‘Well he’s a good friend, is all,’ Julia says, as the police leave, followed by the nurse, and the door clicks closed behind them.
‘I’m so glad he’s OK,’ I say, about to leave too.
‘Well, you would be, wouldn’t you?’ Julia sounds suddenly bitter.
‘Sorry?’
‘It would have been murder if he’d died, Amelia. I saw the blood on you when you arrived at the farmhouse that night. It was his blood, wasn’t it?’
‘Julia.’ It’s Finn. ‘I need more water.’
She picks up the glass once more, and I make a dash for the door, my heart thumping.
She knows. She knows it was me.
Chapter 43
Present Day
Amelia
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ I say down the phone, relieved the girl with the pink hair who lives next door to me back in London – I so wish I knew her name – has agreed to look after my cat for a bit longer so I can stay with Dad and Thomas.
We returned from Scotland five days ago, and I’m staying at Dad’s for now. I feel safer here. Despite fears that Julia knows what I’ve done, I haven’t heard anything from her or Finn.
Dad called DI Beynon yesterday, and was told Finn is out of hospital, but, for now, no arrests have been made. They are still looking for Elise.
‘I feel awful putting on you like this,’ I go on down the phone to the girl with the pink hair. ‘Is she OK? You’re sure she’s no trouble.’ God I miss my cat.
‘She’s absolutely fine,’ the girl says. ‘Been an angel, in fact. Stay as long as you need. No worries at all.’
‘Thanks so much, I appreciate it.’ I end the call, and look over at Thomas, who has his back to me. He’s busy on his laptop at the dining-room table, working on the screenplay of a book that a film director he knew in the US has sent him. It’s good to see him trying to get back into something that resembles normal.
‘Your cat’s still OK then?’ he says, clearly having eavesdropped on my call.
‘Uh-huh.’ I move across the room towards him. ‘A tiny ray of sunshine, at least.’
‘Pretty sure you need to find out what that woman’s name is though,’ he says with a half-laugh, not looking up, his fingers dancing on the keyboard.
‘Yeah, it’s getting kind of embarrassing.’ I smile, and he mirrors it, but our smiles are weak and half-hearted. I go to turn away, and he stops typing, and grabs my hand.
‘Are you OK, sis? This has been total hell for you.’
‘For all of us, Thomas – you haven’t exactly come out of it unscathed.’ I pause for a moment, before saying again for the umpteenth time, ‘I’m so sorry about Maddie. I know I wasn’t her biggest fan, but she was so young, so full of life.’
Thomas releases my hand, and dashes fingers across his eyes, and I realise he’s changed recently – more open with his emotions.
‘I keep going over and over everything,’ he says. ‘I mean why would Maddie turn to Finn and not me? I realise I’m pretty lacking in the superhero department, but …’
‘I think she had a bit of a thing for him.’
‘Really? I didn’t notice.’
I shrug. ‘I could be wrong, of course.’
‘But who killed her and Ruth, Amelia? And who took Elise?’
‘I wish I knew.’ A beat. ‘If I’m honest, I’m still not convinced Elise was taken.’ I don’t say: I think someone killed her in the same way they killed Ruth and Maddie. ‘The thing is, we couldn’t get off the estate, could we? So how could anyone abduct her? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Well, let’s hope the police do a better job of finding her, than they did finding Lark.’ He pauses for a moment, as though allowing the thought of our sister to seep in. ‘You know what? I still dream we’ll find Lark one day,’ he says. ‘Haven’t given up hope.’
‘Nor me,’ I say. But it’s a lie. Truth is, I have given up hope, and it breaks my heart.
‘And I still think Finn took Elise,’ he says, his breath catching on his words. ‘I don’t want to believe it, but—’
‘No,’ I say, wanting to defend Finn. He lied for me. ‘He’s a good man, Thomas. I know he had issues with his mother …’ I rub my hands over my face. ‘Anyway, how can you tell if someone is a killer? They don’t exactly wear a T-shirt saying “I kill people”.’ I shudder at my stupid words. ‘And Finn is kind and cute.’ Cute? I wonder at my choice of word.
‘Kind and cute, aye?’ Thomas smiles. ‘I won’t suggest you google Ted Bundy.’
‘Oh shut up!’ But I’m glad he’s lightened things a little. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’ I go to walk away. ‘I think there are some custard creams in the tin.’
‘No wait.’ He wheels his chair away from the table. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Do I need to sit down?’ I say, picking up on his sudden serious tone.
He nods, and I perch on the edge of the sofa, my body tensing.
‘It’s not bad news,’ he says.
I relax my shoulders, reassured. ‘That’s a relief. I’m not sure I could take any more.’
‘In fact,’ he says, moving closer and taking my hands in his. ‘It’s good news.’
I look into his eyes, and it’s as though whatever he’s about to tell me has ignited a light there I haven’t seen for a long time.
‘The thing is,’ he begins, ‘before we went away, I saw another specialist.’ He pauses for a moment, and takes a breath. ‘I’d been having sensations in my toes, Amelia. I can even move my feet sometimes.’
‘Oh, Thomas.’ I fling my arms around his neck. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘Hang on,’ he says, as I release him. ‘It could be nothing, but he says there’s hope.’
A memory of seeing his toe twitch and his foot move when we were at Drummondale House filters in – how I thought it was
