35
Lorna
‘Well,’ says one of the two uniformed officers, walking into the living room where Lorna and Saffy sit, side by side, hands curled around mugs, adrenalin and fear keeping them awake even though they’re both exhausted. They’re still wearing their coats. The two policemen have been combing the house for the last twenty minutes. ‘It looks like nothing has been taken. No jewellery, no electronics. This is a strange break-in.’
Lorna exchanges a glance with her daughter. This, she is certain, is the work of that bastard, Davies. The contents of her mother’s boxes are strewn across the floor. He was obviously looking for the ‘evidence’ that he seems convinced her mother has buried here in the cottage. If there is any such thing, she wonders if he’s found it. Maybe then he’ll leave them alone.
Earlier, after Tom had established that nobody else was in the house, Saffy had urged him to go and look for Snowy. ‘What if whoever has broken in hurt him?’ she’d said, her eyes huge and sad in her white face. It broke Lorna’s heart. After everything Saffy has already been through tonight, this was the last thing she needed. She’s devoted to that bloody dog. Tom waited until the police arrived before leaving them. He’s been gone for over fifteen minutes now and her daughter has been chewing her lip ever since. She looks utterly drained, thinks Lorna, with dark rings around her eyes. It’s past one o’clock in the morning. Lorna wishes she could shield Saffy from all of this. She was never particularly strict, not like her own mother had been. She let Saffy watch 15-rated films when she was ten. She didn’t mind if she wanted to stay out late （not that Saffy ever did） or eat chocolate muffins for breakfast or drink wine at Christmas. If Saffy asked her a question about what was happening in the world – on third-world famine or paedophile rings – she always gave an honest answer, however brutal. She remembers her mother once saying to her, when she was younger than Saffy, already married to Euan and living more than a hundred miles away in Kent, I’ll never stop worrying about you. However old you are. And Lorna tried not to think like that when Saffy was a teenager, knowing what it was like to be stifled by a loving but fundamentally over-protective mother. But now. Now she’s more worried about her daughter than she’s ever been. She finally understands what her mother meant all those years ago.
‘If I was you,’ says one of the police officers, red-haired, good-looking, a bit like the actor Damian Lewis, ‘I’d replace that back door in your kitchen. It’s not very secure. The intruder got in by kicking the lock. It was on the floor. I’ve put it on the side in your kitchen. Someone will have to fix it. With the woods out back …’ He shakes his head, tucking his notebook into the pocket of his uniform.
‘I know but we hadn’t bothered because we were going to have an extension built,’ Saffy says.
‘Well, I’d at least change the locks. And consider a burglar alarm.’
Lorna’s heart sinks. They won’t be able to rest easy until that door is changed.
The red-haired officer and his sidekick finish off the tea that Lorna had prepared, then leave. Lorna feels vulnerable once they’ve gone. Like sitting ducks.
‘We’re going to have to tell DS Barnes,’ says Saffy, in a small voice. ‘We both know this wasn’t a burglary.’ She looks young, huddled in her big coat.
‘The police will do it. I gave them his name,’ says Lorna. She gets up and gathers the mugs from the coffee-table, carrying them into the kitchen.
The back door, which Lorna had managed to close by wedging a newspaper underneath it, is suddenly thrown open, letting in a gust of wind and rain. Saffy squeals in fright and Lorna springs away from the sink to stand in front of her daughter, ready to defend her against any intruder, but it’s Tom. It’s just Tom. His hair has darkened in the rain and it lies flat against his head. He has Snowy on a lead. Lorna puts her hand to her racing heart and takes a deep breath.
Saffy rushes into his arms. ‘Thank God! I was getting so worried.’ Then she bends down to kiss Snowy’s wet head. ‘Oh, my boy, my lovely little man.’ Lorna can’t help but wince: she can smell the dog from where she’s standing.