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The hotel is walking distance from our house. I’ve never paid much attention to it, even though I must have wandered pastit a thousand times on my way to the Tube station. I study the photo of the girl. She’s young and vibrant, and in the photo she’s smiling, her piercing blue eyes shining for whoever snapped the photo. Her long dark-blonde hair is tied in a ponytail, and aviator sunglasses rest on top of her head.
A stab of recognition hits me. I stare at the photo, willing something to come to me, but it doesn’t. Perhaps I’ve seen her posting in the local Facebook group? Or she could have bought a book in the shop.
I keep reading. The police are appealing for information. There are contact numbers and ways to help. It’s strange that I feel uneasy when I don’t know anything about it. All I know is that this young woman feels familiar.
Her name was Alice. A classic, pretty name. A name that belongs in a fairy tale, not a murder news story. Somewhere, at this moment, parents will be aching for their daughter. It’s heartbreaking that she’s dead, but to be left in a hotel room like that makes it even more tragic. Dying alone in a soulless place. A place that belongs to no one and has no meaning. The last person she would have spoken to, spent any time with, was her murderer.
I abandon my phone and rush to Poppy’s room. Kneeling on the floor bedside her bed, I watch the gentle rise and fall of the duvet. The assurance of life.
I’m still in here when Max comes upstairs. He peers into Poppy’s room, squinting into the darkness, but stays silent for a moment. As if he can’t quite see me. Or doesn’t want to.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks. He’s right to question me; it’s been years since either of us has had to sit with Poppy to help her drift to sleep. How can I explain why the death of a stranger is affecting me this way?
‘I’m coming,’ I say, standing and wiping at my watering eyes. I feel foolish now. I don’t know Alice Hughes. I’m not sure whyshe felt so familiar when I’ve never even met her. Everyone in my life is safe and well.
Max watches me. He’s changed into jeans and a khaki T-shirt. ‘Need to do some work,’ he says. ‘It will be a long night. Don’t wait up for me.’
This means he’ll be out in the garden office. Although we have four bedrooms, we had it built years ago when Max was struggling to work with a sleep-averse baby in the house. But since Poppy got older, he’s rarely used it until the last few weeks, usually preferring to stay late at work. Now, it’s the first place I check when I know he’s at home but can’t locate him.
‘Okay,’ I say, watching him head downstairs.
My phone rings – a WhatsApp call from Sarah. Although I’m tempted to let it ring out, to message and tell her I’ll call her tomorrow, I could never ignore her call. She’s been my closest friend since we met at our NCT group when we were both pregnant. We immediately bonded, and although the other women were pleasant, Sarah and I hit it off immediately, and I knew straight away she’d be a lifelong friend.
‘Hey. You okay?’ I force my voice to sound cheerful.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asks. ‘You sound…weird.’
I’ve never considered myself as being easy to read. I like to think there’s a part of me that no one can quite fathom, but somehow Sarah has me all worked out. ‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘Just…did you hear about that woman at the River Walk?’
‘Yeah. It’s awful. That’s why I’m calling, actually. It makes you cherish the people in your life, doesn’t it? When something like this happens. She was around our age, I think.’
‘A few years younger. It said she was thirty.’ I head into our bedroom, pulling the door closed so I don’t wake Poppy, and flop down on the bed.
‘What was she doing there?’ Sarah says, as if she expects me to have an answer for that. ‘She only lived in Roehampton.That’s walking distance. Why would she need to stay in a hotel so close to her house? What was she doing? It’s all a bit weird.’ She pauses. ‘It’s just really hit me. I don’t know why.’
‘Because it’s right on our doorstep. It could have been?—’
‘Don’t say it!’ Sarah warns. ‘I don’t think either of us would have been in a hotel room like that, would we? Well, I hope not anyway. And it’s not a cheap one, either. Besides, you’re a married woman and I know I’m not, but…’ She trails off. It’s still hard for her to talk about Dean. It’s been over five years since he left her when she was pregnant with Ivy, writing them both out of his life.
‘How’s Ivy?’ I ask.
‘She’s okay. But I’ve been thinking about Christmas. And how Dean will be with his wife and other kids, while Ivy barely knows of his existence.’ She pauses. It always hits Sarah especially hard at this time of year. ‘I’d never wish Ivy away, but I curse the day I met that man. Nasty liar. To me and his oblivious wife. Sorry. You don’t want to hear all this.’
‘Yes, I do,’ I remind Sarah. ‘That’s what I’m here for, right? Plus, it’s only November. There’s a bit of time to go.’
She sighs. ‘Yeah. I know. What would I do without you? How are you guys, anyway? Poppy okay? Max feeling less stressed?’
Normally I wouldn’t hold back from spilling everything in my life to Sarah, but right now that’s impossible when I don’t understand it myself. ‘Poppy’s fine. Max is still stressed. He’s got a lot on his plate at work. I told you about his colleague leaving and Max having to take on his workload?’
‘Yeah. That’s harsh. And I know exactly how it feels.’
‘How are things at the hospital?’ As a nurse in A & E, Sarah goes above and beyond for her patients. I’ve told her to give herself a break sometimes, to try to find a balance between her work and home life, but she never quite manages it.
‘Same as usual. Understaffed and overworked.’ She snorts. ‘I had an argument with Mum the other day. She said I need to stop taking on so many extra shifts, and that Ivy spends more time with her than she does with me.’
‘That’s not true,’ I assure her. ‘Besides, you’re doing the best you can. Anyway, I’m happy to have Ivy any time, you know that.’ I tap my phone, and the picture of Alice Hughes lights up the screen.
‘I know you are,’ Sarah says. ‘Thanks. Mum just doesn’t understand that I need every shift I can get. Raising a child costs a fortune, doesn’t it? Anyway, it might get Mum off my back if you have Ivy now and again, but it doesn’t solve the problem of me needing to spend more time with my daughter.’ She sighs. ‘But I’m always there for her, aren’t I?’
