Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(57)

‘Hold on a minute, I’ll find out.’

She comes back to tell me that nobody knows where he is or when he’ll be back, just that he walked uncharacteristically out of the office two days ago. I ask her if he checks in from time to time and she says he has once, so far. She promises to tell him that I need to speak to him next time he phones. I hang up, unease spreading through me. First Ruby, then Ellen, now Harry. All three of them have gone somewhere, yet no one knows where. Is there some kind of conspiracy going on? Has all this been about Harry and Ellen, as I’d once thought? But where does Ruby fit in? Or maybe she doesn’t, maybe Ruby is simply away on holiday somewhere. The only two things I know for sure is that I’m on my own and that time is marching on.

Tony plays on my mind. If I’m to tell him the whole truth, I need to phone him within the next hour because once he knows about the last email from Layla, the one saying I should have chosen her over Ellen, he’ll wonder why I didn’t phone him straightaway given the underlying menace in the message. But if I don’t tell him the whole truth, I have a few hours. In a few hours I can phone him and tell him that last night, Ellen and I had a row, I went storming off to the cottage and when I came back, Ellen was gone, that she hasn’t been answering her phone, and that I’m now getting worried as I would have expected her to be back by now. The truth, the whole truth? Or only part of it?

I give myself until lunchtime. If I haven’t made any headway by then, I’ll phone Tony and tell him the whole truth. I go through to the sitting room and look out of the window, watching for Ellen’s car coming down the road, trying to get my thoughts in order.

I start with Layla. First, is it really her or someone pretending to be her? I go back over everything, from the appearance of the first Russian doll to the last email I received, and by the end, I can’t bring myself to believe that it wasn’t her. Only she and I knew about the tree stump shaped like a Russian doll on Pharos Hill. Next, I try and work out where she could have been for the last twelve years – but I quickly realise that the most important thing is to work out where she’s been for the last six weeks, since the first Russian doll appeared. Ellen had seen her in Cheltenham, yet Layla had said that she was closer than that, so where? How had she been able to leave Russian dolls on the wall without anyone seeing her? I’d heard a car driving away one day but that was before her closer than you think message, when I had presumed she was in Cheltenham, so it had been logical to presume that it was her. But maybe it hadn’t been, maybe the car had nothing to do with her, maybe she’d been on foot, because she was already in Simonsbridge. Or maybe she got someone to leave the dolls for her.

I’m back to Ruby again. It would have been easy enough for her to leave the dolls. Did Layla ask her to leave them? Or is Ruby working alone? What about the couple that Mick saw walking past the house? Was Layla one of them? I need to go back and speak to Mick, ask if the woman had red hair, ask if he’s seen anything suspicious since. But not now. At this time in the morning, he’ll be giving his wife – Fiona, I think he said – her breakfast.

Fiona. That was the name of Layla and Ellen’s mother, I remember.

There’s a sudden explosion in my brain, the sound of every theory I’ve just considered being blasted apart, leaving nothing but a roaring in my ears. And then I’m running out of the house and across the road to where Mick lives with his invalid wife, his invalid wife who is called Fiona, his invalid wife that I’ve never seen and I hammer on the door, shouting to be let in. And of course, it takes Mick a while to open it, and of course, he has a bowl of porridge in his hands, his weapon against intruders. Enraged, I lift my hand, wanting to knock it away, and Mick steps back in alarm.

‘Where is she?’ I yell. I try to push my way into the hall but Mick slams the door into me, blocking it with his foot.

‘For God’s sake, man, what’s got into you?’ he cries, looking frightened. But I see through his act and give the door another almighty shove.

‘Let me in!’ I yell. ‘I want to see her!’

‘What are you talking about? If it’s Ellen, she’s not here.’

‘What do you know about Ellen?’ I snarl.

‘I heard you arguing last night, then I saw you drive off. She’s not here, I promise.’

‘Let me in!’ I push against the door. ‘I want to see your wife!’

‘My wife?’ He stares at me, bewildered. ‘What has she got to do with any of this?’

‘Let me see her!’

‘No.’ His whole demeanour suddenly changes. He draws himself up to his full height, which is still eight inches shorter than me. ‘Go away, Finn. I’m sorry about Ellen but if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police. Ellen isn’t here.’

‘No, but Layla is!’

‘Layla?’

‘Yes, Layla!’ I give the door an almighty shove and Mick stumbles back. ‘Where is she?’ I cry, stepping into the hall. ‘Where’s your wife?’

‘Please don’t do this.’ Mick is almost in tears. ‘You can’t, you have no right.’

‘I have every right!’ Pushing past him, I head down the corridor. ‘Layla! Where are you?’ I open the door to the sitting room but there’s no one there. I turn to Mick, standing in the doorway, the bowl of porridge still in his hands, and knock it onto the floor. ‘Where is she?’ I roar.