to make up her mind. ‘I believe you, Seth,’ she says as her dearest friend is bundled roughly onto the back seat. ‘I believe every word you say.’
Epilogue
Five months later
Ruby crosses the junction just ahead of the first car. It’s a warm day in July and she feels hot and sticky under the high-vis plastic vest. Strands of hair poke out from beneath her helmet, sticking to her sweaty forehead. The sky is hazy with pollution and there’s no breeze at all, not even as she coasts down the hill.
She feels happy because it’s Mabel’s first birthday and she’s on her way to celebrate. Whenever she’s having a difficult day – and to be honest, there are a lot of them – she tries to focus on her niece and remember how lucky they all are to have her back, seemingly unharmed by her ordeal. Ruby doesn’t see her very often, but Amber regularly sends photos and short amusing videos – Mabel feeding herself with a spoon, Mabel standing up rattling the bars of her cot, Mabel trying to eat the bubbles in her bath.
They are having a picnic this afternoon in Lilac Park – just a small gathering in the far corner of the playing field that hopefully won’t attract attention. The media don’t bother them any more, having migrated to the fertile ground of other people’s tragedies, but Mabel has become something of a local celebrity. Whenever Amber takes her out, she’s approached by total strangers, who behave as if they know her. Most of the time they wish her well or ask for a selfie with Mabel, but occasionally she’s told that she’s an unfit mother and that her daughter would be better off in care. Ruby thinks it’s brave of Amber to set foot in the park at all, after everything that’s happened. Amber is being extremely brave these days. Ruby is seeing her sister in a whole new light.
The park is heaving, just as you’d expect in this hot weather. Ruby cuts across, snipping a corner off the route to William Morris Terrace. She slows down, weaving carefully through the strolling families, loved-up teenagers, toddlers on scooters, elderly people concentrating more on their melting ice creams than on the human traffic. The memory of running frantically around these same paths on the fateful morning when Mabel was taken suddenly ambushes her. Her stomach sickens and the bike wobbles, forcing her to put a foot down. It’s okay, she tells herself. Just breathe.
She’s been having cognitive behavioural therapy for her PTSD, but the memories still return unbidden, in this case literally throwing her off balance. Maybe the shortcut was a bad idea, she thinks. Maybe the picnic is a bad idea too. But it’s what Amber wants. She’s reclaiming the park for her and Mabel – path by path, tree by tree, blade by blade of grass.
Ruby pushes the bike the rest of the way, passing through the open gates where an ice-cream van is humming, and she crosses the road to the house. A large orange balloon is defiantly attached to the knocker of number 74. Brave, she thinks again, as she padlocks her bike to the railings and removes her helmet. Her black hair is pressed damply against her skull. She ruffles it up, tucking the wayward strands behind her ears. Then she pulls a thin leather necklace over her head and approaches the front door.
The key glints in the sunlight. She holds it in her palm and stares at it, unsure whether to proceed. Her plan was to ring the bell, then let herself in and wait at the bottom of the stairs. But now she’s here, it feels presumptuous.
The gift was symbolic rather than practical – it meant that not only had Amber forgiven her for her terrible mistake, but she was placing new trust in her. Ruby felt humbled by her sister’s generosity. She wears the necklace all the time as a reminder of how lucky she is not to have a child’s murder on her conscience, although her conscience still weighs heavily enough.
Amber hasn’t said that she’s not to use the key, but so far, Ruby hasn’t dared. Nor has she needed to let herself in. She hasn’t babysat once since Mabel was returned, although nobody has been allowed to babysit – not her mother, not even Seth. In that respect, Amber, who is trying her best to be the world’s number one survivor, still has a way to go.