I know deep down he’d want me to do everything differently. From the start. That if he’d had his say, I wouldn’t even have gone into medicine. I’d have been an artist, a painter; I was good at art when we were young. But things happened. Life happened and here we are. We’re so different, he and I. It’s funny how different two people with the same genes can be.
“Well, Idohave to do it, Joe.”
“You don’t, but okay. That’s your answer then. Do it. And I’ll be here if you need me.” Then his brow creases. “But what will you do if they find out what happened? There’s a lot of press up there, Em.”
“They changed our names, Joe. No one will know who I was or that I was ever there before. That was why we moved, right? The police, the social workers—that was the point, wasn’t it, that no one would find out? Unless the police themselves decide to tell the media, there’s no way anyone will be able to find out. The system is in place for a reason.”
He frowns, unconvinced. “But you’ll be there, physically, in person, with people who knew us back then. People who went to school with us. What if someone recognizes you?”
I hadn’t thought of that. I stare at him now, silenced. But, I was so different back then. It was such a long time ago. I looked different. A different person. A different name. I lost my puppy fat at seventeen, right after we left. My once open, soft face lost its plump rosy cheeks and matured. Cheekbones, collarbone, breasts. I grew into myself, boys started noticing me. I’m certain nobody there will recognize me now.
“They won’t, Joe. They’ll remember an awkward sixteen-year-old. I mean, I’d like to think I might have changed slightly over the last fourteen years!”
He studies my face trying to judge whether I’m right, then nods back tentatively. I do look different. I often wonder if he misses the old me. The me from before. But that girl’s gone.
I plow on. “And even if they do recognize me, Joe…so what? We’d be all over the news for, what, like maybe a week, tops. No longer than we were before. And then it just goes away and the world moves on and we go back to our lives. I can handle that, we handled it before. All of us.”
“We did but I don’t know if Mum can do all that again. She’s happy where she is. I don’t think she could just go back to her life if who she was got out.” I think of Mum in her cozy cottage. I think of her coffee mornings with her friends, her Pilates group, the quiet happy life she’s built around herself in her small village. No one there knows. And I remember too how, like me, at the end of every day, she goes home to an empty house. Her friends are all she has. If the truth came out, things would change for her. Could she handle that again?
If I do this I could ruin all of that for Mum. But then what? Never take a job in the spotlight for fear that our secret comes out, our dirty secret? Agree to stay quiet, stay hidden until when? I feel the burn of injustice in my chest.
“Wait, Em. Does whoever offered you the post know who you are?”
Who I am?I take a breath before answering. “Yeah.”
“Em, why would they choose you for this job if they knew what happened in Norfolk? I thought theydidn’twant a media circus—”
I cut him off. “They don’t, Joe. And for the record, they chose me because I’m bloody good at my job. Okay? And they were concerned it might be a problem for me.”
“I know you’re good at your job. But who are these people?” He holds my gaze, questioningly, insistently. He’s not going to let this go. “You don’t know their motives on this. They must have chosen you for a reason—plenty of other people are good at their jobs.”
I take a breath. “I was recommended. Look, Joe, are you asking me not to do this?” I say it with a calm I don’t feel. My heart hammering. “Because it’s not just this job that you’re asking me not to do, is it, Joe? I’d have to turn downanyjob that puts me in the spotlight. I’d have to turn down anything high profile, wouldn’t I, because if I wander out into the light then the spotlight shines onto all of us, doesn’t it?” I hear myself saying it. Oh God, I didn’t mean to turn this conversation intothatconversation. I feel a rush of remorse. “Sorry, Joe, I don’t know why I’m taking this out on you. It’s ridiculous, sorry. I just—I want this. I can’tknowthat I’m good enough and then just walk away. What happened wasnotour fault. Why should we have to spend the rest of our lives paying for it?”
He takes a moment before replying. “Look, Em. You shouldn’t ever hold yourself back because of it. But—” He stops himself and shakes his head.
“But what, Joe? Say it.”
“But”—he continues very carefully—“and I say this because I love you, Em, and you know I do—you need to ask yourselfwhyyou need this so much. Why youneedthe spotlight. Just ask yourself what you’re so desperately looking for. If it’s even out there. If you go back to Norfolk, I’ll deal with Mum, don’t worry about that. I’ll explain it to her and she’ll be okay with it, I promise. But you really need to try to understand why you’re going back at all. What you’re looking for there.”
“None of this is about Norfolk, Joe, I’d go wherever the job was. I wish it wasn’t there, obviously, but I’m not going to let that stop me. And it’s not like I have a lot of reasons to stay here in London. I want more than all this. For myself. For my career. I’m really good at what I do, Joe, and I’m going to help this man. That’s why I’m going.”
He studies me, concern in his warm eyes. “First be very sure you know who exactly it is you’re helping, Em.”
9
THE MAN
DAY 1—THE SEARCH BEGINS
Back at the beach a silence falls between police officers Poole and Graceford.
It’s Graceford who speaks first. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to them.” She nods back toward Mike and Zara, who have now made their way from the dunes to meet them. Graceford gives Poole a rallying clap on the arm as she passes. She’ll take over.
Poole hears their voices behind him but thankfully their words are just out of his earshot. He turns to see how Zara’s taking it. Her usually beautiful face is pulled into a tight pinch as Graceford speaks. Poole turns away. Zara has always had a problem with Graceford.
A car door slams; he turns to look and Mike is in the car now, Zara still leaning on her car door, half in, half out, nodding reasonably. She smiles sweetly at Graceford before swiveling into the driver’s seat and slamming the door closed.
Zara’s car rolls with pointed slowness out of the car park past them.
