The Lies We Told(52)

She glanced at Emily and the sadness on her face made her catch her breath. ‘It must be hard for you to talk about them,’ she said.

But Emily shook her head. ‘No, I want to.’ She looked at Clara. ‘They were always very close, Luke and my parents. Are they still?’

‘Incredibly so. That’s what makes it all the more heartbreaking, seeing Rose and Oliver so desperate.’

Emily nodded and, unable to stop herself, Clara leaned forward and said, ‘You obviously love your family so much. What made you leave? You said it would be dangerous to go back to them now, but—’

‘Clara …’ Emily began, a warning in her eyes.

‘I know, I know. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if you’re in danger still, if you think your parents might be in danger … surely we should go to the police? I can help you!’

But Emily looked away and a silence stretched between them, before Clara pressed gently, ‘Why did you want to meet with me? I mean, I know you wanted to talk about Luke, find out how the search is going, but … I get the impression there was another reason …’

Something in Emily’s face altered and Clara understood that she was right. Carefully she reached out and touched Emily’s arm. ‘If there’s anything you want to talk to me about, you can. I want to help you.’

Abruptly Emily got up and went to the window, staring down at the street below. ‘Clara, please don’t …’ she began. In her agitation she swiped a hand through her hair, an unconscious, nervous gesture that caused the T-shirt she was wearing to rise a few inches.

Clara felt her heart almost stop. ‘Jesus,’ she said in alarm. ‘What happened to your back?’

Emily turned to face her, hurriedly tugging her T-shirt back into place. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing,’ she said.

Clara got to her feet, shock propelling her across the room to where Emily stood. Without another word she lifted the fabric and recoiled in horror. The skin on the lower half of Emily’s back was grotesquely scarred; puckered and discoloured as though it had been terribly burned. ‘Emily,’ she whispered, ‘what happened to you?’

But Emily jerked away, her eyes widening with something close to panic. ‘Please, Clara, don’t—’

‘When did this happen?’

It seemed to Clara then that the expression in Emily’s eyes changed, something dark and harsh and bitter transforming her into someone else entirely, so that Clara gave an involuntary shiver. ‘It was a long time ago, when I was seventeen,’ Emily said.

‘Seventeen?’ Clara shook her head in confusion. ‘When you were still living at home? I don’t understand—’

Emily stared at her and Clara held her breath, sure that Emily was going to tell her something and she leaned forward, again touching her arm. ‘Emily,’ she said, ‘you can tell me. Who did this to you? How did it happen? If you’re still scared of whoever it was, if they’re preventing you from going home, I’ll help you. You can stay here with me, I’ll go to the police with you, it will be all right, I promise.’

Tears spilled down Emily’s face, her eyes searching Clara’s. ‘I—’ she began, but at that moment Clara’s phone started to ring, startling her into silence. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked nervously.

Inwardly Clara cursed herself for not muting her mobile before Emily arrived. She felt sure that she’d been about to tell her something. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Emily, please—’

‘You should answer it,’ insisted Emily, turning away.

Clara shook her head and took hold of her hand. ‘No, Emily. Please talk to me.’

Emily only stared at her, her expression unreadable. The phone rang off. ‘You should see who that was,’ she said. ‘It might be important – the police, or …’

Knowing she was defeated, Clara nodded and went to her bag. ‘It was Tom,’ she said in surprise when she looked at her phone. Just then a bleep signalled a voicemail message and she put it to her ear. ‘Clara?’ Tom’s voice was harried. ‘I’m in London. I need to speak to you. I tried looking for you at Mac’s but I guess you must be at your place. I’m coming over. I’ll be there in half an hour.’

She frowned, staring down at her phone. ‘That was Tom, he’s on his way over. I wonder what he—’

But Emily had already snatched up her coat and was making for the door. ‘I have to go.’

As Clara stared at her in surprise she scrabbled with the door handle. ‘Emily, calm down!’ she said, going to her. ‘It’s all right. Let me do it, I—’

The look of panicked desperation Emily shot her stopped Clara in her tracks. ‘You won’t tell him, will you, Clara?’ she begged. ‘You won’t tell Tom I was here? Please, Clara, you must promise.’

‘Of course I won’t. I promise, hey, Emily, calm down. I won’t tell—’

But Emily was already out of the flat and heading for the stairs, the hood of her jacket pulled up high around her face.

‘Emily, wait!’ Clara called, but there was no reply. She watched until she disappeared, waiting until she heard the main door slam below before she went back into her flat. She stood, stunned, her heart thumping, then sank on to the sofa. The expression on Emily’s face when she realized Tom was on his way had been one of pure terror. Her thoughts raced, remembering now the scene she’d witnessed at The Willows, Rose so cowed, so defeated as Tom had towered over her. Then she recalled how Mac had told her Tom had gone off the rails after Emily left, getting involved in drugs and drink and a bad crowd. And Mac had said something else, too – that Rose and Oliver had become so protective of Luke they wouldn’t leave him alone in the house – not even if Tom was there. Her unease deepened. Had it, in fact, been Tom they’d been protecting Luke from?