In a Dark, Dark Wood(62)

Yet again I have that cold, writhing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Am I a suspect? How can I find out without looking like one?

‘She’s still not really up to being interviewed,’ Lamarr says at last.

‘Does she know about James?’

‘I don’t believe so, no.’ There is compassion in Lamarr’s face. ‘She’s not been well enough to be told yet.’

I don’t know why, but it is this that rattles me more than anything else she has said so far today. I can’t bear the idea that Clare is lying somewhere in this very hospital and doesn’t know that James is gone.

Is she wondering why he hasn’t come? Or is she too ill even for that?

‘Is she going to be OK?’ My voice cracks and breaks on the last word, and I take a long, aching gulp of coffee to try to hide my distress.

‘The doctors say yes, but we’re waiting for her family to come, and then they’ll take a view about whether she’s stable enough to be told. I’m sorry – I wish I could tell you more, but it’s not really my place to be discussing her medical details.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ I say dully. There are tears trapped at the back of my throat, making my head ache and my eyes swim as I blink angrily, trying to clear them. ‘What about Nina?’ I manage at last. ‘Can I see her?’

‘We’re still taking statements from everyone else at the house. But as soon as that’s concluded, I imagine she’ll be allowed to visit.’

‘Today?’

‘Hopefully today, yes. But it would be very, very helpful if you could remember what happened after you left the house. We want to get your version, not anyone else’s, and we’re worried that speaking to other people might … confuse things.’

I cannot tell what she means by this. Is she worried that I am waiting, pretending memory loss so I can get my story straight with someone else’s? Or is it simply that she’s concerned that in the vacuum of my own memories, I might implant someone else’s account unconsciously?

I know how easy that is to do – for years I ‘remembered’ a childhood holiday where I rode on a donkey. There was a photo of me doing it on the mantelpiece, I was about three or four, and I was silhouetted against the setting sun, just a dark blur with a halo of sun-lit hair. But I could remember the salt wind in my face, and the glint of the sun off the waves, and the feel of the scratchy blanket between my thighs. It was only when I was fifteen that my mum mentioned that it wasn’t me at all, but my cousin Rachel. I was never even there.

So what are they saying? Cough up the memories and we’ll let you speak to your friend?

‘I’m trying to remember,’ I say bitterly. ‘Believe me, I want to remember what happened even more than you want me to. You don’t have to hold Nina out like a carrot.’

‘That’s not it,’ Lamarr says. ‘We just want to get your account – I promise this isn’t some kind of penalty.’

‘If I can’t see Nina, can I at least get some of my own clothes? And my phone?’ I must be getting better if I have started to worry about my phone. The thought of all those emails and messages building up, and no way of answering them. It’s Monday now, a working day. My editor will have been in touch about the new draft. And my mum – has she been trying to call? ‘I really need my phone,’ I say. ‘I could promise not to contact anyone from the house if you’re worried about that.’

‘Ah,’ she says, and there is something in her face, a kind of reserve. ‘Well, actually that’s one of the things we’d like to ask you. We’d like to take a look at your phone, if you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t mind. But can I have it back afterwards?’

‘Yes, but we can’t locate it.’

That checks me. If they don’t have it, where is it?

‘Did you take it with you when you left the house?’ Lamarr is saying.

I try to think back. I am sure I didn’t. In fact, I can’t remember having my phone for most of the day.

‘I think it was in Clare’s car,’ I say at last. ‘I think I left it there when we went clay-pigeon shooting.’

Lamarr shakes her head. ‘The car has been completely stripped. It’s definitely not there. And we’ve made quite a thorough search of the house.’

‘Maybe the clay-pigeon range?’

‘We’ll try there,’ she makes a note on her pad, ‘but we’ve been calling it and no one’s picking up. I imagine if it had been left there someone might have heard it ringing.’

‘It’s ringing?’ I’m surprised the battery is still working. I can’t remember when I last charged it. ‘What, you mean you’ve been calling my number? How did you know what it was?’

‘We got it off Dr da Souza,’ she says briefly. It takes me a second to click that she means Nina.

‘And it’s definitely ringing?’ I say slowly. ‘Not just going through to voicemail?’

‘I …’ She pauses, and I can see her trying to remember. ‘I’ll have to check, but yes, I’m fairly sure it was ringing.’

‘Well, if it’s ringing it can’t be at the house. There’s no reception.’

Lamarr frowns for a moment, a line between her slender, perfect brows. Then she shakes her head. ‘Well, we’ve put the tech guys on it now, so no doubt they’ll get us an approximate location. We’ll let you know as soon as it’s picked up.’