‘She’d scribbled something on a notepad about a tour but… I don’t know. She’s done this before but, with the anniversary and the notes and me thinking I saw him outside of her flat, it feels… wrong. The police aren’t worried. There’s no sign of a struggle. But… I don’t know what to think. George says Marie is resourceful and not to worry.’
‘I’m sure he’s right,’ Francesca says. ‘And…’ She glances down at her notes, her pen scratches against paper. ‘How are things with George?’
I search for the word. ‘Strained.’ A pang of sadness spears my chest. ‘He’s upset I’m wearing these again’ – I waggle my gloved hands – ‘and he’s… scared, I suppose, that I’m going to spiral back to the stage where I won’t let Archie out of my sight. But he’s trying to understand. He brought me home a bouquet of flowers and we’ve been talking… or trying to. It isn’t easy. Perhaps I should bring him here for a couples session?’
‘I don’t think it’s the right time for that. Let’s get you feeling more in control first, shall we?’
‘Yes. Please.’ In control is exactly how I want to feel.
After I’ve left Francesca’s with a clutch of CBT exercises to try at home, I drive to Marie’s, letting myself in with the spare key. Nothing has changed. She hasn’t been back. I conduct a more thorough search this time and find some old flyers for productions she has been in. I google the companies that produced them but most are no longer performing. I call the ones that are but no one has heard from her. I lock up as I leave but before I go I knock on her neighbour’s door. It cracks open and an elderly woman peers out.
‘Hello.’ I smile brightly. ‘I’m Marie’s sister, Leah.’
She looks blank.
‘Marie? Your next-door neighbour.’
‘Her wiv the hair that changes colour all the time?’
‘Yes. I was wondering when you’d last seen her?’
‘I mind me own business, luvvie. I ain’t seen her, not for a few days.’
‘Have you noticed any visitors?’
‘As I said, me duck, I keep meself to meself. Noticed you the other day, though. And there was a blonde girl.’
‘That’s Carly, my other sister. Anyone else?’
‘There were a man. Later that day. But like I said—’
‘A man?’ A chill feathers its way down my spine. ‘What did he look like?’
‘Couldn’t tell you, duckie. I don’t take much notice. He were tall though, with dark hair, and he hadn’t bothered to shave. In my day a suitor—’
Him. She has described him.
‘And have you seen Marie? After the man came here?’
‘No. But then, I’m not one for being in other people’s business.’
Don’t overreact.
There’s no evidence that Marie left her flat unwillingly. Lots of men are tall with dark hair, George included. He could have been anyone. A delivery driver. A salesman. It could have been anyone.
But I know it wasn’t.
He’s back.
At home I am desperate to tell Carly what Marie’s neighbour has said but she looks terrible: bloodshot eyes and her voice is hoarse.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says as soon as I walk into the kitchen.
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I’m not… I don’t know what I’m doing.’ She’s making a sandwich for Archie but she stares at the butter as though she’s never seen it before. I slip the knife from her hand. ‘You look awful. Get yourself home and tucked up in bed.’
‘But it’s your parents’ evening tonight. I’m so sorry.’
‘You can’t help it.’ Her eyes fill with tears and I know she feels she’s let me down. ‘I’ll ask Tash to babysit.’ I usher her to the door.
‘Two days, Leah.’ Her voice cracks. ‘In two days it will have been twenty years since… since…’
‘Carly, it will be okay.’ I offer my sister a reassurance I don’t feel but I know when you’re feeling unwell everything is magnified and why shouldn’t I be the strong one for once? The one to look after her. ‘Go home.’
She looks so small as she climbs into her car. I watch her drive away before I head back into the kitchen and disinfect everything before throwing away the loaf of bread she had touched, giving Archie cream crackers for lunch instead.
I slick confidence over my lips and paint my cheeks happy before zipping up my red skirt. I’d heard that the colours you wear can reflect your mood. I can at least look brave, even if I don’t feel it. Coming out of the bedroom I hear Archie shriek with delight. Then the slosh of water.
I poke my head around the bathroom door. Archie has smeared a foamy bubble-bath beard over his chin. The scent of apple shampoo lingers in the air. ‘We need to leave in about twenty minutes.’
‘Can I come?’ Archie asks for the hundredth time.
‘Sorry. It’s just for grown-ups.’
‘But it’s my nursery.’ His expression changes in a millisecond. He’s tired and on the brink of tears.
‘I know, and your teachers will tell us how brilliant you are and then at the weekend we’ll get you a treat.’
‘A puppy!’ Archie lifts his hands in the air. Bubbles drift to the ground and pop.
‘Not a puppy, no.’ I can’t bear to look at his disappointed face.
‘Parents’ evening.’ George shakes his head. ‘At four years old.’
‘It’s to talk about his transition to school,’ I say although I feel there’s nothing that can prepare me for that.
‘But I—’ Archie begins and I cut him off with ‘Tash is coming to read you a story – that will be much more fun.’ Tash always gives the characters accents.
‘Tash is coming here to babysit?’ George frowns.
‘Yes. She’ll be fine.’ George used to say Tash was so much fun but irresponsible. But I wouldn’t trust her with Archie if I thought she couldn’t cope.
‘I thought Carly was coming?’
‘She’s unwell.’
Before George can respond the doorbell peals. I run down the stairs, checking out of the lounge window to make sure it is Tash before I answer the door.
‘Hey, Leah.’ She hugs me hello.
‘Thanks for coming. Have you had a good day off? Done anything nice?’
Her cheeks flush as she shrugs off her coat and I make a mental note to turn down the heating before we leave. ‘No. Nothing. You look fab! If I didn’t know any better I’d think you guys were sneaking off on a romantic date night.’ She raises her eyebrows.
‘Just the nursery. I thought I’d make an effort, though.’ It’s silly, I love Archie more than anything, but there is a part of me that feels everyone is judging me. Seeing me as the imposter I feel I am. How can I possibly be a good mum when I can’t always look after myself?
‘Where’s your gorgeous husband?’ Tash asks next.
‘He’s getting Archie ready for bed.’
‘He’s so good with him. You don’t know how lucky you are.’ Tash trails me into the kitchen.