Emilia’s brain is foggy.
After a few seconds Kristin pipes up: ‘Actually, yes. Jasmine wanted to go to see that band at the O2 – do you remember?’ She starts scrolling through her phone. ‘I’m sure it was around this weekend. I remember her saying. Yes, some band called Total Whiplash. Something like that. Wait – here it is. Tonal Whiplash. Not Total. And, according to this, they played last night.’ She taps her phone screen triumphantly with a long fingernail.
Emilia recalls it now too. Months ago, Jasmine had asked if she could go with Nancy, but Emilia had said no – she’d felt they were too young to go without an adult.
‘She told you I’d said no?’ Emilia asks Kristin.
Kristin nods. ‘Yes. But we …’ She sidles up to Jonas so that she’s standing between him and Emilia. ‘We agreed she was too young.’
Marcie moves forwards, hope in her face. ‘Yes! Last year Nancy asked me if she could go. I also said no. Plus it was expensive.’
‘Maybe this Jake Radley got them tickets,’ adds Frank, folding his beefy arms across his chest.
‘But they sold out almost immediately,’ says Emilia, frowning.
‘Do you think that’s where they were last night? But where have they been since?’ Marcie rubs at the mascara under her eyes.
‘Nancy better not have stayed at this Jake’s,’ says Frank. ‘She’s just fifteen. Wait until I get my hands on that bastard.’
Louise throws Frank a warning look. ‘We don’t know anything yet. But I …’
They are interrupted by the buzzing of PC Bryan’s mobile phone. She snaps it open. ‘Yes,’ she says, into it. ‘Right … Okay, that’s great. Thanks.’ She closes the phone. ‘My colleague has spoken to Jake’s parents who have confirmed he went to the concert last night. But he’s home now. One of our officers has gone over there to speak with them. Jake might be able to shed some light about where they’ve been.’
Emilia swallows. Please let her have been at the concert, she silently prays. She doesn’t care if she and Nancy stayed the night at Jake’s, as long as they’re safe. It’s better than the alternative. She can’t stop thinking about the hoax call. Who was it from, and have they done something to Jasmine and Nancy? Her mobile rings. Seeing Elliot’s number she quickly answers it.
‘She’s here. It’s Jasmine,’ he says jubilantly. ‘She’s just walked through the door.’
‘Thank God.’ Her whole body sags with relief and she looks up at the hopeful faces of Marcie and Frank. ‘And Nancy?’
24
Daisy,
2005
She was midway through her first term at Exeter University, studying history, when she met Ash.
Daisy was standing in line at the library, staring at her feet clad in her favourite Dr Martens and trying not to look around at all the other students hanging out in their cliquey groups. Daisy didn’t like to get too close to people. It was better that way. It protected her fragile heart. As a result, she hadn’t so much as kissed anyone. But that was okay. She was happy throwing herself into her university life. And she had people she hung out with, superficial friendships.
She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made Ash stand out from the rest of the students in the library that day. Maybe it was because she recognized another damaged soul when she saw one. Ash was effortlessly cool, with dyed black hair, longer on one side, the other with a shaved undercut, calf-length black coat and black biker boots, standing apart from the others, flicking through a book on French New Wave cinema. Daisy had been transfixed, and instantly wanted to know more. Their eyes met and, for the first time in her life, Daisy’s stomach performed a series of gymnastics that made her feel simultaneously sick and turned on. They didn’t talk, though. Not then. But after that they kept bumping into each other around campus, acknowledging each other with a shy smile, a tilt of the head, sometimes with a gruff hello.
It was ironically at a party, something she usually tried to avoid, where they got talking. Her flatmate had dragged her along. Ash was standing in the corner, nursing some kind of blue drink and looking around with a neutral expression. When Daisy walked in, their eyes locked, and they held each other’s gaze for what seemed like an eternity, until the spell was broken by someone walking between them. She could only watch in horror as a pretty girl with a short skirt and a see-through shirt showing off a lacy bra made her way to Ash, cigarette in one hand and a plastic cup in the other. Daisy couldn’t hear what they were saying but, to her delight, Ash ditched the girl and walked over to where she, Daisy, was standing.
‘I hate parties. Do you want to get out of here?’
She could only nod, her heart pounding with excitement, the sound of the White Stripes still ringing in her ears.
They talked all night in Daisy’s room, slowly revealing more and more about themselves as the cheap lager flowed. She was surprised when Ash told her about a breakdown and a short stay in a psychiatric ward as a teenager. Daisy was careful not to mention her mother’s murder. She’d once made the mistake at primary school of telling some of her friends about it, and the looks of horror and pity they exchanged made her never want to tell anyone again. She felt as if she was tarnished with bad luck and that it might be catching.
They were kindred spirits, Daisy and Ash. Ash and Daisy. Inseparable after that party.
But more than anything, it was down to Fate that they met.
Because if they hadn’t, she’d never have found the Doodle Man.
25
According to Elliot, Jasmine and Nancy had walked into the house bedraggled, contrite and bracing themselves for a telling-off.
‘I’m sorry to waste your time,’ Emilia says, to Louise and PC Bryan, as they file out of Jonas’s house, although she knows she doesn’t sound very apologetic. She’s too ecstatic that her precious daughter is at home where she belongs. That’s all she cares about right now. She’s euphoric with relief. She could take on the world.
PC Bryan says she’s just happy that they’ve been found safe, then hurries off to her car, but Louise stops in the front garden, the sun catching the red in her short dark hair. ‘It was no bother,’ she says. ‘I’m glad I could help, and I’m just so pleased they’re okay. But tell that daughter of yours not to do anything like that again or I’ll have to have strict words.’ She winks at Emilia and gives her a hug before getting into her little red Fiat 500. Emilia waves her off and turns to the others, who are standing in a patch of sunlight on the pavement outside Jonas and Kristin’s house. Kristin has hold of Jonas’s hand proprietorially.
‘I can’t believe they did this,’ Kristin says, shivering slightly. There is a chill in the air despite the sun, and she never seems to wear warm enough clothes. ‘What were they thinking? They must have known they’d get found out.’
‘That’s what I want to know,’ says Marcie, her chin set determinedly, her tears now forgotten. She turns to Emilia. ‘Can we come back to yours?’
Emilia can’t feel cross with the girls, not yet. She’s too relieved that they’re home, that they haven’t been kidnapped by her stalker. ‘Of course. Elliot’s making them something to eat and he’ll keep an eye on them until we get back.’ She turns to where Jonas is standing with Kristin. ‘Maybe you should come too. Show a united front?’