light-headed. It’s so obvious, once you think of it. It’s only taken me this long to see it because of an assumption I made, a stupid one. Then, immediately after leaping to the wrong conclusion, I found plenty of evidence that seemed to prove me right. It wasn’t evidence of anything, though. I just chose to believe it was.
Now I know what was really going on. But what does it mean? How does it alter or add to the overall picture? I still don’t know that.
I need to talk to Flora again. Whether she wants to talk to me or not, she’s going to have to. And she will because …
Because people can make Flora do things she doesn’t want to do. Lewis can, Kevin and Yanina can, and you can too.
If the answer that’s just come to me is right, and it has to be, then Flora can’t be playing her part in all this by choice. Can she?
No. You know she isn’t. You saw her face. You know her. She’s your best friend.
I pick up my phone and ring Lou back. ‘Can you access school records from home?’ I ask her.
‘I’m not at home—’ she starts to say.
‘Can you access the records from wherever you are?’
‘Only my emails and the main school website, which is public. Why?’
‘Could you get into the building if you went now?’
‘Yes, I’ve got the code for the—’
‘I need you to go. I need the mobile number you’ve got on record for Jeanette Cater. That’ll be on a database somewhere, won’t it?’
‘It should be. We encourage all parents to give us all their contact numbers. We require it, actually. Doesn’t mean all of them do it, though.’
‘I need that number,’ I tell her.
‘Is it so important that it can’t wait till tomorrow?’ she asks. ‘You can say if it is.’
I don’t know how to answer. Will anything terrible happen tonight if I don’t make Lou interrupt her evening?
‘It is, then,’ she says, when I fail to answer. ‘It’s fine. I’ll go in now. Sit tight. I’ll let you know, soon as I can.’
I pace up and down the room, turn on the TV and mute it immediately like Zannah and Ben do at home. I press the Channel Plus button on the remote control until I find something I can bear to look at: a kitchen. Two men are sitting at a table while a large older woman, a redhead with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, walks around behind them. I stare for a few seconds, then switch the TV off again.
I have no idea how to pass the time between now and when Lou rings me back. The desire to eat has left me completely. I don’t think I can stay in the room either.
I grab my phone and key card and head downstairs and outside. I walk around the building, through the lush greenery of the gardens towards the pool terrace, where I soon realise I can’t stay. Everyone here looks far too relaxed, sprawled out on loungers with their eyes closed, cocktails in fruit-decorated glasses on tables next to them.
I walk around to the front of the hotel and cross the road, planning to go back to the beach, but halfway along the narrow, roped-off path I change my mind and turn back.
Finally I admit it to myself: I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going. This isn’t good. I need to get my head together if I’m going to speak to Flora again. Instead of running around frenetically, I need to keep still and focus.
I force myself to walk slowly back to my room, breathing even more slowly. By the time I get back, I feel a little more composed. As if to reward me for sensibly taking myself in hand, my phone starts to buzz in my pocket as I push open the door to my room.
‘Lou!’ I hope it’s her. I didn’t stop to look.
‘You’re in luck,’ she says. ‘I’ve got Jeanette’s mobile number for you.’
24
Back in my hotel room, I sit down in the hard chair at the desk and stare at the number Lou has sent me. It doesn’t look familiar. It can’t be the same one Flora had twelve years ago. I think I’d probably recognise that number if it was in front of me, though I can’t call it to mind.
I key in the digits, press the dial button and wait for her to answer. Each of these stages