She wants me to be afraid of her, of what she is capable of doing. I’m not. She doesn’t know me, what I too am capable of. I am more than a match for her and her anger.
‘They might even want to come round to speak to you about him.’ Her voice echoes, bouncing off the bare walls and floor.
‘That’s fine. I have no problem with that at all. We all want to find him, don’t we? Make sure he’s safe and well.’
She doesn’t reply, stepping outside instead into the setting sun. We stand together, buffeted by the warm breeze, our inner thoughts silenced by our dignity, our tongues too polite to say what we really think of one another.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ she says before walking away and slipping through the narrow gate.
I close the door and head back out into the garden, stopping to pour myself a large glass of wine. Sandra can come back as often as she wishes and bring the whole of the North Yorkshire Police force with her. They won’t get anything out of me that they don’t already know.
The glass soon empties. I refill it, my mind raking over my day with Jack Downey and wondering how tomorrow will pan out. I think about Peter and decide to send him a message asking when we can meet again. I can’t let him forget about me. Not when we’ve made such a strong connection. Tom is in the past. Peter is my future. A future I planned and not one I am prepared to let go of so easily.
By the time I have finished the bottle, the rough edges of my thoughts have smoothed themselves out. My mind is wrinkle free. No kinks or unwelcome curves or bends or undulations. The ground tilts ever so slightly as I stand up and step over the grass, pressing down any raised pieces with my feet, stamping on them and pushing them back in place with a smile. I kick off my shoes and use my bare feet, enjoying the sensation of the grass against my skin, then make my way back in the house, closing the patio doors behind me.
‘Morning, Jack.’ I smile at him as he unlocks the door and lets me inside, our bodies almost brushing as I pass through the doorway and kick off my shoes. ‘I take it Mrs Downey enjoyed her time at the spa?’
His lips are thin, his hands tight at his sides as he replies to me. ‘She isn’t back yet.’
‘Oh,’ I say cheerily, even though I have a residual hangover after the wine last night. ‘I saw her car outside and thought—’
‘It’s not your place to actually think anything, Alice. It’s your place to look after the children and clean this house. If you must know, Elizabeth’s car was in the garage getting some work done. I dropped her off at the spa and will be picking her up when she returns.’
‘Which is?’ I raise an eyebrow at him and even manage a coquettish grin.
‘Which is none of your fucking business, okay?’
‘Daddy?’ Fionn is standing in the doorway of the playroom, his eyes wide. He sees me and comes running over, throwing himself at me with force. I laugh and step back, running my hand over his soft, featherlike hair. ‘Daddy said a rude word,’ Fionn says with an outraged squeak. ‘I heard him.’
I don’t look at Jack, staring instead at Fionn, who hugs me with an alarming amount of gusto, his little arms pressing into my midriff. I can imagine Jack’s furious expression, his narrowed eyes and augmenting anger. I am willing to bet his blood pressure has spiked in the last few seconds, making him dizzy, knowing his son has a deep attachment to me instead of him. Maybe he should try being a father to him instead of batting away the poor boy’s advances.
‘Come on, young man,’ I say, laughing loudly. ‘Let’s get you ready for school.’
The walk there follows the usual pattern – Fionn chatting animatedly about anything and everything, and Yasmin doing her best to be pleasant even though every muscle in her face is twitching to scowl at me and tell me how much she hates me. The feeling is mutual. I wonder if she knows that or simply thinks of me as a browbeaten, permanently angry adult.
It’s once we get to the gates that she unleashes her tirade. Fionn runs off, waving goodbye and is more than halfway up the path when Yasmin turns to me and lowers her voice to a growl.
‘I don’t like you. You’re a horrible woman. I don’t care if you tell my dad about those messages. And when Mum gets back, I’m going to tell her to get rid of you and that you tried to hit me.’ She looks at me, a triumphant expression in her perfect little features. I actually rather like this girl. She’s gutsy. But she isn’t me and never will be. I lean down and rest my hand on her arm, my forefinger and thumb gently stroking her skin.
‘Shh. Don’t be silly, Yasmin. You need me. And when you get home tonight, there will be a little gift for you under your pillow.’
Her eyes widen then narrow again, her faith and trust in me shaky and uncertain. As it should be. She is a wise one. I lean down and whisper in her ear. ‘I know that your parents have lots of money but wouldn’t you like some of your own to spend on computer games?’ She stares at me, waiting for me to continue. ‘I’ve bought you some gift cards for your Xbox and PlayStation. How does £150 worth of vouchers sound?’
Her mouth is slack as I pull away and look in her face. I push a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and smile at her. ‘Our secret, okay?’
For all their wealth, I know that £150 still sounds like a lot of money to a nine-year-old, even one like Yasmin who attends private school and lives in a large, luxurious house. She is nodding at me now and even manages a small smile. I know I’ve hit the right spot when she skips up the path towards the school, turning to wave at me meekly before mingling in with the swaying throng, her form disappearing amongst the outline of young bodies.
30PETER
The tense atmosphere in the house has softened with everything back to how it was before the incident with the books.
He leans towards Alice and refills her glass, her face coming into focus with breathtaking clarity. Lauren peeks her head around the doorway of the dining room and waves, her slender fingers gently massaging the air.
‘Come and join us!’ Alice pats the seat beside her and to his surprise, Lauren takes it.
‘Now, as a responsible father, I shouldn’t really be doing this,’ he says, his tone mocking. Teasing. ‘But would you like a glass of wine?’
She screws up her face and shakes her head. ‘I’d rather have one of your beers. Wine gives me a headache.’
He sighs, cocks his head to one side. Relents. ‘Go on then. Go and grab yourself one out of the fridge.’
She jumps up, thanking him profusely and dashes away, coming back seconds later with a beer in her hand. No glass because she’s seventeen and it’s way cooler to neck it straight from the bottle.
‘So, Lauren,’ Alice says as she sips at her Chardonnay. ‘How’s college?’
‘It’s fine,’ Lauren replies. ‘No, actually, it’s better than fine. I really enjoy it. The teachers are great. Really approachable and they want us all to do well.’
‘What are you studying?’ Alice angles her chair closer to Lauren, her smile and happiness tangible, her charisma mesmerising.
‘English and History. I want to do a degree in English Literature and go on to become a teacher.’
‘That sounds amazing. It’s good to have goals to work towards.’ Alice is nodding, her face flushed with the wine.
Peter stands, raises his glass in a toast, acutely aware that his actions are both ridiculous and heart-warming. ‘To the future,’ he says loudly.
Lauren and Alice roll their eyes and giggle, Alice lifting her glass and chinking it against Lauren’s bottle then reaching across and touching his goblet of wine, a marginally seductive act that sets his pulse racing.
