If she leaves now and something bad happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself. ‘Sophie, I mean it. Come back. You can give me a hand, if it makes you feel a bit better about staying. I could really use the help.’
‘You’re just being kind. You don’t really need any help.’
‘Honestly, you’d be doing me a favour if you helped me out with these cakes.’
‘I’m not really any good at baking.’
‘That’s okay, it’s easy, just a bit of stirring. I’ll shout out instructions.’ I give her a grin to try to put her at ease and she rewards me with a lukewarm smile in return.
Maybe I’ve been a bit foolish letting a strange person into my house, but I always prefer to trust people. To give them the benefit of the doubt. And this girl is definitely scared. She’s running from something or someone and she needs some kindness.
As Sophie washes her hands in preparation to help me make my cakes, I take a good look at her face to see if I might recognise her at all. But there’s nothing familiar about her features. She can’t be from around here. I’ve lived in Ashridge Falls all my life, so I know almost everyone, if not personally then at least by sight. And anyway, she can’t be from around here, because bad things like this don’t happen in our town.
At least not any more.
Four
Her footsteps echo down the empty corridor. Past all the empty classrooms. Past the artwork on the walls. Past the posters advertising this weekend’s regatta. It’s all exactly the same as before, but all so different. Everything is different now. She barely pays any of it attention. All she knows is she has to get out of here. She has to escape the cloying disinfected halls of this place.
Pushing open the heavy fire doors, she steps out into the playground, taking great heaving gulps of fresh air. But the fresh air and blue skies don’t help. She has the feeling that nothing will help. Not ever.
It’s silent out here. All her friends have gone home already. Why didn’t she go with them? What made her go back inside? She knows what. She knows why. She could have waited until tomorrow to get that history book, but she thought she knew what she was doing. She thought she was in control. So cool and grown-up. But she’s not. She’s stupid. So, so stupid.
Tears fall hot on her cheeks and her skin burns with shame. With humiliation. What did she do wrong? How did this happen? She’s supposed to come back here next term to start at the sixth form. She was looking forward to the next two years. To getting her A levels and then going off to college. But now… how will she ever be able to face everybody? How will she ever be able to come back to school ever again?
Five
Thursday
TIA
‘You okay, Tia? I heard you talking in your sleep last night.’ Ed pulls a T-shirt over his head, while I sit up and try to focus properly.
‘Mmm, yeah.’ I’m so wrung-out I can’t even form a coherent sentence. Flashes of dreams come to me – Rosie crying in the dark, Mr Jeffries shouting at me… and a dead man floating on the lake. I shudder and try to shake away the disturbing images. Last night was one of the worst night’s sleep I’ve had for years.
‘Tee?’
‘Still half asleep.’ I stretch noisily and smile up at my husband as he leans down for a kiss, a hank of blonde hair falling across one eye. ‘I had such weird dreams. And it was so hot and sticky. I need a shower.’
‘Sorry you had a crap night. Looks like it’s going to be another scorcher today. Pity me at work later. I’m hoping everyone orders salads. The thought of firing up the ovens…’ Ed’s a chef at the Scott Arms, a popular local four-star hotel. He works long hours, but he loves what he does. And when he’s home, he’s the best, most attentive husband and father I could wish for.
Our bedroom door opens and Rosie shuffles in, wearing a blue-and-white stripy nightdress and holding Shorty, her cuddly giraffe.
‘Morning Rosie Posie.’ Ed picks her up and blows a raspberry on her cheek, but instead of giggling, she frowns and pushes him away. ‘What’s up, pickle?’
She puts a hand on her stomach. ‘I’ve got a sore tummy.’
He puts her back down. ‘Maybe you’re just hungry. Want some cereal? Or I could make blueberry pancakes if you like?’
Rosie shakes her head as Leo charges into the room wearing just his pants and dives onto the bed, yelling and making explosion noises.
‘Shh, Leo, your sister’s not feeling well.’
‘Call the ambulance, nee naw, nee naw!’
Ed catches my eye, picks up our noisy son and pretends to fly him out of the room like an aeroplane. ‘Come on, terror, let’s leave your mum and sister in peace for a few minutes.’
As Leo’s boisterous cries grow fainter, I pat the edge of the bed for Rosie to come and sit next to me. Her curls frame her sad little face as she gently kicks the bedframe with the back of her bare feet and worries Shorty’s ear.
