Then She Was Gone - Lisa Jewell Page 0,66

eye. She realizes that she recognizes him and it takes a moment for the details to slot into place and form a solid memory before it hits her. It’s Theo. Theo Goodman. Ellie’s boyfriend.

She’d seen him briefly at Ellie’s funeral back in October. He’d been somewhere toward the rear, talking with Ellie’s old school friends. He’d looked sallow and hollowed out with grief. She remembered feeling surprised that he hadn’t come to her during that day, that he hadn’t offered his condolences, that he’d simply disappeared into the ether.

She toys with the idea of crossing the street to say hello, but her head can’t deal with small talk right now and she decides to keep walking. She is about to turn away when a woman comes out of Tesco holding two canvas bags full of groceries; she’s a tall blonde woman in a similar parka, baggy joggers, and black Ugg boots, a green bobble hat on her head and a wide smile on her face. She hands one bag to Theo and then stops to pet the small dog, who seems overjoyed to see her. Then they go on their way, the lovely young couple and their dog. And it is only then that Laurel really registers what she has just seen.

It was the smile that threw her.

She hasn’t seen Hanna smile for so long she’d forgotten what it looked like.

PART FOUR

36

THEN

Noelle Donnelly’s house was small and tidy and smelled exactly like Noelle Donnelly.

“Let me get you a squash,” said Noelle in the hallway. “You go and sit down.” She gestured into the small front room.

Ellie peered through the door into the room and then smiled politely. “I think I’d better not stay,” she said. “I’ve got loads and loads of work to do.”

“Nonsense,” said Noelle. “You can spare two minutes. Besides, it’ll take me that long to unearth the thing. You might as well take a seat and have a drink. Orange or elderflower?”

Ellie smiled stiffly. She was in a corner. “Elderflower,” she said. “Please. Thank you.”

Noelle smiled at her strangely. “Yes,” she said, “elderflower. Of course. I’ll be one minute. You sit down.”

Ellie sidled into the living room and perched herself on the farthest edge of a brown leather sofa. The room was filled to its limits with houseplants and smelled earthy and slightly sour. The wall around the fireplace was bare brick and the hearth filled with sprays of dried flowers and some terra-cotta animals that looked as though Noelle might have made them herself. Overhead was a bulb in a globular paper shade and the windows were obscured by wooden Venetian blinds, one slat of which was missing, allowing a reassuring view of a strip of cherry blossom and sunshine. Ellie stared through the gap in the blinds, imagining the world beyond Noelle Donnelly’s front room.

“There you are,” said Noelle, placing a glass of squash in front of her.

The squash looked nice. It was in a pretty glass, clear with green polka dots. She was thirsty. Noelle watched her as she lifted the glass and began to drink from it. “Thank you,” she said, putting down the almost empty glass.

Noelle glanced at the glass and then at Ellie. “Oh, lovely girl, you are welcome. Now, you wait there and I will get the papers and be back in a short minute.”

She left the room and Ellie heard her heavy steps ascending the stairs. Like a baby elephant, as Ellie’s mum would have said.

Stamp stamp stamp stamp . . .

She was unconscious before Noelle had made it to the landing.

Ellie heard a sound, a tiny woody squeak. A chair, moving. Then she heard a breath.

“You’re awake now, are you?” said Noelle from somewhere in the dark. “Now, listen. I really want to apologize to you. This is a terrible thing. A terrible thing I’ve done to you. Unforgivable really. But I hope you’ll see why, in time. I hope you’ll understand.”

In time.

Ellie struggled against the glue. Nothing moved.

“The effects will wear off soon. Or, well”—Noelle laughed—“at least I hope they do. It said on the Internet three to twelve hours. And you’ve been out for twelve. So.” She laughed again and Ellie thought, It’s 11 p.m. I’ve been away from home since ten o’clock this morning. My mum.

Her eyes had started to lose their heaviness and she could make out parts of the room now. The cool glow of moonlight through a narrow window set high in a wood-clad wall, a toilet and sink in a recess