His eyes are bloodshot and his face white as a ghost. I dread to think how I must look.
Bitch!
Kate’s voice is so loud I stare at Rob wondering if he has heard it too. But it’s just in my head. I can hear her scream the word but I can’t see her or where we were when she said it.
‘Orla?’ Rob says, tapping me on the arm. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks, worried.
I startle. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
Bitch! she screams again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monday
For a blissful moment when I wake the world is full of sunlight and air. I stretch my toes and turn my face towards the window, feeling the sun’s rays warm my eyelids. And then the memories return, along with a pounding headache. I open my eyes, for a split second hoping and praying I’ll find myself back in England, in my own bed, having dreamed everything, but no such luck. I’m in the spare room of Sebastian’s apartment. And Kate is dead. I let the weight of it sink into me. The sunlight evaporates; the air becomes chill. My body is cast in lead.
I must have drunk enough to knock out a bull elephant last night, anything to try to push away the reality of what we were dealing with, and now my mouth is dry and my head feels as fragile and dangerously delicate as a wasp’s nest. I remember the tequila bottle on the table and Rob telling me to slow down. I vaguely recall posting something on Facebook about Kate, tears streaming down my face as I typed, and Rob helping me back to the apartment and into bed. I think when we came in that Sebastian said something about how sorry he was.
I remember crying myself to sleep and maybe that’s also why I have such a splitting headache now, and my eyes are puffy and dry. That thought conjures the image of Kate dead, her flesh putrid. And the next thing I know I’m stumbling from bed and into the bathroom, throwing open the door and making it to the toilet just in time to throw up the entire contents of my stomach, which is mainly liquid.
Afterwards, shaky and nauseous and still green around the gills, I lean back against the cold tile wall and close my eyes. My shoulders shake but the tears won’t come. I’m too exhausted. Where’s Rob? I wonder. What time is it? Groggy, I reach for my phone. It’s almost midday. There are dozens of missed calls, texts and emails from friends who must have seen the Facebook post about Kate. I can’t face them right now. Grappling my way to standing I head out into the hall. The door to the secret room is shut.
I creep into the living room. It’s dark – the shutters drawn – but I can hear the muffled sound of someone crying. I spot Rob kneeling in the gloom beside a suitcase.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
He jumps around in fright. ‘You’re awake,’ he says. ‘I wanted to let you sleep. How are you feeling?’
I walk closer. ‘Awful.’ It’s only then I notice it’s Kate’s suitcase.
Rob’s got one of Kate’s tops in his lap. He notices me glancing at it. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ he says, wiping at his tears. ‘I guess I thought maybe I’d find a clue or something if I went through her stuff.’
I kneel beside him. ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I did the same when she first went missing.’
Rob’s face is red, his lashes wet. I put my arm around him. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ he says, shaking his head in disbelief. He shoves the top back on the pile of her clothes, jumbled in her bag. I want to tell him to fold it but it’s not like it matters.
‘I’ve booked a flight for this afternoon,’ Rob says, rubbing an arm over his face and standing up.
‘Oh,’ I say, turning to him.
‘We can’t leave Marlow any longer.’
‘Yes, sorry, I know. I just …’ I stop as my throat squeezes shut. His mention of Marlow has hit me hard. More than anything right now I want to hold my daughter in my arms. ‘I wish I could come too,’ I sigh, my eyes stinging.
‘They said you needed to stay.’
I nod. Yes, they did.
‘I’ve called the embassy already,’ Rob says.
‘You have?’ I ask, surprised.
‘Yes, but they can’t do much. They gave me a list of English-speaking funeral directors. I called one and I’ve arranged for them to collect