One Small Mistake(52)

I take a step back. ‘I was only ever meant to be missing for a few days. It’s been three weeks.’

‘You agreed to an extension.’

‘Yes, because you said we should wait until my parents held a press conference. Well, now they have, and I want to go back.’

‘What’re you going to do, Elodie?’ His voice grows fake-bright. ‘Just drive back home, hop out the car and shout, “Ta da – gotcha!” or maybe you’ll just grab an apron and turn up at Mugs tomorrow for the early shift, pretend like half the fucking nation hasn’t been looking for you?’

‘Don’t be facetious, Jack. We can stick to the plan: I was taken, he wore a mask, I didn’t see his face.’

He thrusts his hand back through his hair and shakes his head.

‘I want to go home.’

‘The police hauled me into the station.’

I swallow, digesting this revelation. ‘You knew they’d question you.’

‘Not questioning, Elodie, interrogating.’ He pours himself a second glass.

‘But you have the perfect alibi. They can’t connect you to any of this.’

‘They’re trying. I was held for six hours last night. Going over and over the same shit.’ He takes another desperate gulp. ‘They suspect me.’

My stomach clenches. ‘How?’

‘I don’t know. But they do. And it’s going to look really suspicious if you reappear the day after they’ve leaned on me.’ He rubs the back of his neck.

‘Jack … my parents are in pieces. I need to see them.’

He scoffs.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Just leave it, El.’

‘No. I want to know – what’s happened?’

Silence. Then, ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

My heart races with trepidation. ‘Jack. Please.’

He drains his glass, then stares down into it. I can see him weighing up his options. He knows I won’t let it go. ‘I was the one who convinced your parents to hold the press conference.’

‘Okay …’

‘Your mother’s been in denial. Even faced with the trashed bedroom and your passport being found there, she was adamant you were on a holiday. I thought that’s why she refused to appeal. I told her to do it, everyone did. She wouldn’t listen. Then, when I was at the house, I heard your parents talking in the kitchen.’

I am silent, waiting for him to go on. I can see we’re getting to the kernel of it. Jack’s mouth is pressed into a tight, reluctant line.

‘When I heard what they were saying, I saw red. I lost it.’ His knuckles have gone white around the glass. I lay an encouraging hand over his, and some of the tension eases. ‘We had a blazing row. Ada called the police. That’s when they hauled me in for questioning.’

For a second, the shock renders me incapable. ‘You fought with my parents?’

‘Yeah.’ He looks away, ashamed.

‘But why? What did you hear them say?’ Even though I have no idea what he’s about to tell me, I have a feeling everything is about to change. I squeeze his hand, silently telling him it’s okay. I want to know.

‘They said they were lucky it wasn’t Ada who’d gone missing.’

My skin shakes over my bones.

Lucky it wasn’t Ada who’d gone missing.

Jack is still speaking; his lips are moving quickly but I can’t hear anything over the sound of blood pulsing in my ears.

Lucky it wasn’t Ada.

He takes the empty tumbler from my hand and fills it with water from the sink.

Lucky it wasn’t Ada.

He is holding it out to me, but I can’t take it. Can’t move.

I never wanted to be in a competition with my sister, but my parents made it that way. They spent years piling the weight of expectation onto my shoulders. You’re the academic one. You’re going to succeed. You’re going to do more, be more. Then Ada married Ethan, and I gave up my London life and my parents made it clear: I’d lost the race. I’d let them down.

My friends have always shrugged off my concerns that my parents preferred Ada, reassuring me everyone felt their sibling was the favourite, and my parents, like all parents, loved us equally because that’s what parents do. They have a favourite colour, a favourite season but never do they have a favourite child. It’s an inconceivable notion to those of us without children. Everyone knows parents will never answer when questioned which of their children they would save in matters of life and death. But my parents have, haven’t they? No one even asked, and they chose her.

Jack was right: first born, most loved.

‘Elodie?’ Jack is pushing my hair back from my face. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I got wound up hearing you feel sorry for them after everything they said. I told Meredith to wear something black, muted – it’s respectful, but she and Ada wanted bright. Bold.’ He snorts, as though disgusted by the memory. ‘You know they’re still going ahead with Ruby’s baby shower? It’s all they talk about. Yeah, they’re worried about you, but not half as much as I’d expected them to be. I don’t think it will do them any harm if we wait a while longer. Maybe they’ll give a shit if we drag this out.’