Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(47)

My sudden reluctance to go away niggles at me, urging me to be honest with myself instead of hiding behind a long car journey. The truth is shameful; in a hotel, I won’t be able to wait until Ellen is asleep before joining her in bed. My mood plummets. I call Peggy from the river, hating the person I’ve become, the person Layla has made me become.

The village shop opens at eight on a Sunday so I buy bacon and eggs along with the papers before heading home. As I approach the house, I’m struck by a terrible sense of déjà vu. Because there, standing on the wall, is a little Russian doll.

I cover the last few yards in a couple of seconds and snatch it up, putting it quickly in my pocket. I look up and down the road but there’s no one around. Remembering how I saw Mick standing at his window, I go over and knock on his front door, forgetting that it’s only quarter past eight in the morning.

He takes a while opening it.

‘Sorry,’ he says. There’s a bowl of porridge in his hand. ‘I’m in the middle of giving my wife her breakfast.’

‘No, I’m sorry,’ I say, taking in his dishevelled appearance. ‘I’ll come back later. I just wanted to ask you something.’

I wait for him to ask me what it is I want to know but he’s already shutting the door.

‘Sorry,’ he says again. ‘I have to go.’ He raises the bowl of porridge, reminding me of his task in hand. ‘Come back in about an hour, I should have finished by then.’

I cross back over, looking up and down the road again, knowing that I’m not going to see Layla because she’ll be long gone by now. Gone where? Back to Cheltenham? My ears pick out the sound of a car engine turning over, then the sound of it driving off. It sounded as if the driver was in a hurry. Was it Layla? She hadn’t yet learnt to drive when I knew her, but twelve years is enough time for that to have changed.

In the hall, I hear the sound of the shower running, which means I have a few minutes before Ellen comes down. I take the shopping through to the kitchen, intending to make a start on breakfast. But I feel too agitated so I go out to the garden, hoping its tranquillity will work its magic on me. A window opens upstairs and looking up, I see Ellen smiling down at me.

‘Did you go for bread or have you been in your office?’ she asks and I want to yell at her to leave me alone.

‘Bread,’ I say. ‘I got some bacon and eggs too,’ I add, making an effort.

‘Not for me, thanks,’ she says. ‘I’ll have muesli.’ Words rush into my mouth – why can’t you be more like Layla! – and I bite them back quickly.

Over breakfast, I feel her eyes on me as I work my way through my bacon and egg sandwich.

‘Finn,’ she says, after a moment.

‘What?’

‘Please phone Tony.’

‘It’s Sunday.’

‘He won’t mind.’

I know she’s right. Besides, Layla has gone too far now with the doll with the smashed head. At least the one I just found on the wall was intact.

‘Alright, I’ll phone him after breakfast.’

I don’t particularly want to phone Tony in front of her but she’ll think it strange if I disappear into my office to do it, and I don’t want her to think I have anything to hide. Even though I do. Which is why I draw the line at putting Tony on loudspeaker, as Ellen perhaps expects. But the risk of him mentioning that Thomas saw Layla standing outside the cottage is too great.

‘I’m afraid this isn’t just a social call,’ I say, once we’ve established that we’re both fine.

‘Go on,’ he says, and I suddenly realise that Ellen doesn’t know I told Tony that she thought she saw Layla in Cheltenham.

‘It’s about Layla,’ I begin. ‘A couple of things have happened that have made Ellen and I wonder if she might still be alive.’

‘Has something else happened?’ he asks.

‘Some weeks ago, Ellen found a little Russian doll on the wall outside the house. Then a few days later she thought she saw her in Cheltenham,’ I add for Ellen’s benefit.

‘Yes, you told me about that. But what has a Russian doll got to do with it?’

‘When they were young, Ellen and Layla had a set each of Russian dolls and one of the dolls went missing. Since the one that Ellen found, another has turned up – two, in fact,’ I amend quickly, remembering the one Ellen saw me with in The Jackdaw. ‘Ellen received one in the post and we found the other one in the local pub, along with our bill. The thing is, they – Russian dolls – have a significance for both Ellen and Layla, a significance nobody else knows about.’ And I go on to explain the story from their childhood.

‘And nobody else knows the story?’ he asks when I’ve finished.

‘Only Harry – Ellen told him.’

‘And you’re sure you didn’t mention it to anyone else? Someone who would want to get back at you? An ex-girlfriend, maybe?’

‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘I’ve never told anyone.’

‘Hmm. The one that came through the post – do you know where it was sent from?’

‘Cheltenham – which is where Ellen thought she saw her.’

‘That lends a lot more weight to Thomas’ assertion that he saw her outside the cottage,’ he says. There’s a silence while he mulls it over. ‘Leave it with me, Finn. I’ll have a think, speak to a few people and get back to you.’