fridge and went onto the patio. It was early evening and freezing cold, but he stood there for about twenty minutes, drinking by himself, staring into the darkness. At one point she stepped outside and asked if he was okay, but he waved her away with his can and said, ‘Just need some time to myself.’
He’s still in that mood, locked into the room of himself, refusing to let her poke her head around the door, let alone walk in. There’s a strange atmosphere between them, a sense of distrust, even though on the surface they are vowing allegiance to each other. It will be like this for as long as Mabel is missing. If she’s never found – dead or alive – they will always be smeared with guilt. The stain may fade with time, but it will never come out completely, no matter how much they try to wash it away. Lewis has already had to take two weeks’ holiday from work – his inbox was jammed with hate mail, even death threats, and the escape room has had several bookings cancelled on account of him being ‘a paedophile’. He will probably have to resign.
‘They’re coming back now,’ he says. Ruby looks up to see her impersonator pass through the gates, pause briefly at the pavement edge as if checking for traffic, and then calmly cross the road. It doesn’t look quite right. Then she remembers. She was hurrying. Mabel had done a stinky nappy and she was rushing home to change her. A memory stutters into life.
‘Lewis? Do you remember? You called me,’ she says, nudging him. ‘You called me just as I was opening the front door.’
He looks at her doubtfully. ‘Don’t think so. It was between eleven and twelve, right? I was in the middle of running a game; the bookings were back-to-back, I had no time for a break.’
‘But I remember it really clearly; it’s just come back to me. I unlocked the door and my phone started ringing, so I pushed the buggy inside and—’
‘That was the week before,’ he says. ‘When George and Amber were on their night away. I was at home, off sick.’
‘Oh yes …’ Her expression dulls. ‘I’m getting muddled up again.’ She watches herself take a key out of her trouser pocket and unlock the door. The bright red buggy is pushed inside and the door closes with its characteristic judder. Somebody shouts out, ‘Cut!’ but Ruby’s memory keeps playing. Yes, it’s coming back to her now. She kicked the door shut behind her while she spoke to Lewis. Then she took Mabel out of the buggy and went straight upstairs to the nursery to relieve her of the dirty nappy.
‘Oh my God,’ she says under her breath.
Lewis turns to her. ‘What is it?’
‘I left the key in the door.’
‘What? Last Saturday?’
‘No, no, the week before.’
‘Well it wouldn’t be the first time,’ he says unhelpfully. ‘You’ve done it at least twice at the flat when you’ve come home pissed. So how come you’ve only just realised?’
‘When Amber came home the next day, she asked me for the key but I couldn’t find it.’
‘That doesn’t necessarily mean—’
‘Oh God! Now I understand!’ Her hand leaps to her mouth. The memory is churning at full speed now, sending her head into a spin. ‘In the morning, when I got up, I had this really weird experience. There was a feeding bottle on the draining board in the kitchen; it had been washed and left to dry. I couldn’t remember giving it to Mabel or cleaning it or anything. And she slept in late, as if she’d been up in the night and needed a lie-in.’
Lewis scratches his head. ‘Okay … so you think someone took the key from the door, then came back at night and let themselves in? Like for a snoop about?’
‘Yes! Exactly. They found Mabel, took her out of her cot and gave her a bottle.’ Ruby feels a cold chill spreading through her veins. ‘Urgh … it’s disgusting.’
‘Really creepy,’ he agrees. ‘If that’s what happened.’
‘It did. I’m sure of it.’
‘Hmm …’ He looks sceptical. ‘And you didn’t hear anything?’
‘No, you know how deeply I sleep.’ The memory sparks again. ‘But I remember that in the morning, the baby monitor was switched off and I thought at the time it was really odd because I was sure I’d turned it on when she went down. I was really cross with myself for forgetting to do it.’