The Retreat(56)

I fell onto the bed fully dressed and blacked out immediately.



When I came to, it felt as if I’d been sucking cotton wool. It was still dark but I was surprised to find it was only midnight. I’d been asleep for four hours. Now my body clock was going to be really screwed up.

I staggered to the bathroom and drank water from the tap, then splashed some on my face and cleaned my teeth. I could hear voices downstairs. The others were still up. A memory of my argument with Max hit me and I recoiled. Had I really gloated about being a bestseller? Oh God, what a dickish thing to do. I splashed some more water on my face until I was fully awake.

Going down the stairs, I could hear Ursula, her voice echoing through the house. I didn’t know who she was talking to. Suddenly, Julia appeared at the bottom of the staircase. She stopped dead when she saw me.

‘Can I talk to you?’ I said when I reached her. ‘In private?’

She looked left and right, then said, ‘Follow me.’

To my surprise, she unlocked the door to the basement.

‘I thought guests weren’t allowed down here? That it wasn’t safe.’

A little smile. ‘That’s not strictly true, about it being unsafe. I just wanted to keep this space to myself. Now I’m making an exception, just this once.’

I followed her down. I expected to find a dusty room full of cobwebs and junk, old boxes and cracked walls. I thought perhaps there would be a broken stair or exposed wires, something to explain why no one was supposed to come down here.

I couldn’t believe what I saw as Julia flicked a switch and a fluorescent strip light juddered to life.

‘Welcome to the playroom,’ she said.

It was a child’s paradise. Bean bags and scatter cushions were heaped on the floor, and there was a comfortable old sofa, in front of which stood a TV and a games console. The walls were brightly coloured, with posters everywhere containing positive messages: Dream Big

What if I fall? Oh, my darling, but what if you FLY?

There was a huge doll’s house and heaps of cuddly toys and board games; colouring books and pens and art equipment; a chalk board and a dressing-up box overflowing with costumes.

‘Wow.’

She sat on the sofa, sinking into it. ‘This was Lily’s favourite room, even more than her bedroom.’

‘It’s amazing. My God, I wish I’d had something like this when I was a kid.’

Julia picked up a stuffed rabbit and stroked its ears. ‘That’s why we created it. We wanted Lily to have all the things we didn’t. Her den. Her private space. She used to come down here with Megan, or sometimes she’d bring Chesney down here and play with him. And the plan was, if we had another child . . .’

She trailed off, deep in a memory for a few seconds.

‘I like coming down here. It doesn’t make me feel sad like her bedroom. Sometimes I sit here for hours and think, and it makes me feel . . . peaceful. I know that might sound strange but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Now, what did you want to talk to me about?’

I took a deep breath.

‘I don’t know how you’re going to react.’

‘Try me.’

‘Okay. Do you remember telling me you wished you could afford to hire a private investigator? Well . . .’

I told her everything, starting with hiring Zara. I told her how Zara was confident the police had done all they could. I recounted her meeting with Malcolm at the chess club and our subsequent conversation at the pub.

‘And then she vanished,’ I said, going on to tell her what had happened today. Along the way, I told her about Glynn Collins and the Historical Society and all the other fragments of information I’d uncovered but failed to piece together. I told her how my mum had told me about another girl going missing thirty-seven years ago, which Julia knew already (‘Several people mentioned that to me when Lily vanished, as if it would make me feel better’). I finished by telling her about what I’d found at the bed and breakfast. Shirley, dead.

‘That was why I was so shaken when I got home.’

She raised an eyebrow at my use of the word ‘home’. But apart from that, she seemed calm, apparently accepting what I was saying. She didn’t shout or get angry or act horrified. She listened and absorbed what I had to say, her legs tucked underneath her. A strand of hair kept falling over her left eye. She brushed it away, keeping her gaze focused on me throughout.

When I’d finished, she untucked her legs and sat forward.

‘I knew I should have thrown you out when I found out what you write.’

It hadn’t been calm acceptance. It was stunned disbelief.

‘Julia—’

‘Shut up.’

She got to her feet. I went to rise too, but she reached forward and pushed me back onto the sofa. She stood over me.

‘How could you?’ she yelled. ‘How could you hire someone, get them to poke into my business? How . . . ?’ She wanted to say more but was choked by anger.

‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up,’ I said.

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘Not unless I found something. Julia, you said you wished you could afford a detective. I was doing it for you. A favour.’

She had stalked off, a few feet away from me. ‘Really? Are you sure you were doing it for me?’