‘What are you doing here?’
He looks tired, his hair messy and in need of a cut, and there are dark circles under his eyes. ‘Kristin has been taken to the police station for questioning,’ he replies.
‘What?’
His expression darkens. ‘Don’t look so shocked, considering it was you who told the police you think she killed your friend Louise! I know why you have a vendetta against her,’ he says, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. ‘But I thought we were over all this. It’s been more than a decade.’
Anger bursts from her. ‘Do you really think I’d be so petty? The three of us have rocked along together now for years. I saw the troll doll in her possession, and I told the police. I didn’t say anything about her killing Louise.’
‘Why would she target and hound you? Why? Pretending that Jasmine has gone missing, she knew that would hurt me too, so why would she do it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she spits, her temper flaring. ‘Maybe because she thinks you’re having an affair.’
He pales. ‘But I’m not. What have you told her?’
‘I’ve not told her anything. She mentioned it to Ottilie, and to Louise on the night of my launch. She’s not stupid, Jonas. She knows something’s going on and I’m worried she thinks it’s with me.’
‘But I’m not having an affair. And okay, I was attracted to Connie, and I was tempted, but I’ve not acted on it. I’ve fucked up once and I’m not going to do it again.’
She stares at him, wondering if he’s lying. He looks like he’s being sincere, but she stopped trusting Jonas a long time ago. ‘Look, I have to go. I need to pick up the kids.’
He deflates in front of her eyes, like all the fight has gone out of him, and he suddenly looks older. ‘Can I come and see Jasmine at some point? I suppose you’re going to say you don’t want her at mine this weekend if you’re so sure Kristin is behind this, even though you know what I think. But surely you can’t imagine I’d hurt our daughter?’
She feels a stab of guilt. ‘Of course not,’ she says, in a small voice. She wants to cry. She hates this. Hates distrusting those close to her. She just wants whoever is doing this to be caught so that they can go back to how it was before. Louise’s laughing face flashes in her mind. Not that anything will ever be the same now that she’s dead. ‘Why don’t you come over this weekend instead?’
‘What about Elliot? I know he doesn’t want me in the house.’
‘It’s my house too. I’ll talk to him. He’ll be fine.’
Jonas nods sadly, then turns on his heel and walks back to his car without saying goodbye. His shoulders droop and she suddenly feels sorry for the man she once loved. But, no: she has to be tough.
Wilfie is subdued when Emilia picks him up from school.
‘Toby wasn’t in today,’ he says mournfully, as they walk to the car. She wants to tell him to hurry or they’ll be late for Jasmine. But she can see that Wilfie is upset.
‘Let’s run to the car and you can tell me all about it,’ she says, trying to sound jolly but he drags his feet. In the end she has to grab his hand and practically pull him to the car. She veers away from the kerb as soon as he’s clicked on his seatbelt.
‘The teacher gave us a talk in class about Toby’s mum,’ he says, from the back seat as she drives. ‘They said she was killed because she was a detective.’ His bottom lip wobbles. ‘I don’t want to be a detective any more.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ She swallows the lump in her throat. ‘Toby’s mum was a very brave, very brilliant detective but it does come with risks.’ She wonders how much the school has told him.
‘Toby must be very sad.’
She blinks back tears. She can’t bear the thought of it. The guilt and the grief threaten to crush her. ‘He must be. She was well loved …’ A tear rolls down her cheek and she brushes it away. She has to stay strong in front of Wilfie. She asks him to tell her something funny that happened today to take his mind off it and soon he’s laughing as he recounts a silly joke his best mate, Freddie, told him while they were queuing for lunch.
She’s relieved when they arrive outside Jasmine’s school in time for the bell. She knows her daughter is embarrassed by seeing her and her little brother at the school gates, she’d much rather take the school bus home with Nancy, but Emilia can’t relax until Jasmine is safely in the car. Ever since she went missing – even though it was only a few hours from when they’d realized she’d gone until she’d walked through the door – it was the most petrified she’d ever felt. Even worse than finding Louise dead.
Jasmine walks out of school with Nancy and a good-looking boy Emilia recognizes as Jake. They stand in a little huddle, their heads bent together, until Jasmine breaks free with an eye-roll in her direction before turning back to wave at her friends.
‘Can’t you both at least wait around the block?’ she hisses, when she reaches them. ‘It’s not exactly cool to be seen being picked up by your mum.’
‘It’s not for ever,’ says Emilia, calmly. She lowers her voice so Wilfie can’t hear. ‘You know why I have to do this for now.’
Jasmine doesn’t say anything but walks slightly ahead to the car, her back hunched. When they get in, she says, ‘Jake’s found the note, Mum. It was scrunched up under his bed. And …’ she reaches inside the pocket of her blazer, her eyes flashing excitedly ‘… he brought it in and, well, here it is.’ She hands it to Emilia.
Emilia is amazed. ‘Wow. That’s brilliant.’ She unfolds the note. It’s not very big, A5-sized and handwritten in a cursive, slightly messy style. She rests it against the steering wheel, the engine running. Jasmine fiddles with the radio and Wilfie pipes up from the back seat that he’s hungry. The note reads:
To Jake
Please find enclosed three tickets to Tonal Whiplash this coming weekend. You are entitled to have the third ticket, or sell it as you wish if you already have one, as long as you give the other two tickets to your girlfriend Nancy Bradshaw and her friend Jasmine Perry. It’s a surprise for them and something I know they will be very excited to receive. I’m trusting that you will look out for them at the concert and keep them safe.
Kind regards
M
‘Weird, huh?’ says Jasmine, leaning back against her seat. She’s turned the channel to Kiss FM and some tinny dance tune fills the car, instantly grating on Emilia’s frayed nerves. ‘Whoever sent it wanted Jake to look after us. They didn’t mean to threaten us or hurt us, I don’t think. But why do it?’
Emilia studies the letter some more, the flick at the top of the M and the N, the curve of the K. It’s done with a fountain pen and a cursive hand. Her mind races and her blood runs cold. Signing it M must be for Miranda Moody. She remembers the phone call, the posh clipped voice. And as for this writing, there is only one person she knows who has flowery handwriting like this.
And that’s her very best friend, Ottilie.
42
Elliot is in the middle of making dinner when they get home. He cheerfully informs them he’s doing a casserole, but Emilia can hardly take in what he’s saying. She dumps her bag in the hall and races straight up the two flights of stairs to her office. Once inside she closes the door and sits at her desk, her heart pumping with exertion and fear. Not Ottilie. It can’t be her. She’s like family. No, no, no, no, no.