The Retreat(9)

‘Did the little bastard make a move on you?’ Karen asked.

Suzi took a big gulp of wine and glanced at Max. The pub was growing increasingly noisy as more punters came in after work, and the quiz machine was gurgling and beeping like a crazed robot. He couldn’t hear us.

‘Last night, after dinner, we went to my room. Just to talk about writing. We were discussing a sex scene I was working on.’

‘I see,’ Karen said, raising an eyebrow.

‘And Max was very enthusiastic about it. He kept going on about how sex is the rawest experience a person can have, that it’s a great opportunity to show your character’s inner self . . .’ She cleared her throat. The skin around her throat had gone pink. ‘I could tell he was getting a little, um, overexcited, so I said I was tired and needed to go to sleep.’

‘And that’s when he made his move?’

‘No. Not at all. He said goodnight and left. I got into bed and read for a while, then went to sleep.’

‘Right.’ Karen furrowed her brow and looked at me. I shrugged.

Suzi had finished her drink now. She held the glass by its stem, rotating it on the spot. ‘I woke up an hour or two later. Somebody was coming into my room.’

Karen was all ears.

‘The door creaks and I’m a light sleeper anyway, so it woke me up. I sat bolt upright and said, “Who’s that?” Immediately the door closed and I heard footsteps going down the hallway. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t get back to sleep.’

‘And you think it was Max?’ I said.

She nodded. ‘It had to be. I mean, assuming it wasn’t one of you two.’

‘It definitely wasn’t me,’ I said.

‘Nor me,’ said Karen. ‘And it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing Julia would do. It’s pretty obvious to me who it was. Max, feeling all hot and bothered after your sex scene discussion, wanting to discover your “inner self”.’

Suzi winced. ‘Please.’

‘So what did the little bastard have to say for himself?’ Karen asked. Across the pub, Max was still bashing at the quiz machine’s buttons. He appeared a little happier now, like he was winning. A small crowd had gathered around him.

‘I haven’t asked him. I was too embarrassed. But I told him I didn’t want his help today, that I wanted to work on my own. He’s been off with me ever since. Please don’t say anything to him. I’m going to ensure I lock my door tonight. It’s not like he actually did anything.’

‘Hmm,’ Karen said.

‘I feel a bit sorry for him, too,’ Suzi said. ‘I think he’s having some problems with his marriage.’ That echoed what Karen had said the previous evening. ‘And his last book didn’t do very well.’

‘That’s no excuse for trying to sneak into a young woman’s bedroom,’ Karen said, glaring over at him. Max remained oblivious.

‘Oh God, I wish I hadn’t said anything now,’ Suzi said. ‘Please don’t talk to him about it.’ She stood up. ‘I need another drink.’

As she went to the bar, I said to Karen, ‘Are you going to talk to him?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, what if Suzi hadn’t woken up? What would he have done? Got into bed with her? Raped her? Told her he could help her career if she was nice to him?’ She lowered her voice further. ‘I’m going to be keeping an eye on him, that’s for sure.’



It was dark by the time we got back to the retreat. Julia was standing out front, rattling a silver dish. ‘Chesney!’ she called. ‘Chesney!’

‘Cat gone walkabout?’ I asked. I needed the loo so had hurried ahead of the others, who were now only halfway up the drive.

She sighed. ‘He does it all the time. Disappears for hours, sometimes a whole day. It makes me sick with worry.’

I wasn’t surprised by her anxiety, not after learning what had happened to Julia. I wondered if Chesney had been Lily’s pet. With Michael and Lily gone, the cat was Julia’s last link to her family. The cat and the house they lived in.

Julia held her glasses in her hand. She put them on, then took them off again.

‘I guess he’s got plenty of places to explore around here,’ I said. ‘Lots of mice to chase.’

‘Yeah. Except he’s always been a fat, lazy old thing. He never brings mice or birds in. I have no idea where he goes.’

The other writers appeared and Julia put the dish on the ground outside the door.

‘He’ll come back, though,’ she said. ‘He always does.’

She stared at the black horizon. I could read her mind. The cat always came back, but she would trade that a thousand times over for a glimpse of her daughter. Should I let her know that I knew? I almost said something, but she turned away before I could speak, and the moment slipped away into the darkness.





Chapter 5

I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened to Lily.

Perhaps if I hadn’t written a book about vanishing children, if my imagination didn’t tend towards the macabre, the gothic, I might have gone along with the obvious: that Lily had drowned in the river and, for whatever reason, the police couldn’t find her body. I wouldn’t have seen it as a mystery. But after trying, and failing, to get into my work the following morning, I had an overwhelming compulsion to see the spot where Michael Marsh had drowned. The last place where Lily Marsh had been seen.