Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(28)

In the end, I decide to send an email, not to Tony but to Layla, just to let her know that I finally understood what she meant.

I worked it out, Layla. I went to Pharos Hill, I found the Russian doll.

You should have waited.

But she doesn’t reply and eventually, I fall into an exhausted sleep.

I’m reluctant to leave the next morning. I feel close to Layla here in Devon. Yet reason tells me this isn’t where she’s hiding. The Russian dolls that she’s been able to leave with such ease mean she’s more likely to be somewhere nearer to Simonsbridge, Cheltenham maybe. The fact that Ellen saw her there lends weight to this, and I wonder about stopping off on my way home and spending a couple of hours walking around the town. But I doubt I’d see her in the street, or through a shop window, or sitting in a café.

I don’t remember much about the drive home. I must have driven to Exeter and got onto the M5 because I suddenly find myself driving down the road towards the house. I slam the brakes on. It’s too soon, I’m not ready to face Ellen, pretend it’s just another ordinary day. But much as I want to, I can’t sit here. If I don’t go in, it will seem strange.

I shift the car into gear and drive through the gate. I’m still not ready so I take out my mobile and pretend I’m on a call. I hear Peggy barking and out of the corner of my eye, I see Ellen at the window. I turn my head, showing her my mobile, and understanding, she gives me a little wave and disappears.

I sit with the phone clamped to my ear until I can’t delay any longer. I get slowly out of the car and make my way to the front door. As I open it, Peggy wraps herself around my legs, and I crouch down and bury my face in her neck, telling her how beautiful she is.

‘If I didn’t love her as much as you do, I’d be jealous,’ Ellen says, and for a moment, I wonder who she’s talking about. I feel a sudden rush of guilt. This is my life, I tell myself fiercely. Ellen is my life now, not Layla.

‘You’re my life,’ I tell Ellen, taking her in my arms. Surprised by the urgency in my voice, she laughs softly and tells me that I should go away more often. Peggy scrambles up onto her hind legs, trying to get between us. ‘I’ll take her for a walk,’ I say. ‘I need to stretch my legs after all that driving.’

‘How’s the migraine?’

‘Gone.’

‘Good. I don’t suppose you could pick up some milk, could you? And something for tonight?’

I set off, Peggy at my heels, and as I walk I wonder how Layla traced me to Simonsbridge, and when. Maybe she’s been looking for me for years, maybe it was the article in the newspaper about Ellen moving in with me that finally led her to me. How must that have made her feel, to know I was with Ellen?

I buy milk at the village store then go to the butcher’s to get some steak, and some homemade paté for lunch. Suddenly hungry, I ask Rob to cut me a few slices of German sausage, realising I haven’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday. A lifetime ago. I almost ask him if he’s seen anyone hanging around the village. But the newspaper article last year had been accompanied by a photograph of Layla, her distinctive red hair flashing like a warning sign. If I give a description, he might guess I’m talking about Layla. I can’t risk it.

At the river, I share the sausage with Peggy, and allow my mind to wander. If Layla turns up, what will happen? Ellen is her family, we couldn’t turn our backs on her. And I wouldn’t want to. So where would that leave me and Ellen?

I call Peggy from where she’s rooting under a bush and head home. As I walk past The Jackdaw, Ruby comes out.

‘You look as if you could do with a coffee,’ she says, so I follow her inside and sit at the bar while she pours me a mug from the glass jug that sits on the counter.

‘Thanks,’ I say, closing my hands around the mug, appreciating the warmth.

‘Rough night?’

‘You could say that.’ The need to confide in someone is overwhelming and anyway, Ruby already knows most of it. ‘I misunderstood the email address—’

‘No kidding,’ she says dryly.

‘Layla is alive, Ruby.’ The words sound strange on my tongue.

‘What?’ She looks at me, stunned.

‘Did you see anybody with red hair in the pub last Friday, at the bar?’

She shakes her head, still trying to process what I’ve just told her. ‘Not that I noticed. Finn, are you sure?’

‘Yes. I went to St Mary’s to meet her.’

Ruby’s eyes grow wide. ‘You’ve seen her?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘She wasn’t there.’

‘So how do you know she’s alive?’

I take the little Russian doll from my pocket. ‘I found this on a tree stump on Pharos Hill.’

‘Pharos Hill?’

‘It’s near where we used to live in Devon, not far from St Mary’s. Doll number five.’ I stand it on the table between us. ‘This, coupled with the email address, can only mean she’s alive. Rudolph Hill. Russian doll, Pharos Hill.’ She frowns, not getting it. ‘I found the doll on Pharos Hill, standing on a tree stump Layla used to say looked like a Russian doll,’ I explain. ‘Nobody else would know its significance.’

‘It could be somebody pretending to be her,’ she points out carefully.