The Things You Didn't See(62)

‘Dunno. Sells things around the country.’

‘What things?’

‘God, I don’t know, Mum. Water coolers, office equipment, boring things like that. Why?’

‘No reason. I just saw the photo of her on Dawn’s bedside cabinet and thought I recognised her. What about her dad? He’s white, I take it?’

Victoria looks at me, checking I’m not insulting her friend. ‘Dawn’s mixed-race, yeah. Just makes her more beautiful.’

‘Yes. I see that. What’s her mother’s name?’

‘Why the third degree?’ she demands.

I search for an answer. ‘I was just thinking how often we have Dawn to stay with us, and how nice it would be to get to know her mother better. And I can’t even recall her name!’

‘It’s Monica,’ she says.

Monica.

Daniel was speaking to her, on the phone, the night of the shooting. I told myself that my fears were delusional, that my jealousy was a sickness. Everyone has lied to me, everyone wants me to think I’m crazy, but I was right about the shooting.

Now I think I’m right about him having a lover.





28

Holly

Lying in Leif ’s arms, Holly found herself talking about Maya’s sudden death.

It would be in the evening papers anyway. Alfie Avon had covered the Innocence Lane shooting each day since it happened with tabloid prurience, and the ante was now upped. If anything, there would be even more interest in the case.

‘This is so sad, S?tnos.’

‘Tragic,’ she agreed. ‘Especially if Hector did it in his sleep, though it seems incredible.’

‘You doubt his story?’

‘My senses do.’

Clive had sent her an email. His prediction had been right: the court wanted a psychiatric report and because a bail hearing had been scheduled for Monday, Clive would be assessing Hector tomorrow at Norwich Prison, driving there after he’d finished running Team Talk at the library. Hector had been told of Maya’s death, and had been placed on suicide watch by the prison; her role would be as an observer. Clive had said in his message:

Come and observe. I checked with Jon and he’s taken you off Sunday’s rota.

It’ll be good experience for you. Meet me at the library at 10 and we can drive up together.

‘I just don’t believe Hector did it,’ she said, tracing Leif ’s clavicle with a light finger. ‘What about Ash – are the police really sure it isn’t him? What about that previous offence you told me about, the shooting? You said it showed a tendency.’

Leif was sleepy, his eyes half-shut. ‘Hmm? No, it was nothing, just something that happened when he was a little kid.’

A shivery sensation like premonition made her feel cold. ‘How old?’

‘Oh, eleven or so. He shot someone by accident with his air rifle. Just an accident . . .’

Holly felt herself start to shake. She knew what Leif was about to say, she felt as though she were in a dream where she needed to scream but couldn’t. Don’t say any more, please! But the words wouldn’t come.

‘Ja, it was a Halloween game that went wrong. Teenagers spooking each other out, playing in the woods, pretending to be ghosts. A girl got shot, but she didn’t want to press charges so he just got a caution.’

Holly moved closer, trying to steal warmth from Leif ’s body, seeking comfort from the world outside, but knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

The past had found her.





DAY 9

SUNDAY 9 NOVEMBER





29

Cassandra

Just eight days ago I woke to discover you’d been shot. So much has happened since then, but still I haven’t got the answers I want: I need to know if Dad really shot you in his sleep, and I need to know if Daniel is having an affair.

Your death, Dad’s confession, they can’t overwhelm me. I’ve been down that road before – it leads to weakness and madness, and being locked in a hospital against my will. I have to keep strong, if I’m going to find my answers. I know that Clive’s been asked to visit Dad at the prison today, but he has to run Team Talk first. That’s where I’ll start.

The library’s unlocked but deserted, just stacks of books and the hum of the central heating kicking in. The circle of chairs has already been set up and I look around for Alex, hear a scuttling sound from the staff room. When he appears, his face is bright tomato, hands flapping high near his neck.

‘Hi, Alex.’

‘Cassandra! I read Alfie Avon’s article in yesterday’s paper. I’m so s-s-sorry.’

I’d seen it too. The headline had lit up on my iPad when I switched it on this morning – Tragic Maya Dead: Cured of Cancer, Shot in Her Own Home. I hadn’t read on.

‘W-w-what are you doing here?’

‘I’m here for the meeting. I see you’ve already got the chairs out. Have you got the mugs ready for break time?’

He’s completely thrown by my response, relieved too. No one wants to talk about death. ‘Just did it. And I’ve p-p-put the kettle on.’

‘Well done. How’s this week been?’ Because other people have had a normal week, unbelievable though that seems.