The Girls Who Disappeared(48)

‘Of course.’ He reached for her hand again. This time she didn’t pull away.





29



Jenna


It’s only just before 5 p.m. but darkness fell quickly this evening, as sudden as if someone had turned off the lights. I park in front of the cabin and we get out of the car. The air is cold and smells of bonfires, pine needles and damp soil. Olivia has on a grey bobble hat that brings out the silver in her eyes, and she’s still wearing her riding gear, which has a faint horse odour. She smiles uncertainly, showing white, even teeth. She has a healthy glow to her cheeks. For the first time I really notice her. She’s attractive in a girl-next-door kind of way with a wide, toothy smile and a clear skin tone that tans even in winter. Mine is of the milky-white, burns-in-the-sun variety. There’s something different about her today. She seems more determined somehow.

‘Thanks for picking me up,’ she says again. She stands and observes the cabin. ‘This is lovely. Very remote, though. Don’t you find it a bit scary, staying here by yourself?’

‘It’s fine. There are others.’ I wave vaguely in Foxglove’s direction although I don’t admit they’re empty.

‘I’d better take my boots off,’ she says, as she steps over the threshold. ‘They’re filthy.’

I laugh, ‘Sure. I’ll put the kettle on,’ then remember the instant-boiling-water tap. As I go to close the door behind her I look out onto the dark night. There is no comforting glow from any of the other cabins and the mass of trees makes me feel even more claustrophobic, their dark bristly branches adding to the gloomy, unsettled feeling I’ve had since I was attacked last night, maybe even before that. The darkness seems to stretch into infinity but … Is it my imagination or is there a movement over there by the trees?

‘Nobody knows you’re here?’ I clarify, as I close the door.

She takes off her bobble hat and shakes out her hair. ‘No. I haven’t told anyone.’ She follows me through the living room into the kitchen. ‘This is lovely,’ she exclaims, looking around. ‘Very plush.’

‘They’ve been decorated beautifully.’

I offer her tea, which she accepts. ‘White, no sugar.’

‘How’s your leg?’ I ask, when I notice her limping across the kitchen to take a mug from me. She’d seemed in a lot of pain earlier when I saw her at the stones. I’ve read about Olivia’s injuries after the crash. I know she still has metal pins in her left leg.

She grimaces in response. ‘It’s a lot better than it used to be. It helps to use it as much as I can. I find it stiffens up the more I sit around. But, you know, it could have been a lot worse. If Katie, Tamzin and Sally were abducted then my leg being trapped could have actually saved me.’ She gives a self-deprecating laugh. ‘So of course that means I’ve also got survivor’s guilt on top of everything else.’ Her tone is deliberately light but I can see the emotions she’s unable to hide.

‘I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine,’ I say sincerely.

She shrugs. ‘It is what it is.’

We go into the living room. ‘I’ve tried to light the fire,’ I say, when I notice her shivering, ‘but I’m useless at getting it to catch.’

‘I can do it, if you like. We have one at home.’

She places her mug on the rustic oak coffee-table and bends down in front of the grate. Within minutes she has the fire roaring and stands back with a satisfied look on her face.

‘You make it seem so easy. I don’t know what I do wrong.’

‘Make sure to light the paper,’ she says. ‘Not just the wood.’ She moves to the sofa, picks up her mug and leans back, stretching out her legs. I’ve already got my mobile phone and stand set up on the coffee-table. She sips her tea and watches me over the rim of her mug as I click on the app and begin recording.

‘So,’ I say, taking a seat on the chair by the patio doors. ‘Thanks for agreeing to this. I was a bit worried you might change your mind.’ I tuck my feet underneath me. I want Olivia to feel relaxed, to forget she’s being recorded. As though we’re just two people having a chat.

‘I still can’t believe I’m here,’ she says, gazing around. ‘But … It’s silly, really.’

‘No, go on. What were you going to say?’

She warms her hands on her mug. Her fingernails are bitten down. ‘Everyone always tells me what to do. My mother, Wesley. I know it’s because they have my best interests at heart but it’s almost like they think I stayed eighteen after the accident. I’m a grown woman. I have a voice!’

‘Of course you do,’ I say. I imagine this is her way of pushing back, against Wesley in particular. To rebel.

‘What can you remember about the night of the accident?’ I begin gently, wanting to ease our way into it.

She blows on her tea, then says wistfully, ‘We were all so excited about going out. We got together every Saturday but there was a new club in the next town and we wanted to try it out.’ She swallows. ‘It had been a good night. Mostly. Tamzin got too drunk, but she often did. And she and Katie had a bit of a row. I was with Sally at the bar but when they came out of the toilets, both with faces like thunder, Sally said, “Oh, no, not again.” They rowed a lot. They were best friends but they were also like sisters.’