face appears from the bushes, and I gasp with relief that I’ve found her and then . . . I see it’s not my daughter at all.
‘Susan!’
Her face is tear-stained, her hair wild. She staggers towards me, her bony arms outstretched, the sleeveless cotton dress she’s wearing hanging like a shroud on her skeletal body.
‘Susan, have you seen Skye? She’s missing . . . has she been out here in the garden?’
‘Get away from this place, Freya. Take your daughter.’ She wails. ‘Get out now!’
‘Come inside,’ I tell her, backing away. ‘Where’s your husband? You shouldn’t be out here alone.’
I turn on my heel and run back up to the house. I feel a twist of guilt but can’t stop and talk to poor Susan, I have to carry on searching. My head is pounding now. Where is Skye? Where’s Lily?
I know everyone dislikes Lily, but would the Marsdens be prepared to hurt her to get to Skye?
As I run back towards the entrance of the house, I think about Mark’s words of advice: act normally. It’s an impossible ask. What is he discovering this very second in the empty apartment next door to ours on the top floor? I want him down here, helping me find Skye. I want to call the police right now but my phone is somewhere in the apartment.
Back inside I leave the front door open and run to the corner of the foyer, pushing away the potted ferns that hamper my progress. I hammer on the Marsdens’ apartment door with both hands, I ring the doorbell and rattle the brass lion’s head.
I listen. Silence.
‘Mark!’ I howl at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Call the police.’ Back at number one, I hammer again. I kick the door.
Nothing from Mark. Not a sound in the house. I might as well be alone in here. I’m thinking through fog, my whole body is trembling.
Run next door . . . get them to call the police.
I’m about to turn to dash out of the building again and then I hear it, a scuffling noise behind the door. The sound of bolts being slid back, and I take a step away as the door finally opens.
And suddenly, I’m face to face with Dr Michael Marsden.
‘Where’s my daughter? What have you done with her . . . and with Lily?’ He doesn’t respond, his face impassive.
‘I know what you’ve been up to . . . it’s illegal, what you’re doing. You can’t—’
‘Please, Freya. Calm down.’
His manner both infuriates and terrifies me. I back away from the door.
‘Mark! ’ I screech his name at the top of my voice and start to run upstairs. ‘Mark, call the police!’
‘Freya, stop!’ Marsden finally calls to me. I ignore him and keep bounding upstairs, two steps at a time. Downstairs, I hear the front door I left wide open slam closed.
I stop outside Lily’s door again.
Bang-bang-bang.
Nothing. Maybe she took her out for a walk . . . maybe they’re at the park!
In the dark?
It could be an adventure. It’s the sort of thing Lily would love to do, I’m sure. The fact this only just occurs to me slows me down. Skye could be perfectly safe with her and on her way back home right now.
Up on the top floor, I see the empty apartment door is still closed. It doesn’t look like Mark managed to get in there after all.
I rush towards my open apartment door.
‘Mark! Didn’t you hear me shouting? Have you called the police? Skye’s not there, but maybe she’s at the park, we need to—’
He’s not in the lounge or the bedrooms. My apartment is empty. Where the hell is Mark?
48
I turn my handbag upside down to save hunting through for my phone, but it’s not there. I can’t remember taking it out, but I rush into the kitchen and search the worktop.
It’s not here either.
‘This is crazy!’ I yell out loud, thumping the work surface and hurting my hand. My voice seems to echo, magnifying the emptiness of the entire house.
Where’s my phone? Where are Skye and Lily? Where the hell is Mark? Where is everyone?
It occurs to me that Mark himself suggested I go downstairs to pick up Skye from Lily’s.
At the time, it seemed the sensible thing to do. I wanted her back with me where I knew she’d be safe, but now I can’t help wondering, did Mark want to get rid of me for some reason? Or maybe he ran for help when I went