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The Couple at No. 9(40)

Author:Claire Douglas

I’m not that scared little kid any more, he reminds himself.

‘Why won’t you talk about it? Maybe I can help?’

His dad lets out a nasty-sounding laugh. ‘You?’

Why are you such a prick? thinks Theo. But he stands his ground. Refuses to move back towards the door. ‘Yes, me. Do you know the couple from Wiltshire?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then why the article?’

He puts the golf club down, leaning it against the kitchen table and Theo lets out a small sigh of relief. ‘I just used it to write on. Not that it’s got anything to do with you.’

He’s lying. His dad must think he’s an idiot.

‘So what does Find Her mean?’

‘Why does everything have to have some hidden meaning with you? What is it you really want to ask me, huh? What is this really all about?’ He stares at Theo, his mouth set hard. ‘I’m a grown man, and I don’t have to run everything I do past you. Do you understand?’

Theo stares back. What are you hiding, Dad? Because I know you’re hiding something. ‘I’m not playing games,’ says Theo, trying to keep his voice even. ‘I’m asking you about that article, that’s all. You’ve seemed very preoccupied lately, like something’s troubling you.’

‘The only thing troubling me is you,’ he snaps.

Theo takes a deep breath. There’s no point in arguing with his father when he’s in this mood. He holds his hands up. ‘Fine, I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He picks up the bag from the table. ‘I take it you don’t want these?’

His dad scowls in response.

‘Then I’ll take them. Jen and I will eat them.’ He marches out of the kitchen with the bag and doesn’t look back until he’s behind the wheel of his Volvo. He half hopes his dad will follow him, to apologize. But, of course, he doesn’t. Theo dumps the cool-bag on the passenger seat and sits for a few minutes without turning on the ignition, guilt raining down on him, as it always does. Was he out of order? Should he have handled it differently?

Your dad’s just old-school, his mum used to say gently. He’s not very good at showing his emotions. But he loves us. He was never sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Theo knows he shouldn’t be surprised his dad hasn’t revealed anything. After his mum died Theo had tried talking about her, but his dad had refused to be drawn. Burying his grief under even more layers of bitterness and anger, like a well-cooked lasagne.

And now this. This extra mystery. The two dead bodies in a Wiltshire garden more than two hundred miles away. And the words Find Her in his father’s sprawling handwriting.

It finally hits him that he’ll never get answers from his dad. It’s been too many years. Too many unanswered questions. He’s just going to have to do some digging of his own.

But where to start? he thinks later, much later, after his shift at the restaurant has ended. Jen is fast asleep upstairs but he is still buzzing. His body is dog tired, his feet ache after standing up all evening, but his mind is too active and he can’t switch off.

Google, he thinks. He’ll start there.

He goes to his laptop, which lives on the dining-room table in their two-bedroom Victorian terrace, the glow of the screen the only light in the room. It reflects back at him from the French windows that lead to the garden.

He starts off typing in ‘Saffron Cutler’。 A few articles pop up about the bodies found in her garden, but nothing that wasn’t in the cutting on his dad’s desk. He continues scrolling. Lots of news stories from someone called Euan Cutler, who writes for one of the red tops. Rose Grey is also a dead end – he has no clue which of the many Rose Greys could be the one referred to in the article he found.

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