‘Did Edie know that?’
‘Know what?’
‘That it wasn’t serious?’
‘Huh?’ He sounded genuinely confused. I felt a ripple of that old familiar anger, as sleek and sinuous as a cat coiling about my legs. I tightened my grip on the knife. The buzzing in my head was making it hard to think straight. I stepped forward.
‘Did my daughter know you weren’t serious about her? Or did you lead her on, the way all the others did?’
‘Mrs Hudson, listen – I’m – I’m not here to—’
‘Why are you here, William? It’s a cold, dark night in a graveyard. What are you doing here?’
‘Ch-Charlie.’
‘Charlie?’
‘Yeah. She told me it would be funny if I hid in the dark and threw those stones. To frighten you. She wanted to make you believe in Quiet Mary the same way they all do.’
William swallowed noisily. He flattened himself against the tree behind him, his fear of me real and almost comical; large round eyes, slack jaw. It came from him in waves. I’d forgotten that he was just a kid, that he was just as scared and confused as I was. I took another step forward. I looked down at the knife in my hand. I should put it away, I thought, but I didn’t. I could feel my fast pulse in the tips of my fingers, the cushion of my palm. The pearl handle felt cool to the touch, the blade a delicious weight, smooth and clean. I liked the way light ran along it like water.
‘I swear on my mother’s life, Mrs Hudson, I don’t know anything about your daughter!’
‘Shh,’ I told him, pressing the knife against his skinny throat. He whimpered. I pressed the tip in the soft spot behind his earlobe, nicking the skin there in a series of little cuts, like stitches. I was numb, amputated. It was like I’d stepped outside my body.
‘Please!’ he whispered frantically. ‘Please don’t do this . . .’
Suddenly I heard voices, moving through the trees. Low rustling sounds, the scuffle of leaves, someone calling my name. William slumped a little and I looked at the blood on the tip of my knife with mounting horror. Had I done that to him? Turning round, I could see torchlight slicing through the dark, hear Tony Marston’s familiar, dense tone saying, Come on, Samantha, come on out of there. William shook his head, muttering, Oh my God, and all the while I felt hollow, scooped out on the inside and left like a cave, dark and wet and empty. The frost would creep over me in the night like white lace. In the morning I’d shatter as the sun rose, my frozen body blown to the wind like flakes of snow.
Later, in the back of the police car, I felt the first warmth creeping back into my fingers and toes. Tony turned down the radio, which had already begun to play Christmas songs. He rubbed his forehead, flicking the indicator on as he made a right turn.
‘What’s going on, Sam?’
I stared at him in the rear-view mirror, unsmiling.
He sighed again. ‘You pull a weapon on a minor, you’ve been taking God knows what, you’re covered in blood – just help me out here, please.’
‘He said she made him do it. Charlie.’
‘I know, he told me. Poor kid’s terrified. Some girl put him up to coming into the graveyard to give you a fright. I don’t know what’s wrong with people. The world’s gone to hell.’
The rumble of the engine, the drone of the heaters. I tipped my head backward and leaned into the seat, suddenly sleepy.
‘I mean, you’re lucky you’re not under arrest for that knife.’
‘It’s an antique,’ I mumbled.
‘Yeah? Well, so am I.’
‘How did you know I was there?’
‘Your brother Rupert called me. He’s worried about you. Said you were going off to do some sort of voodoo with Edie’s friends.’
‘Ah.’
We let a minute or two pass. He cleared his throat. ‘Those girls aren’t going to help you find her, Sam. They’re as bad as the psychics that keep calling. You stay away from people like that. And you stay away from the Thorn family. All of them.’
The click of a lighter. He passed me a lit cigarette. ‘Smoke that and stay awake. I don’t want you burning the car down.’
‘He was frightened of me.’
‘I’m not fucking surprised. You had a knife on him.’
‘He smelled bad.’
‘Yup. The whole place smelled bad. We’ve had complaints. Dead rabbits everywhere. That man, Liverly, he’s gone to stay with his son. Indefinitely.’ His eyes flicked to me in the mirror again. ‘There’s been a bit of a backlash since he was taken in for questioning.’
‘Good.’
‘Sam, listen. I know how much you’re hurting. I know it’s hard for you to feel like you’re doing nothing, but this – this isn’t helping find your daughter.’
‘How would you know what’s helping? You’ve given up.’
Tony looked pained but said nothing as he pulled up outside my house. He switched the engine off and the two of us sat quietly in the dark for a minute, smoking. I saw the curtains of the house twitch over the road. I felt like waving at them. Fuck, I felt like flashing them. Top up, tits out. Come and see this, Graham, that woman over the road has finally lost her mind. Samantha Hudson, brought home in a police car. It wasn’t the first time a police car had drawn up outside our house but usually it was Edie inside, clothes ripped from fighting or banned from whichever shop she’d stolen from. ‘Can’t you keep her?’ I’d joked as the officer had brought her in, except, like every good joke, there was a hint of truth to it, wasn’t there? Pleading, almost.
Finally, Tony said, ‘Samantha, do you remember what it was like to be fifteen?’
I nodded. I was crying again; I didn’t know where these tears had sprung from. I was like a leaky tap these days, crying in jarring fits and starts until my eyes were
