The Family Remains(62)

Marco got a message from Kris Doll the day before saying that he’d had a garbled text message from Henry on Tuesday night who had sounded ‘incredibly drunk’ but that he had not replied to it and did not know from which location it had been sent but that it contained an invitation to join him for a drink; therefore they were able to conclude that at least as of Tuesday night Henry was still very much alive and in Chicago and thus it had been worth every minute the three of them had spent pounding the sun-baked pavements of Chicago together looking for him the previous day.

‘He might be wearing a disguise,’ Marco says now. His tongue appears briefly to lick away a smear of red sauce from the side of his mouth.

‘Who?’

‘Henry. He might be in disguise. You know, we’re looking for blond hair, etc. He might have dyed it. Or be wearing a hat.’

‘I doubt it, sweetheart. We’ve shown his photo to two separate people now and they’ve both recognised him.’

Marco shrugs. ‘I guess.’

Stella is sucking at a strawberry milkshake and eyeing them both thoughtfully. ‘When can we go home?’ she says eventually.

Lucy gazes at her, wondering what Stella means when she says ‘home’. Stella has known so many in her short life: the flat on the outskirts of Nice in which she was born and where she lived for the first two years of her life; then the flat of Mémé, Stella’s paternal grandmother, on the seventh floor of a tower block, all three of them squeezed into the box room together, kicked out after two weeks because it ‘wasn’t working’. There followed three rooms in three hostels, three days on a beach, then a year at Giuseppe’s bed and breakfast, another week on the beach, more nights at Giuseppe’s, three nights in Henry’s rented Airbnb in Battersea, a year in Henry’s apartment in Marylebone and now here they are in Chicago and God knows where they’ll be next, but Lucy feels very strongly that it won’t be Henry’s apartment in Marylebone and it won’t be the old vicarage in St Albans and it might not even be with her, that Lucy is moments away from a hand on her shoulder and a voice in her ear telling her that she needs to go somewhere, with someone, and explain what happened in Antibes last year and then explain what happened in Chelsea in April 1994, and then what will happen to Stella and Marco?

She holds back tears and covers Stella’s hand with hers. ‘Soon,’ she says. ‘We’ll go home soon. When we find Uncle Henry.’

‘Why doesn’t Uncle Henry want us to find him?’ Stella asks.

Lucy exchanges a look with Marco and sighs. ‘He’s sorting stuff out in his own head. He needs to be alone for that. But he doesn’t realise tha—’

She stops when her phone buzzes. She sees that it is Libby calling and her heart jumps.

‘Hi!’ she almost shouts into her phone.

‘Mum! They were here again. The police were here. They found me at Dido’s and I wasn’t expecting them and they saw me through the window and I couldn’t hide and they’ve seen my bank accounts, Mum. They’ve seen that I put the money into your account and Henry’s account and because Henry goes by Phin’s name they’ve put two and two together with the graffiti that Henry left at Cheyne Walk and they know that there’s a connection, they totally know that there’s a connection, and I’m pretty sure they know that the bank accounts belong to you and to Henry and that I’ve been lying and lying and lying and I feel sick, Mum! I don’t know what to do! What shall we do? What shall we all do?’

‘Wait. Just breathe. Have they gone?’

‘Yes. They left about two minutes ago. They said they’ll need me to come into the station for some more questions.’

‘When?

‘Tomorrow.’

‘What time is it there?’

‘It’s – hold on – it’s just after four.’

‘Right. So. You need a lawyer.’

‘But – won’t that make me look guilty?’

‘I don’t know. No. I mean of course not. You’re not guilty.’

‘But I lied. I totally lied. I said that Phin Thomson and Marie Caron were old friends. I mean, who gives old friends two and half million pounds each?’

Lucy pauses, her head dropping into her chest briefly. She looks up and sees Marco and Stella both staring at her with wide eyes.

‘What does Miller say?’

‘I can’t get hold of him. He’s recording a podcast all day. He won’t be done until this evening.’

‘Well, what does Dido say?’

‘I haven’t spoken to her yet. You’re the first person I called. Mum, they know your passport names now, they know you go by Marie Caron and that Henry goes by Phineas Thomson, they’ll be able to trace your flights to Chicago. Your hotel bookings. Everywhere you’ve used your debit card. They’ll be coming for you now, Mum. You need to get out of there as soon as you can. You need to forget about finding Phin. Just find Henry and get out!’

Lucy ends the call and looks from Marco to Stella. She forces a smile. ‘OK!’ she says. ‘We really, really need to find Henry today. In fact, we really need to find him right now! So, let’s eat up, shall we, and get back on to the streets.’

Then Marco looks up at her from his phone with wide eyes and says, ‘Mum. I just got another message from Kris Doll. You know, the motorbike guy? He said he’s worried about his friend, Phin. He can’t get hold of him and he says he wants to meet up with us. What shall I say to him?’