The Woman Who Lied(2)

It had taken Hannah a few moments to respond. Eventually, in a strained voice, she said, ‘The Moody series has sold over two million copies in the UK alone. It’s a huge risk.’

Emilia knew that, of course she did. And it terrified her. But she felt it was the right time. Ten books in ten years, and writing Her Last Chapter had been a struggle.

The lunch ended on a kind of truce: Emilia would send over the first draft of Her Last Chapter, which included DI Moody’s death, and Hannah would see if it worked. If not, Emilia would change the ending, take a break and write something else but keep it open for a DI Moody return in the future.

The bus still hasn’t moved and all Emilia can see is the queue of traffic ahead. She wonders if she should continue her journey on foot, it’s only twenty minutes from here, but if the bus driver refuses to let her off she’ll have to do the walk of shame back to her seat in front of all these people.

The double doors at the front of the bus ping open with a sucking sound and a police officer boards. Instantly the passengers fall silent, glancing at each other questioningly. The woman next to her leans to the right so she has a view down the aisle, then turns to Emilia and barks, ‘What’s he doing on here?’ as if Emilia’s going to know.

‘Maybe he’s telling the bus driver there’s been an accident,’ she replies politely. ‘Or that the road’s blocked.’

The policeman exits the bus and the driver stands up to address them.

‘I’m sorry, everyone,’ he says, his face ruddy and his jacket straining across his large belly. ‘But I’m afraid there’s been a serious incident further along this road. Unfortunately you’ll have to disembark here.’

People start groaning and cursing. The man in front stuffs the remnants of his pasty back into its paper bag. The woman beside her tuts loudly and mutters about the inconvenience. At least Rigsby can pee now, Emilia thinks, as she watches her place the dog on the floor of the bus, as though he’s made of glass. Emilia can’t wait to get off, but she sits patiently as everyone else gets up and shuffles towards the front. Her phone rings as she’s stepping onto the pavement.

‘Hey, Jas.’ The wind picks up and she has to pull her leather jacket around herself, wishing she’d worn a warmer coat. A crowd from the bus has congregated in front of her and she can’t get past. Rigsby has cocked his leg against the nearest lamp post.

‘Where are you? Wilf’s being, like, a brat and Elliot isn’t doing anything to stop him, and Dad is supposed to be picking me up, but he’s late and I can’t find my high-waisted jeans.’

She takes a deep breath and moves her phone to the other ear. ‘They should be in the tumble-drier … I’m on my way home. I think there’s been some kind of accident.’

‘Accident?’ Emilia can hear the fear in her daughter’s voice. Despite being stroppy and hormonal, underneath it all she’s sensitive and a worrier.

‘It’s okay,’ Emilia reassures her. ‘It’s not involving me. But I’ve had to get off the bus.’

‘Can’t Elliot pick you up?’

Emilia glances at the road. Vehicles are lined up almost bonnet to boot in both directions. Someone is tooting their horn, which instantly sets her teeth on edge. Why do people do that? It’s not going to make the traffic move any quicker. She manoeuvres around the hovering group and begins to walk quickly, her heels clipping the pavement. ‘No, it’s not far and the roads are jammed. It’s quicker for me to walk.’ She hesitates. ‘I thought your dad was collecting you from school.’

Jasmine huffs down the phone. ‘Something came up apparently so I caught the school coach. He said he’ll pick me up at six instead.’

Emilia imagines her daughter rolling her eyes as she speaks. She knows Jasmine has a complicated relationship with Jonas. ‘Okay, I’ll be as quick as I can. And your jeans –’

‘I know, I know. Tumble-drier you said.’ There’s lightness in her voice now, which lifts Emilia. She worries about Jasmine. The lockdowns have had a negative impact on her mental health, although Elliot has been great with her, giving her advice after suffering with anxiety himself as a teenager. Jasmine always was a little socially awkward but returning to school for year ten had been particularly challenging for her and she’d struggled initially to settle back in.

‘If you’re gone before I’m back, have a lovely time at your dad’s and see you Sunday. Love you.’

‘You too,’ Jasmine says, and hangs up.

Emilia slides the phone into her pocket and picks up her pace. She’d like to be home before Jasmine leaves. She thinks of her ex-husband, Jonas, and his wife, Kristin – her one-time friend – playing happy families with her daughter. Somehow she’s managed to stay close with Jonas for the sake of Jasmine, but it hasn’t always been easy. She finds it harder to forgive Kristin.

Emilia hoists her handbag over her shoulder, wishing she’d worn her flat boots. As she’s about to turn down a side-street she notices a police officer in a fluorescent yellow coat directing traffic, two fire engines and a number of police cars blocking the road. She wonders what’s happened.





2





‘I don’t know what was going on but there were police everywhere,’ Emilia says to Elliot later, as they make dinner in their large open-plan kitchen. It’s her favourite room in the house, with its pale wood parquet floor, marble work surfaces and navy blue cabinets. It’s the hub of their family, a place they all congregate. It was a pipe dream when they moved in four years ago, but after five months of building work to extend and refurbish, it was ready last year in time for Christmas.