as losing a baby. Do you really think I’d allow my closest friendship to end for such a stupid reason – my jealousy because Flora had successfully had a third child when I’d failed? Am I that pathetic?’
‘No, I … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘I wasn’t jealous. Not at all.’
‘I believe you. But then what did you mean—’ He breaks off. ‘Look, shall we do what we came here to do? When Captain Cook arrived at Botany Bay after sailing all the way from England, did he disembark and explore the terrain or did he sit in his boat, chatting about his friends’ babies?’
I couldn’t know less about Captain Cook if I tried, but I play along. ‘The first, I’m guessing. Who’s going to do the talking, assuming someone’s home?’
Will he ask me later, or forget about it, content never to know in what way Georgina Braid caused the end of my friendship with Flora?
‘What if the door opens and Lewis is standing there?’ I ask.
‘That won’t happen, because Lewis lives in Delray Beach, Florida, but if it does – if he still owns this house too, and he happens to be in it today – I’ll say, “Hi, Lewis. Long time no see. Would you mind showing me your secret stash of tiny cloned children?”’
Soon Dom and I are both laughing uncontrollably. It’s probably nerves. We’re about to do something a lot of people would never dream of doing.
Once we’ve pulled ourselves together, we get out of the car and walk briskly across Wyddial Lane towards the large wooden gates of number 16. Dom presses one of the illuminated buttons on the intercom. We stand and wait.
Nothing.
‘Fuck,’ I say. ‘They’re out.’
‘Then we wait,’ says Dom.
‘How long?’ Please say, ‘All day.’
‘Half an hour?’
It’s not long enough. I want to wait until these gates open, however long it takes.
‘Maybe an hour,’ Dom concedes. ‘Not longer, surely? They might have set off on a family holiday last night and not be due back for a week. Why don’t we go for a walk and come back in a bit? It’s better than just standing here.’
‘No. If we go anywhere, we might miss them. What about the neighbours? We could try them. The people at numbers 14 and 18 will know the name of the family at number 16. I bet everyone knows everyone on this street. It’s a private road, so the council don’t deal with it – and yet look how well maintained it is.’
‘Tarmac smoother than a baby’s arse,’ Dom agrees.
‘That means the neighbours will have regular meetings, and a residents’ committee, coffee mornings … It’s that kind of street.’
‘I know some of our neighbours’ names, but I wouldn’t give them out to a pair of strangers who turned up unannounced and said, “Please tell me who lives next door”. I’d say something bland like, “I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly divulge …” or words to that effect. Which is what numbers 14 and 18 will say if we ask them.’
‘It’s worth a try. We’ve come all this way. I’m not going home with nothing.’
‘Beth, we might have to.’
I shake my head.
‘All right, if you want to do it, let’s do it,’ Dom says wearily. ‘I suppose the worst they can say is no. Or they might not be home.’
I don’t care. I’m waiting here on Wyddial Lane until I find someone who can answer my questions. I don’t care if I’m being obsessive. Something inexplicable has happened, and I want to know why. Dom would be exactly the same if it had happened to him, if he knew he’d seen something he couldn’t possibly have seen.
‘I’m going to tell the truth,’ I say.
‘To?’
‘Any neighbours I talk to. Everyone. Until we got here, I was thinking I’d invent some story, but it’s better to be upfront. Don’t say anything, okay? Let me do the talking.’
I head for number 14 and press the buzzer on the intercom next to the wrought-iron gates. Immediately, there’s movement.
‘Dom, look.’
‘At what?’
I point through the gates’ metal bars. ‘The front door’s opening.’
5
‘No, it isn’t,’ says Dom.
‘It is. Just very slowly. Wait. Now it’s stopped. It opened a tiny bit. Look, now it’s moving again.’
The door edges further open but I can’t see anybody, and no one comes out of the house.
Number 14 is a completely different kind of house from number 16: mock-Tudor, black and white lines all over it in a diamonds-within-squares pattern that would make my eyes ache if I looked at it for too