The Missing Piece - Catherine Miller Page 0,84

the police. I’m waiting to hear from him. To see if there is anything important that I need to know.

When a message pings on my phone it puts me into a spin.

Nancy is real.

In an instant my head pounds as I read and re-read the text trying to make sure that Clive doesn’t see. It takes a while to process that it’s from Tess, not from George.

It doesn’t seem possible. Tess has it wrong. Autocorrect is surely to blame. I leave Lucy and Clive in the lab and pray that it’ll all be okay.

My heart is drumming hard against my ribcage, as if I’ve pushed myself too far on a run. Trying to keep myself calm and not give away that anything is up is a hard task. So much so that I know it can’t wait and I choose to leave.

As soon as I’m round the corner and sure I’m far enough away, I call Tess. ‘What do you mean, Nancy is real?’

‘My uncle Gary has got back to me. He knows his stuff when it comes to looking at family history and all that jazz.’

‘Right. And?’

‘There is no record of Clive getting married, like the police said.’

‘So how come you’re telling me she’s real?’ People don’t tend to appear out of thin air, as far as I know.

‘That’s where having an uncle who knows what he’s looking for has come in handy.’

This filtering of information is agonising and if it wasn’t for the fact it’s a phone conversation I’d have been pulling at the collar of Tess’s shirt to tell me what she knows.

‘He looked at other information to establish Clive’s family tree. When he searched the electoral roll for Clive’s property, one of the years there’s a Nancy registered as living there.’

‘What? I don’t understand. So he was married?’ My hammering heart upgrades to a judder.

‘No, that’s the thing. She’s not registered as Nancy Ellington. Her name is Nancy Fuller. They weren’t married. The electoral roll is only taken every four years so it’s only a snapshot. She isn’t on the roll before that or the one after, but that year she is registered there. Clive’s father, Keith, also lived there at the time. Clive’s mother had passed away a few years before and Keith died a few years after this roll was taken. Since then, it’s only ever been Clive living there alone.’

‘Wow. Was your uncle able to find out anything else? Did Nancy pass away as well?’

How sad that Clive has gone from being surrounded by people he loved to being totally alone. Not only did his parents die, but if his fractured recollections are true, Nancy also passed away.

‘He’s still looking into it. Those records are a bit complicated as they don’t always give a true indication of things. If somebody has been confirmed as deceased, then it’s indicated on those records. If that hasn’t happened, it isn’t clear either way. If she has passed away, it just means it hasn’t been formally verified. Equally, she may still be alive.’

‘So we don’t know?’ It’s hard to decide whether I’m experiencing hope or hopelessness. Nancy is real. Or in the very least, she isn’t imagined. But as Clive’s ‘hallucination’ has indicated she’s dead, what are the chances of her being alive? His dream must have been some kind of supressed memory. My mind’s scrambling to keep up. How will poor Clive feel if he finds out?

‘There’re a few other avenues he’s going to look into. He’ll get back to us in the next day or two.’

‘Clive’s medical records have been found. George is going to take a look to see if there is anything important,’ I say, even though stringing together a sentence is almost impossible.

‘Maybe they’ll tell us something about Nancy.’

‘Hopefully.’

There is a knot in my stomach pulling tighter than ever before. I wonder if it’s how Lucy felt when she was poorly. I brush a hand over my pulse point, but for once it’s to feel my scar, not to take my heart rate.

I ask myself, would I want to know? If we find out the truth about Nancy, should we tell Clive? If the events surrounding my scar weren’t as clear as the light of day, would I want to remember?

‘Don’t say anything to Clive,’ I finally say to Tess. ‘I think we need to establish a few more facts and then decide what to do.’

What we have in our hands is a time bomb, and I for one have no idea

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