The Retreat(16)

But Chesney – that stupid, lovely fluff monster – wasn’t responding to her voice or its echo.

Lily glanced behind her. Mum was working on her computer and Dad was in his study. She wasn’t supposed to go out on her own – even though she wasn’t a baby any more – but she really wanted to find Chesney.

She slipped on her trainers and headed over to the cottage. It was locked and she didn’t think the cat could have got in there.

She hunted around the garden, making little kissing noises and calling his name. She was getting worried now. What if he’d been run over? Megan said her cat got flattened by a car after falling asleep in the middle of the road. That was the problem with quiet places where there’s hardly any traffic. Cats think they can lie down and sleep anywhere. Lily didn’t think Chesney was that dumb, though. He was a very special cat; probably the best, cleverest cat in the world. And she loved him. Every night he slept on the end of the bed and she didn’t mind him lying across her feet so she couldn’t move. It didn’t bother her that her sheets were covered in fur and this speckly black stuff that Mum said was ‘disgusting flea dirt’.

Sometimes, she thought, he was her best friend. She liked Megan, but Chesney was the only one she could talk to when Mum and Dad were fighting.

Which was pretty much every day at the moment. She heard them at night when they thought she was sleeping, when she was actually under the covers with her iPad, watching her favourite YouTubers. Her mum did most of the shouting, while Dad’s voice was a low rumble she couldn’t make out. Mum was always going on about ‘drinking’ and ‘being on her own’. Another woman’s name came up a lot too, a woman who Dad worked with. Lily had asked him who Lana was once and he went white before saying it was just a woman in his office.

Megan said her mum and dad had argued a lot too. Then they got divorced, when Megan was little. Her dad lived on his own in another town and Megan hardly ever saw him. Now the only man in Megan’s life was her grandad.

When Lily thought about her own parents divorcing, she went colder than ice and had to squeeze Chesney really hard to stop herself from crying.

She had reached the edge of the garden and there was still no sign of Chesney. Beyond the fence was a stretch of overgrown grass and long flowers that were probably weeds. Dandelion clocks and stinging nettles.

Dad said there were rabbit warrens in the field, though Lily had never seen any. Maybe that’s where Chesney was now. Lying unseen in the long grass, waiting for a bunny to come hopping out of its hole. Lily didn’t believe her cat would kill a rabbit – he never brought any gross dead stuff into the house, probably because he knew Mum would freak out – but he probably liked watching them.

Checking no grown-ups were watching, Lily climbed over the low fence into the little meadow.

She hadn’t realised how foggy it was until she moved away from the house. The mist hung among the trees like a giant cloud, white and spooky-looking. She imagined it was cold to the touch. There was no way Lily would go into those woods on her own, especially when it was foggy like that.

She didn’t want the Widow to get her. Not that she believed . . .

‘Lily!’

She almost jumped out of her skin.

‘Lily, where are you?’ Her mum was starting to sound panicked now and Lily felt the urge to stay hidden. If Mum got really worried then she’d be incredibly relieved when Lily turned up, and she might give her a treat. Maybe she’d feel guilty about working and Lily would be able to persuade her to buy those Heelys she needed.

She crouched in the grass, trying to decide what to do. Her mum’s voice grew fainter as she moved away. Lily stood up. She felt mean but was also worried that Mum might be angry with her. She walked back towards the fence – and saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Chesney? She whirled around.

A shape vanished into the trees and was swallowed by the fog.

It was too big to be Chesney.

Too big and person-shaped.

Lily bolted, scrambling over the fence and catching her finger on a jagged piece of wood. It dug into her flesh, a splinter that brought forth a drop of blood. Ow, it really hurt and now she had tears in her eyes.

Through the wet blur, she took another look back towards the woods. There was nothing there. Had she imagined it?

The Widow. Opening her gigantic black mouth to call Lily’s name.

She didn’t wait around to find out. She sprinted across the garden, calling, ‘Mum! Mummy!’

She forgot all about the cat.





Chapter 8

Julia might not have been able to afford to hire a private investigator, but I could. I’d recently received another large royalty payment for Sweetmeat and had very little to spend it on.

What would she think? Would she think I was interfering? Going too far? She’d already almost thrown me out and it would be foolish to risk that happening again, but it wouldn’t hurt to make enquiries, would it? If I got anywhere, I would tell Julia.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

When I was researching Sweetmeat, I befriended a private detective called Edward Rooney. He had been briefly famous because of his involvement in a weird case involving Romanian criminals and babies, which was why I’d contacted him. I wanted to know how he would go about tracking a missing person. He was a nice guy, haunted by the things he’d seen, but willing to help – for a fee.