I was hoping Jack wouldn’t be here and I could just use the key I’d taken from Kathryn and slip into the house to look for you. With him inside, my ill-thought-out plan turned to slush. But I knew I needed to get into Wisteria. Then I saw a flash of movement across the driveway as something dived beneath Jack’s car. A second later, a cat’s head poked out from under the bumper. I crouched, making little noises to attract its attention. Slowly, it crept out from the car and shot across the drive towards me, meowing and weaving between my legs. I knew this cat. Knew the copper-coloured heart shape on her flank.
‘Seefer,’ I whispered, stroking along her back.
Any doubt I had that you were in that house evaporated. This wasn’t a coincidence. I scooped Seefer up. She squirmed and kicked in my arms. I carried her back to the car and dialled Christopher.
‘She’s in the house,’ I said. ‘Elodie is in Wisteria.’
‘You saw her?’
‘No, her cat. I have her cat in my car.’ I glanced at Seefer who was curled up on the passenger seat. ‘There’s no way this cat walked all the way to Cornwall.’ I heard rustling, like he was passing the phone from hand to another. ‘Are you sure it’s hers?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Jack’s car is here. Elodie is in that house and as soon as he leaves, I’m going in.’
‘Ada …’
‘Meet me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Tell the police I’ve found Elodie.’
‘You’ve found a cat which may or may not be hers.’ He sighed, as frustrated as I was. ‘I can’t send a fleet of police cars because of a cat.’
‘Christopher, I know she’s in there.’
‘If you wait just a couple more days, a warrant will come through and—’
‘Is this because of yesterday?’ I fired at him.
My heart pounded in the silence. I knew I was being unfair and regretted it instantly. Christopher wasn’t being difficult because I didn’t let him kiss me yesterday; I was just frustrated with all the red tape when I knew how close I was to finding you.
‘Ada,’ he said, sounding hurt. ‘No, nothing like that. Look, please just listen to me and wait for—’
‘I’m done waiting.’
I rang off. Frustration and anger pulsed through me. I would wait and then, the very second Jack left, I’d go inside. Even if I had to sit in this car all night.
In my bag, I found the notebook I’ve been using to write down my thoughts. That’s what I’m doing now. It’s cold and dark and I am waiting, thinking about you. I don’t know what will happen once I enter that house. I’m terrified to go in. But what terrifies me more is never finding you.
I have a secret, Ellie-Bee. When you were little, eight or nine years old, you wrote a story about a cherry tree which ate children from the neighbourhood. You won a prize for it and showed your story to Mum and Dad. You were so happy, your cheeks pink with pride. But our parents worked long hours, they were tired and busy. You left it on the dining table that night and after you’d gone to bed, I took Dad’s work pen from his bag, and wrote notes all over your work, telling you how brilliant you are. Because it’s true. You’re one of the most talented people I know. Every week after that, there’d be another story on our dining table. I read them all. I got lost in castles; I wished on magic spiders with cobwebs spun from silver; I hunted trolls through thorny forests. I think you thought it was Dad scribbling praise on your stories. It made you so happy, I never told you it was me.
As we got older, instead of nurturing your talent, I grew jealous of it. Flaunting my not-so-perfect life in your face, pretending it was something it wasn’t. There are lots of things we don’t tell each other though, aren’t there? I never told you how jealous I was that you went to university either. Mum and Dad gushed about it all the time, ‘Isn’t Elodie so clever?’ ‘Isn’t Elodie so brave moving to a new city?’ ‘Isn’t Elodie doing so well? Oh, Ada, don’t you wish you’d gone to university, love?’ I was jealous of your huge geographical melting pot of new friends, jealous of your wild nights out, jealous even of the crappy, damp student houses you had to decorate with fairy lights and bunting just to make them bearable. Beside my jealousy was pride, but I don’t think I told you that either. Between the moments of one-upmanship were pearls of sincerity.
If you’re in Wisteria, if I can save you, we will create more of these pearls until there are so many, we could make a dress from them, a tent, a house.