Page 69 of The Memory Wood

Again, in my head, I feel something shift. The wall I’ve constructed is losing the battle against what’s pushing against it. I don’t know what will happen if it falls.

Around me, the darkness feels heavy, like I’m trapped beneath the ocean with a mile of black water pressing down. Squashed by all that pressure, I can hardly breathe.

Will they be waiting when I go back upstairs? I imagine the building’s outer walls lit by the beams of a dirty white van.

CHILLAX.

Shuddering, I listen for any sound. But it’s silent down here, the deathly quiet of a crypt. When I delve into my pocket I feel the hard curves of the padlock key.

Not thirty minutes ago I was standing at my bedroom window, watching a vehicle bounce along the track beside Fallow Field. The drivermusthave been coming here. The cell had already been stripped of Elissa’s presence – washed, scrubbed, disinfected. Was the door resealed as a message, or is there another reason?

My hands are shaking so badly it takes me an age to undo the padlock. I draw back the central bolt. Two others follow. Gripping the handle, I pause in the darkness.

I should walk away, find that police station. Tell the truth this time, instead of lies.

Grimacing, I open the door.

IV

Out of the cell, just like before, rolls that hellish stench of bleach. I hesitate on the threshold, letting it wash over me. Then, clenching my fists, I take a forward step, feeling the way with my toe. I don’t expect to find my torch, not now, but at least the act of searching will be a distraction from what might be waiting above ground.

Eyes closed despite the darkness, I move across the cell, sweeping the floor with my foot. I need to do this carefully. I can’t afford to miss a single millimetre. I’m halfway to the iron ring – or think I am – when I hear something.

Even though I freeze, straining my ears, my breathing’s far too loud, my heartbeat far too fierce. ‘Hello?’ I venture, bracing for the impact of a hammer, or the slash of a blade.

The darkness pulses like a living thing, a black lung. ‘Hello, Elijah,’ it replies.

Mairéad

Day 6

I

In Salisbury, Mairéad is back in the Mirzoyan living room for her third visit in four days. Lena and her parents sit opposite. Judy Pauletto hovers near by. Yesterday, Lena looked like a corpse. Right now, she looks worse.

Mairéad doesn’t feel much better. This morning she managed a full breakfast, but she barely kept it down five minutes before bringing the whole lot back up. Thankfully, she’s had no more abdominal pain since yesterday’s press conference, and no repeat of the spotting. Last night, she’d been too dog-tired to arrange a referral to the early-pregnancy assessment unit. Thanks to the latest discovery, she hasn’t found the time since.

‘There’s been another communication,’ she explains. ‘I won’t lie. It’s going to be upsetting. But I need you to watch it. You might notice something we haven’t.’

With a glance at Judy, she opens her laptop and taps the play button. Elissa Mirzoyan emerges, as if from a nightmare.

The girl looks dreadful. Emaciated, scared, ill. When Lena Mirzoyan sees her daughter, she sags forwards as if her strings have been cut.

Onscreen, Elissa takes a few steadying breaths. Then, in a voice that rasps like wet sand, she says, ‘There was this time, last summer. Mum promised to take me to London. I’d always wanted to ride on the Underground, take a Tube to all the famous stops – check out Madame Tussauds, Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, 221B Baker Street.’

‘Did you go?’

Even though she’s watched this two-minute clip thirty times, Mairéad still stiffens when she hears that voice. On the sofa, Lena Mirzoyan recoils.

‘Yes,’ Elissa replies. ‘Although not to any of those places I said. We ended up going to the cinema to see a repeat showing ofLéon, this old movie my mum likes. I hated it, hated every minute.’

‘That doesn’t sound fun.’

‘No. Afterwards, we were meant to go somewhere for cake. Black Forest gateau, just like she promised.’

‘You didn’t get cake?’

‘We went to a pub. Mum drank five vodkas, then we caught the train home.’

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