Chapter 2 #3
Holding out my hand for the drawing, I’m relieved when Declan hands it back to me, as if it feels wrong to let anyone else hold it. ‘No. She’s just someone I’m looking for.’
He frowns again. ‘Well, I hope you find her, whoever she is. See you around, Ria.’
I watch him stride away, and when I turn back to his house, Georgia is standing in the doorway. ‘Everything okay?’ she asks, raising her hand.
I offer her a nod then wave as I make my way across the green, scanning the grass again as I walk. I could have shown Georgia my drawing, but I’ve had a better idea.
Back at home, I sit at the kitchen table with a fresh mug of coffee, clutching my phone.
Shards of light form a pattern across the marble tabletop, and I trace over the sections of light, buying myself time to think this through.
Once I’ve done it, there’s no going back.
This table is another thing Leo bought for us, ensuring that it was here before we moved in.
I’d left behind the small wooden table I had in my flat for Johnny, my friend and tenant; in this vast kitchen it would have been as out of place as I am in Silverleaf Heights.
I feel a pang of sadness when I think of all the things Leo did to make sure the house was ready.
He wanted me to feel at home here right from the second I stepped through the doors, and now I’m throwing it back in his face.
But the terrified look on that woman’s face haunts me.
I can’t let this go; my mind couldn’t conjure up that scene.
I snap a photo of my drawing, then send it to the neighbourhood WhatsApp group.
Does anyone know this woman?
I type, and then I sit back and wait. For Leo’s call asking me what I’m doing. Or one of the neighbours to tell me that they know her. They’ll have no idea how much I want to hear those words, for validation from the outside world that I’m not losing my mind.
For five minutes I sit as my coffee grows lukewarm, and my phone, within touching distance, stays silent. No response from anyone. And outside, a soundtrack of birdsong drifts in. I check to see who’s read the message. Georgia Murphy. Giles Barton. Declan Murphy. That’s it so far.
When I see that Georgia is typing, I hold my breath and wait for her message to materialise. It’s a direct message to me, instead of a reply in the group.
Who is she? Are you okay?
Just someone I’m looking for.
Sorry, I can’t help. Come for coffee later if you’re not busy? 3 p.m.?
I start replying that I’d love to, but the doorbell rings, so I abandon the message and rush to answer.
Giles Barton stands on my doorstep, smiling.
He looks distinguished in smart dark jeans and a short-sleeved beige polo top.
His light brown hair looks freshly cut and his blue eyes are full of warmth.
He doesn’t look even fifty, and I feel a wave of sadness that he’s already lost his wife.
Beside him, his beautiful Irish setter wags her tail, panting.
‘Ria! Is this a good time?’ He leans down and strokes his dog. I try to recall her name; I’m sure it’s Willow.
‘Um, yeah, come in.’
‘Are you sure? Willow can be a bit . . . how shall I put it? Active? But she’s just had a long walk so I’m sure she’ll sit quietly.’
‘She’s more than welcome. I love dogs,’ I tell him. ‘And there’s not much to chew in the house. We still haven’t got the place fully sorted.’
‘Well, it’s only been a couple of weeks,’ Giles says.
‘No rush, is there? Don’t they say you have to live in a house for a while to get a feel for it?
I imagine at the moment it feels so new and unfamiliar.
’ He steps inside and pulls off his shoes, leaving them on the mat.
‘You know,’ he continues, ‘I realised the other day that we haven’t met properly.
I know Leo quite well, of course. He told you my wife was a patient of his?
’ He doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘Sorry I haven’t come over to see you before now.
I like to personally welcome people to Silverleaf.
Work’s been quite full-on lately. And I was just giving it some time.
But I do feel responsible for making sure everyone in Silverleaf is happy here. ’
‘It’s a lovely place,’ I say. Secluded and isolating. Too eerily quiet, even during the day. ‘And we’re very happy. Thanks.’ I wonder if my words sound as robotic as they feel. ‘Would you like coffee or tea?’
‘If it’s no trouble.’ He smiles. ‘I won’t stay long, though.
I’m sure you’ve got things to do.’ He looks around.
‘So what do you think of your new home?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer.
‘When I designed these houses, I envisaged them being spaces people could truly see themselves never wanting to leave. Really a forever home. That phrase gets bandied around so much, but how many of us actually stay in these forever homes? People always end up downsizing when family life changes, but I don’t want Silverleaf to be like that.
No one should feel they have to move just because their kids have left home. ’
We head into the kitchen, with Willow padding behind.
‘That sounds like an ideal dream,’ I say.
‘But priorities change, and things can’t always stay the same, even if we want them to.
’ I know this more than most. The thought of being in Silverleaf for the rest of my life fills me with dread.
It’s not just because of what I saw; I felt it the moment we arrived.
Giles studies me. ‘Very philosophical. Yes, you’re right, of course. But still, I had high aims for Silverleaf, and I’m delighted that you and Leo have moved into the last house.’
‘Thanks.’ I set about making coffee, once again negotiating the overly complex machine I don’t care for.
Willow trots to the bifold doors and looks outside, wagging her tail.
‘Do you want to go out?’ I say, stroking her soft fur. I open the door for her.
‘She loves being outside,’ Giles says. ‘Don’t worry, she won’t dig up your garden.’
‘I wouldn’t care if she did,’ I say. ‘She’s such a lovely dog I don’t think anything she could do would bother me.’ I finally get the coffee machine working.
‘Ah, an animal person,’ Giles says. ‘I knew I’d chosen right for number three.’ He takes a seat and watches Willow bounding around the garden. He clears his throat. ‘I saw your message in the WhatsApp group. That’s a wonderful drawing. Yours, I assume?’
‘Something to keep me busy,’ I say, pushing away the thought that I’ve barely touched a sketch pad in the last year.
He smiles. ‘Leo mentioned you’re an artist. And how talented you are! Lots of people can draw or paint, but your picture . . . you’ve really made it feel alive.’
I know why Giles is really here – I’m sure news has spread about what happened last night.
‘That’s kind of you. But I’m not really an artist – it’s not my job.
I’ve always loved drawing but I do it more now to help with my recovery.
’ I place his coffee in front of him. ‘I’m a primary school teacher. Or was.’
‘Was?’
It takes me a moment to answer. ‘I’m just taking a bit of time out. Not sure when I’ll go back.’ I glance outside and see Willow sniffing around the bushes at the back of the garden. Her tail wags, and it lifts my spirits to see her making herself at home out there.
Giles raises his eyebrows. ‘Why is that? If you don’t mind me asking. Don’t most teachers think of it as a vocation rather than a job?’
‘I did. I do. I love the kids. It’s just .
. . it’s hard to explain,’ I say, sitting opposite him, wrapping my hands around my mug.
Willow bounds in and nuzzles up to my leg, resting her head on my foot.
‘I’m just not sure it’s right for me any more.
Like it doesn’t fit.’ I don’t add that this unsettled feeling is constantly there, hovering over everything I do, every thought I have.
I haven’t even told Leo the extent of it; he’ll only push me to see Ethan again, and I’ve had enough of doctors and hospitals.
I want to put all of that behind me. ‘And it’s too far for me to commute to my old school in east London.
It just wouldn’t work for me.’ I will have to get used to masking things over, smothering the truth.
‘Someone’s a superfan,’ Giles says, gesturing to Willow. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever seen her so friendly with someone she hasn’t met before.’ He smiles. ‘You must be a good person, Ria – I think dogs can sense that in people.’
I lean down to stroke her. ‘I wish we could have a dog, but I just think it would be too much at the moment. Leo’s always at the hospital, and when I’m working again, the poor pup would be on its own all day.’
‘Which isn’t good for dogs.’ Giles studies me for a moment. ‘You know, you’re welcome to spend time with Willow whenever you want. Have her here during the day or take her for walks. It would be doing me a favour. She can be very distracting when I’m on a Zoom call.’
‘Really? I’d love that.’ I ruffle Willow’s fur. ‘It will be good to have some company while Leo’s at work.’ Before we moved, I loved being alone, craved time to myself, but now the silence is suffocating.
‘That’s a deal, then,’ Giles says. ‘Any time you like, just knock.’ He nods and reaches for his coffee. ‘They say animals are very good at healing us.’
I frown. ‘I’m fine. I’ve already healed myself.’
Giles gives a slanted nod. ‘Yes, I’ve seen you out walking.
But wounds aren’t just physical, Ria.’ He pauses.
‘I bumped into Xander this morning and he told me what happened last night. As you can imagine, I immediately rushed to check all the CCTV, and I promise you – nobody came into Silverleaf or left at that time last night. There was nothing the whole night, other than you rushing outside and then Xander joining you.’
‘Maybe they didn’t enter through the gates,’ I suggest.
‘I’m not sure how else they’d get in.’
Beyond his politeness, I sense Giles’s frustration. I assume he’s used to people pleasers who tell him only what he wants to hear. Well, that’s not me.
‘It’s impossible to get in over anyone’s fence,’ he adds. ‘So unless you’re implying it’s someone who already lives here . . .’ He laughs. ‘Which is actually preposterous.’
‘I’m not saying that,’ I say. The last thing I need is Giles to tell people I’m accusing one of the neighbours of something so heinous.
He lets out a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m relieved to hear that.
I’ve worked really hard to make this a safe place to live.
It was what my wife, Moira, dreamed of. The thought of a criminal of any kind .
. . a murderer . . . getting into Silverleaf .
. . it just sickens me. I won’t let that happen on my watch. ’
‘I know it seems crazy,’ I admit. ‘And I can’t explain how they disappeared. But that woman was out there.’
He studies me for a moment, his eyes filled with kindness. ‘Did Leo tell you much about my wife?’
‘No, he never discusses his patients.’
‘Moira had cancer. Chondrosarcoma. By the time she’d seen a doctor, it was already stage four.
That was the trouble with my wife – she was always so busy – working, helping people, filling every second of her time.
So she never noticed the lump.’ A tear glistens in the corner of his eye.
‘But she loved Silverleaf Heights. This place was her dream as much as mine.’ The tear snakes down his cheek.
‘I built it all for her. And she only got to live in it a few months.’
‘I’m so sorry, Giles. You really don’t have to tell me all this.’ I glance at Willow again, still nestled on my foot. ‘It must be hard to talk about.’
‘That’s the thing, Ria. When I saw your drawing in the WhatsApp group, I had to come straight over and show you this.’ Giles pulls out his phone and scrolls through it before handing it to me. ‘Look at that.’
I take his phone and stare at the photo he’s showing me. A woman with long blonde hair smiling for the camera. A woman who looks very much like the one I saw last night
I’m unable to tear my eyes from the photo. ‘Is that—’
‘Yes. That’s my wife, Moira, when she was younger. So I wanted to tell you that you couldn’t have seen her last night because she died of cancer eighteen months ago. But look at your sketch. You’ve drawn a picture of Moira.’