Final Cut(64)

‘St Mary’s, I expect.’

I start the car. Zoe’s picture burns a hole in my pocket. ‘Maybe he’ll be okay. Maybe he’ll wake up and tell us what he knows.’

Bryan nods. ‘So what now?’

There’s something about the way he says it, as if it’s an invitation. But when I look over, he’s just sitting, his expression drawn. I must’ve been imagining it.

I press the accelerator. ‘Let’s carry on looking for Ellie. Back to The Ship?’

They’re playing music now, but at a lower volume than usual. The atmosphere is heavy with hushed conversation and things left unspoken. Several people look up as we enter, nodding at Bryan in greeting or giving a muted wave. I feel self-conscious, arriving with this man. I wonder how it appears, what people will be all too quick to assume. I wonder what Gavin might hear and whether I’m right to even care.

We go through to the bar. A couple of guys are standing over the maps that are fanned across the table. Others must still be out searching.

‘I’ll get the drinks,’ I say, and Bryan heads over to talk to a couple of the men. When I return, I hand him his pint and he takes a hefty swig.

I lower my voice. ‘Have you told them about David?’

He nods. ‘But something’s happened. According to the Butler woman, someone phoned in, said they saw a girl being driven away, said it looked like a taxi.’ He pauses. ‘I need a cigarette,’ he says. ‘Coming?’

I nod and we go outside. We step down to the alley round the side of the pub. He offers me his pack and, without thought, I take one. He’s lit both mine and his own before I fully realise what I’m doing. I take a tentative drag, my first in who knows how long, and notice I’m holding the cigarette between my ring and my middle finger; someone told me the nicotine stains are less visible that way. We smoke in silence for a minute or two, then I see he’s looking at my hand. He coughs self-consciously.

‘You’re not married,’ he says. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

‘No.’

‘Are you seeing Gavin?’

My head spins from the nicotine but still I take another drag. Why’s he asking? Does he think I’ve led him on?

No, I tell myself. Don’t be ridiculous. I face him.

‘Why?’

He stares down. ‘I just … wondered, I suppose.’

We fall silent. From above us comes the buzz of the pub, still subdued. The streetlights cast their faint glow on Slate Road. The moon hangs low over the water. For a moment I feel certain he’s about to say something, to make a declaration, and hope desperately that he won’t. He grinds out his cigarette beneath his boot, as if in preparation, then sighs. But all he says is, ‘I’m going back in. Same again?’

I look round, trying not to show the relief I’m feeling. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

He climbs the steps back into the pub. Nausea stirs in my gut as I put out my cigarette and lean back against the wall. I breathe in deep. Suddenly, I want to see Gavin; I wish he was here. I’m about to go back inside to tell Bryan not to worry about the drink when I hear a voice.

‘I want to speak to you.’

My heart bangs like a door slamming in the wind. I spin round. Kat is standing right in front of me.

‘You went to see him.’

She sounds wretched. Angry.

‘Who?’ I say uselessly.

‘David.’

‘David?’ She must’ve seen me, or overheard Bryan telling the others in the pub. ‘No, I just—’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘Nothing, I just—’

‘You must’ve said something. You must’ve.’

She’s crying. I move towards her, but slowly, as it feels like she might bolt at any moment. Even in the dim light I can see what her makeup is not quite covering. A bruise pulses on her face, purple and blue and black.

‘Did he do that?’

‘What?’

‘Who hurt you? David? Was it him?’

Her laughter bites. ‘Don’t be stupid. David? He wouldn’t. You don’t know anything.’

‘Did he take Ellie?’

‘Of course he didn’t. He’d never.’

‘Who did, then?’

She falls silent, and I realise she’s terrified. I put my hand out and touch her arm.

‘Daisy,’ I say softly. She yanks her arm free, and a second later I understand what I’ve done.

‘I mean Kat. Sorry, I—’

‘What did you call me?’ she says, but she doesn’t give me a chance to explain. ‘It’s true,’ she goes on. ‘It is all about her. You’re crazy. It’s your fault David did what he did.’

She shakes her head, as if she’s disappointed in me, then turns to leave.

‘Kat!’ I say, but she ignores me.

‘Talk to me!’

Now, finally, she looks round. ‘If he dies,’ she hisses, ‘it’s your fault. You know that? And whatever happens to Ellie. That, too. It’ll all be your fault.’





38


I’m shaking as I go back inside. Monica has arrived, and she nods in my direction, but I barely respond. My mind is fizzing. When I reach the bar, Bryan and the others are handing out torches, checking they work. Their tone is hushed; there’s an atmosphere of subdued camaraderie. A uniformed officer in a hi-vis jacket stands in the corner, chatting to one of the locals. When I go over to Bryan, he hands me my drink and asks what’s wrong.