The Lies We Told(62)

‘Yeah. Any idea who she is yet?’

She shook her head. ‘No, but I haven’t had much chance to think about it. Hang on, I’ll see if I can find it.’

When she reached Luke’s old bedroom she went straight to his filing cabinet which they’d wedged in the corner earlier, two bags of Luke’s clothes balanced on top of it. She rifled through his papers before she came to the manila envelope. When she returned to the living room she slid the pictures out and passed one to Mac.

‘I wonder who she is,’ he said as they both stared down at the stranger’s beautiful face.

‘Must have been someone else he was shagging,’ she replied. ‘I mean, it has to be, don’t you reckon?’

‘I guess, seems a bit young, though—’

They were interrupted by a noise from outside. Clemmy sat up, her hackles raised, a low growl emanating from her throat. Clara’s chest tightened in fear. There it was again, followed by the sound of a car door slamming. ‘What was that?’ she asked, alarmed.

They sat very still and listened, their eyes widening when they heard footsteps crunching on the gravel outside the front door, followed by a loud barrage of knocks. They looked at each other. ‘It’s half past ten,’ Mac said. ‘Who the fuck would be out here at this time?’

There was the sound of a key being put to the lock followed by someone swearing, a voice saying, ‘Mum? Dad? Why’s the door bolted?’

‘It’s Tom!’ Clara said, another jolt of fear shooting through her, while Clemmy continued to growl.

The hammering intensified. ‘Mum? What’s going on? Let me in!’

Fear nestled in Clara’s chest. What was he doing here? Did he know she’d told the police about him? Had he come to hurt Rose and Oliver? When Mac got to his feet, she put a hand out to stop him. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘What if he—’

‘I can’t leave him out there battering the door in.’

She followed him into the hall and watched as he drew back the bolts. When he opened it, Tom stood looking at them in amazement. ‘Mac? Clara? What the hell are you doing here?’

‘We brought some things of Luke’s up after the fire,’ Clara replied, her heart still pounding in fear.

He nodded distractedly. ‘The fire, yes, my God, are you OK? I couldn’t believe it when I heard—’

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you,’ Clara replied. She tried to smile but it died on her lips. Nobody moved.

Tom glanced past them. ‘Where are my parents?’

‘They’ve gone to bed,’ Mac told him. ‘They asked us to stay tonight. They’re actually in a pretty bad way, mate. We don’t want any trouble.’

Tom stared at him. ‘Trouble? What are you talking about? Look, I’ve had a long day. I’ve just been questioned by fucking plod for three hours and I need a drink.’ Pushing past them both he strode into the kitchen. Following him, they watched as he took a bottle down from the wine rack. He poured himself a drink and downed it, then immediately poured another, watching Clara steadily above the rim of his glass.

Clara and Mac exchanged a glance. ‘Tom, what are you doing here?’ Mac asked again.

He considered him for a moment. ‘Well, not that it’s any of your business, Mac, but I’ve come to talk to my parents.’

There was a belligerence about him, a wildness she’d not seen before. She thought about how Mac had said he’d gone off the rails as a teenager, and she saw in him for the first time now a slightly unhinged, unpredictable side to him. ‘They’re asleep,’ she told him.

He finished his second glass and continued to stare at her. ‘Are they? Are they really, Clara? Well, maybe it’s time they woke the fuck up.’ He slammed his glass down on the table and went into the hall. Raising his voice he shouted up the staircase, ‘Mum? Dad? Wakey-wakey!’

Rushing over to him, Clara put a hand on his arm and cried, ‘Tom! What are you doing?’

‘Something I should have done a very long time ago,’ he replied. Raising his voice again, he called, ‘Get down here now! It’s time to wake up.’ He looked at Clara and muttered, ‘It’s time we all fucking woke up.’

Without another word he strode into the living room and flung himself on to the sofa where he sat motionless, morosely staring ahead.

Clara watched him in horror. Should she call the police? Glancing at Mac, she began to edge towards the hall, to where she’d left her bag hanging over the banister. If she could only get to her mobile without him seeing, she could go somewhere out of earshot and call 999. Without thinking, she let the photograph in her hand drop.

But before she could escape Tom leant forward and picked it up. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

She stopped in her tracks. ‘Nothing. Just a photo of Luke’s I found,’ she said nervously. ‘I don’t know who it is. I found it in—’

Tom frowned in confusion then looked at her strangely. ‘You don’t know who this is? What are you talking about? This is Emily, of course. This is my sister Emily.’

There was absolute silence. And then Mac and Clara said at exactly the same time, ‘What?’

‘My sister.’ He stared down at it. ‘I didn’t know Luke had this picture of her, I thought my darling parents destroyed every last trace of her. Guilt can make you do all kinds of crazy shit, after all.’