CHAPTER 47
Four o’clock in the morning. Simone wakes from sleep, having dreamed about that time years ago when Lucy ran off in Sainsbury’s and Simone thought she would expire from anxiety.
In her dream, though, she doesn’t find her.
She heads down aisles blocked by other people, the police attend, and, at the end, she rushes clean out on to the street and screams. Four o’clock seems to have embedded itself in some maternal cave in Simone’s mind, like her brain is telling her, in the small hours of every day, what she almost lost.
Her next thought is Moody. A confession will be issued to him today. Maybe he will help, but maybe he will hand them over.
She heads to Instagram, where a message is already waiting.
I need to come and join you, Damien has written.
Anxiety fires at Simone. He has a plan. The police are asking lots of questions and following me a lot.
I know what we need to do. If I know where you are, I can jump on an opportunity if it comes.
Then we can figure things out together. Where are you?
Prove it’s you, Simone replies simply.
I met you by a Christmas tree, he says, which makes her smile wanly.
Simone hesitates, hesitates again, her fingers and thumbs skating over the keys and then deleting. And then she sends it to him, her husband.
Terlingua.
Simone picks up the charging phone again two hours later, unable to get back to sleep. She googles herself again, and sees it.
Uploaded only three minutes prior, it’s bittersweet, as bitter as lemons and as sweet as sugar in Earl Grey tea. Simone sits there with unshed tears in her eyes. Tears of pride, happiness, sadness.
DISHES AWARDED MICHELIN STAR.