‘We need to speak to the consultant about tweaking them.’ He squeezes my arm. I shake him away. ‘He said there were alternatives. Let’s discuss it with him when I take you to your appointment tomorrow. Once we get balanced out, you’ll feel a whole lot better.’
I swipe the tears from my face. ‘I can’t go through it all again, Justin. I just can’t. Not with the cancer and your mum.’
‘Don’t get all upset. It’s your birthday weekend.’ He kisses my shoulder. I edge away from him. He’s scaring me. ‘It upsets me to see you like this again. Let’s not end a great weekend away like this.’
Great weekend?I want to say.You worked most of it.
‘You’re tired, my darling. It’s been a long day. Get some sleep.’
I hate it when he speaks in this condescending tone.
‘You’ll be able to see things much clearer in the morning.’ He rolls over and switches off his light.
Same old, same old, Justin.
He always has to control the narrative.
15
SCARLETT
As arranged, George meets me on the first carriage of the train at London Bridge. He dumps a rucksack on the rail above where I’m sitting and takes the seat beside me. The summer heat hasn’t let up, and he smells slightly of stale sweat.
A ball of unease is lodged in my throat. Mum wanted us to spend my last day in Cambridge together. I had to lie. I’m visiting an old uni friend in Brighton, I told her, because she couldn’t cope with the truth. She once told me it’s OK to tell a white lie if it’s going to protect a person you love. I never agreed, until now.
‘So what’s the plan?’ I ask.
George shows me a picture of Daisy on his phone. It was taken at Christmas in the snow. She’s laughing, pretending to lob a snowball at the camera. Daisy at her best. ‘I thought I’d show this photo around,’ he says. ‘See if people recognise her from the June convention. But I’m not sure how big these conventions are. Looks like they’re well attended, but how many people follow this guy around, I’m not quite sure.’
I show him the photo of Daisy in theMOMbaseball cap on my phone. ‘This might be a better one to use,’ I say. ‘Why don’t we split up? We can cover more ground.’
‘Yeah. Sounds like a plan, but I don’t think we should say she died, rather, she disappeared after the last festival and we’re trying to track her last known movements, because the police aren’t interested.’
More lies. ‘Why not tell the truth?’
‘Because if we mention she supposedly died of a drug overdose, we might not get as much sympathy. The founder ofA Meeting of Minds, Marcus Aurelius, is speaking at 3 p.m. I’d quite like to see him, but I’ll need to leave by then.’ He’s not travelling back with me as he’s going to a friend’s twenty-first birthday.
‘I’d like to see this guy, too. I’ve been listening to his podcasts. He’s pretty inspirational. I’ll feed back if I find anything out.’
‘You know what I said to you in Daisy’s flat. About her trying to live up to you. That came out all wrong. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine. Brutal, but if that’s the way she felt, then that’s the way it is.’
‘Daisy was incredibly proud of you. She didn’t stop talking about you. Your work. Running your own business. All the triathlon stuff.’
‘You don’t need to say all this.’
‘You’re right. I don’t. But it’s true.’
I deflect the conversation before the tears that are threatening to fall get the better of me. We make small talk, chatting about Daisy, and his aspirations to become a lawyer like her.
‘You should’ve heard our late-night conversations.’ He smiles. ‘You would’ve only lasted a few minutes before falling asleep.’
‘I guess you must have so much information to absorb.’
‘Yeah. You kind of need to be a bit of a sponge.’ He looks out of the window of the moving train. ‘It’s all fallen by the wayside in recent weeks.’
‘You can’t let your work slip.’ My voice breaks. ‘Daisy wouldn’t have wanted that.’
