Clara closed her eyes for a moment. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”
“Are you kidding? A chance to leave Oscar with Adam and go and do something more exciting than puree carrots? Hell yeah.”
While Mac and Tom breathed a sigh of relief, Clara chewed her thumbnail unhappily. She felt a fresh surge of anger toward Rose and Oliver. This was their mess, their doing, yet they’d jumped at the chance to send a young woman they didn’t know, a young mother, into danger to help clear it up. “What if it goes wrong?” she asked.
“Like you said, Hannah doesn’t know me; she doesn’t know what I look like. I’ll keep way back. Listen, Clara, I’m going to do this; you’d do the same for me. I’m not stupid—if I start getting a bad vibe, then I’ll back the fuck off. But let’s give it a try, yeah? Let me help you find Luke.”
“And if she lives out of London? Miles away? What if it’s a wild-goose chase?” said Mac worriedly.
“As soon as it looks like she’s heading out of town, I’ll abort the mission, okay?” Zoe replied. “Seriously, guys, it’ll be fine.”
Later that day, as Clara sat with Tom and Mac, she sent the message to Hannah. Can we meet?
The reply came quickly. Of course. Do you have any news?
“What shall I say?” she asked the others.
Tom thought about it. “We need to give her a reason to meet us. We can’t afford for her to drop contact now.”
Clara considered for a moment, then typed, There’s been an interesting development that I want to talk over with you. And then she pressed Send.
For the next hour or so, they waited for a reply. “Maybe she’s onto us,” Clara said nervously to Tom. “Your mum said that she somehow seems able to track their every move. What if she’s figured out that I know she’s not really Emily?” She sighed in frustration. “Where the fuck is she?” she muttered.
Finally, another message came through. Tomorrow? Same bar as last time?
Sure, Clara wrote, feeling a rush of relief. I’ll see you there at six.
She put her phone down and looked first at Tom and then at Mac. “Looks like we’re on.”
THIRTY
LONDON, 2017
Clara felt as though a balloon were slowly expanding inside her chest. Whenever she checked her watch, time seemed to have stood still, though it felt like hours since last she’d looked. Rose and Oliver had driven down from Suffolk, and the five of them were now sitting around Mac’s kitchen table, restlessly waiting for the moment when Clara would leave to meet Hannah. “We’re coming with you,” Rose announced. “After Zoe follows her and finds out where Hannah lives, I mean. We’re going to come with you to confront her.”
Tom shook his head. “No, you and Dad should stay here.”
“We’re coming,” Oliver told him grimly. “It’s us she’s doing this for. We need to try to reason with her.”
“And I need to know for certain if she knows where Emily is,” Rose added. “I need to look Hannah in the eye and ask her what happened to my daughter.”
Clara felt the tightening in her chest intensify. She couldn’t stop thinking about Doug and Toby. If Hannah was capable of killing them, then what else might she do? Was Luke even still alive? She checked her watch again—it was still only quarter to four.
The minutes passed so tensely that, despite her fear, Clara was almost relieved when it was finally time for her to leave. “Remember,” Tom said as they all anxiously gathered around her in the hall, “if you think she’s on to you, just make your excuses and leave. We’ve got Zoe’s number; we’ll tell her to back off too.”
She nodded, then took a deep breath, looking from one to the other of their anxious faces. “Don’t worry,” she said, sounding far more confident than she felt. “I’ll be fine.”
—
The tube journey from Highbury to Old Street seemed to take forever, her nerves winding tighter and tighter as her train rattled through the black tunnels. By the time she reached east London, she felt sick with fear. She emerged onto the street to find that a cool wind had picked up, sending scraps of litter dancing across the pavement as she walked. Finally, she spied Great Eastern Street ahead of her and as she turned in to it, her mobile buzzed, causing her to almost leap out of her skin. It was a text from Zoe. I’m at the pub a little way down from the Octopus. I’ll call you as soon as I can afterward.
And then there Clara was at the bar. To her relief, there was no sign of Hannah yet, and she took a seat at the same table as before. There was the same quiet, early-evening buzz in the air and the same barman smiling at her from behind the bar. She both longed for and dreaded Hannah’s arrival. Would she be able to tell, just by looking at her, what was going on? Fear and adrenaline surged through her. Right at that moment a shadow fell across the table.
“Clara?” Hannah was dressed as usual in dark jeans and a hoodie. She tucked her hair behind her ear in a familiar nervous gesture that had once seemed endearing, but now seemed entirely staged, her smile oozing warmth and gentleness. It was utterly chilling how convincing she was.
Clara forced herself to return her smile, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand, endeavoring to keep her voice steady as she said, “Hi, Emily, it’s good to see you. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” Hannah sat down and they stared at each other for a beat or two before she said, concern furrowing her brow, “God, you look awful. Are you all right?”
“No,
