Yet, despite all of this, there’s still a bubbling in her tummy that’s telling her she will move heaven and earth to see him just one last time. She scrolls absently through her contacts, knowing that there are few people, if any, who she’d entrust with her children. It seems a pointless exercise, but then she sees it, and the answer suddenly dawns on her.
She types a message out, her thumb hovering perilously close to the ‘Send’ button. No one is more surprised to hear that whoosh sound of it being sent than her.
‘Come on, come on,’ she says, like a woman possessed, to the inanimate object in her hand. ‘Say something.’
I’d love that! comes Jess’s reply. What time?
Oh God. Does 8pm suit? types Lauren before she has a chance to change her mind.
Perfect! See you then x
She lets out the breath she was holding in as she stares, transfixed by the text that is slowly appearing, as if by magic, across her phone screen. Y-O-U-R is being spelt out, but it doesn’t feel like she’s typing it. It’s as if she’s outside of herself, looking in.
P-L- Every letter she types makes her feel as if she’s falling deeper into a hole, pulling her into a vortex she doesn’t want to be pulled out of. She’s still got time to change her mind, if she really wants to, but she knows she’s not going to. A-C-E she adds, before sending it and covering her eyes with her hands.
She watches the three dots running across the page, knowing that Justin’s typing his reply, desperate to know what he’s going to say. The three dots disappear and she chastises herself. She’s been too forward. He’s going to think she does this kind of thing all the time. He won’t want to know her now.
Looking forward to it flashes up his reply, and her stomach somersaults.
28
Kate
On the train back to London, Kate is buzzing. She feels more in control now that she has the proof that Jess isn’t who she says she is. She has to remind herself to keep referring to her as Jess, because calling her Harriet will only serve to prove that she knows more than she should. Though it’s how she’s going to use that information that needs the most thought. Kate looks out the window as the open plains of the New Forest are left behind, replaced by the juxtaposition of an industrial park as the train moves across the River Test towards Southampton.
Her phone vibrates in her lap and, seeing that it’s Matt, she picks up, momentarily forgetting where she is. As soon as she hears him say, ‘Hey, where are you?’ her heart sinks.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ he continues, as she quickly looks at her watch, as if it will offer a justifiable excuse for where she’s been. ‘I called the office, but they said you hadn’t made it in. Are you okay? How are you feeling?’
The sound of the train speeding along the tracks is unmistakable, yet still she wonders if she can get away without telling him where she is.
‘Better,’ she says, answering one question that he’s asked. ‘I did a bit of work this morning and went out for a walk at lunchtime. I actually feel better this afternoon than I have in a while.’ It’s not an out-and-out lie. All of that has happened at some point today.
‘Great,’ he says, sounding enthused. ‘So where are you now? At home?’
‘I’m just on my way back now,’ she says, skirting the issue. ‘How’s your day been?’
‘Mad busy,’ he says. ‘And far from finished unfortunately. The PM’s press conference isn’t until this evening, and he’s agreed to give me a one-to-one straight afterwards.’
‘On the phone?’ asks Kate.
‘In person,’ says Matt.
Kate groans.
‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ sighs Matt. ‘So I’m on a train to Birmingham after work.’
‘Okay,’ says Kate, nonplussed. She’s used to dropping everything herself at a moment’s notice – it comes with the territory.
‘I’ll keep you posted,’ says Matt. ‘Oh, and by the way, keep your eyes peeled for our centre spread the day after tomorrow.’
‘Oh yeah,’ says Kate. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Didn’t I tell you that the new girl had a good nose for a story?’
Kate’s lungs feel like they’re being squeezed. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘She’s sniffed out something that might be of interest to you.’
‘Meaning?’ Kate presses.
‘She’s tracked down someone who’s used those genealogy websites to find their long-lost relatives.’
Kate shudders involuntarily, her blood feeling like it’s freezing over. ‘Wh-who’s she found?’
‘A woman who’s been reunited with her sister by uploading her DNA – just like Lauren and that girl.’
Kate’s jaw spasms and there’s a banging in her head as she imagines Jess and Lauren’s faces peering out at the five million people that read the Echo. Would they really be that stupid? Kate can’t take the chance.
‘My girl promises it’s a corker,’ Matt goes on.
My girl? If Kate were in a forgiving mood, she’d acknowledge that it was a phrase he’s used before, but right now it just leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
The noise in her head is getting louder, like a beating drum that’s getting closer and closer. She can see this spiralling out of control.
‘You can’t run it,’ she says.
‘What? Why not?’
‘Because . . . because we’re running a similar story tomorrow.’
‘Oh shit!’ groans Matt. ‘Are you kidding me?’
She hates lying to Matt, as they’ve always managed to give and take where work’s concerned, both of them careful not to tread on the other’s toes. But this is different. This is personal.
‘Yeah, sorry,’ she says. ‘I offered it up in conference and the news team went with it. Their story’s much stronger than your girl’s, I’m afraid.’
‘What have you got?’ he sighs, not picking up on Kate’s sarcasm.
‘Erm, I really can’t say.’
‘Seriously?’
She needs to think quickly. ‘We’ve got a
