Cross Her Heart(44)

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You should call the police. Get to a doctor.’

I shake my head. ‘It’s bad, but it’s not that bad. I’ve been here before. And I really don’t want any more of the police.’

There’s a long pause and I carefully tuck my shirt in again.

‘Do you need anything?’ he says. ‘A change of clothes maybe? A toothbrush? That kind of stuff?’

‘I’ve got some money,’ I say. I don’t want to leave the hotel. It feels safe here.

‘Don’t be stupid. I’ll send someone out. And if you’re hungry order room service.’

I’m so grateful my tears spill again, and my nose is thick with snot. ‘I didn’t have anywhere else to go.’ The enormity of that realisation is driving my self-pity more than anything else in this godawful situation. It’s made me realise how much Lisa and I depended on each other. All my other friends are joint ones with Richard. Penny is awkward around me and I can hardly see myself pouring my heart out to Stacey or Julia. Without Lisa, I am entirely alone.

‘Please don’t tell Penny,’ I ask. ‘I know it’s crazy, me calling you like this. But I thought maybe I could have the room and then pay you back at some point, and I’ll get something else sorted …’ I’m babbling, repeating myself. I said all this on the phone already.

‘I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry about it.’ He checks his watch. ‘But I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll get someone to send some clothes and pyjamas up. And some painkillers. What size clothes do you take?’

‘Twelve. Thank you.’

It’s only when he’s almost through the door that I tell him Ava’s missing. He pauses for a moment saying nothing, before curtly commenting, ‘I hope she turns up.’

His back stiffens and I feel a waft of coolness as he closes the door quietly behind him. I stare at the wood. I’ve been stupid to mention anything to do with Lisa. I’m a charity case – God, I hate that – and he doesn’t need reminding of her any more than I do.





36


LISA

Even though the sheets have been washed and changed, the whole flat stinks of urine, the mattress still sodden.

Once a bed-wetter, always a bed-wetter.

A change of name can’t cure that. Not really. I should have put a plastic sheet on it. They’d have given Charlotte a plastic sheet. But, as it is, no one cares about the smell or the fact I pissed myself like a child. It’s nothing in the hive of activity the flat has become. Noise. So much noise I have to strain to hear the television.

Ava is gone. The thought alone is a knife in my heart and I bite my cheek to stay focused. It’s been twenty-four hours, although for me it’s been one wet mattress and a lifetime. I’m submerged in my loss. They’re worried I’ve drowned completely. I was close, that is for sure, but now I can see a tiny splinter of hope, a branch to cling to. I’ve been staring at the TV screen for so long my eyes are burning. They want to turn it off so they can speak to me, but I won’t let them. I may miss something the next time the news report runs. I need to hear it over and over again to make sense of it. To add it to the pieces of the puzzle. It’s making me feverish.

‘Lisa, we need to—’

‘Shhh,’ I hiss. Angry. Sharp. ‘After this.’

The snippet of a report is back on. The mother of the boy Ava saved claims her son, Ben, says he was pushed into the water.

Pushed. Pushed.

‘We know you didn’t do that, Lisa.’ Alison sounds frayed. They think I’m crumbling, the madness dormant within me eating its way outwards. ‘We know you were with Marilyn Hussey and her husband when Ben went into the river.’

Marilyn. Oh, for Marilyn.

‘I need the radio on,’ I say. There is too much electricity in my head. I’m trying to make the links too quickly. Drive away, baby. The boy says he was pushed. Peter Rabbit.

‘We need to talk to you.’ A sharper voice. Nasal. The donkey woman. Bray of the clumpy body. Not that I can talk about anyone’s appearance. Greasy hair and flabby thighs, pasty in the flashes showing from under my dressing gown.

‘It’s about Ava.’

Her words cut into my overheated brain, although I think that whatever they have to say, I’m way ahead of them. ‘She isn’t with any of her friends,’ the policewoman continues, ‘and they all claim they haven’t heard from her.’

A crash and a curse come from another room. I don’t like the thought of their rough hands on my baby’s things. They need to remember that this is a victim’s house, not a suspect’s. I guess it’s easy to get confused where I’m concerned. No one ever sees me as a victim.

‘We’ve been through her phone and iPad.’ My eyes keep glancing over to the silent radio. I want it playing along with the TV. Leave with me, baby, let’s go tonight.

‘Lisa, are you listening?’ The policewoman is speaking slowly and loudly as if she thinks I’m stupid. Trying to bash the words through my thick skull.

‘She’s been chatting to a man. There are Facebook messages. Lots of them. They’d arranged to meet on the night she went missing.’ Her words, words I should be clinging on to, drift over me. I’m somewhere else entirely. My body is here, but my mind is scouring the past. We made a pact.