I gulp back my emotions, and turn back before Maddie can speak.
The cottages are a blur through the front windscreen, and I realise tears have filled my eyes. I cough, choking, as my larynx twists. I’d blocked this place out as best I could. Attempted to run from the memory.
‘You do know I’m sorry,’ Maddie says and I feel her move, and grip my seat. ‘That I didn’t mean—’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I cut in.
I hear her flop back in her seat. ‘OK,’ she says. ‘Fine.’
We sit in silence for some time, before the car door opens, and Dad jumps into the front seat, feathers of snow covering his hair and coat.
‘Ruth says we can pull up in front of the cottages for now.’ He starts the engine and drives towards Bluebell Cottage where Mum, Jackson and Lark had stayed last time. He stops outside the front door, and glances over his shoulder. ‘Right, let’s get you two in the warm.’
‘Thomas,’ Maddie says, shaking my brother to wake him. ‘We’re here.’
He opens his eyes. ‘Christ. Where are we – Narnia?’ He pushes his nose against the window, and takes a gulp of air. ‘When did we drive through a wardrobe?’
Maddie laughs.
‘We have seen better days,’ Thomas says, his voice suddenly low and level. He often quotes Shakespeare, since studying literature at university and getting a first-class master’s degree. ‘Now is the winter of our discontent.’
Chapter 4
Present Day
Ruth
‘Finn!’ I call, heading into the kitchen. ‘We need to prepare the vegetables. I want this meal to be perfect.’ I pick up a small knife that once belonged to my mother, and begin peeling potatoes. ‘Finn!’
‘For God’s sake, Mum, give me time to get down the bloody stairs.’ He appears, lifts a stripy apron from the back of the kitchen door, and slips it over his head.
I look up at him and smile. He’s looking so much better than he did a year ago. He runs each morning before I get up, and every evening too. I reach up, stroke his hair – he suits it shorter – a tingle of satisfaction running through my body. He’s finally got over his wife’s affair. It took some doing but I’ve got my son back.
Finn picks up a peeler, begins stripping carrots with the speed and skill of a professional chef. I’ve taught him well. My daughter couldn’t carry the baton, but Finn is the next best thing. ‘So the guests are here?’ he says.
I nod. ‘They are Lark’s family. They hope to remember something.’
He catches his finger on the blade, and winces. ‘About the disappearance?’
‘Mmm. I’m not sure what they hope to achieve.’
Finn shrugs, glances through the window. ‘And the snow is getting deeper out there. They can hardly search the woods.’ He crosses the kitchen and grabs a blue plaster from a medical box. ‘This is going to be awkward. I mean do we mention what happened?’
‘We let them take the lead.’ I cut a peeled potato in half, and drop it into a saucepan of water with a splash. ‘Oh, and I had a call from Rosamund Green this morning. She should be here by dinnertime with her daughter.’
‘Really?’ He glances towards the kitchen window once more, his eyes narrowing. Snow rests on the frame, like a picture on a Christmas card. ‘Do the Taylors know she’s going to be staying here too? I mean Rosamund wasn’t exactly supportive when Lark went missing.’
I shrug. ‘I have no idea.’ I feel a smile stretch across my face. ‘But I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds.’
‘Well I for one am dreading it.’
I curl a tendril of hair behind my ear, noticing how grey I’m getting. ‘It will be fine, Finn,’ I say. ‘I’ll make sure everything is perfect.’
Chapter 5
A Year Ago
Amelia
They tried so hard to hide their sadness the day they arrived at Drummondale House a year ago, the sun warm on their backs as they headed across the cobbled car park.
Amelia clung on to her dad’s arm. To her, he’d always been strong. Her rock. The person she leaned on if her world fell apart: like the night she was dumped at the school prom by Joshua Williams, or the day she didn’t get that weekend job at Blockbuster she’d set her heart on.
Once, when she was little, her dad had appeared in the kitchen wearing green corduroy trousers that were slightly baggy at the knees, and an equally green cardigan. Amelia called him The Incredible Hulk, and her mum couldn’t stop laughing. She could never see what Amelia could see – called him a dusty historian. Maybe that’s why she left him for Jackson.
Today there was no sign of The Incredible Hulk. Her dad was struggling like the rest of them. This was to be her mum’s final holiday, and she’d gathered those she loved most in the Scottish Highlands.
As they strolled across the grass, Amelia released her dad’s arm. Her insides were a knot of sadness and anxiety, her eyes ached from tears she tried to hold back. But she knew, like everyone else on this ridiculous venture, that she had to make it the best holiday ever, for her mum’s sake.
‘You OK?’ she asked, looking up at her dad as they followed the rest of the family – six of them, and Maddie – towards Drummondale House reception.
He fiddled with the binoculars hanging around his neck – always a keen bird watcher – and shrugged, eyes shining. It was a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t OK. He was losing the only woman he had ever loved to cancer, and he couldn’t even comfort and care for her, because Jackson bloody Cromwell had moved in on her a year ago – taken her from him.
Still, Amelia told herself, her mum must care for her dad. She wanted him to be there. She touched his arm. ‘We’ll get through this,’ she said. ‘For Mum.’
‘Well, it’s a tough one, and
