Then She Was Gone(55)
‘Tell me,’ she says, turning the conversation round 180 degrees, back to a place that nurtures intimacy and growth. ‘Tell me about your first marriage. How was it? How did you and Kate meet?’
He smiles as she’d known he would and tells her a story about a beautiful young girl at a bus stop, totally out of his league in every way, a charmingly gauche conversation and an invitation to a party that turned out to be a rave in an abandoned car park, a lost night of neon lights and recreational drugs, a full moon, a fur coat. And at some point Laurel zones out of the detail and fixates instead on the feeling of jealousy that seeps out from deep inside her, the dark, bleak stab of pain that for a short while at least overpowers her creeping sense of unease, that stops her asking questions.
Laurel leaves the next morning. Floyd tries to persuade her to stay, tempts her with suggestions of gastro-pub Sunday lunches and riverside walks, but her mind is elsewhere, she can no longer force herself to stay focused on their romance; she needs to be alone.
She’d parked her car in the next road down the day before because there was no space on Floyd’s street. To get to it she has to loop back on to the high street and then left again. Her eye is caught by a man standing outside the small branch of Tesco on the corner. He has a little black dog on a lead. He’s tall; in his mid-twenties, Laurel guesses. He’s wearing a huge parka with a fur-trimmed hood and dark jeans with trainers. He’s extremely good-looking, rangy and eye-catching. But as she glances at him Laurel realises that it’s not his good looks that have caught her eye. She realises that she recognises him and it takes a moment for the details to slot into place and form a solid memory before it hits her. It’s Theo. Theo Goodman. Ellie’s boyfriend.
She’d seen him briefly at Ellie’s funeral back in October. He’d been somewhere towards the back, talking with Ellie’s old school friends. He’d looked sallow and hollowed out with grief. She remembered feeling surprised that he hadn’t come to her during the day, that he hadn’t offered his condolences, that he’d simply disappeared into the ether.
She toys with the idea of crossing the street to say hello, but her head can’t deal with small talk right now and she decides to keep walking. She is about to turn away when a woman comes out of Tesco holding two canvas bags full of groceries; she’s a tall blond woman in a similar parka, baggy joggers and black Ugg boots, a green bobble hat on her head and a wide smile on her face. She hands one bag to Theo and then stops to pet the small dog, who seems overjoyed to see her. Then they go on their way, the lovely young couple and their dog. And it is only then that Laurel really registers what she has just seen.
It was the smile that threw her.
She hasn’t seen Hanna smile for so long she’d forgotten what it looked like.
PART FOUR
Thirty-six
Then
Noelle Donnelly’s house was small and tidy and smelled exactly like Noelle Donnelly.
‘Let me get you a squash,’ said Noelle in the hallway. ‘You go and sit down.’ She gestured into the small front room.
Ellie peered through the door into the room and then smiled politely. ‘I think I’d better not stay,’ she said. ‘I’ve got loads and loads of work to do.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Noelle. ‘You can spare two minutes. Besides, it’ll take me that long to unearth the thing. You might as well take a seat and have a drink. Orange or elderflower?’
Ellie smiled stiffly. She was in a corner. ‘Elderflower,’ she said. ‘Please. Thank you.’
Noelle smiled at her strangely. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘elderflower. Of course. I’ll be one minute. You sit down.’
Ellie sidled into the living room and perched herself on the furthest edge of a brown leather sofa. The room was filled to its limits with pot plants and smelled earthy and slightly sour. The wall around the fireplace was bare brick and the hearth filled with sprays of dried flowers and some terracotta animals that looked as though Noelle might have made them herself. Overhead was a bulb in a globular paper shade and the windows were obscured by wooden Venetian blinds, one slat of which was missing, allowing a reassuring view of a strip of cherry blossom and sunshine. Ellie stared through the gap in the blinds, imagining the world beyond Noelle Donnelly’s front room.
‘There you are,’ said Noelle, placing a glass of squash in front of her.
The squash looked nice. It was in a pretty glass, clear with green polka dots. She was thirsty. Noelle watched her as she lifted the glass and began to drink from it. ‘Thank you,’ she said, putting down the almost empty glass.
Noelle glanced at the glass and then at Ellie. ‘Oh, lovely girl, you are welcome. Now, you wait there and I will get the papers and be back in a short minute.’
She left the room and Ellie heard her heavy steps ascending the stairs. Like a baby elephant, as Ellie’s mum would have said.
Stamp stamp stamp stamp …
She was unconscious before Noelle had made it to the landing.
Ellie heard a sound, a tiny woody squeak. A chair, moving. Then she heard a breath.
‘You’re awake now, are you?’ said Noelle from somewhere in the dark. ‘Now, listen. I really want to apologise to you. This is a terrible thing. A terrible thing I’ve done to you. Unforgivable really. But I hope you’ll see why, in time. I hope you’ll understand.’