The Things You Didn't See(77)

With Jamie avoiding her, Holly had looked for Carl, but he too was elusive, and she was scared of him. The only other person she could seek out was Ash.

Though she knew where Ash lived, and also that he spent most of his time at the farm, this was a problem for her, as it meant returning to the scene of the crime. Even though it was daylight, and a watery sun yellowed the sky, she still felt nervous when she stepped under the shaded cloak of the copse. Branches broke under her trainers, and she kept swinging round, sure someone was following her, and then equally frightened to discover that she was alone.

Ash wasn’t in the copse, or in the fields. She found him in the barn, perched on a bale, tossing handfuls of grain at a bevy of disinterested chickens. He looked up through his fringe, saw her, and tossed the grain at her feet.

‘What you doin’ here?’

She pushed her hands into her pockets and jutted out her chin, desperate not to seem afraid. ‘Came to see you.’

‘Me?’ He stood, wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, and stepped towards her. He was tall, although not as tall as he’d seemed on Halloween night. Then she saw he had a black bruise circling his left eye.

‘Who did that?’

‘My dad,’ he said.

This surprised her; Ash was bullied at school for not having one. Then she whispered, ‘Because of what we did?’

His face twitched, and he looked at her as if she were a piece of grain he’d like to toss to the birds. ‘What you did, you mean. I didn’t do nothin’.’

‘You showed us the ghost! You brought us here.’

He kicked the ground, sending a balloon of dust into the air.

‘Did we kill someone?’ she asked, still whispering. Afraid of the answer, but needing to know anyway.

‘She didn’t feel it,’ he said. ‘’Cos she was asleep.’

Holly had known the truth all along, but had somehow misunderstood and pushed it away. She’d carried on telling herself she didn’t really know what had happened that night. But her senses had protested, raining down their reactions, making her feel everything threefold.

Denial, deeply rooted. But not for any longer. She got up, and went to find her laptop.

‘Jamie?’

His face came into view on the screen. He was chewing – she could see she’d interrupted his lunch but she didn’t care.

‘You’re persistent, know that, sis?’

So he had been avoiding her. ‘Did you do what I asked, and google Innocence Farm?’

He yawned again, and this time she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. She hadn’t woken him – he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. ‘I did, but how’s it concern us? The farmer’s wife got shot. It was the husband, wasn’t it?’

‘Not everyone thinks so: another man is under suspicion, and I think he’s innocent. Ash Cley. You remember him?’

She waited, watched as his smile dropped and he looked more awake. Yes, she could see it in his face – Jamie remembered Ash all right.

‘He took the blame, Jamie, he has a police record for a gun crime when he was innocent. We can’t let that happen a second time.’

He didn’t speak, just rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘I can’t talk now. I have work to do.’

‘Jamie, you shot someone!’

‘So what, you want me to confess?’ he spat. Across the miles, through the wires, she could feel his venom. ‘What would that do to my relationship with Kaitlin, to my career? It was two decades ago, Holly. You can’t just expect me to destroy my life over something I did when I was a kid.’

And then the screen went blank. The connection had been severed, and Jamie was gone.





37

Cassandra

Holly wanted to drive me home – she said she was worried about me. It seems that everyone is. I’m determined not to seem vulnerable, so I drove myself home, though in truth I did feel groggy. Dad wasn’t ready to leave yet, so I told him Dan would pick him up later.

I can hear the drilling before I even open the front door, and once inside, it’s deafening. Sharp bursts, the horrible sound of metal being threaded into wood. I climb the stairs and reach the source. Daniel’s stood in Victoria’s doorway, the drill in his hand.

‘What’s going on?’ I say, though I can see. He’s putting a lock on Victoria’s door, one that can only be used from the inside. He puts down the drill and picks up his screwdriver, finalising the twists so the lock’s in place.

‘Tori’s a young woman now, love. She needs her privacy.’

Inside the room, Victoria’s cross-legged on her bed, eyes focused on the screen of her iPad.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Hi, love. Did you ask Dad to put a lock on your door?’

She shakes her head, not really listening. I move to see the screen that has her attention, and there is the face of her best friend, gazing out at me. ‘Hi, Dawn.’

Victoria raises her eyebrows at me as if to ask, Well? Daniel’s right: she needs her privacy. Teenagers don’t want an adult hanging around, earwigging.

The grogginess pervades. Just walking is like pushing through treacle. I need to lie down, though it’s dinnertime, not yet time for bed. Probably it’s because of all the baking I did last night: I’ve had two sleepwalking incidents in the space of twelve hours. It could be the drugs causing it – I should tell Clive. But I won’t.