He gives me a small smile. “Yes. Of course. Or you drive her back, Seraphine, and I’ll get a taxi home. I’m not hiding anything here, you know. I just want to...” He pinches the bridge of his nose suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. “That note wasn’t from me. I swear. I just want to protect you. Protect all of us.”
We sit in silence while a couple unlock their car in the space next to ours and climb in, adjusting their sun visors and fussing over seat belts before they eventually reverse away. I lean over and press my forehead against Edwin’s shoulder.
“I know,” I say. Another car begins to maneuver into the vacated space, exhaust fumes billowing behind it. My hands feel damp, and I glance at them with a sudden fear that they’re covered in blood.“Stop asking questions.”We should stop. I should stop. Edwin’s right. We should walk away from all of this, before it’s too late. Before more damage is done, that we might never recover from. I straighten and look at him.
“But I think we have to ask her, Edwin. Don’t you? How else are we ever going to put this behind us?”
Laura waits for us on a bench outside the accident and emergency department, looking vastly better than yesterday, with a neat bandage around her head and a sharp glint in her eyes.
“Are we stopping off at Summerbourne first?” she asks as Edwin holds the rear car door open for her.
He glances at me and back to her, his jaw tense. “Would you like to? A quick cup of tea, maybe, before we take you home?”
Laura nods decisively. “I’d like that.”
I join her on the back seat and turn to her as Edwin starts the engine. An image of her head wound hovers in my mind, and it’s an effort not to stare at her bandage.
“I feel responsible for dragging you into this,” I say. “I’msorry. It was me who rang you at work last week, and—um—pretended to have a delivery for you.”
She looks at me calmly. “I guessed that, Seraphine, after you pounced on me outside my flat.”
“How did you recognize me that day? You said you knew who I was.”
She sighs. “I’ve looked you up, online, you know. Over the years.”
“Because you were there at my birth?”
“Yes.” Her gaze remains steady.
“You know the threatening letter you got that day was nothing to do with me? And Edwin didn’t write the note asking you to meet him at the folly,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “I realize someone tricked me to get me to the folly—I know Edwin would never hurt me. I didn’t mention the note to the police. I told Martin I’d heard about—” She hesitates, and gives me an anguished look. “I told him I’d heard the news about Dominic, and I just fancied a trip to the beach, to reminisce. To say good-bye.” She frowns. “But how—? Don’t tell me you fished that nasty letter out of the trash bin in the park?”
I nod, looking down. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you tell the police about that?” Edwin asks her from the front.
“No,” she says, and then she turns her head and watches the scenery out the window for a while.
“Do you haveanyidea who attacked you?” I ask, but she presses her lips together. She shakes her head, and her fingers creep up to the locket at her collarbone. I want to ask her about her daughter—the one mentioned in the anonymous letter. I want to tell her that I know Alex took Ruth’s baby, and ask her whether she knows that he never returned her—the original Seraphine,whom he renamed Kiara. Most of all I want to ask her whether she knows who I really am—who Danny and I really are. Where did we come from? But her closed expression makes me hesitate. Perhaps when we’re sitting with a cup of tea on the patio at Summerbourne.
“Alex and Kiara might still be at the house when we get back,” I say softly, and her eyes widen, but she passes the rest of the journey in silence.
As we leave the village behind us and make our way down the lane toward Summerbourne, Laura sits up taller.
“Are you okay?” I ask. She nods.
A police car is pulled over on the grass just before the cottages, and as we approach Michael’s home, we see Martin leaning on the gate, speaking into his phone. Inside the little front garden, Joel faces him. Martin raises a hand in casual greeting as we pass, but Edwin doesn’t slow the car. My eyes meet Joel’s for a split second through my window. He doesn’t smile.
Danny opens the front door as we pull up onto the drive. Edwin helps Laura out of the car, and she looks frailer here in the Summerbourne sunshine than she did back at the hospital, her bandage glaringly white against the waxy sheen of her skin.
“Gran’s here, and she’s furious,” Danny says in a hushed tone as he approaches.
“Why?” Edwin asks.
“Because of her.” Danny indicates Laura, and then flashes her a small apologetic grimace. “Sorry. But I think it’d be better if you just left now, Edwin. Take her home straightaway.”
Laura hasn’t taken her eyes off Danny.
