Haven't They Grown(50)

‘But … if this phone call revealed that the two of you weren’t close friends any more, how did they end up coming round to ours with Georgina?’

‘After that conversation, Flora briefly felt bad enough to make a bit of an effort. And I wanted to believe the friendship could still recover. But from the second they arrived, things were wrong and awkward and … bad. I assumed it was because Flora felt so guilty about not having told me, or maybe she didn’t want to be there and was just doing a duty visit, for form’s sake. I was wrong.’

‘How?’

‘I’m scared you’ll think I’m a terrible person if I tell you,’ I say tearfully. ‘I’m scared I am a terrible person.’

‘Don’t be silly. Just tell me.’

‘All these years, I’ve been making it all about me. When Flora changed and seemed less interested in me, I put it down to Lewis’s inheritance. When months passed and I didn’t hear from her, it never once occurred to me that she might be in trouble. When she was pregnant and had a baby and didn’t tell me, I used it to back up my theory: that she and Lewis were rich now so she didn’t need to bother with the likes of me any more. I didn’t ever think, “Flora wouldn’t treat me like this unless something was really wrong.” And I should have thought that, Dom – because she wouldn’t.’

Finally, Dom sees what I’m driving at: ‘You think that whatever weird shit’s going on now started then?’

‘Yes, I do. And … after that last time they came to ours, I drew the wrong conclusion again. Apart from their new address card, Flora never contacted me after the day she found out I’d cut up the photo. I assumed that was why … but it wasn’t. Sure, she’d have been hurt by that, but it wasn’t the reason. Flora never got in touch again because she couldn’t risk having me in her life any more. She couldn’t risk being close to me – because if she was then I might find out the truth. The secret. Whatever that was. Is,’ I correct myself. ‘Dom, whatever it is, it started before Georgina was born. Months before.’

‘I wish we’d talked about this at the time. I had no idea – about any of it.’

‘I didn’t want to talk about it. I was … ashamed, I guess. People aren’t supposed to feel jilted and have their hearts broken by their friends.’

Sudden ringing makes me jump. ‘Is that your phone?’ Dom asks.

I nod, reaching down to pull my handbag up onto the bed.

‘Who’d call this late at night?’

My heart judders as I look at the screen. ‘It’s Lewis,’ I say, recognising the number I tried to call back so many times on Sunday evening.

‘Answer it.’

‘Hello? Lewis? Hello?’

I hear muffled noise in the background. Movement.

‘Is anyone there? Lewis?’

‘Beth?’

‘Who is this?’

‘I meant to ring you back the other night, and then life took over and I never did. I’m sorry.’

‘Flora?’

‘Hi, Beth! Say hi to Rom-com Dom from me!’ Lewis Braid calls out in the background.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ Flora says. ‘Beth? Can you hear me okay?’

I can. It’s definitely her. Definitely him, too; no one else calls my husband Rom-com Dom. It’s Lewis and Flora Braid. In Florida, now. Together.





13


Whatever I was expecting when I imagined talking to the police, it wasn’t PC Paul Pollard. I’d prepared myself for the brush-off, but when I met Pollard, I realised I’d expected the disappointing reaction to come from someone a little bit impressive, with an air of authority. Pollard seems not particularly bright and says, ‘Got it,’ every ten seconds. He looks about thirteen. The tea he’s brought in for me and Dom, despite being in proper cups with saucers, has got tiny, reflective pools of what looks like grease spotted across the surface of the liquid. We thank him for it as he sits back down behind the table in the small, white-painted interview room.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘So Mr and Mrs Braid rang you last night from America, you were saying – because she’d forgotten to call back on Sunday night?’

‘She didn’t forget.’ I’ve already told him this. ‘That was a lie.’

‘Got it. Yep. And how long did you speak to them?’

‘About fifteen minutes. It wasn’t us speaking to them, it was me speaking to Flora. Dom and Lewis didn’t really say much apart from calling out hi and bye. It was the tensest phone conversation I’ve ever had – both of us on edge, trying to pretend we were chatting normally, catching up on news, when it was obvious we were both massively on edge. She flat out denied having been in Huntingdon. Said I must have seen someone else the two times I thought I saw her, because she hasn’t been back to England recently.’

‘Got it.’ Pollard makes a note.

‘After she ran away from me in the car park, they all must have decided urgent action was needed – an emergency trip to America for Flora. As if that would make anything more plausible!’

‘Did you tell her you’d visited her parents, or that they’d told you her daughter Georgina had died as a baby?’ Pollard asks.