The Girls Who Disappeared(40)

Olivia has never thought of it in that way before. She glances at Jenna. Maybe she’s right. She sighs. ‘Wesley would go mental if I spoke to you – or any journalist. He’s dead against it.’

Jenna frowns. ‘Really? But why?’

‘He doesn’t trust authority. The police. The press. The government.’

‘Hmm,’ says Jenna, crossing her legs.

‘He’s just trying to protect me.’

‘I understand that but, Olivia, it’s a podcast. I’m not writing a piece for the tabloid press. And it would only be a quick interview with you. About what happened that night. In your own words. You and Ralph were the only two there when you came to. And now …’

Olivia lowers her head, Jenna’s words hanging between them in the air. It’s only her now. Her words. Her story. Nobody can twist things, say things that aren’t true when the words are coming out of her mouth and recorded. Maybe she should agree to the interview. She’d have a voice at last, a way to control the narrative, to stop people speculating. People would be forced to listen to what she’s got to say. Yes, it would be her word on what happened that night. The final word.

‘Okay, then,’ Olivia finds herself saying. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll do the interview.’

Jenna leans forward, her face shining with delight. ‘You will? Oh, that’s amazing, thank you, Olivia.’

‘But please don’t mention it to Wesley. Or to anyone for now. Is that okay?’

‘Of course. Do you want to come over to my cabin this evening? Around five-ish? It will be quiet there and private. I can pick you up.’

‘Um … I don’t really want anyone to see us.’

‘Okay. What about if I wait for you in the road opposite the farm? I’ll park down the lane a bit so I’m not seen.’ Jenna looks so keen that Olivia doesn’t want to disappoint her. Her obvious approval gives Olivia a rare, warm glow, like she’s given the right answer in class. And then she feels a flash of uncertainty. Can she really do this? Wesley will be furious with her. But he already is, a little voice inside her head says. So what difference does it make?

And doesn’t she owe it to her friends? And to Ralph? The hero who saved her life that night? Everyone should know what he did. Her heart lurches when she thinks of him. Oh, Ralph. He was the spectre of the forest. He knew things, saw things, kept secrets.

After all, he’d kept hers for all these years.





25



Jenna


‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a lift home?’ I ask Olivia, as I stand up. She’d looked so pale when she first arrived, and even though the colour is back in her cheeks, I can see from how she winces every few minutes that her leg is giving her pain.

Olivia shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. Thank you, though. I’ll give my mum a call in a bit and she’ll pick me up. I’d like to stay awhile …’ She touches the petals of one of the pink roses, concentration on her face. ‘Did these flowers come with a card?’

‘Um … actually, I saw this note.’ I reach over and pluck it from the roses to show her. I’ve already taken a photo of it. ‘I was just being nosy and wondered who they were from.’ I don’t want her to think I’m being underhand. That she’s agreed to be interviewed for the podcast is a massive coup but I can see she’s a bit wobbly about it, and I imagine it wouldn’t take much for her to change her mind. I notice how her hand trembles when she reads the note. Does she recognize the handwriting? ‘Do you know who it’s from? The same person wrote a note on my car.’

Her eyes widen. ‘What kind of note?’

‘It said, “Leave town or you’ll be next.” Charming.’ I roll my eyes.

She shakes her head and composes herself. ‘It could be from anyone. I imagine everyone is sorry, and most around here don’t like journalists poking their noses in. It doesn’t imply guilt.’

I’m intrigued by her defensive tone. I watch her carefully: her composed expression and the fingers that still tremble as she folds the note and slips it back into the bouquet. But I don’t want to say anything that might upset her. I can ask her more about it after she’s done the interview.

When I’m halfway across the field I turn back to see Olivia has her head in her hands. I waver. Should I go back and insist that I drive her home? No. She’s a grown woman, for goodness’ sake. Just because she has vulnerability about her I shouldn’t treat her as a child. And time is getting on. I need to head to Jay Knapton’s place now.

But I do feel a surge of excitement as I get back into the car. The podcast will be so much better now that Olivia has agreed to an interview. I hope Wesley isn’t too hard on her when he finds out.

It’s about a seven-minute drive to Jay’s offices on the edge of town, behind the shops and back-streets of Stafferbury. It’s not as salubrious out here on the side of the town that the tourists don’t see: a winding maze of 1960s office blocks and industrial estates.

Jay’s office is in a typically unappealing industrial unit that shares a car park with a few other equally soulless buildings. It looks as though five different companies share this building with him. I press the buzzer for Knapton Developments and I’m buzzed through straight away.