Poor Leah.
Poor Marie.
Poor Carly.
They’d never told about the things that took place before the abduction. The argument. The way Carly had been so fixated on a boy whose name she couldn’t recall that she’d been careless with her sisters’ feelings. Her sisters’ safety.
She could still feel it. The sun on her skin. See the whites of the twins’ school socks. The blackness of the scurrying beetle. Inconsequential details she shared with the ghost writer. She never shared that Leah hadn’t shut the gate properly. Carly knew Leah blamed herself too.
Carly slotted her car into a space outside her flat and rummaged in her bag for her mobile. Leah should be home by now and she wanted to check she was okay. She wanted to ask whether Leah had any second thoughts about turning down the interview. Perhaps Marie was right. It might be cathartic to share it all, a confession of sorts. Perhaps then they might be left alone, for every year there would be an anniversary, journalists picking over the carcass of their past. If there was nothing left to tell, the meat stripped bare, there’d be no truth left then for them to fight over, would there? And the money? Blood money, but Carly knew that Leah and George were struggling and she hated to think of Archie going without. Her nephew was the light of her life. Sometimes it was more than she could bear that Leah had brought him into a world that was heartless and cruel.
Her fingers skimmed over a tube of Polos, her purse, a packet of tissues but not her phone.
Carly sighed as she remembered she’d been bidding on eBay when Leah had arrived. She’d tossed her mobile onto Marie’s worktop so she could hug her sister. She hadn’t picked it back up. She restarted the car, a blast of cold air shot from the vents before blowing hot once more, and she pulled back onto the main road. Carly thought it might be a good thing that she was returning to Marie’s alone. A chance to talk. A new angle. Carly mulled this over. She’d make Marie tell her exactly what she had in mind.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Marie
One week ago
It was less than half an hour after Leah and Carly had left that Marie stripped off her top that was dripping with perspiration. She was instantly freezing in her grubby once-white camisole but she knew to ride it out. It wouldn’t be long until heat swept through her body once more. A few months ago she had tried to detox herself. Had shut herself in her bedroom with a bucket for vomit and a bucket for the waste that would spew from her body like poison. Her skin crawled and her veins burned and she hadn’t been able to cope. She’d staggered down the street in her pyjamas, desperate for the hit, which she took in the overgrown parking space behind the pizza parlour with the broken glass and the rat that sauntered out from behind a skip, eyeing her as though she was the vermin.
Now she thought that she was better off using the cash George supplied her with to feed her habit until she could get hold of the extortionate fee for rehab – the NHS had already tried and failed her. She needed more than their resources could offer. She needed to be locked in a room for a longer period, with no access to the outside world.
Again.
The irony of this was not lost on her.
Time stretched. Without the earlier distraction of her sisters, the afternoon seemed endless. A check of her watch told her that George was not due for a while. He’d promised her some more cash but Marie knew she couldn’t rely on his money much longer. For the first few days after she’d found out about him and Francesca, he’d told her it was a mistake, that he’d end it. Now he didn’t say anything at all, although he still couldn’t meet her eye. He wasn’t proud of himself, Marie knew. The shamed could recognize the shameful like a kindred spirit.
Despite everything, she thought George was a good man. He had a good heart. Leah was a lot to handle. All of them were a lot to handle. Two days ago when he dropped off some money Marie could see Francesca sitting in the passenger seat, pulling down the sun visor and checking her lipstick in the mirror. Marie knew it was only a matter of time before he left Leah to begin a new life, and the thought of her fragile sister alone broke her heart. How would she manage emotionally? Financially? How would Archie cope without his father? It wasn’t easy adjusting to life with a single parent. She should know. The selfish part of her unfurled. How would she cope without his money? If only there was a way to do the TV interview alone. But could she betray her sisters?
Could she betray her sisters again?
The doorbell rang. Marie padded down the hallway, gripped the door handle with her slick palm and hesitated, unsure of who was on the other side. She never had unscheduled visitors, no friends that might drop in for coffee.
Who was out there?
Marie didn’t think her dealer knew where she lived but it wouldn’t have been hard to find out. She swallowed hard, the taste of him rising in her throat once more. This time, there was a banging on the door.
‘Marie?’ Carly’s impatient voice called.
Marie opened the door.
‘I left my phone in your kitchen.’ Carly pushed past her. Marie stayed rooted to the spot, hoping that Carly would collect her mobile and leave, and yet overriding that thought was a desire that Carly would stay. Marie hated being alone. She was always alone. ‘Found it. Can I talk to you a sec?’
Carly crossed into the lounge. Marie closed the door and checked her watch again. She’d have to get rid of Carly before George arrived. Who knew how she’d react if she knew Marie had been blackmailing him? Taking money away from Leah who was always her favourite and Archie who she adored.
She’d probably want to kill her.
Chapter Fifty
Carly
One week ago
Carly tried to put her thoughts in order, rearrange the words in her head while she waited for Marie to join her in the lounge. It wasn’t exactly that she felt they should do the interview but, now she’d had a chance to calm down, she had to admit her curiosity was building brick by brick – but the wall of questions crumbled the instant Marie shuffled into the room.
‘Marie? You look awful. Are you sick?’ Carly began to stand but Marie held out her hands to stop her. At first Carly thought Marie was trying to keep her away from any germs but then she noticed the track marks on her arms.
‘Oh, Marie.’ Again, Carly felt the weight of responsibility she always bore. She should have noticed before. She could have done something. Now she knew, she could help. ‘Is that why you wanted to do the TV thing? For money for…’
Carly’s eyes flickered towards Marie’s forearms. She didn’t know what Marie was taking. What did you inject? Cocaine? Heroin? It was a different world to the one Carly inhabited.
Marie sank into the chair, her knees springing up, her hands pushing them back down. ‘I want the cash for rehab. I want to be clean, Carly.’
‘How much do you need?’
Marie told her the figure. Carly felt her chest tighten. She made enough selling bits and pieces online to cover her frugal lifestyle. She couldn’t fund that much. ‘Couldn’t your GP help?’
‘Been there, done that.’ Marie seemed to shrink before Carly’s eyes until she was eight once more. A wave of maternal longing swept over Carly.
‘Tell me what you need us to do. What do the production company want?’