times I’ve seen him?’ I threw my next sentence like a punch. ‘How many times did it take for you to realise Mark was a journalist?’
I expected her to recoil, but instead she kept her gaze fixed on me.
‘I’m sorry I was the one who brought Mark into your house, but the honest truth is him lying like that was not the end of the world. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I was happy to be used. The sex was great. Looking back, there were a whole lot more pros than cons.’
Removing my hands from hers, I tried to get up but my ankle gave from under me. She was at my side in an instant.
‘What’s the matter?’ She dropped to her knees. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘It’s nothing.’ I winced as she took my foot in her palm. ‘I went over on it when I was running away.’
She rotated my ankle gently, right and left, and I cried out in pain.
‘You’re lucky,’ she said once she had finished her examination. ‘It’s only a sprain.’ She replaced it carefully on the floor. ‘Ice it, keep it elevated and it should be back to normal in a few days.’
We sat there sipping our tea, the wind chimes tinkling outside the kitchen window.
‘Sorry,’ I said, for once unable to bear the silence. ‘The thing I said about Mark.’
She chewed her lip.
‘I think you need to consider the possibility that all this stuff with the boy has to do with something else,’ she ventured. ‘That maybe it’s more about …’
‘It’s not,’ I jumped in before she could go on. ‘I know what you’re going to say, and this is absolutely, definitely not about Lauren.’ I banged my hands on the table. ‘Why will no one listen? Why will no one help? Barney could be there now, right in front of our bloody noses and we’re not doing anything about it. Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?’
I was about to go on, but something about the expression on Carla’s face made me stop. Patient but wary, it was the same look I used to see on the doctor whenever he came to sedate me in the weeks after Lauren went missing. It was a look of compassion, a look that meant, I am here to help you but I also think you might be a little bit crazy.
I was suddenly and painfully aware of exactly what I must sound like. It was like stepping into a bath of cold water.
‘OK,’ I conceded, dropping my head into my hands. Carla was right. When you looked at the facts, this whole thing was preposterous.
‘No more. Do you hear?’ said Carla, reaching across for a hug. I nodded my assent and let my cheek rest against her shoulder. Her kaftan was warm and smooth to the touch.
I closed my eyes. In a little while I’d go home to my bed and my husband and then in a few hours I’d get up and go to work. And, I told myself, if I tried really hard, pretty soon everything would be just as it was before, as though I’d never laid eyes on that boy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Saturday evening, and Jason and I were celebrating our wedding anniversary. Laid out between us were the remains of a curry: yellow poppadom shards and stray grains of pilau littering the white tablecloth.
Since the night I was chased, I’d left the boy in the off-licence alone. It hadn’t been easy. Every time I thought I’d banished him from my thoughts the shop’s LEASEHOLD AVAILABLE sign would flash into my head and, no matter what Tommy had said to the contrary, I’d be gripped with an awful fear that I was standing by and doing nothing while my husband’s son was once more spirited away.
‘To my lovely wife.’ Jason raised his pint and I lifted my wine in response. ‘Thank you for two wonderful years.’
The toast complete, I reached across the table for his hand and interlocked our fingers. Jason brought our crabbed double-fist up to his mouth and kissed both our wedding bands. Remembering him doing the very same thing in the registry office just after we were married, I smiled. Jason: my husband, my friend, my saviour.
I shifted around in my seat. I was wearing the new hold-ups, black lace bra and knickers I’d bought especially for tonight and, while I’d been sat down, the elastic stocking-tops had started to dig deeper and deeper into my thighs. I