‘You said something to Phillipa, didn’t you?’ Katie flings her piano book across the room, cracking it open along the spine. It’s a day since the discovery of the water in the cellar. I was going to tell her yesterday that she’s not going to be in the film, but honestly I couldn’t face it. Not that it’s any easier now. ‘You didn’t want me to do it from the start,’ she yells. ‘I know you, Mum, you just want to ruin my life!’
I’m resigned to Katie’s rage, though it still hurts. She picks up her maths homework from the desk, crumples it into a ball, and throws that at me too. Then she runs out of the room.
I let her go. What else can I do?
On cue, Jack starts to scream. Him I do manage to comfort – eventually. We curl up on my bed and read a few of his favourite books: The Busy Bug Book, Aliens Love Underpants and Potty Time with Elmo. I feel a little better, but there’s still a nagging Katie-shaped hole inside me. I carry Jack downstairs and out of the house to find her.
Outside the house, things are worryingly quiet. The flood waters have thrown the schedule into complete disarray. I know they filmed some outside shots earlier this morning, but John C informed me that, for health and safety reasons, filming in the house will have to be curtailed until there’s no further risk of damage to the house electrics. Though the temporary pump appears to be working, there’s been no sign of the drain men. Now, as I walk past the marquee carrying my son, there seems to be only a fraction of the usual number of people. The ones inside are milling, rather than scurrying – a very bad sign. I haven’t seen Luke all day, and no one seems able – or willing – to tell me what exactly is going on.
The front gate is open, which might be a clue to the direction Katie’s gone (though just about everyone involved in the film seems incapable of closing it). On my way out, I set Jack down and let Jammie out of her run.
‘Find Katie,’ I say, sending her off. She’s not trained to sniff people out but I feel a little better when she ambles out the gate, her nose to the ground. Leading Jack by the hand, I follow her, and on my way out, I ask Danny if he’s seen Katie. He hasn’t. I knock on the door of Connie’s caravan, but neither she nor Simon have seen her either. Connie scoops Jack inside the caravan to have some fresh-baked biscuits while Simon and I go and look.
We check the shed – her bike is still there, so at least she hasn’t left the property. Together we walk through the field of trailers and vans. We call out Katie’s name, but there’s no response. I don’t feel panicked – Katie has lots of hiding places and, undoubtedly, she’s in one of them, sulking and not wanting to be found. As we walk, I find myself pouring everything out to Simon. Because he’s a man of few words, he’s a great listener. I tell him that Phillipa saw something between Luke and me that she misinterpreted. I was mad ever to let Katie get her hopes up about a part in the film, and now that Phillipa’s pulled the plug, Katie’s blaming me. The more I go on, the angrier I get at Phillipa. For all her so-called empathy at what I’d been through, she really must not get how difficult it’s been – not just for me but for my kids. I’ve been walking a tightrope with Katie and was finally feeling like I might get to the other side. And now this. If Phillipa had done something callous to me, I could live with it. But the fact that she’s involved my daughter…
We reach the apple orchard and Simon stops walking. ‘I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately, Lizzie,’ Simon says, ‘but you’re doing a terrific job with the kids. I really admire that.’
‘No.’ I stare at him in surprise.
‘My dad died when I was little,’ he says. ‘He was a horse trainer in Ireland, and he got kicked in the head by a stallion. Mum had five kids. She kind of fell apart. Drinking, going down the pub every night – that sort of thing.’ He shakes his head. ‘Whereas you – well, you’ve had a rotten time, and you’re just getting on with things. The kids see that too. They see that you’re strong. And eventually, when this time has passed, they’ll be better for it. You’ll see.’
I feel like I’ve turned into a leaky water fountain as once again my eyes fill with tears. ‘I’m sorry about what happened with you,’ I say.
‘Oh,’ he shrugs, ‘it was one of those things. I survived. Had a bad patch or two when I was a young man, but now…’ he smiles, ‘I’m happy.’
‘That’s great.’
‘And I know it may be annoying to hear people say this, but you’ll be happy again too, Lizzie. Your new bloke – the director – he’s an all right sort. I may not be smart or educated, but I know people.’
‘He’s not my bloke, Simon,’ I say. ‘But thanks anyway.’
We continue walking, calling out Katie’s name periodically. I feel a creeping uneasiness as we begin to walk down the forest path to the dovecote.
‘She wouldn’t go here, would she?’ I worry aloud. Even if Luke kept his promise to speak to John C about the door, there won’t have been time to fix it properly.
‘I don’t know,’ he says. We both walk a little faster. ‘You know kids – pushing boundaries and all that.’
As we come into the clearing, Jammie bounds up to us, her hackles raised. The dovecote is in shadow. Behind it, the surface of the lake is still and inky like a dark mirror. I notice suddenly how hot and humid it is – clouds have gathered in the sky and it looks like a storm is coming. The air seems too thick to breathe. I hear a distant sound of voices speaking low in conversation.
Jammie goes back to the door, growling. A piece of cardboard had been taped over the broken window, but it’s been pulled away. I try the knob, but the door is locked. I reach through the jagged glass and unlatch it from inside.
‘Katie!’ I cry out. The dog lunges past me inside and up the stairs.
‘Wait, Lizzie,’ Simon says, ‘let me go first.’
Ignoring him, I barge in. The lower floor is empty, so I rush up the stairs to the upper level.
Katie is sitting out on the balcony, her back to me, legs dangling over the edge. Beside her, almost a head taller, is Phillipa King. The dog, continuing to growl, picks her way across the rickety floor.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ I yell, looking at Katie, but directing my anger at Phillipa. ‘This place isn’t safe. No one’s allowed out here.’
Katie kicks her legs and doesn’t turn round to look at me. Phillipa, however, gets to her feet as the dog comes onto the balcony.
‘Jammie, come here,’ I command.
The dog ignores me, planting herself firmly between Phillipa and Katie.
With a strained half-smile, Phillipa bends down to pat the dog. I can tell that Jammie is wary, but she’s no longer growling.
‘I saw Katie running this way, so I followed her,’ Phillipa says. ‘She knows it’s dangerous and that she shouldn’t be up here. We were just about to head back.’
‘Katie,’ I say, ignoring Phillipa, ‘come here, please.’
‘Let me go get her,’ Simon says. He steps out onto the floor, testing each step to make sure the boards will hold his weight. ‘Katie, come on now. Your mum has been very worried.’
At the sound of Simon’s voice, Katie slowly turns round and gets up onto her knees, then her feet. She buries her hand in Jammie’s fur, and I hold my breath as Simon takes her hand and the three of them navigate back over the dangerous floor. When they get to the safety of the brick stairs, I grab Katie and smother her with a hug. She squirms, but not too much. She even starts to hug me back a little.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ she says.
‘It’s fine,’ I say, running my hands over her hair. ‘As long as you’re OK.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, the stroppiness back in her voice. ‘I’m fine. I come here lots.’
‘Lots?’ I look at Simon.
‘I’ll have a look tomorrow at the floor,’ Simon says. ‘I think the joists might all need replacing, but we need to make sure it’s safe.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
I ask Simon if he’ll take Katie and the dog back to the house. ‘Sure,’ he says, ‘but…’
‘I need a word with Phillipa – alone.’
‘OK…’ he puts his arm companionably around Katie’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go home.’
*
When they’re gone, I go back up the stairs. Phillipa has sat back down on the balcony, and is staring out at the water. There are a thousand things I want to ask her – confront her about. The floor creaks as I take a tentative step on the boards. Is she telling the truth that she followed Katie out here because she knows it’s dangerous? Or did she lure her here?
‘How do you live with the ghosts?’ Phillipa’s voice, low and quiet, startles me and I stumble over a loose board. My injured ankle twinges through the bandage.
‘What?’ I regain my balance and continue across the rickety floor. When I reach the other end, I stand in the door frame.
‘All the people who have lived here – and gone?’ She shakes her head. ‘I couldn’t do it. I live in a new-build. I guess you could say it lacks character, but that’s what I like about it. There are no memories, no stories, nothing to spoil it.’
She looks down at her hand. Her fist is closed – she’s clutching something tightly. The rings on her fingers look heavy and dull.
‘Why did you come back here?’ I say. ‘After what happened to Julie.’
‘So you’ve been talking to Luke, have you?’ She laughs. A strange, high-pitched sound. ‘You think he’s going to give up everything – his glamourous career – to come and run a B&B with you?’
‘No,’ I say hoarsely. ‘I don’t think that. Whatever I do next, it will be entirely on my own. Though, it’s probably safest not to make plans at all. Life has a way of scuppering them.’
‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ she says. ‘And death too. I once learned that lesson. Some people live, and some people die. It sounds simple, but it defines everything.’
She opens her hand then. Her palm is covered with blood from where she’s been clutching a shard of broken glass. I gasp, instinctively feeling in my pockets for a tissue.
‘They found a shard of glass in Julie’s skull – did Luke mention that?’
I shake my head. I’m desperate to leave. Go back to the house; pretend I was never here. But I find that I’m unable to move.
‘Brown glass, from a bottle. At the inquest, the coroner explained it away. He said that mostly likely there was broken glass on the bed of the lake when she sank to the bottom. But I don’t think anyone believed that.’ She closes her hand again. ‘I loved Julie so much. She was like the sister I’d always wanted. She was a troubled girl, but even now, I still miss her sometimes.’
‘It was a terrible accident.’ The words sound impotent as they leave my mouth.
‘Was it?’ She laughs, turning sideways to look at me. ‘Maybe Luke ought to be the novelist, not me. He can tell a good story, even after all these years.’
I clench my fists by my side. ‘What are you saying, Phillipa?’
‘Did he tell you how he followed us that summer – sneaking around with his camera? How jealous he was when he saw me and Max together? Max locked the door to piss him off, and he smashed the glass to get inside. Did he tell you that? Did he tell you we played truth or dare?’ She lowers her eyelids. ‘You won’t need much imagination to figure out what he wanted me to do.’
‘You were kids,’ I say weakly. ‘That’s what kids do.’
‘Is that what you’re going to say when Katie’s old enough to be out alone with a boy?’
‘Leave my daughter out of this.’
‘Oh, but she’s not out of it, is she? Or dear little Jack – a real footballer in the making. Don’t you think you owe it to them? To know these things about the man you want to welcome into their home and their lives?’
‘Look, Phillipa, I know you’re angry at me, and to be honest, I don’t know why. As you say, Luke and I have no possible future together, so let’s just leave it, OK?’
‘Do you want to leave it, Lizzie? Or do you want to know the truth of what happened all those years ago. Because if you do, if you’re interested, it’s all there in the book. Not in a way that’s straightforward or easy, but it’s there nonetheless.’
‘The book?’
‘Starting with the opening scene.’
She stands up then, her sharp chin raised defiantly. She turns and walks back inside through the balcony door and across the sagging floor, without a care for any possible danger, and disappears down the stairs.
I stand there staring down at the piece of bloody glass she’s left on the balcony, an icy chill coursing through my veins.