Chapter Fifty-Five
As always, Donald and Julia are happy to see us.
Being together here brings us all closer to Jo.
The minute we arrive, Joel heads straight for the kitchen table, where Julia always has a gift waiting for him.
They’re never small or inexpensive, either.
I’m not sure it’s good for him to be so spoiled, but I understand why they do it.
This time, it’s a train set. Joel claps his hands in delight, then he and Donald vanish into the next room to set it up.
‘How are things?’ Julia asks.
The rich aroma of roasting beef fills the air; warm, savoury, and mouth-watering. My stomach tightens in anticipation. The scent alone is enough to make me salivate.
‘Smells wonderful,’ I say.
She smiles and pours coffee into two mugs. ‘Joel seems happy,’ she says.
‘Does he?’ I murmur. ‘Danny says the school is concerned about how he’s coping. They want to talk to him after the holiday.’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’ she asks worriedly.
‘They think he seems too happy for a child who has recently lost his mother.’
‘It probably hasn’t sunk in yet,’ she suggests.
She places a hand gently on mine, taking me by surprise. ‘We’re so grateful you bring him to see us.’
I turn my head away so she won’t see my tears. ‘I wish it wasn’t like this. I know Danny makes mistakes, but I don’t think he means to,’ I say.
‘And Donald is too stubborn.’
I smile and slowly slide my hand from under hers. It doesn’t take much to make me cry these days.
‘He might have a buyer for the house,’ I say. ‘So far, they’ve all been vultures, but this one seems like a real possibility. Danny’s showing them around this afternoon.’
‘You don’t think he’ll sell the apartment, too?’ she asks, her face creasing with anxiety.
‘He hasn’t said anything,’ I reply. Not that Daniel tells me everything.
‘Donald thinks he might sell both and move away… and that we might not see Joel anymore.’
Now it’s her turn to cry.
‘No,’ I say quickly, taking her hand this time. ‘I’d never let that happen. I want to see Joel. I promise I’ll always bring him.’
‘You’re a lovely girl,’ she says, squeezing my hand. ‘You both went through so much when that little girl died.’
My heart skips a beat, like it always does when Lila is mentioned. I still can’t shake the fear that Jo’s kidnapping and murder had something to do with her death.
Just then, Donald and Joel burst into the kitchen, demanding that we see the train set in action.
‘It’s pretty brilliant,’ Donald beams.
It is, too. Very elaborate and expensive.
***
Lunch is delicious and Joel thoroughly enjoys playing with his new toy. But all too soon it is time to leave.
‘Right, I’ve got a deal to clinch. Do you two need a lift to Oxford?’ Donald asks.
‘No thanks, I drove,’ I say.
We hug them goodbye. Julia’s embrace is warm, and I feel her gratitude in it.
‘Thank you,’ she whispers.
I take Joel’s hand and try not to cry.
***
The ice-cream parlour is crowded when we arrive. All the tables are taken, so Joel and I perch on two stools facing the window. We have a routine: Joel stays with my handbag while I order.
‘The usual?’ the assistant asks.
I smile. ‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll bring them over.’
I settle onto the stool beside Joel, surrounded by the cheerful buzz of tourists enjoying the ice cream. We stick to our usual flavours: Joel’s is always double chocolate, and mine is rum and raisin. Joel seems perfectly content.
Jo and I used to come here, too. We’d experiment with flavours, sharing different combinations.
Grief hits me like a tidal wave, unexpected and overpowering.
I glance at Joel, he still looks happy, untroubled.
Maybe Julia is right, and it hasn’t sunk in.
Perhaps he doesn’t understand that his mummy is never coming back.
An American accent, coming from a table nearby, catches my attention. I glance towards a family seated at a table. My breath catches in my throat. It can’t be her.
But the resemblance is uncanny.
It’s not Lila. It’s not possible.
Why can’t I stop thinking about her lately? The woman nudges her husband, and realising that I’m staring, I quickly turn away. My hand trembles as I lift my spoon, and I accidentally spill some ice cream on my shirt.
‘Damn,’ I mutter, blotting at the stain with a tissue, trying to avoid looking at the girl again.
The family’s American accents echo in my head. Daniel mentioned the people viewing the house were American. Could it be them? My pulse quickens. Could they be connected to Lila somehow?
A prickling sensation crawls up the back of my neck. I glance around. Nothing sinister is happening; I see a few teenagers messing around. Still, the feeling persists.
‘We have to go,’ I say to Joel, getting off the stool. ‘You can finish that in the car.’
We hurry along the street, but the sense of being watched stays with me. Should I warn Daniel? Call Josie?
I stop and look back, sure that someone is following us… But all I see are casual shoppers.
I take deep breaths to calm myself. This is ridiculous.
Seeing a child who resembles Lila means nothing.
But this isn’t the first time I’ve felt like this.
Once, at the park with Nicola and Joel, I had the same eerie sense of being watched.
I didn’t mention it then. I thought there was no point in making Nicola anxious, too.
In the underground car park, the feeling intensifies. Tyres screech as cars exit. Joel and I climb the stairs to the third floor and rush to my car. Only when we’re inside with the doors locked do I feel even remotely safe. But the unease follows me home like a shadow.
Joel’s fine, oblivious to my paranoia. I park outside my flat, place the parking permit on the windscreen, and scan the street. All clear. Still, as I insert my key into the lock, the suffocating feeling returns. I usher Joel inside and lock the door.
Finally, I feel safe.
***
Joel chooses one of his favourite DVDs and settles on the couch. Within minutes, he is totally absorbed. I glance out the window, feeling foolish. If I call Danny, he’ll think I’m mad. What would I even say? That I saw an American girl who looked like Lila?
Ever since Jo disappeared, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Lila.
Jo had no enemies. I was the only other person involved in that operation.
What if I’m next?
I reach for my phone to call Josie. But before I can punch in her number, the doorbell rings.
I freeze.
I’m not expecting anyone. Daniel isn’t due until seven, and if his plans had changed, he’d have called.
A cold dread washes over me.
Was this how Jo felt that day?
I slide the chain across and open the door a crack.
My head spins.
Oh God. This can’t be happening.