The chocolate sticks to my tongue and teeth and I stare angrily out of the window at the rain. Is there any way I could be mistaken about Friday night? I had quite a lot to drink, and my memory of the evening is patchy. Could I have been near Charlie’s house or even on Cecily Hill for some reason? Perhaps Luke stopped off there when he drove me home. I can’t remember much about the drive home apart from a vague memory of the warm smell of leather, Luke’s lips on mine, the tang of whisky on his tongue.
But why would Luke have driven to Cecily Hill on the way from Tewkesbury to my house? It makes no sense. It’s a dead end and only leads to the park.
I scour my mind, going through the events of that evening again, slowly and methodically.
Everything I told the police was the truth – more or less. I might have left out some tiny details, but the bare bones are correct.
It’s true, for example, that it was about six when I dropped Dylan off at his father’s. Dylan had whimpered a little and clung to my leg as I tried to leave, and I got a mean and petty satisfaction from the flicker of hurt I saw in Theo’s eyes. A small taste of what rejection feels like, I thought. But my satisfaction was short-lived because Harper appeared at the door soon after, looking radiant, young, slender and beautiful.
She had a packet of chocolate biscuits, which she held out to Dylan as if he were a dog she was training.
He stopped crying immediately and took one. He would sell his own grandmother for a chocolate biscuit. He’s his mother’s son.
‘He shouldn’t be having a biscuit before his tea,’ I said coldly.
‘One little treat won’t do him any harm,’ she replied airily, looking at me as if she saw right through to my hypocrisy. ‘Come on, Dylan,’ she said, holding out her hand, ‘do you want to see what we’ve got for you in your room? I’ll give you a clue. It starts with d . . . and ends in aur.’
‘Dinosaur!’ yelled Dylan, rushing in.
Ever since Harper moved in with Theo, she’s been trying to win Dylan over by buying him a series of ridiculously expensive presents. And I was sure this would be no ordinary dinosaur. This would be the kind that lights up, walks and roars. I wouldn’t mind if I thought that she genuinely loved Dylan and wanted to make him happy, but I’m pretty sure she only does it to annoy me.
I sighed and handed her Dylan’s overnight bag.
She gave me a small, triumphant smile and closed the door.
I was still fuming as I drove from Theo’s to Weight Watchers, so I wasn’t really concentrating on my route, but I’m certain that I didn’t drive anywhere near Cecily Hill. Why would I have?
Weight Watchers passed uneventfully. Sara monologued a lot as usual, mainly about her troubles at work, and we discussed some new low-calorie recipes. The thing about Weight Watchers is that everyone there is completely obsessed with food and we spend all our time talking about cooking and recipes. It’s like going to an AA meeting and talking about the best cocktails to make.
‘Anyone fancy a drink?’ asked Gaby, as she always does, when we were leaving. Gaby is younger than the rest of us and hasn’t got any kids, so she hasn’t completely given up on the idea of a social life.
Most people made their excuses – they had babysitters to get back to or their favourite TV series to watch. Normally, I would have made some excuse too. Being woken up at six am by Dylan every morning makes it hard to stay awake after ten o’clock, let alone be good company. But I couldn’t bear the idea of going home to an empty house – to the gaping silence of my life without Theo and Dylan. I knew if I went home, all I would do would be obsess over what a bitch Harper is and eat a pile of junk food.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Why not?’
‘Great.’ Gaby beamed at me. ‘I know a great little pub. It’s a bit of a drive but you’ll like it. You might be able to do some research for that book you’re writing. It’s really old and meant to be one of the most haunted pubs in England. And there’s a great band playing there tonight.’
‘So, how are things?’ Gaby asked, once we were ensconced in a corner of the Black Bear, near the fireplace. ‘How’s Dylan?’
She rested her chin in her hands and gave me a quizzical look from bright brown eyes. Her hair, as usual, was a dishevelled mass of black curls and it looked as if she hadn’t changed after her work at the dog shelter. There were a couple of dog hairs clinging to her black top and what looked like part of a leaf caught up in her curls.
‘Dylan’s with his dad,’ I said picking the leaf out of her hair. ‘And things aren’t great. I just feel so angry and tense all the time. Harper was there with Theo when I dropped off Dylan this evening.’
I paused for breath. It felt good to offload to Gaby. I knew she was on my side. We’d been friends for a while, bonding over a shared love of food and dogs. Gaby had two German Shepherds of her own, which we sometimes
