Page 35 of Cross Her Heart

I don’t close the account – I’ll need it for Penny to pay my salary into, somewhere Richard won’t be able to get his hands on it – and then when I get to work I go straight to her office and tell her Richard and I are ‘having problems’ and that I need a couple of days to sort myself out. She doesn’t ask any questions – she probably thinks it’s all down to Lisa, and in some ways it is, but this fire was smouldering before the petrol of Lisa and Charlotte was poured on it – but tells me that she won’t take the days out of my holiday. I say I’m going to stay with a friend and I warn her Richard might call looking for me so I won’t tell her where. I also give her the new bank details for my wages. I see her pity.That bad?If only she knew. I’d hate for her to know. It makes me cringe that I’ve become this beaten woman. This is not who I am. It’s whoheis, nothing to do with me, but if I find it hard to see the distinction sometimes, then there’s no hope for other people. I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and she impulsively gives me a hug that almost makes me shriek in pain.

I tell her I have my mobile if they need me for anything. I would have left that at home too – God, I want some peace and quiet – but I can’t bear the thought of the police not being able to get in touch about Ava. I’ve blocked Richard’s number because I have no intention of answering any of his calls, and I’m not a fool, I’ve turned the ‘find my iPhone’ setting to off. Let him stew.

Before I leave, I turn on my ‘out of office’ email and quickly get the number I need from Lisa’s files. It’s barely ten in the morning but I haven’t slept and I’m in so much pain all I want to do is go to Tesco, buy a bottle of wine and neck it in the car. But that can wait. Instead, I swallow what little pride I have left and make the call. I speak quietly, sounding like a powerless child. It’s how I feel too, even though technically this is the first step in getting the powerback. Right now, it seems more like straightforward running away.

He’s awkward on the other end of the line, and he doesn’t agree straight away, but then from nowhere, I’m sobbing, every hitching breath causing my fractured bones to grind together, and he tells me he’ll get it sorted and it will be in his name. I’m still thanking him repeatedly when I realise he’s already hung up.

I have nothing with me, not even my toothbrush, just a bare minimum of make-up in my handbag and a tube of hand cream. I couldn’t risk sneaking anything out of the house during my getaway, but I can buy a spare set of cheap clothes and the hotel will have toiletries. I keep looking in my rear-view mirror, but there’s no sign of Richard following me. Still, I don’t begin to relax until I’ve checked in and when I get up to the room – a junior suite, God love him, not some claustrophobic single – he’s waiting there for me. Simon Manning.

‘What the hell is going on?’ he asks. There’s no edge or growl as there is whenever Richard asks the same question. Instead, he’s concerned and curious why a woman he barely knows would need him to let her stay anonymously in one of his hotels. ‘Marriage problems,’ I say, my eyes filling again. I’m so tired and sore. His face tightens, and I don’t blame him for feeling a shift. No good ever comes from getting in between warring couples. ‘He wanted me to sell my story. To theMail. I said no, obviously.’

‘Oh.’

The wheels are whirring in his head.Must have been some fight. I drop my handbag on the bed. How much is this room anyway? Why should he let me use it? How long before he picks up the phone to Penny and pulls his business from her because we’re all barking mad in one way or another and this was not what he signed up for. I need to explain and I don’t have the words for it, so I simply lift my blouse and sweater to show my midriff. I don’t worry about the fat there. He’s not going to notice it against the blooming colours. I see his eyes widen.

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You should call the police. Get to a doctor.’

I shake my head. ‘It’s bad, but it’s not that bad. I’ve been here before. And Ireallydon’t want any more of the police.’

There’s a long pause and I carefully tuck my shirt in again.

‘Do you need anything?’ he says. ‘A change of clothes maybe? A toothbrush? That kind of stuff?’

‘I’ve got some money,’ I say. I don’t want to leave the hotel. It feels safe here.

‘Don’t be stupid. I’ll send someone out. And if you’re hungry order room service.’

I’m so grateful my tears spill again, and my nose is thick with snot. ‘I didn’t have anywhere else to go.’ The enormity of that realisation is driving my self-pity more than anything else in this godawful situation. It’s made me realise how much Lisa and I depended on each other. All my other friends are joint ones with Richard. Penny is awkward around me and I can hardly see myself pouring my heart out to Stacey or Julia. Without Lisa, I am entirely alone.

‘Please don’t tell Penny,’ I ask. ‘I know it’s crazy, me calling you like this. But I thought maybe I could have the room and then pay you back at some point, and I’ll get something else sorted …’ I’m babbling, repeating myself. I said all this on the phone already.

‘I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry about it.’ He checks his watch. ‘But I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll get someone to send some clothes and pyjamas up. And some painkillers. What size clothes do you take?’

‘Twelve. Thank you.’

It’s only when he’s almost through the door that I tell him Ava’s missing. He pauses for a moment saying nothing, before curtly commenting, ‘I hope she turns up.’

His back stiffens and I feel a waft of coolness as he closes the door quietly behind him. I stare at the wood. I’ve been stupid to mention anything to do with Lisa. I’m a charity case – God, I hate that – and he doesn’t need reminding of her any more than I do.

36

LISA

Even though the sheets have been washed and changed, the whole flat stinks of urine, the mattress still sodden.

Once a bed-wetter, always a bed-wetter.

A change of name can’t cure that. Not really. I should have put a plastic sheet on it. They’d have givenCharlottea plastic sheet. But, as it is, no one cares about the smell or the fact I pissed myself like a child. It’s nothing in the hive of activity the flat has become. Noise. So much noise I have to strain to hear the television.

Ava is gone. The thought alone is a knife in my heart and I bite my cheek to stay focused. It’s been twenty-four hours, although for me it’s been one wet mattress and a lifetime. I’m submerged in my loss. They’re worried I’ve drowned completely. I was close, that is for sure, but now I can see a tiny splinter of hope, a branch to cling to. I’ve been staring at the TV screen for so long my eyes are burning. They want to turn it off so they can speak to me, but I won’t let them. I may miss something the next time thenews report runs. I need to hear it over and over again to make sense of it. To add it to the pieces of the puzzle. It’s making me feverish.

‘Lisa, we need to—’

‘Shhh,’ I hiss. Angry. Sharp. ‘After this.’

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