Then She Was Gone(8)

Dane looked at her almost fondly. ‘We’ve analysed the clothing. There’s evidence of intensive wear.’

Laurel clutched her chest at the mental image of her perfect girl, always so impeccably clean, so fresh-smelling and fragrant, stumbling around in the same clothes for years on end. ‘So … where is she? Where’s Ellie?’

‘We’re looking for her.’

She could sense that Paul was staring at her, that he needed her to engage with him in order to process this jumble of information. But she could not face his gaze, could not give him any part of herself.

‘You know,’ she said, ‘we were burgled a few years after Ellie went missing. I told the police at the time that I thought it was Ellie. The things that were taken, the lack of forced entry, the sense of …’ She pulled herself back from talking about unsubstantiated feelings. ‘She must have taken Hanna’s passport then. She must have …’

She trailed off. Was it possible that the police had been right all along? That she’d run away? That she’d been planning an escape?

But from where? To where? And why?

At that moment the door opened and another policeman walked into the room. He approached Dane and he whispered something in his ear. Both men looked towards Laurel and Paul. Then Dane sat straighter, adjusted his tie and said, ‘They’ve found human remains.’

Laurel’s hand instinctively found Paul’s.

She squeezed it so hard she felt his bones bend.





Nine


Then


‘What shall we do this summer?’

Theo, whose head was in Ellie’s lap, turned his face up to her and smiled. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Let’s do completely nothing.’

Ellie put down her paperback and rested her hand on Theo’s cheek. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘I want to do everything. Everything that isn’t revising and learning and studying. I want to go paragliding. Shall we do that? Shall we go paragliding?’

‘So your plan for the summer is basically to die?’ Theo laughed. ‘You are so weird.’

She punched him gently against his cheek. ‘I am not weird. I am just ready to fly.’

‘Literally?’

‘Yes, literally. Oh, and Mum says we can use Grammy’s cottage for a few days if we want.’

Theo beamed at her. ‘Seriously? Like, just us?’

‘Or we can take some friends.’

‘Or maybe just us?’ He nodded, eagerly, playfully, and Ellie laughed.

‘Yeah, I guess.’

It was Saturday afternoon, May, a week before GCSEs. They were in Ellie’s bedroom, taking a break from revision. Outside the sun was shining. Teddy Bear the cat lay by their side and the air was full of pollen and hope. Ellie’s mum always said that May was like the Friday night of summer: all the good times lying ahead of you, bright and shiny and waiting to be lived. Ellie could feel it all calling to her from the other side of the dark tunnel of exams; she could feel the warm nights and the long days, the lightness of having nothing to do and nowhere to be. She thought of all the things she could do once she’d finished this chapter of her life, all the books she could read and the picnics she could eat and the funfairs and shopping trips and holidays and parties. For a moment she felt breathless with it all; it overwhelmed her and made her stomach roll over and her heart dance.

‘I cannot wait,’ she said. ‘I cannot wait for it all to be over.’





Ten


The police investigation into the burglary at Laurel’s house all those years ago had come to nothing. They’d found no fingerprints of any distinction anywhere on the property, checks of CCTV footage from the two hours that Laurel had been out of the house showed no sign of anyone meeting the description of Ellie, or of any teenage girl for that matter. The ‘thief’ had taken an ancient laptop, an old phone of Paul’s, some cash that had been tucked into Laurel’s underwear drawer, a pair of art deco silver candlesticks that had been a wedding present from some very rich people who they weren’t friends with any more and a cake that Hanna had baked the day before that had been sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be iced.

They hadn’t taken any of Laurel’s jewellery – including her wedding and engagement rings which she’d stopped wearing a few months ago and which had been sitting in plain sight on a chest of drawers in her bedroom. They hadn’t taken the Mac, which was newer and more valuable than the laptop they had stolen – and they hadn’t taken her credit cards, which she kept in a drawer in the kitchen so that if she was mugged on the street they wouldn’t get stolen.

‘It’s possible they ran out of time,’ said one of the police officers who arrived at her front door ten minutes after she’d called them. ‘Or they were stealing to order and knew what they could sell and to whom.’

‘It feels strange,’ Laurel had said, her arms folded tight around her middle. ‘It feels – I don’t know. My daughter disappeared four years ago.’ She looked up at them, eyed them both directly and uncompromisingly. ‘Ellie Mack? Remember?’

They exchanged a glance and then looked back at her.

‘I could sense her,’ she said, sounding mad and not caring. ‘When I walked into the house I could sense my daughter.’