Just Like the Other Girls - Claire Douglas Page 0,121

Five years older than me, he’s always danced to his own tune. But still. He was a good kid growing up in the commune, a little intense at times perhaps, obsessive about certain things, certain people. Once he spent an entire summer trying to mend an engine in an old car, and wouldn’t give up until it was working. He was often a bit of a loner. He was handsome, though, and girls always liked him. He cared about Mum. About me. He was the man of the family after Dad left. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’ve never even seen him kill a spider. No, there has to be some logical explanation as to why he has Una’s phone.

He slumps down next to me, can in hand. He’s still wearing his parka and there is a smudge of dirt on his cheek. There is an energy radiating from him and his legs won’t stop moving. Has he taken something? I’ve always known he liked to smoke pot but he always said he’d never touch any class As. Yet he’s buzzing.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

He shrugs in answer and takes a swig of his beer.

‘You’re right about the job,’ I say. ‘I’ve been hasty. I don’t think Kathryn had anything to do with the deaths of those girls.’

He turns to me, his eyes too bright. ‘Great idea.’

‘Then you can have the flat back to yourself again.’

He punches me playfully in the arm. ‘Hey, are you saying I’m trying to get rid of you?’

I force a laugh. ‘No!’

It used to be so easy between Arlo and me when we were growing up, but now our banter is off. I feel as though I don’t know the man sitting beside me. I don’t know how to tell him Kathryn is on her way here. I don’t know how to broach the subject of the phone. For the first time ever I feel a little … scared of Arlo.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to dispel the awkwardness but I’m interrupted by a knock on the door.

There is a flicker of alarm in Arlo’s eyes.

‘That will be Kathryn,’ I say, getting up.

‘Kathryn?’ He sits upright, panic on his face. ‘As in Elspeth’s daughter? She can’t come here.’

I frown. ‘Why not? You wanted me to get my job back, didn’t you?’

He stands up too. He looks as though he’s about to bolt. ‘What’s going on?’ There is fear in his voice. It must be the drugs making him paranoid.

‘It’s Kathryn.’ I laugh. ‘You look like you’re about to get arrested by the police.’ I reach for the door but he throws his body in front of it to prevent me from opening it.

‘Arlo? What the fuck?’

‘I don’t want visitors.’

‘Get out of the way.’ I try pushing him off me but he’s so strong he won’t budge. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he want me to see Kathryn? We wrestle for a bit and then, reluctantly, he stands aside to allow me to open the door. He sighs almost resignedly.

I let Kathryn into the flat. She’s alone. She doesn’t smile or say anything but she follows me into the living room where Arlo is sitting with his head in his hands. When he senses us standing in the middle of the room he looks up, and I see shock register on Kathryn’s face.

They just stare at each other for a few moments and Kathryn nods imperceptibly. ‘Of course.’ She shakes her head, as though she should always have known it. ‘I thought there was something familiar about you. Hello, Lewis.’

44

Kathryn

As Kathryn surveys Lewis, everything falls into place. He stares back at her with Viola’s defiant eyes. No wonder her mother fawned over Willow. She was the most like Viola because she’s made up of her DNA.

‘Why are you calling him Lewis?’ asks Willow, her eyebrow raised.

‘Because that’s what he told me he was called. When he worked for us.’

‘What?’ Willow spins around to glare at her brother. ‘You worked for Elspeth?’

‘Earlier this year,’ continues Kathryn. ‘As our gardener. Until Elspeth sacked him for smoking pot.’

Lewis stares at her for a few seconds. ‘When did you find out?’ he says.

‘Find out what?’ interjects Willow, her cheeks flushed. ‘Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on? Arlo, why did you tell them you were called Lewis?’

He shrugs. ‘I didn’t want them to know.’

‘Know what?’ cries Willow, throwing up her hands.

Kathryn turns to Willow. Does she really not know? ‘That Viola –

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