Page 25 of Cross Her Heart

‘I checked when she went to get coffee and she had put some papers in there. But this is Julia. She wouldn’t be so stupid as to go in there without areason.’

I see a flicker of doubt on Marilyn’s face.

‘There’s more,’ I say. ‘Something happened at the salsa club night. You know, the office party. Something I saw.’

‘Go on.’ I start to tell the story and she leans forward as I speak as if sucking in my words from the air, to savour and swallow them, until finally I finish and we both sit back.

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

‘What could I say?’ I shrug. ‘I didn’t have any proof. It’s not like I caught her red-handed. I was on the other side of the room and by the time I realised what she’d done she was halfway to the bar. It would have been my word against hers, and you know what Penny’s like, she probably wouldn’t have known how much cash she had in her wallet, let alone if twenty pounds was missing from it.’

‘We need to tell Penny,’ she says. Decisive. She’s always decisive.

‘But there’s still no proof.’

‘Then we get some. We can set a trap. Mark the notes in the box or something and do a spot check.’

‘We’re not the police, Maz.’ I half-laugh. ‘We can’t go around demanding people show us what’s in their wallets.’ The relief oftellingis being consumed by the anxiety of potential action.

‘We’ve got to do something. Penny thinks the sun shines out of that girl’s arse.’

‘She’s not a girl. Look more closely. I bet she’s not far off our age.’

‘You think?’

I shrug.

‘Thank God I’m married, eh? I can let it all go.’

I almost laugh. Marilyn has never let herself go. Me, maybe, but I never haditin the first place.

‘You’re not doing so bad,’ I say. ‘For an old bird.’

‘Cow.’

We both smile and it feels good, even with the constant nausea and ache in my stomach.

‘We need a drink,’ she says, decisive again. ‘I’m driving but I can have one. Sod it. Get your bag. Let’s go to the pub.’

‘But Ava …’ I mutter.

‘… Is sixteen,’ she finishes. ‘I keep telling you – you’ve got to give her space. Now sort yourself out while I have a wee. Let’s go.’

It’s past eleven when I crawl into bed. I feel better than I have all week. The pub was good, old-fashioned and cosy and no one paid us any attention at all, which reminded me how this whole business with Ava and the river is only important for the bubble of our social circles, such as they are. No one else cares, they’re all getting on with their own complicated lives. We bitched about Julia, she quizzed me about what Ava was going to do over the summer and in sixth form and then we talked about Simon – who texted while we were out, asking for another dinner, and she made me answer yes. It was a good escape but as soon as I relaxed I felt shattered and couldn’t stop yawning. Relief and release. The sheer exhaustion that comes from having been wound tight for days and the comedown from living in fight-or-flight mode. I’m out of practice.

I haven’t said goodnight to Ava, my tiredness too much to face any more confrontation. I’m clinging desperately to this wispy ribbon of calm. If I can get to sleep before the anxiety creeps back I’ve got a chance of a good night’s rest and everything will seem better in the morning. Rest does that. Sunshine does that. I’ll let Marilyn take the lead on Julia. And like she says, we won’t make any real accusations until we have proof. Evidence. I don’t want to think about evidence. It leads me back to worry.

Even though it’s warm I leave the window closed and pull my duvet and knees right up to my chin. I make myself small. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I imagine myself as the last person in the world. It makes me feel safe. The last person. Only me. Alone. I drift.

‘Mum?’

I’m dead to the world and when Ava shakes my shoulder and I startle awake, I’m not sure where I am, or when I am, and I leap out of my bed as if my life depends on it. I squint in the bright light. Is that daylight? No, my curtains are drawn. She’s turned the light on. Blue-white creeps through the edges of the fabric though, so itismorning.

‘It’s crazy, Mum.’ She’s all energy and excitement, still in her shorts and T-shirt from bed. I can’t catch up, but my heart is racing.No No No,it drums against my ribs.Please no.

‘I mean, it’s just crazy.’ She’s almost at the window and I want to pull her back, pull her under the covers and hide us both there. She laughs. ‘Who’d have thought all these people would be interested in what I did? It’s not that big a deal. But look, Mum, look!’ She pulls back the curtains. ‘See?’

I hear them through the double glazing. The shouting. The clicking of bulbs. The chatter of the hyenas. I don’t move.

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