Chapter 52
LENA
I continue to watch in bewilderment as Charlie moves away from the hedge and makes his way back across the lawn and out through the gate, closing it behind him.
My first thought is Rufus. If Charlie is sneaking around in my garden at midnight then he’s left our son alone. I know he’s seventeen and perfectly capable of staying anywhere on his own, but what is the point of him being with Charlie this weekend if his dad is just going to sod off?
And why was Charlie prowling around my garden like a creeper? Did he knock over the plant pot the night I overheard the Morgans’ conversation? But he would never have forgotten about Phoenix.
Rufus is bound to be awake this late on a Friday night, so I call him. He answers straight away. ‘Mum?’
‘Hi, love. Nothing to worry about. I was just wondering where your dad is.’ I get up from where I’m still sitting on the top stair and head into my bedroom.
‘What do you mean?’
I don’t want to worry him with the truth. ‘Is your dad there?’
‘Um … he walked Rosie home. But he’ll be back soon, and Freddie’s here. We’re watching a film.’
‘Okay.’ I go to the window and glance down the street, half expecting to see Charlie, but it’s quiet and empty.
‘Why are you looking for Dad?’
‘It’s all right, love, I’ll talk to you properly when you get home on Sunday.’ I hesitate. ‘Also, just a quick question while you’re on the phone. I was turning out your pockets before putting your jeans in the wash and you had this newspaper article …’
‘You didn’t throw it away, did you?’ He sounds panicked.
‘No. But what were you doing with it?’
‘It’s Kit’s. He dropped it on the way out of our guitar lesson. I didn’t see it until he’d already left, so I kept it to give back to him next time I saw him.’
Kit? Why would he be so interested in this story? And why would he have broken into the Morgans’? ‘Okay. Don’t worry, I’ve kept it safe. When are you seeing him next?’
‘Sunday afternoon. He’s coming over to give me another lesson when I get back from Dad’s.’
‘Okay. Great. You can give it to him then.’
‘Cool. Mum, gotta go now. We’re in the middle of Nightcrawler.’
He must have seen that film ten times. ‘Have fun. Love you.’
I end the call and, sitting on the edge of the bed, I immediately scroll down for Charlie’s number. When he doesn’t pick up I send a text: Why were you creeping around my garden? What the fuck, Charlie!
When I wake up the next morning, Charlie still hasn’t replied.
The heatwave has lasted nearly a full month now.
I wake up irritable and hot after a fitful night’s sleep where I dreamt of Charlie crawling through the gap in the hedge and into the Morgans’ dark garden, where he’s threatened by Henry, then Simone appearing in her scrubs, searching for her keys in long, wild grass, while Marielle is alone in the attic, the fake baby in her arms.
The sky is a hazy blue, the sun already up, a fireball of rage that matches my own emotions. I need caffeine even though it’s too hot for a cup of tea. Thankfully the kitchen is still partly shaded and I make myself an iced coffee while thinking of what to say to Charlie when he eventually replies.
I’m just about to move away to get some breakfast when my mobile pings. I grab it eagerly, knowing it will be from Charlie. He’s sent a text message.
No, not me. Everything okay?
I stare at his words in shock. I never took Charlie for a liar.
He’s many things, but never that. I don’t know what to make of it.
It was definitely 100 per cent him on my camera.
When he drops Rufus home tomorrow I’ll present him with the footage and see him try to wiggle his way out of it.
I keep thinking about Kit too and why he has the newspaper cutting about the baby found at the hospital.
If it was him who broke into the Morgans’ house I don’t want him anywhere near Rufus.
The doorbell rings and Phoenix instantly starts barking.
‘Sssh,’ I say to him, as I make my way down the hallway, the dog leaping alongside me as I go to open the door. I’m surprised to see Marielle on the step. She’s smiling and, from behind her, I can see that Henry is loading suitcases into the boot of his Jaguar.
‘Hi, Lena,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry to bother you so early, but we’ve got to go away for a few days. A family member has unfortunately become very ill …’ She twists her hands in front of her.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’
Pain clouds her face, and I wonder if it’s Savannah. I hope not. ‘I was wondering if you’d mind feeding Caramac while we’re away.’
I try to hide my surprise. ‘Um, Caramac?’
‘Our cat.’
‘Sure. I love cats.’
‘We’ve kind of adopted him. I don’t know who he belongs to, but he seems to love our house and he calls in twice a day for food and cuddles.
’ She looks so innocent, standing there in an expensive lemon dress with a cream Peter Pan collar and matching pumps, talking about a beloved animal, yet this woman might know where Simone is or have done something to hurt her.
She could be a criminal mastermind behind that smiley, butter-wouldn’t-melt facade, but she could also be a victim of Henry.
My stomach turns over when I remember my conversation with Oliver.
The newspaper articles. The keyring. The fake baby.
The lies. All the lies. Not to mention their conversation about ‘getting caught’.
‘Lena?’
I haven’t said anything for a few seconds. ‘Um, sorry.’ I grip the edge of the door for support.
‘The cat. Would you mind feeding him for us while we’re away?’
I throw a worried glance towards Henry. Is he okay with this?
He was so angry when he found out I’d let myself into their house.
He’d threatened me. Told me to leave them alone.
He obviously hasn’t mentioned it to Marielle, and I’m grateful for that, at least. I turn my attention back to her. She is looking at me with concern.
‘Sure. I’d be happy to.’
She smiles in relief. ‘Thank you so much. That would be a big help. You’re really the only neighbour we’ve got to know since moving in.
’ I’m tempted to ask how her grandson is, but she looks so jittery standing there.
She presses the key into my hand. ‘We should be back by Monday, all being well. I’ve left instructions in the house. ’
‘Great, thanks. Does the cat have specific mealtimes?’
‘Just morning and evening. Any time.’
‘Okay.’ My gaze turns to Henry but he’s looking straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
‘Thanks again, Lena.’ She claps her hands together, rushes back to the car and gets in on the passenger side. I watch them drive away. Marielle waves, but Henry keeps his eyes firmly on the road, as though I don’t exist.
‘You’ll never guess what,’ I say to Jo, when I call her five minutes later. ‘Marielle has given me a key. Wants me to feed her cat.’
‘What? You’re kidding!’
‘Nope. Henry obviously hasn’t told her about me letting myself in.
I’ll take more photos of the wall. See if there are other things that link Simone’s disappearance to the Morgans.
That newspaper cutting I found on Rufus actually belongs to his guitar teacher.
’ I recount my conversation last night, including finding Charlie in my back garden and his text denying it.
‘It couldn’t have been Charlie,’ she says, too quickly.
‘The camera doesn’t lie, Jo.’
‘Well, give him a chance to explain.’
Jo is my biggest champion, always supporting me. Granted, she never slagged Charlie off, but I knew, without her having to say it, that she was on my side. Yet now she’s sticking up for him.
I bite back my irritation. I don’t want to get into this. ‘How much do I owe Paul for the camera?’ I ask instead.
‘Nothing. He’s happy to do it. And, Lena …’ she pauses ‘… leave it to Oliver to decide what he’s going to do. You’ve told him everything, right? It’s his responsibility now. Simone’s his sister.’