The Other People: A Novel(52)

Katie had found her some of Sam’s old pajamas to wear and eventually located the blow-up bed in the cupboard under the stairs, buried beneath several boxes of random junk. She had put it up in Gracie’s room—her daughter delighted to have her first sleepover.

Forty minutes later, when Katie checked in on them, they were all asleep: Gracie half curled on her side, one arm cuddling Peppa Pig, one flung out over the covers; Sam in his usual starfish shape, limbs strewn haphazardly around his bed, enveloped safely in oblivion.

Only Alice didn’t look relaxed, even in sleep. Her knees were drawn tightly to her chest and, instead of a soft toy, she still clutched the odd, rattling rucksack, like a shield against invisible monsters.

Katie watched her for a moment then pulled the bedroom door closed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen. She thought about making a cup of tea then changed her mind and headed to the fridge. She pulled out a three-quarters-full bottle of white wine.

Katie wasn’t a big drinker. Her hours made it fairly impossible, for a start, unless she got into the habit of drinking in the morning. But also, when you have an alcoholic in the family, the appeal of a cool glass of wine diminishes, mixed up as it is with memories of raised voices, broken crockery, tears and screaming.

Still, right now, she felt like she needed something to numb that nervous, churning feeling in her stomach. She poured a large glass and took a sip, wincing slightly at the sharp taste. Then she sat down at the breakfast bar and picked up her phone.

She hadn’t wanted to press Alice too much tonight on what had happened or where Fran was. The poor child was obviously exhausted and traumatized. But she had asked if she could have her mum’s number. Alice had reluctantly acquiesced. It was a different number to the one Katie had in her phone, but the result was the same. Her calls had gone straight to an automated message: “The number you are calling is unavailable.”

What’s going on, Fran? Why did you come back and where are you now?

Whatever the reason, it must have been desperate for her to leave Alice with their mother. Why hadn’t she come to Katie? But then, Katie knew the answer to that one. It was because Katie would have tried to talk her out of whatever it was she was doing. Told her to go to the police.

That was her role. The good one, the reliable one. The one who everyone took for granted. Fran wouldn’t come to her for help. But she would use her in an emergency. A last resort. Good old dependable Katie. The one who would always pick up the pieces, never mind that they might cut her own fingers to ribbons.

She sank her head into her hands. She was tired. The weight of the responsibility, of the day’s events, was bearing down on her. Tomorrow she would persuade Alice that they needed to go to the police. But then, what would that mean for Alice? Social workers. Care. Did she really want to abandon her to the state system? She was just a child. A confused, lost child. Katie was her aunt. She was family, and she had a duty to look after her. It was what mothers did. Christ, what a mess.

She rose and tipped the rest of the wine down the sink. It wasn’t helping. It never did. Problems float, she thought. She walked wearily out into the hall and almost went flying as she caught her foot on something by the stairs.

“Shit.”

It was one of the boxes from the cupboard. She must have left it lying there after she got out the blow-up bed. She rubbed at her toe. She really should sort some of these boxes. The house was too small, and they were full of junk. Old pictures, cards, leaflets. But Katie found it hard to throw things away. She knew how easily things could be lost. Life, family, love. It was all so fragile. Perhaps that was why she hung onto those faded photos and scribbled pictures on crumpled bits of paper.

She bent down to shove the box to one side and something fluttered from the top. A drawing of Gracie’s. A strange stick family with odd-colored hair, distorted limbs and a huge Gothic house looming behind them, complete with thunderclouds, rainbows and spiders. Part charming, part Tim Burtonesque nightmare.

She smiled and was about to stuff it back in the box when she realized the picture was drawn on the back of something else. She turned it over. A young girl’s face smiled back at her.

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

The flyer. She had meant to look for it but, with everything else that had happened, she’d completely forgotten. She felt a little guilty that she had let Gracie doodle on the back. But at least she had the number. She would call tomorrow and find out how the thin man—Gabe—was doing. After all, he didn’t have anyone else to look out for him.

She might curse her family at times, but at least she had family: her precious children. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing everything—your partner, your only daughter—in such a terrible way.

She stared at the picture. Izzy. A pretty little girl. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Wide, gappy smile. Pretty, and somehow familiar. Something about the eyes, the smile. Katie suddenly had the strongest feeling that she had seen her before. Of course, she had seen the flyer before. That was probably it. But still, there was something else, something…

A stair creaked behind her. She spun around. Alice stood on the bottom step, long dark hair framing her face, eyes wide and haunted, a Japanese horror movie in Marvel pajamas.

“Alice—you made me jump!”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Katie stuffed the piece of paper into the pocket of her hoodie and tried to force a smile. “What’s the matter? Can’t you sleep?”