‘Like Spider-Man!’ Archie shoots invisible webs from his wrists. ‘Uh oh – it’s the Green Goblin.’ Archie leaps from his stool and races around the kitchen, fighting something only he can see.
We’re all battling something hidden, thinks George.
Carly, always the practical one, whips a large tablecloth from the drawer.
‘Quick.’ She scrapes the chairs across the floor and drapes the cloth between them, a makeshift tent. ‘The Green Goblin won’t find you in there, Spider-Man.’
Archie clambers inside and Carly follows him on her hands and knees. Not a second’s hesitation while she deliberated when the floor was last cleaned. No noticeable flinch as she places her palms on the tiles.
‘You’re so resourceful,’ George laughs. It amazes him how different the three sisters are. One he hugely admires, one he loves and one… well, he doesn’t know how he feels right now.
Carly crawls out of the tent and passes Archie a couple of chocolate fingers.
‘Superheroes need to keep their energy up. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Stay,’ George asks. The realization he doesn’t want to be alone with Leah sits uncomfortably on his stomach.
‘I can’t. Little man has worn me out.’
Carly’s eyes are shadowed with deep violet rings. None of them are sleeping properly.
‘Leah shouldn’t be long.’
‘Really, I need to go.’
‘Are the letters scaring you?’ he asks, suddenly worried about his sister-in-law. Moments ago he’d been mentally berating Leah for not considering his feelings and he was guilty of doing the same with Carly, but she always seemed to be the one who copes. She might have chosen not to have kids of her own but who’s to say she would have done anyway? She doesn’t have a crutch that George can see, no alcohol or rituals for her. And yet these past few days seem to have shrunk her.
Twenty fucking years. It’s enough to break anyone.
‘Not scaring me… just… I don’t know. I feel angry, I think.’ She tilts her head to one side like a bird waiting for a crumb. ‘Yes. Angry and disappointed and… I just want it to be over now. I need it to be over now.’
‘Three days,’ George says.
‘Three days,’ she whispers.
It doesn’t sound long. Less than a week. Seventy-two hours. But empires had been torn apart in less. Lives left in pieces.
‘What did you think about the TV offer?’ George can’t help asking as Carly pulls on her coat. The colour bleaches from her already pale face.
‘There are things…’ Carly’s breath hitches and she takes a second to compose herself. ‘There are things that are too awful to comprehend. That should never be shared.’
George nods. He knows all about things that are too awful to comprehend. He’s guilty of them himself.
George knows all about secrets.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Leah
Now
The two-day letter is on my doormat when I tumble downstairs after a sleepless night. It isn’t a surprise but it fills me with dread all the same. Two days. Two days until what? I am almost willing the next forty-eight hours to thunder past so I can get it over with, whatever it is. The anniversary or something else.
Something worse?
I slip the letter into my pocket like a secret – the empty chocolate digestive packet after I’d binged, stuffing biscuits down to suppress my rising fear.
‘Morning,’ George pads barefoot into the kitchen. ‘Did you get another letter?’
‘No, nothing today.’ I’m thinking of the Power of Attorney search he’d done online. I need to show him I am coping but we both know that I’m not.
He studies me, a surprised expression on his face almost as though he expects me to keep receiving them until the anniversary. ‘You can talk to me, Leah, about… about anything.’
‘I know but I think the letters have stopped. We can get back to normal.’
‘That’s good.’ He offers me a tight smile. ‘I’m going to get dressed.’
After breakfast I drop Archie at nursery with a kiss, telling him that Aunty Carly will pick him up later. I can’t tear myself away from Archie until I see his favourite nursery nurse, Rebecca. I remind her again about security and she reassures me again she will notify me of anything unusual.
‘I’ll see you this evening,’ I say as I leave. We’d missed Archie’s parents’ evening last night because of George’s meeting but Rebecca has offered to see us tonight instead, which is really good of her on a Friday.
Before I leave I hang Archie’s coat on his peg in the small cloakroom where the children’s trays are. I ease Archie’s open. There’s a picture inside of three large stick people, and one small one. Archie has labelled them Mummy, Daddy and Aunty Carly. It pains me to see that whenever Archie depicts his family Marie is always missing. By stick-Archie’s feet is the dog he so desperately craves. I shut the drawer. I’ll go through Archie’s work this evening with George. Archie is the lynchpin that holds us together and this might make us feel closer.
I head straight to my first formal appointment with Francesca since I’d turned up crying on her doorstep.
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come.’ She sits upright, spine straight. The warmth that used to coat her words when I was a patient before has disappeared. She doesn’t sound cold exactly, just professional when before I felt we were edging towards being friends. I wonder if it’s hard for her. Building relationships and then watching them crumble.
‘I’m sorry I just stopped coming before without letting you know. I really thought I was better, that I didn’t need you, but it was rude of me not to let you know,’ I tell her again.
‘It often happens. Clients get to a point they feel they don’t need therapy and medication any more but don’t seem to recognize it could be because of the therapy and medication that they are feeling better. Anyway. Moving forwards. Have you seen him again?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a good sign, Leah.’
I don’t answer, instead I unscrew the lid from my water bottle and take a sip.
‘And the letters?’
I hesitate. I’d lied to George but I need to talk to someone. ‘Yes. I’ve had another. So has Carly.’
‘And Marie?’
Again, I stall for time, looking out of the window. Weighing up the benefits of being honest; I want to feel better – against the negatives; if my mental capacity is called into question again I want my notes to show that I’m rational. But the police already know about Marie and I’m horribly worried about her.
‘Marie is missing.’
‘Missing?’
‘Yes. She… I don’t know. After the first letter arrived me and Carly went to see if Marie had one but she was… gone.’
‘When you say gone—’
‘Her flat was exactly as we’d left it two days before. Our drinks and biscuits still on the table.’
‘I assume you called her.’
‘Yes, but she isn’t answering.’
‘And you’ve no idea where she is?’