I hear Lucy pad down the stairs, and a moment later, she appears in the kitchen doorway dressed in her pyjamas, the blood gone, and her hands now littered with plasters. On the walk back from the churchyard, I’d offered to clean and dress her wounds myself, like I did when she was small, but she turned down my offer, and disappeared upstairs as soon as we got home. The bloodstained jumper hasn’t made it downstairs. I consider asking if she’s put it in to soak or left it on her bedroom floor, then decide it doesn’t matter. Unlike Milla, Lucy has inherited her father’s neatness genes, so I’m not going to start hassling her now.
‘Thank you,’ she whispers, reaching for the mug. Her arms are shaking too, I notice, but that could be down to the cold temperature as much as the after-effects of adrenalin. She walks over to our kitchen table, a solid structure made from reclaimed pine that carries the scars of seventeen years of family meals, and drops onto the bench that runs along one side. I sink into the chair opposite her and nurse my own drink. Silence reigns for a while as I try to figure out what to say. There are a dozen questions circulating my head, but I can’t work out which one to ask first. Or whether I should be asking anything at all. Maybe getting her home in one piece is enough.
‘I’m sorry to run out like that,’ she says eventually.
I sigh. ‘We’re not cross with you. We know what a difficult day it’s been for you. But you did scare us. Dad said you’d gone to bed, so it was a shock, seeing your room empty.’
She takes a sip of her drink, then drops her chin into cupped hands, and raises her eyes to mine. ‘Where is Dad anyway?’ she asks.
I look at my watch and feel my forehead crinkle. Because it is strange that Matt isn’t home yet. It’s been nearly half an hour since I messaged the family WhatsApp group, and neither Matt nor Milla has shown up yet. Milla is on foot, so she might take a while longer, but surely Matt should be home by now? A lurch of fear makes my chest tighten for a moment, but I breathe it out. Nothing has happened to him – this instinct is just a hangover from the terror I’ve already felt tonight.
I pick up my phone, but I don’t even get chance to click on his name before I hear the low rumble of a car arriving in the drive. A moment later, the side door swings open and Matt walks into the kitchen.
‘Lucy,’ he breathes. ‘Where the—’ The words catch in his throat and he stops abruptly. ‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘But please don’t do that again.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she says meekly. ‘I won’t, I promise.’
‘Do you want a hot chocolate?’ I ask, gesturing towards my mug.
‘No, I’m fine.’ He scratches his neck, looks at Lucy, then back at me. He seems anxious, as though, even with her sitting in front of him, he can’t believe she’s safe. ‘Actually, maybe I will,’ he continues, nodding his head. ‘I’m feeling pretty wired to be honest; it might help me sleep.’
‘I suppose it’s morning in Thailand,’ I say. ‘Your body clock must be all over the place. Sit down and I’ll make it for you.’
‘Thanks, yes.’ He keeps nodding but doesn’t move towards the table. ‘You know, I’ll just use the toilet,’ he spurts out. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He disappears out of the kitchen, and as I grab the milk from the fridge, I hear him walking upstairs. We have a toilet off the kitchen, and I wonder why he doesn’t use that.
I check my watch again. Maybe I should warm enough milk for Milla; she’ll be back any moment and is bound to be freezing cold. I can’t actually remember what she was wearing when we headed out – I was too panicked to notice details like that – but I doubt it’s anything sensible. As I wait for the milk to bubble for the second time, I become aware of a new sound against the window and realise that it’s started to rain again.
‘Come on, Milla,’ I mumble to myself, tapping my foot against the flagstone flooring. Milla comes across so capable that I don’t worry much about her being out late anymore. She’s an adult after all, and our village is hardly crime central. But after everything that’s happened tonight, I want all of my family under one roof.
Lucy yawns behind me and I turn to face her. ‘Do you mind if I go to bed?’ she asks. ‘I’m so tired.’
I fight the urge to remind her that we’re all tired, and if she’d gone to bed when she claimed tiredness the first time, we’d all be fast asleep by now. Including Milla. ‘Of course you can,’ I say instead. ‘And try to have a lie-in tomorrow.’ I know I’ll be up – I’m already looking forward to my early morning trail run after the stresses of tonight – but Lucy needs the rest. She shrugs, gives me a half-nod, and pushes away from the table.
I feel a sense of loss when she’s gone – not for her leaving, but for the goodnight hug that never comes anymore – but then the milk starts to froth dangerously high, and my focus returns to the task at hand. Matt walks back into the room just as I drop the pan into the sink. He’s changed too, I notice. Fleece pyjama bottoms and his favourite Rapha hoodie.
‘Thanks,’ he says, taking the mug from my hand. Matt hates being out of control of things, and he must be exhausted after his long day, but he’s been a rock tonight, and I feel a swell of love for him. Our marriage has been through some difficult patches – when the allegation of assault was made against him, and also around the time Milla was born – but our commitment to each other has never broken. I can see him eyeing the pan in the sink and I instinctively turn around to wash it up. ‘Is Milla here?’ he asks my back.
‘Not yet. But she can’t be long. It’s been ages since I messaged you both.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt says. It’s quiet for a moment and I imagine him stroking his smooth head. ‘Maybe we should call her,’ he adds.
I flip the pan onto the drainer and turn to face him. As our eyes connect, my heartbeat quickens. Not at his question, but for the things he doesn’t say.
Where is she?
Why did we let her search for Lucy alone?
Have we swapped one missing daughter for another?
I grab my phone, click on Milla’s contact, and wait for the dialling tone, but it clicks straight into voicemail. Milla never switches her phone off, not even at night, not even after us punishing her for it for years. I strum my fingers impatiently as I wait for the robotic voice to finish the familiar instructions, then I leave a quick message – Milla, where are you? Call me back – and click into Find My iPhone. The icon whirs for too long, then settles on: No location found.
‘Why can’t I get through to her?’ I say, my voice rising, warbling. I tap into WhatsApp and scroll. ‘She didn’t read my last message.’
‘Shit,’ Matt mutters. But he seems more frustrated than panicked. ‘She said her battery was low, didn’t she?’ he reminds me. ‘It looks like her phone’s run out of juice.’
His explanation makes sense and my panic subsides for a moment. But not for long. It’s the middle of the night. Our daughter is out there, alone, in the rain. And unaware that we’ve found her sister. I look at the full mug of hot chocolate, not hot anymore, and feel my face slip.
‘Don’t cry,’ Matt says, reaching out, then pulling me into him.
I rest my head against his broad chest, smell the fresh scent of our shower gel. He must also have had a shower when he went upstairs.
‘You know what Milla’s like,’ he reminds me. ‘She’s probably gone to Felix’s, decided on a whim to take him back. Or she might even have been dragged into The County Arms for a lock-in – you know what that pub’s like on a Friday night. We’ll find her, then we’ll ground her, just like always. Trust me, she’s fine.’
‘I hope so,’ I whisper, the sound muffled against his soft hoodie. Then I draw back and add, ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ with a new sense of resolve. ‘Okay, so I’ll call Felix; you go back out there.’ He turns to go, but when I lay my hand on his arm, he pauses. ‘And if you find her first,’ I say, ‘tell her I am really going to kill her this time.’
BEFORE
Sunday 28th April
Jess
‘Maybe we should hitch a ride,’ Amber murmurs, scuffing the heel of her Air Force Ones against the edge of the pavement. ‘Don’t want to be late for Sean.’
‘Bus will be here in a minute,’ Jess responds. ‘May as well wait.’ Jess doesn’t want to be late for Sean either, but she hates hitching. Not because she thinks it’s dangerous, but because it forces her to talk to a stranger in the confines of their car. Answer their dumb questions. And it would be extra bad today because her nerves are already shot.
She doesn’t usually go with Amber to meet Sean. After what happened a year ago. Amber says that Sean doesn’t care about that anymore, and Jess semi believes her, but it’s been easier to stay away. Amber gets Sean all to herself (not that he’s ever given Jess any attention) and she gets a few hours to practise not being attached to Amber’s side. But this morning Amber asked her to go too, and she’s never been good at saying no to her sister.
‘Where are we meeting him?’ Jess asks, trying to distract Amber from the still-missing bus.
