Paige looked again at the scrap that had torn off in the corner. “E.G” is capitalised, she thought, perhaps it isn’t e.g. “for example”... they could be initials.
She continued reading down the page and came across a marginal comment from Eckland, off to one side and on an angle, unlike the essay. It read:
“02.05.19 – thank you for your notes, Ella. Wonderful work and PLENTY more to do.”
Paige’s heart leapt. Ella... she thought, E.G. Could this be the handwriting of the girl who had been killed in Oxpens Meadow the day after Paige was attacked?
Hands shaking, she tried to slow her breathing and think. If Ella had hidden these notes in here, hoping that someone would find them, she shouldn’t let anyone know that she had. However, if Eckland had hidden them in here, hoping to hide his connection to Ella, her finding them could put her in danger.
After several minutes staring at the piece of paper, rereading “E.G” and Eckland’s note, she put the paper back in the hidden compartment. She packed her things and went to find Eckland, who was in the sunroom at the back of the house where he always was at this time of day, drinking a cup of tea and reading the local newspaper. Arlene was in the garden, pottering from flowerbed to flowerbed, dead-heading and weeding.
“Paige!” Eckland said, surprise evident in his tone, “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, actually, thank you,” Paige said, taking a seat on the sofa opposite him and placing her bag down at her ankle. She accepted the cup but didn’t drink.
“Did you read the paper last week?” Paige gestured to Eckland’s newspaper, knowing that the story of Ella Gold’s death had been in the local paper.
“We buy it every week – it is so important to support our local papers. My grandfather was a journalist, you know,” Eckland said.
“Yes, I remember you saying,” Paige said.
“Would you like to borrow it when I’ve finished?” Eckland asked, no change in his voice to indicate that he had understood Paige’s hint.
“No, thank you, I buy it too,” Paige said, and with a deep breath added, “I read the saddest story last week – a local girl, a student, had been killed. Ella Gold, she was just 20.”
“A tragedy, but no, I don’t remember that,” Eckland said, “I tend to only retain the arts section – can’t get too bogged down with the horrors in the general news,” he added, returning to this page.
Paige studied his face as he spoke – it was the same as always, overly expressive, eyebrows jumping up and down so much that his glasses bounced. If he had known Ella Gold, he wasn’t letting on.
She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it now. Thinking quickly, she said to Eckland, “I’m afraid I have to go home early today – I’m feeling a little unwell.”
“Oh gosh, get home right away! You’ve been working yourself too hard – no rest for the wicked!”
“Thank you, Professor Eckland,” Paige said, getting her bag.
CHAPTER NINE
ONCE OUT, SHE BEGAN to question her motives. What was she hoping to achieve? If Eckland had known Ella Gold, why would he lie?
She had only one more idea of what to do. Walking hurriedly back towards her mum’s house, she walked the familiar footpath, anxiously rubbing her hands together.
Before long she was by the river, entering Oxpens Meadow. The footpath was busy, with lots of people walking in the same direction as Paige.
She rounded the corner and saw the angel statue. The area was crowded with people, hugging each other and crying. The ground around the statue was covered in bunches of flowers, tealights and sympathy cards.
Paige approached the statue, gently pushing through the crowds of people. They were mostly stood in small groups and seemed to be university age – presumably Ella’s friends and classmates.
She weaved through the bundles of flowers, being careful not to tread on anything. The sympathy cards spoke of a “friendly girl” who “was loved by everyone”. The angel stood surveying the scene, and her cupped hands holding out a photo of Ella.
The photo appeared to have been taken on holiday, possibly Spain or Ibiza, somewhere warm and sunny, and Ella was dressed in shorts, a tank top and sandals. She was stood, posing charismatically in the doorway of a hotel room.
Heart jumping, Paige noticed that her and Ella shared several physical features. Judging by her height relative to the doorway, they were around the same height, they were similar builds, and Ella had the same deep chocolate hair, tied in a high ponytail as Paige’s often was.
With another jolt, Paige noticed a tattoo on Ella’s leg, a tattoo that closely resembled the ink stamp that Paige had seen on Eckland’s paper. A lioness, far more detailed than in the stamp, sat up proudly. Was it Ella’s stamp? Did she mark Eckland’s papers with an ink stamp after making notes on them?
“Did you know her?” A voice said from behind her. Paige turned around to see a woman in her early 20s.
“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come...” Paige said, turning around and heading back out of the crowd.
“Wait!” She heard the woman yell, but she didn’t stop to turn around. Tears beginning to fill her eyes, she strode down the footpath towards home.
As she walked, her mind was clouded with questions. Did Eckland lie? And if so, why? Who was Ella to him? What was the lioness symbol for? Had the attacker mistaken her for Ella that night?
She was overwhelmed with the thought that her attack and Ella’s death were connected. She began to wonder if it was a coincidence that they both knew Eckland, and if not, she wondered if
