs.“Weneedtogetyouawayfromhere.Thepolicehavegonefornow.Butthey’llbeback.TheythinkyouandZachhavebothdisappeared,together,andthat’showitneedstostay.”
“But…”Tallulahfeelsakindofthrumpassthroughherheadandhervisiongograyaroundtheedges.“No,”shesays.“Ihavetogohome.Ihavetoseemybaby.”
“Tallulah,”saysScarlett,“ifyougohomenow,youwillneverseeyourbabyagain.Doyouunderstand?Ifyougohomenow,thepolicewillaskyouamillionquestionsaboutZachandyouwillsomehowhavetoexplainwhathappenedtohim.Andwhatwouldyousay?”
“I’dsaythathe…I’dsay…”Shestops,triestopullthethreadsofherthoughtstogetherandfeelsthemunravelagainalmostimmediately.“I’dsayheleft.”
“Yes.Andthatwouldbeanobviouslie.Doyouwanttolietothepolice?”
“Yes.No.Idon’tcare.Ijustwanttogohome.”
“No,”saysScarlett’smum.“I’mafraidthat’snotanoption.AterriblethinghappenedhereonFridaynight.Areallyterriblething.AndIknowyouonlyactedoutofpassion,outoffear.Iunderstandthatmother’sinstinct.ButthefactofthematteristhatZachisdead.Andyoukilledhim.”
“No.No,Ididn’t.I—”Tallulah’smindfussesforawhileoverthedetailofthatmomentasithasdonenonstopforthepasthowevermanydaysit’sbeen.Andeachtimesheseesitdifferently.Buteverytimesheseesit,shefeelsit,inherbile,inhergut,inherveryessence,theknowledgethatitwasn’ther,thatshedidn’tdoit.
Buthowcansheprovethattoanybody?
“Ididn’tkillhim,”shesays.“Ididn’tdoit.”
“Well,thewholethingwasratherconfused.Nobodywassober.Nobodywasinaclearstateofmind.Butyourfingerprintsareonthesculpture.Andclearlyyouweretheonlyonewiththemotivetohavewantedhimdead.So,Ithink,oratleastlet’sassume,thatyouaretheprimesuspectandthatthesafestplaceforyoutoberightnowisfar,farawayfromhere.”
“Butforhowlong?”Tallulahasks.
“Well,untilthepolicehavecomeupwithanothertheoryaboutZach’sdisappearance,Isuppose.”
“Butwhatiftheyneverdo?”
“Theywill.Ofcoursetheywill.Wejustneedtogetyouawayfromhere.Justforawhile.So,thecarisready,RexiswaitingattheairfieldforuswithMartin’splane,andweareallofftoGuernsey.But,Tallulah,weneedyoutobeeversocareful.OK?YouareflyingasRex’sgirlfriend,Seraphina.Youlookenoughalike.Justplaytherole,playthepart.We’llhaveyoubackherebeforeyouknowit.”
63
SEPTEMBER2018
POLICETRANSCRIPTOFINTERVIEWWITHLIAMJOHNBAILEY8September2018MantonPoliceStationInattendance:DIDominicMcCoyDCIAishaButt
DIMcCoy:Thankyou,Liam,foragreeingtotalktousagain.Irealizeyouprobablythinktherecan’tbeanythinglefttotalkabout.Butthere’sbeenaconsiderabledevelopmenttoday.Veryconsiderable.Andwethinkitwouldbegoodjusttogooverafewdetailsagain.
LiamBailey:OK.
DM:So,yourrelationshipwithScarlett,thatwasoverbythetimeofthepoolpartyon16June2017.
LB:Yes,wewerejustfriends.
DM:ButyouhavelivedattheJacquesresidenceonoccasionoverthepastfewyears?
LB:Yes.ThelasttimeIlivedtherewasFebruarylastyear,justforafewweeks.
DM:Andthatwasthetimeyouweremeanttobegoinghome,backtoyourfamily?
LB:Yes.IwasmeanttobedoinganA-levelretakethatsummerbutIchangedmymind,decidedtodropitandgohome.AndthatwaswhenScarlettaskedmetocometoseeher.Shewashavingakindofnervousbreakdownandsheneededmysupport.Iendeduplivingtherewithher.AndshortlyafterwardJacintaCroft,thepreviousheadteacher,toldmeaboutajobgoingattheschoolandIthought,well,maybeit’dbegoodformetostickaroundabitlonger,forScarlett’ssake.SoItookthejobandmovedbacktotheschool.
DM:AndwhendidScarlettgiveyouthepainting,Liam?
LB:Whichpainting?
DM:Well,therewastheself-portrait,Ibelieve?
LB:Yeah,shegavemethatwhenImovedintomyroomatMaypoleHouse.
DM:Andthentherewasoneofaspiralstaircase?
LB:Yup.Shegavemethataroundthesametime.Theywerehousewarminggifts.
DM:Andwhatdidyouknowaboutthepaintingofthestaircase?
LB:Nothing.Itwasjustherfavoritepartofthehouse.Shelovedthesenseofhistorythere.
DM:Andthis—fortherecording,IamshowingLiamBaileyadetailofthepaintinginquestion—thisitemhereinthepainting.Doyouknowwhatitis?
LB:Thatmetalthing?
DM:Yes.
LB:It’saknife,isn’tit?Or,like,acakeslice?
DM:Soyou’veneverseenitinreallife?AttheJacquesresidence?
LB:No.Never.
DM:ForthesakeoftherecordingIamnowshowingLiamBaileyitemnumberDP7694,themetalleverfoundburiedintheflowerbedatMaypoleHouse.Liam,haveyoueverseenthisobjectbefore?
LB:No.
DM:Doyouhaveanyideawhatitmightbeusedfor?
LB:Nonewhatsoever.
DM:Thankyou,Liam,that’llbeallfornow.
64
AUTUMN2017
ThehouseinGuernseyislikethehouseinSurrey.Tasteful.Pale.Comfortable.Elegant.Moreinterestinglumpsofsculptedmetalarrangedaroundpilesofmagazinesonmorelowtables.MorebronzesculpturesonPerspexpedestals.Moreabstractart.Moreoversizechandeliersandlightfittings.Themaindifferenceistheviewsfromthewindows:water,inkbluemostly,sometimespastelaqua,sometimestoppedwithfrothypeaks,sometimesstillandflatasmarble.Tallulah’sroomhaswallspaintedwithtumblingcherryblossomandshell-pinkcurtainslinedwiththickpadding,adressingtablewithastoolupholsteredinbabypinkastrakhan.Herroomhasitsownbathroom,withalargeslab-likebasinthathasawidebrasstapoutofwhichwaterfallsinawidesheetfromaslot.Ithasatear-shapedbathwithanotherflat-mouthedbrasstappositionedaboveitandalargewalk-inshowerwithgoldenmosaictilesandarainforestshowerhead.Sheisbroughtsofttowelsandorganicfoodandglassesofchampagneandbottlesofwaterwithorchidsprintedonthefronts.Fromthewindowshecanseethatthishouseisnotnearanyotherhouses.Theyareonacliff.Milesandmilesandmilesfromanywhere.
Scarlettbringshernicethings:productstomakeherhairandherskinfeelnice,acheeseplatter,asofttoy.ShebringsTobyinforcuddletime.ShebringsinherphoneandtheywatchfunnyvideostogetheronTikTok.ShekeepspromisingTallulahthatshewillbuyherherownphone,butsheneverdoes.
Scarletttellsherthingsfromtheoutsideworld.ThepolicearehuntingforTallulah,apparently.TheyhavefoundZach’sbodyandtheyhavefoundherfingerprintsonthestatueandtheyhaveawitness,Mimi,whosawherdoingit.Scarletttellsherthatherfather,MartinJacques,isputtingtogetherateamoflegalexpertstotrytocountertheevidence.Heknowspeople,saysScarlett,powerfulpeople,whocantamperwithpoliceevidence,whocanaccidentallylosethings.“Justgivehimafewmoreweeks,Lules,”saysScarlett.“Afewmoreweeksandwe’llbeabletogohome.Justletuslookafteryoufornow.Justletuskeepyousafe.”
AfterafewweeksthenewsfromhomedriesupandTallulahtellsScarlettthatshedoesn’tcareaboutthepolice,thatshewillfacethemusic,gotocourt,gotoprison,thatshedoesn’tcareanymoreaboutwhethershe’sguiltyornot,shejustwantstogohomeandseeherbaby.Shetriestoleavethehouse,andfromnowhere,JossandRexappearandbundleherbacktoherroom.
Tallulahhasnotleftthisroomfordaysnow,maybelonger.TheedgesofTallulah’sdaysfeelraggedandunformed.ScarlettstillcomesandgoeswithfoodanddrinksandtreatsbutTallulahnolongerasksherabouttheoutsideworldbecauseshenolongercares,allshecaresaboutissleep.ScarlettholdsherandtellsherthatshelovesherandTallulahsquirmsfromherembrace,thewaysheoncesquirmedfromZach’s.Shehasafoultasteinhermouthallthetime.Shecanfeeltherootsofherhairwriggleanditcheventhoughherhairisclean.Shehasscalyskinonherarmsthatshescratchesatconstantly.Shesleepsmostofthetime,andwhenshe’snotsleeping,she’sinakindofnetherworldwherethingshappenbutsheforgetsthemalmostimmediately,herbraindesperatelytryingtokeepholdoftheendsofthem,dragthemback,keepthem,butit’salwaystoolate,they’realwaysgone.Sometimessheseesthecherryblossomonthewallstwistandtwirl.
Inlucidmoments,TallulahreplaysthemomentsbeforetheblacksquareinherheadthatstillobscuresZach’sdeath,andshefeelsherownculpabilityinallofthis.Shehadsomanyopportunitiestodothingsdifferently.FromthemomentshehadsexwithZachonNewYear’sEvetothemomenthelandedfacedownonScarlett’skitchenfloor,shehadhadopportunityafteropportunitytodothingsdifferently,tomakeagoodlifeforherselfandforNoah,andshehasblowneachandeveryoneofthem.
Andnowsheishere,inthispinkroom,withitscherry-blossomwallsanditslockedwindows,andsheknowsthatsheissomehowbeingdiminished,thatthecaresheisbeingshownbyScarlettiswarpedandwrong,thatScarletthasbeentaughthowtolovebypeoplewhodon’tknowhowtoloveandthateverythingshethinksisgoodisactuallybad,andTallulahknowsthatsheneedstokeepjustenoughofherselffloatingacrossthetopofthebigblackpoolofweirdness,justenoughtokeeponbreathing,justenoughtobringherbacktohermotherandtoherbabyboy.Justenough.
65
SEPTEMBER2018
POLICETRANSCRIPTOFINTERVIEWWITHALEXANDRAROSEMULLIGAN8September2018MantonPoliceStationInattendance:DIDominicMcCoyDCIAishaButt
DIMcCoy:Goodafternoon,Lexie.
LexieMulligan:Goodafternoon.
DM:So,we’vejustspokenwithMimiRhodesandwe’reawarethatScarlettJacquesiscurrently,apparently,onaboatsomewhere,withhermother.
LM:Yes.AtleastasfarasIknow.Fromwhatshe’stoldme.
DM:Andyouweretoldtokeepthedetailsofthistripquietbecausehermotherwastryingtoescapefromanabusiverelationshipwithherhusband?
LM:Yeah.That’swhatshetoldme.ShegavemehersecretInstagramaccountandI’dcheckineverynowandthentoseeifshe’dpostedanything.Buttherewasnevermuchinfo.Neveranythingtoshowwheretheywere.Justpicturesofthesea,really,withlittlecaptionsabouthermood.Andthen,afewweeksago,Mimicameover.Shewasreallyupset,reallystressed.AndshetoldmeaboutwhatsheheardatScarlett’shouse,aboutZachandTallulahhavingahugerow,aboutTallulahtellingZachshewasinlovewithScarlettandZachlosingtheplotandthrowingtheringather.
DM:Andwhatelsedidshetellyouaboutthatnight?
LM:Nothing.Justthat.
DM:Shedidn’ttellyouaboutwhatsheheardthroughthekitchendoor?WhatsheheardScarlettsayingtoTallulah?
LM:[pauses]
LM:Well,yeah.Yes.Shetoldme.Yes.
DM:Andwhatdidthatmakeyouthink?
LM:ItmademethinkthatmaybeScarlettwasinvolvedsomehowwithwhathappenedtothosekids.ToZachandTallulah.Itmademethinkshewaslyingtomeaboutthembeingontheboattoescapeherfather.AndIknowIshouldhavebroughttheringintothepoliceandtoldyouwhatMimihadtoldme.ButIjust…IhadthisbigtripcominguptoFlorida,itwasallbookedandpaidforandreallycomplicated,fivedifferenthotelsandallthat,andIdidn’twanttoriskgettinginvolvedinapoliceinvestigationandhavingtocancelit.IthoughtaboutgivingtheringtomymumandaskinghertobringitinafterI’dgone.ButIjustthoughtitmighthaverepercussionsforherjob?Ididn’twanttoinvolveher;herjobisherlife,herworld.ButthenIdidn’twanttowaituntilIgotback,Iwantedsomeonetoworkitalloutwithoutanyoneeverhavingtotellanyone.Andmymumhadtoldmethatthenewheadteacher’swifewasadetectivewriterandI’mabigreadersoIorderedoneofherbooks,justoutofcuriosity,andtherewasthisbitinitwheresomeonehidesaclueinaflowerbedwithacardboardsignnexttoitsaying“DigHere.”AndIjustthought,youknow,thatmightwork.SoItooktheringthenightbeforeIflewtoFlorida,toburyitinthegardeninthecottage,inaflowerbed,likethecluehadbeenburiedinherbook,butthebackgatewaspadlocked,soIburieditjustbythebackgate,whereIknewshewouldfindit.
DM:Andthisboat,withScarlettandhermotheronit?Whereisitexactly?
LM:Ihavenoidea.ButIcanshowyouthephotosonherInstagram.Maybeyoucanworkitoutfromthat?
DM:Yes.Please.
DM:Fortherecording,LexieMulliganisusinghersmartphonetolocatethephotographs.
LM:Here.Thisisthelatestone.Fromafewdaysago.
DM:Fortherecording,thephotographinquestionshowsafootagainstacreamvinylsurface,theprowofaboatorayacht,adog’spaw.
DM:Weneedtogetforensicstoexaminethisaccount.Rightnow.
DM:So,Lexie.Fortherecording,IamshowingMissMulliganitemnumberDP7694,themetalleverfoundburiedintheflowerbedatMaypoleHouse.Lexie,canyoutelluswhatthisobjectis?
LM:Ihavenoidea.
DM:You’veneverseenthisobjectbefore?
LM:No,never.
DM:Lexie,we’veanalyzedthesecondsignandcomparedittoaphotographofthefirstsign.Theymatchexactly.It’sthesamehandwriting.Itseemsunlikely,doesn’tit,thattwoseparatepeoplewiththesamehandwritingwouldhavetheideatoburytwoobjectsintheschoolgroundswithinafewweeksofeachother?Somaybeyouhaveatheoryyoumightliketosharewithusabouthowthisobjectendedupwhereitdid?
LM:Honestly.Iswear.Itwasdefinitelymewhoburiedthering.Thatwasmyhandwriting;Imadethatsign.Butthesecondonewasnothingtodowithme.Ipromise.
DM:Anotherthingthat’sbotheringme,Lexie.Youclaimtohaveseenthesignintheflowerbedfromyourmother’sterrace.Butthereisnowaythatyouwouldhavebeenabletoseethesignfrom,asyouclaimedatthetime,theterraceofyourapartmentintheaccommodationblock.It’ssetfartoolowdownthebuilding.Sowouldyoupleasetellushowyoureallysawthesignthatnight,if,asyou’retellingus,youhadnothingtodowithplacingitthere?
LM:[sighs]
LM:Iwasinthegarden.
DM:Neartheflowerbed?
LM:Yes.Neartheflowerbed.
DM:Plantingthesign?
LM:No.Notplantingthesign.Ikeeptellingyou.Ididnotputthatsignthere.
DM:Sowhatwereyoudoinginthegarden?
LM:Iwaslookingforsomeone.
DM:Who?
LM:Justoneoftheteachers.IsawherfromtheterraceandIcamedowntofindher.Andthat’swhenIsawthesign.
DM:Sowhydidyousaythatyou’dseenitfromtheterrace?Whydidn’tyousayyouwereinthegardenatthetime?
LM:Idon’tknow.Ididn’twantto…Iwasprotectingsomeone.
DM:Who?
LM:Theteacher,sheandIare…youknow.We’vebeenseeingeachother.Andshe’smarried.Soit’sabit…sensitive.Ididn’twanttobringherintoit.ItjustseemedeasiertopretendIhadn’tbeeninthegarden.
DM:Lexie.YoushouldknowthatwefoundZachAllister’sbodyinatunnelbeneaththeJacqueshousethismorning.Andthisleverwasdesignedtoopenthesecrettunnelwherehisbodywasfound.
LM:[audibleintakeofbreath]
DM:TallulahMurray’smobilephonewasalsofoundinthetunnel.
LM:OhmyGod.
DM:So,Lexie,really,ifyouknowanythingaboutthislever,ifyouhaveanyideahowitendedupburiedthere,intheflowerbed,soclosetowhereyouweremeetingyourfriend,orifyousawanyoneelseinthevicinityoftheflowerbed,nowwouldbethetimetotellus.
LM:[beginstocry]Idon’tknow.Iswear.Ididn’tputthatsignthere.Idon’tknowwhatthatmetalthingisandIdon’tknowhowitendedupbeingburiedthere.Idon’tknowanythingatall.
66
AUGUST2018
Oneday,Tallulahwakesupfromanotherdeepsleep,asleepsodeepitfeelslikedeath,thesleepshenowknowsisbroughtonbysomethingfromthewell-stockedshelvesofScarlett’smother’sbathroomcabinet,andshefindsherselfonceagaininadark,silentspace,allalone,therhythmandrollofdeep,coldwateroscillatingthroughherbones.
Throughacircularwindowsheseestheviscouscementwallofseawater.Shefeelsherwristsbound.Herfeetbound.Andnowsheknows.Sheknowsforsurethatsheisnotbeingkeptsafe.Thatsheisnotbeingprotected.SheknowsthateverythingScarletthastoldheraboutherfathertryingtocorruptthepoliceinvestigationisliesandthatthisnightmareisabouttocometotheworstpossibleend.SheknowsthattheonlyreasonsheisstillaliveisbecauseScarletthasmadesureofit.ButshealsoknowsthatScarlettislosingcontrolofhermother,losingcontrolofthewholesituation,andthatnowTallulahisbeingtakentothefarthestpointfromherownmotherandhersonandherhome,tobedropped,dispatched,disappeared.
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Kimsitsinherbackgarden.Shecan’tbeindoors.RyanisinsidewithNoah,distractinghim.
It’snearlytwoo’clock.It’sbeenfourhourssincetheyfoundthebodyinthetunnelintheJacqueses’house.Shestaresatherphone,switchesthescreenonandoff,checksanddouble-checksthatshehasagoodconnection,agoodsignal,thatthereisnoimpedimenttoacallfromDom.
Andthenthereitis.Theopeningnoteofherringtone.Sheswipestoreplybeforethesecondnotehasevenbegun.“Yes.”
“Kim,listen.Wethinkwe’vetracedthecurrentlocationoftheJacquesfamily.We’reworkingwithInterpolonamaritimesearch.BecauseIdidn’ttellyoubefore,butwefoundotherthingsinthetunnel,Kim.WefoundtheremainsofapastrythathadbeenlacedwithlargeamountsofZopiclone.Wefoundsomelongdarkhairs.Wefoundemptywaterbottles,candles,ablanketaswellasTallulah’sphone.AndrecordsfromMantonairportshowthattheJacquesesflewtheirprivateplanetoGuernseyonJunethethirtiethlastyearandonboardwereJocelyn,Scarlett,andRexJacques.AndRex’sgirlfriend,SeraphinaGoldberg.ButSeraphinaclaimsnottohaveflowntoGuernseyatallthatsummer.So,Kim,we’relookingatthepossibilitythattheJacquesfamilymayhavetakenTallulahwiththem.Andthattheyarenowonboardaboat,charteredbyJocelynJacquesfromGuernseyYachtClubinlateAugust.AndthatTallulahmaystillbewiththem.Meanwhile,detectivesinGuernseyaregettingawarranttoentertheJacquespropertythere.”
“OK,”saysKim,managingherbreathing.“OK.So,whatdoIdonow?”
“Justsittight,Kim.Justsittight.We’removingeverythingasfastaswepossiblycan.Thewheelsarefinallyturningonthisthing.Atlongbloodylast.Justsittight.”
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Dayspass.Thequalityofthelightthatreachesthroughtheoceanoutsideherwindowchangesfromgraytogoldtowhite.Itbecomeswarmerandwarmer;atnightanair-conditioningunithumsoverhead.Scarlettcomesandgoes.ShebringsthedogwithhersometimesandTallulahcurlsaroundhisneckandbreathesinthesaltyscentofhim.
“I’mdoingthings,”saysScarlett.“I’mdoingthings,togetushome.Togetyouhome.Thiswillbeoversoon.Thiswillbeoversoon.”
Tallulahknowsthateverymealsheeats,everydrinkshedrinks,islacedwithsomethingthatmakeshersleep,butshedoesn’tcare,shecravesthesleepitbrings,thesweetlullofit,thepainlessness,thedreams.WhenScarletttakestoolongtobringherwhatshecraves,shefeelsinsane,tornintopieces,hergutslicedfromsidetoside,herheadshotthroughwithshardsofglass,andshesnatchesthedrinksfromScarlett’shands,drinksthemsofastshealmostchokes
Andthenoneday,assheemergesfromanotherdreammadeoflead,andforceshereyelidsapart,shestaresupatthehoney-goldenveneerofthewoodaboveherheadandshehearssomethingshehasnotheardbefore.Asteady,solidbuzz,likeanelectricsaw,likeamanwithadeepvoiceroaring,likealorryrevvingitsengine.Itseemstocircleher.Shefeelshereyesturningincircles,dryinsidetheirsockets.ShereachesforthewaterbottlethatScarlettalwaysputsdownforheratbedtimeandtakesaswig.Thenoisegrowslouder,moreinsistent.Theboatstartstoroilandrock;waterslopsovertheneckofthebottleasshetriestoscrewthelidbackintoplace.Shehearssomethingthatsoundslikeahumanvoice,butstrangelydisembodied,asthoughit’sshoutingunderwater.
“Scarlett!”shecallsout,althoughsheknowsshecannotbehearddownhereinherlittlewood-linedcasket.“Scarlett!”
Shehearsthepainfulmetallicscreechoftheenginegrindingtoahalt.Theboatfallssilentandnowshecanhearwhatthevoicesoutsidearesaying.
They’resaying:“ThisistheRAF.Wearecomingaboardyourvessel.Pleasestandonthedeckwithyourarmsraisedintheair.”
Andthenshehearsthestampofmanyfeetoverhead,therushofvoices,ofshouting,thedoortohercabinbeingkickedopen,andtherearemeninnavy,inhats,withguns,adrenaline-pumpedbodies,likemannequinsthatcannotbereal.Andtheycometoherandsherecoilsandtheysay,“AreyouTallulahMurray?”
Shenods.
Tallulahimaginesthatshewillbeabletowalkafterthepolicereleaseherfromherbindings.Sheimaginesthatthelegsshehasn’tusedfordaysanddayswillsomehowsupportherasshefinallyleavesthistinywoodenroom.Buttheydon’t,ofcourse.Theybuckleandfloplikeoneofthoselittlestring-leggedwoodenpuppetswithabuttonatthebase,andthepolicemancarriesherinhisarms.
“Wherearewegoing?”sheasksinareedyvoice.
“We’retakingyoutosafety,Tallulah.”
Hehasanaccent.Shedoesn’tknowwhatitis.
“Wherearewe?”sheasks.
“We’reinthemiddleoftheAtlanticOcean.”
“AmIgoinghome?”
“Yes.Yes,you’regoinghome.Butfirstweneedtogetyoutoahospitaltobecheckedover.You’reinabadstate.”
Onthedeckoftheboat,Tallulahseesthedetritusofameal.Abowlofsalad,wineglasses,papernapkinsbeingblownaboutintheviolentwindofthehelicopterblades.Theideathatwhileshehasbeenkepttiedupinthattiny,darkwoodenroom,otherpeoplehavebeenuphereeatingsaladanddrinkingwineinthesunshineisunimaginable.Sheseesahuddleofpeopleattheothersideoftheboat.It’sScarlett,Joss,andRex.Theyturnandglanceather,thenlookawayagainquickly.
SheseesanotherpolicemanapproachingtheJacqueses,pushingtheirarmsroughlybehindtheirbacks,clampingtheirwriststogetherwithmetalcuffsthatglintinthebrightsunlight.Thedogsitsattheirfeet,histhickfurbeingbuffetedineverydirection.
“What’sgoingtohappentothedog?”sheasks,suddenlyovercomewithconcernthathemightbeleftbehind.
“He’llcometoo,don’tworryaboutthedog.”
Shecovershereyeswithherarm.Thenoisefromthebladesandthebrightnessofthesunareagonizing.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Justrelax,Tallulah.Justrelax.”
SoonsheisbeingstrappedintoahoistwiththepolicemanwhorescuedherandthensheishoveringoverthegleamingwhiteboatandshelooksdownandwatchestheJacquesfamilygrowsmallerandsmallerintheirhuddleonthedeck.
SheseesScarlettlookupatherandmouththewords“Iloveyou.”ButsheknowsthatthepersonwhooncelovedScarlettJacqueshasgoneforever.
Shecloseshereyesandlooksaway.
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Astheplanecomestoastandstillontherunway,Sophieclicksopentheoverheadlockerandpullsdownhersmallwheelycaseandherjacket.AttheluggagecarouselsheismetbyherDanishpublisher,awomanheragewithpaleredhairheldinabun,wearingalongbluebouclécoatoverafloraldress.Theyhugbriefly—theyhavemettwicebeforeandevengotdrunktogetherlasttimeSophiewasinCopenhagenandsharedextraordinaryintimaciesincludingdetailsofherpublisher’sextramaritalaffairs.Butnowayearon,it’slikeafreshstart;onceagaintheyareauthorandpublisher,talentandmanager,cordial,warm,butnotfriends.
Sophieistakendirectlytoahotelwithvelvetchairsinsun-bleachedcolorsandglassliftsthatascendanddescendonmetalpoles,oversizecactusplants,andtheChainsmokersonthesoundsystem.Sheopensuphersuitcaseonthefootstoolinherbeautifulroomandremoveshertoiletrybag,unzipsit,andtakesouthertoothbrushandtoothpaste.
Inthebathroomshestaresatherfaceasshebrushesherteeth;she’sbeenawakesince4:00a.m.,thealarmbreakingintodarkandworryingdreams.She’shadtwohours’sleep.Shehasthepallorofanearlyflight,butintwentyminutesshewillbeonherwaytoaconferenceatwhichshehasatightscheduleofinterviewsandeventsdetailedonapieceofpaperhandedtoherbyherpublisherinacanvasgiftbagthatalsoincludesenergybars,mineralwater,andacopyoftheDanisheditionofherlatestbook.
Herphonebuzzesinherbedroomandshewandersoutofthebathroomandpicksitup.It’samessagefromKim.
They’vefoundher,itsayssimply.She’scominghome.
Sophieblinks.Shesitsheavilyontheendofthebedandgasps,thephoneclutchedtoherheart.Thenshefindsherselfsuddenly,dramatically,unexpectedly,weeping.
“Hello,Sophie.IfImay?”
Sophiesmilesencouraginglyatthereaderintheaudienceclutchingthemicrophonethathasjustbeenpassedtoherbyoneoftheteam.
“Sophie.Iamabigfanofyourbooks.TherehavenowbeensixofthebooksoftheLittleHitherGreenDetectiveAgency.Doyouhaveanotheroneontheway?Andifso,canyougiveusaclueaboutwhattoexpect?Andifnot,whatisnextforP.J.Fox?”
Atfirstsheiswrong-footedbythequestion,butthensherealizesexactlywhattosay.Shesmilesandliftsherownmicrophonetohermouth.“Thatisaverygoodquestion,”shesays.“Andyouknowwhat,afewweeksagoIwouldhavebeenabletogiveyouaverystraightforwardanswertothatquestion.AfewweeksagoIwaslivinginsoutheastLondon,veryclosetoHitherGreen,alone,inmynicelittleflat,whichisnotdissimilartoSusieBeets’sflat,infact.Ihadaboyfriend,ateacher,whoImetthroughmyjob,justasSusiealwaysmeetsherboyfriends.AfewweeksagoIwas,essentially,SusieBeets.”Theaudiencelaughs.“AndthefunnythingisthatIdidn’tevenknowit.BecausetwoweeksagoIleftLondon…”Shepausesasshefeelsarushofemotionpassthroughher.“IleftLondononawingandaprayerandasenseofsomeinvisibleclocksomewheretickingaway,tostartanewlifewithmyboyfriendinthecountryside.Iwastobecometheheadmaster’swifeinaveryexpensiveboardingschoolinapicture-perfectEnglishvillage.”Amurmuroflaughterpassesthroughtheaudience.“AndIhadnoidea,”shecontinues,“noideaatallhowmuchthiswasgoingtochangeeverything.BecauseIfoundmyselfnotonlystrandedinthecountryside,amillionmilesfrommycomfortzone,unabletogetbackintoSusie,unabletowrite,butalsointhemiddleofareal-lifecrime.Doyouwantmetotellyouaboutit?”
Aloudermurmurpassesthroughtheaudience.Sophienodsandrecrossesherlegs.Sheturnstohermoderatorandsays,“IsitOK?Dowehavetime?”Themoderatornodsandsays,“Iamagog!Pleasetakeallthetimeyouwant.”
“Well,”saysSophie.“Itallstartedonthefirstday,whenIfoundacardboardsign,nailedtoafence.Ithadthewords‘DigHere’scrawledonit.”
Shepausesandlooksaroundtheaudience,waitingforsomeonetopickuponthesignificanceofthis.Thegirlwhoaskedthequestiongetsitfirst.“Youmean,”shesays,“likeinthefirstHitherGreenbook?”
“Yes,”saysSophie.“LikeinthefirstHitherGreenbook.”
Agratifyingripplepassesthroughtheroom,andSophiecarrieson.“SoIgotatrowel,”shesays.“AndIdug…”
AsSophietalks,shefeelsherselfcometogether,asthoughshewereabrokenvaseandnowthepiecesofherarebeinggluedbackintoplace.SheknowsthatshecannotbeinUpfieldCommonanymore.SheknowsthatShaunmustleaveMaypoleHouseandgetajobheloves.Sheknowsthatthiswasamistake,forbothofthem,insomanyways,butthatitwasalsofate,playingoutinthemostextraordinaryway.Thewayitallhappened,thestepsinthedance.AndnowTallulahMurray,found,alive.SophiealsoknowsthatshedoesnotwanttowriteanotherLittleHitherGreenDetectiveAgencybookaftertheoneshe’swritingnow,thatitwillbeherlast.Thatsheneedstostopwritingaboutherselfandstartwritingaboutthewideworld,notjustonecornerofit.Thatsheisnearlythirty-fiveandit’stimeforhertomoveon.
WithorwithoutShaun.
Shegetstotheendofthestoryandthewomanintheaudiencesays,“Andso?Whathappensnext?Whatwillhappentothefamily?Tothepeoplewhotookher?”
Sophiesays,“IguessI’llfindoutwhenIgethome.”
Sherestshermicrophoneonthetableandsmilesastheaudienceclapsforher.
70
THETIMES
14September2018
MISSINGMOTHERFOUNDCAPTIVEONBOATINATLANTIC
Ayoungmother,TallulahMurray,20,whohasbeenmissingfromhomesinceattendingapoolpartywithherboyfriendinJunelastyear,hasbeenfoundaliveahundredmilesfromlandintheAtlanticonboardaprivatelycharteredyacht,whereitisbelievedshewasbeingheldcaptivebyJocelynJacques,the48-year-oldwifeofhedge-fundmanagerMartinJacques,andher23-year-oldson,RexJacques,and20-year-olddaughter,ScarlettThefamilywastracedaftertheremainsofMurray’sboyfriend,ZachAllister,werefoundinatunnelthatrunsbeneaththefamily’shomeinUpleyFold,nearMantoninSurrey.ItisbelievedthattheboatwastracedusingidentifyingfeaturesfromphotographspostedbyScarlettJacquesontoanInstagramaccount.AllthreemembersoftheJacquesfamilyhavebeentakenintocustody,whileTallulahMurrayisinamilitaryhospitalinBermudabeingtreatedforsymptomsofseveredehydrationanddrugdependency.Murray’sfamilyhasbeennotifiedanditisbelievedshewillbedischargedlatertodayfromhospitalandwillbeflownbacktotheUKimmediatelytobereunitedwithherfamily,includinghertwo-year-oldson,Noah.NomotiveforeitherthekillingofZachAllisterorfortheabductionofTallulahMurrayhasyetbeenprovided.71
SEPTEMBER2018
Kimusesherexpensivehairconditioner,theonethatshehastoscoopoutofapotwithherfingertips.Shesmoothsitdownthelengthofherhairandsheleavesitonfortwominutes,aspertheinstructions,beforerinsingitoff.
Afterwardshepicksanoutfit,leafingthroughclothesthatshehasn’twornformonths,clothesfromanothertimethathavelookedsoalientoherthesepastfifteenmonths:anotherwoman’swardrobeofpositivecolors,optimisticprints.Shepullsoutateadressthatbuttonsdownthefront.It’sthesamedresssheworeatTallulah’scandlelightvigilontheanniversaryofherdisappearance.Sheteamsitwitharose-pinkcardiganandherarmyboots.Sheblow-driesherhairintoashinysheetandshepaintsliquidwingsontohereyelids.
It’sstillfivehoursuntilTallulahisflownintothearmybase.Fivelonghours.Butfivehoursisnothingcomparedtothefifteenmonthsshehaslivedwithouther.
Herexisflyingdown.He’llbehereanyminute.Ryanisgoingtomeetthemthere.Noahisatnursery,fortheroutine,forthenormality,togiveKimthistimetomakeherselfready.She’llcollecthiminacoupleofhours.
“Mummy,”he’sbeensayingfordays.“Mummycomin’home.”
Shewishes,inaselfishway,thatitcouldjustbeher.Justher,onthetarmac,waitingwithheldbreath,withflowers,withherheartpoundingandherpulseracing,forthosedoorstoopen,forhergirltobethere,onthesteps,totakeherinherarms.Butsheknowsitcan’tbejusther.ShesitsinthekitchenandwaitsforJimtotextthathe’sonhisway
Megs.ShecannotthinkofMegs.ShecannottalktoMegsorseeMegsorevensayhername.Shekeepsexpectinghertocallortextorappearonherdoorstep.Butthere’sbeennowordfromher.KimfeelsthepainofZach’sdeathlikeacorset,tightaroundhergut;itstopsherbreathingsometimeswhenshethinksaboutit.Thatpoorboy.Leftdownthere.Itwasthegirl.ItwasScarlett.ThemotherhadfirsttoldpolicethatshehadnoideawhereZachwas,thatsheandherchildrenandTallulahhadjustbeenenjoyinganimpromptugapyeartogether,“keepingalowprofile.”KimhadsmashedherfistintoherwallwhenDomhadrelayedthisnuggettoher.WhenthepolicetoldJossJacquesthatthey’dfoundZach’sbodyinatunnelbeneathherhouseshechangedtackandtoldthepolicethatactuallyitwasTallulahwho’dkilledZach,thatshe’dhithimonthebackoftheheadwithabronzestatueandthatthey’dbeentryingtoprotecther.AtfirstScarletthadgonealongwithhermother’sstory,andforanendlessdayandahalfKimhadfeltnauseousattheprospectofherdaughterspendingtherestofherlifeinprison.
ButthenyesterdayScarletthadconfessed,quiteunexpectedly,quickly,asthoughthewholethingwereasuitofarmorthatshewantedtoripoff.ShetoldpolicethatZachwasabully,thathe’dcontrolledTallulah,thathe’dhurther.Shetoldthemthatshe’dheardZachthreateningtotakeTallulah’sbabyaway,thatshe’dreactedinstinctivelytoprotecther,withoutaforethought.ShetoldpolicethatitwasallbecauseofherloveforTallulah.AndKimissurethatthatistrueandsomewheredeepinsidefeelscertainthatshetoowouldkillsomeonewhothreatenedtotakeNoahawayfromTallulah.
Thatiswhatshesaidhappened.Whoknowsifitistrue.AndwhoknowswhatwillbecomeofScarlettJacques,thisgirlwhohasKim’sdaughter’sinitialsinkedintoherflesh.Kimdoesn’tknowScarlettJacques.Shehasseenheronlyonce,floatingacrossapoolinapinkflamingo,drippingwaterinablacktowel,answeringquestionsabouthermissingdaughterinasulky,condescendingtone.Shedoesn’tknowScarlettJacques.Shedoesn’tneedtoknowScarlettJacques.Kimcannotfeelsorryforherorcareaboutherfate,asyoungassheis,asmuchasScarlettmayclaimtoloveherdaughter.Shesimplycannot.
TallulahwasfoundtobeinthegripofaprofoundopioidaddictionwhenshewastakentohospitalandKimhasbeentoldthatshewillneedtospendtimeinrehabtorecover.She’sbeenwarnedthatTallulahwillnotlooklikethefresh-facedgirlshesaidgoodbyetoonthatJunenightallthosemonthsandmonthsago.Butshe’salsobeentoldthatTallulahisdesperatetogetwellandcomehomeandbeamothertohersonagain.
Andnowtheystandinarowonthegraytarmac.Kim,Ryan,Jim,NoahinhisbestshirtandtrousersinKim’sarms.Awarmwindwhipsaroundthemandacrossthem.ItmessesupKim’sshiny,flattenedhairandshetucksitbehindherearsrepeatedly.Awheeledstaircaseisputintoplacebelowthedooroftheairplane.Thedooropens.Amanappears,thenanotherman.KimsucksinherbreathandbreathesitoutagainintoNoah’shair.Shesucksinherstomach,tucksherhairbehindherearonelasttime,andthen,there,withahugebrowndogstandingatherside,isTallulah.
Kimruns.
EPILOGUE
AUGUST2018
Liamtakesoffhissunglassesandputstheminthepocketofhisshirt.Helooksupwardatthehousewherethesunshinesblacklyoffthecurtainedwindows,beforecrouchingdowntolifttheedgeofalargeblueplanter;awoodlousescuttlesoutofitshidingplace.Hegrabstheobjecthiddenthereandtakesittothefrontdoor.
Inside,thehouseiscoolandechoey.EverythingisastheJacquesesleftitlastsummer,butthereisthestillness,theheldbreathofanunlived-inhome.Hefeelstheechoesofthemomentshehasspentinthishome:thericochetofprivilegedlaughteroffthewhitewalls,theanticipatoryclankofawinebottlebeingtakenoutofthefridgeinthekitchen,theslapofthedog’sheavypawsacrossstoneflooring,thesmellofScarlett’sperfume,thestrangeold-ladyscentshealwayswears.It’sallstillhere,butmuted,dreamlike,asmallghostofalost,enchantedworld.
Butthereisalsobloodinthestillairofthehouse:aheady,noxiousundercurrentofdeath.AsLiampassesfromroomtoroom,scenesflashthroughhishead.Chillingmemoriesofthatnightlastyear,attheendofJanuary,whenScarletthadcalledhim.Thedesperationinhervoice.
“Boobs,Ineedyou.Something’shappened.Pleasecome.”
Heleftimmediately,ofcourse.HeneverwastedabeatwhenitcametoScarlett.Shewashislifeforce,hismeaning.HewasnothingbeforeScarlettandhewouldreturntonothingafterher.Whensheneededhim,hecametolife,likeamarionettetakenoutofabox.
Hefoundheronaloungerbythepool,herarmswrappedtightaroundherbody,rockinggently.
“Ithink,”shesaid,“IthinkI’vebeenraped.”
Shewouldn’ttellhimwho,when,how,where.Justthat.
IthinkI’vebeenraped.
Liamhadfelthissoftcoregohard.Everyelementofhisphysicalbeinghadbeenprimedtokill.Withhisbarehandsifnecessary.
Hestayedthatnight,andthenextandthenext,waitingandwaitingforScarletttotellhim.Hisfathercalledhimconstantly,demandingthathecomebacktothefarm,thattheyneededhim.ButScarlettneededhimmore,andnothing,noteventhethreatoffamilialexcommunication,couldmakehimleaveherside.Forweekshestaredateverymanhecrossedpathswith,everystudent,everyteacher,themanintheco-op,thevicarfromtheparishchurch.Whowasit,hedesperatelyneededtoknow,whodidthistomygirl?Whichoneofyoudaredhurther,triedtobreakher.Helivedthoseweeksinsideatightlyfurledparoxysmofviolence,readytoburst.
InlateFebruaryhetookthejobatMaypoleHouseofferedtohimbyJacintaCroftandhemovedintohisroomwithitsbalconyanditsviewsacrossthewoods.Anditwasfromtherethathesawhim,sixweekslater:anoldmanfromadistance,butonfurtherinspectionaforty-somethingmanwithabaldhead.
GuyCroft,Jacinta’shusband.
He’dmovedawaysometimepreviously,amidtalkofadultery,ofthemhavingsplitup.OnceafamiliarsightwalkingthegroundsoftheschoolwithhisLabrador,GuyCrofthadnotbeenseenforawhile,butnowhewasback,walkingfromtherearofhiscottageandintothewoodswithanurgency,almostaninsanity,inhispace.
Liamimmediatelylefthisroomandfollowedhimthroughthewoods.AttheothersideofthewoodshesawhimunlatchthebackgateintothegroundsofDarkPlace,andthenfromahidingplaceoutofsight,heheardhimtalkingtoScarlett.
“Letmein.Please,letmein.I’velefther.OK?I’velefther.Foryou.”
“Ididn’taskyoutoleaveher.Itoldyou.It’sover.”
“No.No.Yousaid,yousaidyoudidn’twanttobewithamarriedman.Well,I’mnotmarriedanymore.OK?I’mfree.”
“OhmyGod,Guy.Please,justfuckoff.”
“I’mnotgoinganywhere,Scarlett.I’vegivenupeverythingforyou.”
AndthenLiamsawGuyCroftlayhishandsagainstScarlett’sshoulders,sawhimpushher,neitherhardnorgently,butfirmly,backintothehouse.“Everything,”hesaidagain.Andthenhetookastepforward,hisarmsoutagain.LiamheardScarlettsay,“Getoffme,Guy.Justfuckinggetyourfuckinghandsoffme.”
Liammoved,fastenoughtoleaveskidmarksinthegroundwherehe’dbeenstanding,three,four,fiveboundsandintothedoor,hishandsonGuy’sarms,yankinghimback,awayfromScarlett,throwinghimbackwardontotheground,andthenstraddlinghimwherehelay;thenanawarenessofhisfistagainsttheskinofGuy’shead,hisjaw,theraspofhisstubbleagainsthisknuckles,andthenthehotstickinessoffreshblood,theslacknessoffleshsurrenderingtotrauma,theflopofaheadnolongerheldproudbyaneck,therealizationthathewaspoundingawayatsomethingthatheldnoresistance,likepoundingatapileofmince.Andthen,andonlythen,theawarenessofavoiceabovehishead,saying,“Nonono,Liam,STOP,”andhandsagainsthisclothing,tuggingatthefabricofhisshirt.Aflockofswiftsinalazyformationpassingthroughthecoolblueoftheskyoverhead.Hisbloodpumpingthroughhisears.Hisbreathhardinhischest.Adeadbodybetweenhislegs.
TherewasatimewhenLiamwouldhavedoneanythingScarlettaskedhimtodo.Butthatwasbeforesheabandonedhimhere,alone,estrangedfromhisfamily,hisplansintattersbecauseofallthesacrificeshe’dmadeforher;beforeshelefthimwithoutevensayinggoodbye.
Untilafranticphonecalltwodaysago,overaterribleechoeyline,Scarlett’svoiceinhisearforthefirsttimeinoverayear.
“Boobs,thethingthathappenedatthepoolpartylastsummer,thething.Itwasreal.Ithappenedanditwasabadthing.AndMimiknowsaboutitandshe’stoldLex.LexwilltellKerryanne.KerryannewilltellTallulah’smum.Everyonewillknowsoon.Ineedyoutosortitout.It’sinthesameplace.Thething.Thesameplaceasthethingthatyoudid.Theleverisunderthebigbluepotbythefrontdoor.Please,Boobs.Getridofboththethings.Getridofthem.Completely.Andthenlockitandgetridofthelever.TakeitintoLondonorsomething,throwitintheThames,putitinabin,justgetitaway.Don’tleaveanytraceofanything,Boobs.Please.I’mouthere,inthemiddleofnowhere.Mum’slosingtheplot.She’sgonemadandshe’sdruggingmeandI’mscaredI’mgoingtodieouthere.Ijustwanttocomehome.Pleasemakeitsafeformetocomehome.Please.”
Nowhewendshiswaythroughthekitchen,tothebackhallway,andintotheoldwingofthehouse.Hegoestothetinyanteroomoutsidetheturretandpauses,justforamoment,beforetwistingthelatchandentering.Itiscoldanddankintheturret.ItdoesnotfeellikeAugust.Hepullstheancientleverfromhisbackpocket,thesameonetheyusedtoopenthetunnelthatshockingdayinApril,andheprizesoffthecover.
Hestepsoverthebodyandthen,usinghisphoneasaflashlight,hewalksdownthetunnelforalmostamile,untilitendsandthereisnofarthertogo.Overheadaslabofstoneintheceilingletsinatrickleofgraylightfromwhateverisabove.HetakesthebottleofpetrolfromhisshoulderbagandhepoursitovertheshrunkenformofGuyCroft’sremainsandthendropsamatchontothem.HewatchestheflamesbegintolickaroundGuyCroft’scrumblingbonesandstepsawaywhentheheatstartstooverwhelmhim.Astheflamessubsidehepokesattheasheswiththemetallever.Heseesfingerbones,stillintact,ajawbone,largelumpsofoldragandcharredleather,andhepoursanotherslugofpetrolontothepile,dropsanothermatchontoit.
HefeelsnothingforGuyCroftashewatcheshimturntopowder.AllhisfeelingsareheldinsidehimlikeafistandtheyareallforScarlett.Allofthem.Scarlett,whousespeopleasmirrors,tobetterseeherself.Scarlett,whopickspeopleupanddropspeopleasandwhenitsuitsher.Scarlett,whowaiteduntilLiamwasoverher,finallyoverher,readytogohomeandgetonwithhislife,beforereelinghimbackinandusinghimagain,asacomfortblanket,alaptositon,apersontoseeherasshewishestobeseenandnotaswhatshereallyis.AndwhatScarlettJacquesreallyis,henowknows,isavessel.
He’dallowedhimselftobeusedbyherasaplaything,apet,nodifferentfromherpreciousdog.He’devenlethergivehimthatterriblenickname—Boobs.HehatedbeingcalledBoobs,buthe’dletithappen.He’dallowedScarlettandherhideousmothertousehimasahandyman,aplumber,achauffeur.Hefeelsred-hotangerpassthroughhimatthememoryofScarlett’smotherpassinghimaspadeandaplasticbagonehotsummer’smorningandaskinghimifhewouldn’tmindclearingthedog’sshitoffthelawnbecausethegardenerwasoffsickanditwasstartingtostink.
AfterhekilledGuyCroftforher,theywenttobedandhadsexthatwassorawandpurethathe’dcriedafterward.
“Iloveyou,Boobs,”she’dsaid,herbodywrappedaroundhis.“YouknowI’mgoingtoloveyouforever,don’tyou?”
Andthenthedoorbellhadrungthenextmorningandshe’dsaid,“Fuck,Boobs,quick,youhavetogo,youhavetogonow.It’sTallulah.She’searly.Getdressed.Quickly!”And,beinganobedientpuppet,he’ddoneasshesaid,thrownonhisclothes,andleft.He’dkilledamanforherandshe’dthrownhimoutthenextmorningwithoutevensayinggoodbye,thengivenherselfoverimmediatelyandentirelytoherpursuitofTallulah.Andnowthis.Ayearofradiosilenceandsuddenlysheneedshimagain.
Please,Boobs,please.
Angrily,hepokesagainattheremainsofGuyCroft.Thelumpshaveburneddownnowtorubbleanddustandhesweepsthemwiththesmallbrushhe’dbroughtdownwithhim,ontosheetsoftinfoil,whichhewrapsintowarmparcelsandputsintohisshoulderbag.Hewilltakethemtotheshadypondontheedgeofthecommonwhenthesunhassettonightandemptythemintothestagnantwaterstherefortheduckstopickover.
Hepassesthelightofthephoneacrossthefloorofthetunnel,stoopingtopickupwhatlookslikeamolar,whichheslipsquicklyintohistrouserpocket.
Andthen,asheturnstoleave,hehearswhatsoundlikefootstepsoverhead,andthenvoices,thin,mutedthroughthegaparoundthestoneslabintheceiling.
“So,whatdoyouthink,Sophie?Canyouimagineit?Comingtoliveherewithme?Beingtheheadteacher’swife?”
Thenawoman’svoiceinreply.“Yes,yes,Ireallycan.Ithinkit’llbeanadventure.”
Liamturnsandheadsbackdownthetunnel.AshenearstheexitheglancesdownatZachAllister’sbody,thebodyScarlettthinkshe’sgoingtogetridofforher,andhestepsoverit.
ThenheclimbsthestonestepsbacktoDarkPlace,pullstheslaboverthehole,andslidestheleverbackintohispocket,theleverthathewon’tbethrowingintheThamesforScarlettordisposingofinafar-flungbin,theleverhe’llbekeepingsafeinhishomeuntilhedecidesexactlywhathe’sgoingtodowithit.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thiswasmy“lockdownnovel.”Allannuallypublishedwriterswillhaveoneoftheseintheirlistnow.IstartedwritingitinFebruary2020.Ithengotsidetrackedbyotherthings(signingsixandahalfthousandtip-inpagesfortheUSbeingoneofthem!)andputittoonesideforawhile.BythetimeIcamebacktoit,lockdownhadstarted,I’dhadCOVID,andmychildrenwereathomeallday.Itypicallywritemybookseitheratmykitchentableorinacoffeeshop.Suddenlycoffeeshopswereshutandmykitchentablewascoveredinmyelderdaughter’scollegework.Thekitchenitselfwasusedbymyfamilyassomekindofinformalstaffroom,aplacetohangoutandtakeabreatherfromworkandlearning.Complexmealswerepreparedandcookedhereatallhoursoftheday.Peopleseemedtobemillingaboutconstantlyandtherewerenocoffeeshopstoescapeto,andforeightlongweeksImoochedaboutdisconsolatelysayingthatICOULDNOTWRITE.Notonlyweretherepeopleallovermyworkspacebutmybookwassetin2018andIcouldn’tgetmyheadaroundtheconceptofwritingaboutaworldbeforeCOVID,aworldofnaivepeoplegoingtopubs,sendingtheirkidstoschool,andhuggingoneanother.Ispoketomyeditoratintervalsoverthisperiodandeachtimeshewouldsay,“Areyouwriting?”andeachtimeIwouldexplainthatno,Iwasn’t,Icouldn’t,itwasimpossible,ofcoursenot.Thefirstfewtimesshewasunderstanding,sympathetic.Thefifthtimeshesaid,“Youknowyoureallydohavetowritethisbook,don’tyou?”
Sothankyou,Selina,forbreakingmeoutofmyparalysisandforcingmeintoproblem-solvingmode.Thisbookwaswritteninarentedwritingspaceacrosstheroadfrommyhouse.Mylockdownoffice.Mygodsend.Thankyousomuch,LockdownOffice,andthankyoutoVictoriaandRebeccaatSwissQuarters,whomademefeelsowelcomeduringmytimerentingtheunit.
Onaprofessionallevel,2020wasanexceptionalyearforme.IhitthenumberonespotinboththeNewYorkTimesbestsellerandSundayTimesbestsellerlists,IsoldmorethanhalfamillioncopiesofTheFamilyUpstairsintheUKandmorethanamillioncopiesofThenSheWasGoneintheUS.Whilsthunkereddowninmytiny,shrunkenlockdownworld,itwasjoyfultothinkofsomanynewreaderscomingtomybooks,exploringmybacklist,findinganescapefromthescarinessoftherealworld.Sothankyoutoeveryonewhoboughtoneofmybookslastyearandwelcometoallmynewreaderswhohavecomebackformore.Iamsogratefultoyouall.
Thankyoutobooksellersacrosstheglobewhosomehowfoundwaystokeepsellingbookstopeoplewhowantedtoreadthem;Jiffybagsmusthaveexperiencedasalesboomoverthepastyear!Andthankyoutolibrarianswhoalsofoundingeniouswaystokeeptheirlendingprogramsgoing.Booksellersandlibrariansalsokeptupincrediblyfast-movingandwell-organizedprogramsofeventsforwritersandreadersduringCOVIDrestrictions,sothankyoutoeveryonewhohostedmelastyear,fromthecomfortofmybedroom.
ThankyoutoamazingJonnyGeller,myagentatamazingCurtisBrownintheUK,andamazingDeborahSchneider,myagentatamazingGelfmanSchneiderintheUS.Youhavebothbeenmagnificentinmaintainingincrediblyhighstandardsofserviceduringsuchachallengingyear.
Thankyoutoallmypublishers,allovertheworld,withespecialthankstoSelinaandNajmaandeveryoneatCornerstoneintheUKandtoLindsaySagnetteandArieleFredmanandeveryoneatAtriaintheUS.
Thankyoutomyspectacularwriterpalswhohavekeptmesaneonvarioussocialmediaplatformsthisyear:JennyColgan,MaddyWickham,JojoMoyes,AmandaJennings,TammyCohen,SerenaMackesy,ChrisManby,TamsinGrey,AdeleParks,andatonmore.
Andlastly,thankyoutomyfamilyforbeing,onthewhole,prettydecentcompanyinayearwhenbeingdecentcompanywasaboutthemostimportantthingtobe.
Here’stotheendofaweirdfootnoteinhistoryandtonormalbusinesssoonbeingresumed.Bringonthecoffeeshops!
MorefromtheAuthor
Untitled#1
InvisibleGirl
TheTruthAboutMelodyBrowne
TheFamilyUpstairs
WatchingYou
ThenSheWasGone
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
LisaJewellisthe#1NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorofnineteennovels,includingTheFamilyUpstairsandThenSheWasGone,aswellasInvisibleGirlandWatchingYou.Hernovelshavesoldmorethanfivemillioncopiesinternationally,andherworkhasalsobeentranslatedintotwenty-ninelanguages.ConnectwithheronTwitter@lisajewelluk,onInstagram@lisajewelluk,andonFacebook@lisajewellofficial
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AlsobyLisaJewell
InvisibleGirl
TheFamilyUpstairs
WatchingYou
ThenSheWasGone
IFoundYou
TheGirlsintheGarden
TheThirdWife
TheHouseWeGrewUpIn
BeforeIMetYou
TheMakingofUs
AftertheParty
TheTruthAboutMelodyBrowne
31DreamStreet
AFriendoftheFamily
Vince&Joy
One-HitWonder
Thirtynothing
Ralph’sParty
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Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Anyreferencestohistoricalevents,realpeople,orrealplacesareusedfictitiously.Othernames,characters,places,andeventsareproductsoftheauthor’simagination,andanyresemblancetoactualeventsorplacesorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
Copyright?2021byLisaJewell
OriginallypublishedinGreatBritainin2021byCentury
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Names:Jewell,Lisa,author.
Title:Thenightshedisappeared:anovel/LisaJewell.
Description:FirstAtriaBookshardcoveredition.|NewYork:AtriaBooks,2021.
Identifiers:LCCN2021015888(print)|LCCN2021015889(ebook)|ISBN9781982137366(hardcover)|ISBN9781982137380(ebook)
Subjects:LCSH:Psychologicalfiction.|GSAFD:Suspensefiction.
Classification:LCCPR6060.E95N542021(print)|LCCPR6060.E95(ebook)|DDC823/.914—dc23
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TableofContents
TitlePage
Dedication
PartOne
Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22
PartTwo
Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34Chapter35Chapter36
PartThree
Chapter37Chapter38Chapter39Chapter40Chapter41Chapter42Chapter43Chapter44Chapter45Chapter46Chapter47Chapter48Chapter49Chapter50Chapter51
PartFour
Chapter52Chapter53Chapter54Chapter55Chapter56Chapter57Chapter58Chapter59Chapter60
PartFive
Chapter61Chapter62Chapter63Chapter64Chapter65Chapter66Chapter67Chapter68Chapter69Chapter70Chapter71
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
Copyright
© Copyright Notice
The copyright of the article belongs to the author. Please do not reprint without permission.
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