The Woman Who Lied(61)

‘What about Elliot? I know he doesn’t want me in the house.’

‘It’s my house too. I’ll talk to him. He’ll be fine.’

Jonas nods sadly, then turns on his heel and walks back to his car without saying goodbye. His shoulders droop and she suddenly feels sorry for the man she once loved. But, no: she has to be tough.

Wilfie is subdued when Emilia picks him up from school.

‘Toby wasn’t in today,’ he says mournfully, as they walk to the car. She wants to tell him to hurry or they’ll be late for Jasmine. But she can see that Wilfie is upset.

‘Let’s run to the car and you can tell me all about it,’ she says, trying to sound jolly but he drags his feet. In the end she has to grab his hand and practically pull him to the car. She veers away from the kerb as soon as he’s clicked on his seatbelt.

‘The teacher gave us a talk in class about Toby’s mum,’ he says, from the back seat as she drives. ‘They said she was killed because she was a detective.’ His bottom lip wobbles. ‘I don’t want to be a detective any more.’

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ She swallows the lump in her throat. ‘Toby’s mum was a very brave, very brilliant detective but it does come with risks.’ She wonders how much the school has told him.

‘Toby must be very sad.’

She blinks back tears. She can’t bear the thought of it. The guilt and the grief threaten to crush her. ‘He must be. She was well loved …’ A tear rolls down her cheek and she brushes it away. She has to stay strong in front of Wilfie. She asks him to tell her something funny that happened today to take his mind off it and soon he’s laughing as he recounts a silly joke his best mate, Freddie, told him while they were queuing for lunch.

She’s relieved when they arrive outside Jasmine’s school in time for the bell. She knows her daughter is embarrassed by seeing her and her little brother at the school gates, she’d much rather take the school bus home with Nancy, but Emilia can’t relax until Jasmine is safely in the car. Ever since she went missing – even though it was only a few hours from when they’d realized she’d gone until she’d walked through the door – it was the most petrified she’d ever felt. Even worse than finding Louise dead.

Jasmine walks out of school with Nancy and a good-looking boy Emilia recognizes as Jake. They stand in a little huddle, their heads bent together, until Jasmine breaks free with an eye-roll in her direction before turning back to wave at her friends.

‘Can’t you both at least wait around the block?’ she hisses, when she reaches them. ‘It’s not exactly cool to be seen being picked up by your mum.’

‘It’s not for ever,’ says Emilia, calmly. She lowers her voice so Wilfie can’t hear. ‘You know why I have to do this for now.’

Jasmine doesn’t say anything but walks slightly ahead to the car, her back hunched. When they get in, she says, ‘Jake’s found the note, Mum. It was scrunched up under his bed. And …’ she reaches inside the pocket of her blazer, her eyes flashing excitedly ‘… he brought it in and, well, here it is.’ She hands it to Emilia.

Emilia is amazed. ‘Wow. That’s brilliant.’ She unfolds the note. It’s not very big, A5-sized and handwritten in a cursive, slightly messy style. She rests it against the steering wheel, the engine running. Jasmine fiddles with the radio and Wilfie pipes up from the back seat that he’s hungry. The note reads:

To Jake

Please find enclosed three tickets to Tonal Whiplash this coming weekend. You are entitled to have the third ticket, or sell it as you wish if you already have one, as long as you give the other two tickets to your girlfriend Nancy Bradshaw and her friend Jasmine Perry. It’s a surprise for them and something I know they will be very excited to receive. I’m trusting that you will look out for them at the concert and keep them safe.

Kind regards

M



‘Weird, huh?’ says Jasmine, leaning back against her seat. She’s turned the channel to Kiss FM and some tinny dance tune fills the car, instantly grating on Emilia’s frayed nerves. ‘Whoever sent it wanted Jake to look after us. They didn’t mean to threaten us or hurt us, I don’t think. But why do it?’

Emilia studies the letter some more, the flick at the top of the M and the N, the curve of the K. It’s done with a fountain pen and a cursive hand. Her mind races and her blood runs cold. Signing it M must be for Miranda Moody. She remembers the phone call, the posh clipped voice. And as for this writing, there is only one person she knows who has flowery handwriting like this.

And that’s her very best friend, Ottilie.





42





Elliot is in the middle of making dinner when they get home. He cheerfully informs them he’s doing a casserole, but Emilia can hardly take in what he’s saying. She dumps her bag in the hall and races straight up the two flights of stairs to her office. Once inside she closes the door and sits at her desk, her heart pumping with exertion and fear. Not Ottilie. It can’t be her. She’s like family. No, no, no, no, no.

She rummages through her desk for her birthday cards. She usually keeps them for a year, longer if they’re from the children or Elliot. She vaguely remembers shoving them into one of the drawers. She pulls them all out and frantically empties them onto the floor, not caring about the mess. And then she finds them, the smaller cards inside the largest. Her hands are trembling as she finds Ottilie’s. It has a flamingo on the front in a top hat and dancing shoes, and inside, the most beautiful cursive writing. She fishes the letter out of her pocket and places it next to the card. The writing is very similar. Could Ottilie really have written the note? Could she be behind this – this campaign of terror? Could she have killed Louise? But why? Her head pounds. Why would Ottilie do this to her?