Eilidh tuts in sympathy. “Poor thing.”
‘You were staying on Lòn Haven when Clover went missing?” Shannon asks, and Luna nods. “So who was last taking care of Clover?”
Luna feels her cheeks flush and her throat tighten. How can she possibly tell them that twenty-two years have passed? They’ll decide Clover isn’t her sister and put her into care.
“Actually, I have some questions of my own, if that’s all right,” Luna says. “Where was Clover all this time?”
“You mean, where was she since Tuesday?” Shannon says. “Clover said she’d only just left the cottage the night before. She said she went looking for you, Luna. And then she was found wandering on the side of the road.”
Eilidh clears her throat. “Her memory is still very hazy. The toxicology report shows no sign of any drugs in her system, though she had a mild head injury.”
“Head injury?” Luna asks. “Did someone hit her?”
“We don’t know.” Eilidh sighs. “A trauma can do funny things to a person. Especially to their memories. What we do know is that she had walked for miles through thick woodland in just her sandals and dress before being picked up by a farmer.”
Miles from where? Luna thinks. Who has been looking after Clover? She had to have been fed and sheltered. Twenty-two years. She must be deeply traumatized.
“What about the injury on her hip?” Luna asks. “The doctor thought a human did it.”
Eilidh nods, frowning as she thinks of it. “The psychiatrist asked Clover about that, but she has no memory of receiving it. She insists she was with your mother one minute and the next she was walking along the roadside. Everything in between is still a blank. Poor wee thing.”
“What I’m still having trouble with,” Shannon says, referring to a sheet from the document folder, “is Clover’s date of birth. It says here that she was born on the twenty-second of August, 1991. I’ve checked with the officer at Dingwall and he says that’s what he has in his report.” She glances up at Luna for explanation.
“It must be a mistake,” Luna says. Even to her own ears her tone is unconvincing.
“Yes, it must be,” Eilidh says. “Otherwise it would make Luna a grown woman!”
Shannon purses her lips, turning the pages. “So you’re saying Clover’s date of birth is the twenty-second of August . . . ?”
Luna does a quick sum in her head. “2014.”
Shannon pulls a pen and notebook out of an inside pocket and scribbles down the date on a fresh page.
“Clover said she was with you and her mother when she went missing,” Shannon says. “But you said your mother’s been dead awhile.”
Luna’s heart is racing. She’s certain neither of them believe a word she’s saying. But just then, an answer comes rushing to the front of her mind. She turns to Eilidh. “Didn’t you say Clover had a concussion?”
Eilidh nods. “Yes. That’s right.” She turns to Shannon. “I had a concussion once. Made me say all kinds of things. Thought my dad was the king of Spain!”
Shannon purses her lips but says nothing more.
Eilidh makes a photocopy of Luna’s driver’s license and takes down her mobile number and email. As they head silently back to the ward she can sense Shannon’s eyes on her, full of mistrust. Eilidh seems keen to send Clover home with Luna, but Shannon . . . Luna senses she’s Eilidh’s boss. Luna hasn’t answered all Shannon’s questions, and she’s not sure how much she can lie without some element of the truth tripping her up and unraveling everything. There’s a strong chance, she thinks, that they won’t allow Clover to go home with her.