by Jane Harper
‘He had a dog.’ Alice’s voice was quiet. ‘We shouldn’t stay here.’
Beth took a breath, her chest rattling with anger, then made herself take another before she spoke.
‘Bullshit. That was all twenty years ago. And it’ll be night in half an hour. Jill? You already agreed. Stumbling around in the dark is going to get one of us killed.’
‘Beth’s right –’ Lauren started, but Alice turned on her.
‘No-one asked you, Lauren! You could be helping get us out of here but you’re too scared to try. So stay out of it.’
‘Alice! Stop.’ Jill looked from the dog bones to the trees and back again. Beth could tell she was torn. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘Look, I’m not keen on staying either, but ghost stories can’t do us harm. Exposure actually might.’
Alice shook her head. ‘Really? You’re really going to stay here?’
‘Yes.’ Jill’s face had darkened with an ugly flush. Her damp hair was plastered to her head, exposing a badger stripe of grey down the parting. ‘And I know you’ve got a problem with that, Alice, but for once keep it to your bloody self. I’m sick of hearing from you.’
The two women stood face to face, blue-lipped, bodies tense. Something invisible shifted in the undergrowth and they both jumped. Jill stepped back.
‘That’s enough. Decision made. Someone get a fire going, for God’s sake.’
The gum trees shivered and watched as they searched for firewood, jumping at every little noise, until it was too dark to see anymore. Alice did not help.
Chapter 16
Margot Russell didn’t speak much in the car.
She sat in the back seat, staring down at her mobile as Falk and Carmen drove to Lauren’s house for the second time that day. She watched the videos obsessively, the screen close to her face and the tinny sound of teenage sex floating through to the front seat. Falk and Carmen exchanged a glance. After the second time through, Carmen gently suggested focusing on something else. Margot simply turned off the sound and continued to watch.
‘We’ll make sure the officers running the search know where you’re staying tonight, in case there’s any news,’ Carmen said.
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was small.
‘And I suppose the school might want to talk to you, but I guess they’ll have Lauren’s contact details. Maybe her daughter can collect anything you need from your locker if you don’t want to go in.’
‘But –’ Margot looked up at that. She sounded surprised. ‘Rebecca doesn’t go to school anymore.’
‘Doesn’t she?’ Falk glanced at her in the rear-view mirror.
‘No. She stopped coming to classes about six months ago.’
‘Stopped completely?’
‘Yeah. Of course,’ Margot said. ‘Have you seen her?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Well, no, she hasn’t been for a while. She was getting teased a bit. Nothing serious, just some stupid pictures. But I guess she felt –’ She broke off. Looked down again at her screen, her mouth tight. She didn’t finish her thought out loud.
Lauren was waiting for them with the front door open as they pulled up outside her house.
‘Come in,’ she said as they trooped up the driveway. At the sight of Margot’s tear-swollen face, Lauren reached out as though to touch her cheek. She stopped herself at the last moment.
‘I’m sorry, I’d forgotten how much –’ She stopped. Falk knew what she’d been about to say. How much you look like your mother. Lauren cleared her throat. ‘How are you coping, Margot? I’m so sorry this has happened to you.’
‘Thank you.’ Margot stared at the long gash on Lauren’s forehead until the woman’s hand fluttered to it.
‘Come on, give me your bag and I’ll show you to your room.’ Lauren looked at Falk and Carmen. ‘The living room’s at the end of the hall. I’ll be through in a minute.’
‘Is Rebecca home?’ Falk heard Margot ask as Lauren led her away.
‘I think she’s taking a nap.’
The hallway led into a living room that was surprisingly untidy. Half-drunk cups of coffee languished forgotten on the side table and beside the couch, while magazines lay open, abandoned. There was a deep shaggy rug on the floor and framed pictures on every surface. At a glance, Falk could see they were mostly of Lauren and a girl who was obviously her young daughter. At some point, there had been what looked like a small family wedding and a man appeared in the shots. New husband and stepdad, he guessed.
He was surprised to see Lauren’s puppy fat from school come and go over the years, her body swelling and deflating almost with the turn of the seasons. The tension around the eyes was constant, though. She was smiling in every photo, looked truly happy in none.
There were no pictures of the daughter beyond her early teens. The latest one seemed to be a photo of the girl in her school uniform, captioned Year Nine. She was pretty in an understated way, with a shy smile, smooth round cheeks and shiny brown hair.
‘I wish Mum would take that down.’ The voice came from behind them. Falk turned and had to force himself not to react. He now understood what Margot had meant in the car. Have you seen her?
The girl’s eyes were huge and had sunk deep into her skull. The only colour on her face came from the purple rings under her sockets and a fine web of blue veins that glowed beneath papery skin. Even from a distance, Falk could make out the bones in her face and neck. It was a shocking sight.
Cancer, Falk thought immediately. His own father had had the same blow-away look before he succumbed. But he dismissed the idea as soon as it arrived. This was something else. This had the sharp edge of something self-inflicted.
‘Hello. Rebecca?’ he said. ‘We’re from the police.’
‘Have you found Margot’s mum?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Oh.’ The girl was so delicate she seemed to almost hover. ‘That’s shit. I got lost in the bush once. It wasn’t fun.’
‘Was that at McAllaster?’ Carmen said, and Rebecca looked surprised.
‘Yeah. You’ve heard about that place? It was different from what’s happened to Margot’s mum, though. I lost my group for, like, two hours.’ A pause. ‘Or technically, they lost me. They came back when they got bored.’
She was fiddling with something in her hands, her fingers constantly moving. She glanced back at the empty hall. ‘How come Margot wanted to stay here?’
‘We suggested it,’ Carmen said. ‘She was a little reluctant to go to her dad’s place.’
‘Oh. I thought maybe it was because of the photos. I had some problems with that too. Not sex,’ she added quickly. ‘Food and stuff.’
She made it sound so shameful. Her fingers worked faster. Falk could see she was making something. Braiding silver and red threads together.
Rebecca glanced at the door. ‘Have you seen Margot’s photos?’ she asked, her voice low.
‘Margot chose to show us a couple,’ Carmen said. ‘Have you?’
‘Everyone’s seen them.’ She didn’t sound gloating, simply matter-of-fact. Her fingers continued to work away.
‘What are you making?’ Falk said.
‘Oh.’ Rebecca gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘It’s nothing. It’s stupid.’ She held out a colourful woven bracelet, the red and silver threads creating an intricate pattern.
‘Friendship bracelet?’ Carmen said.
Rebecca made a face. ‘I suppose. Not that I give them to anyone. It’s supposed to be a mindfulness thing. My therapist makes me do it. Every time I feel anxious or like engaging in self-destructive behaviour, I’m supposed to focus on this instead.’
‘This is actually really good,’ Carmen said, leaning in to examine it.
Rebecca tied off the loose threads and handed it to her. ‘Keep it. I’ve got loads.’
She gestured to a box on the coffee table. Inside, Falk could see a chaotic nest of silver and red. He couldn’t begin to count how many bracelets were in there. Dozens. It was disturbing to imagine
how much time must have been dedicated to that pile, Rebecca’s thin fingers working away to distract her from the dark thoughts brewing in her mind.
‘Thanks,’ Carmen said, putting it in her pocket. ‘I like what you’ve done with the pattern.’
Rebecca looked pleased, her hollow cheeks sinking further into her face as she managed a shy smile. ‘I designed that one myself.’
‘It’s really beautiful.’
‘What’s beautiful?’ Lauren appeared in the doorway. In comparison with her skeletal daughter, her own small frame immediately looked huge.
‘We were talking about that new design. Mum has one in that pattern too.’
Rebecca glanced at Lauren’s wrists. She wore a watch on her left one, but the right one was bare. Instead, a thin red mark circled the skin. Rebecca’s face hardened.
Lauren looked down, horrified. ‘Love. I’m so sorry. I lost it on the retreat. I meant to tell you.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘No. It’s not. I really loved it –’
‘It’s fine.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Mum,’ Rebecca snapped. ‘Forget it. It’s fine. It’s not like I don’t have a thousand others.’
Lauren glanced at the open box on the table and Falk knew with certainty that she loathed the contents inside. Lauren looked up almost with relief as Margot appeared in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed but dry for now.
‘Hi, Margot.’ Rebecca looked a little embarrassed. She reached out and snapped closed the box of bracelets.
There was a strange pause.
‘So have you seen the pictures?’ Margot didn’t seem quite able to meet the other girl’s eye, her gaze flitting around the edges of the room.
Rebecca hesitated. ‘No.’
Margot gave a tiny, hard laugh. ‘Yeah. Right. Then you’d be the only one.’
Lauren clapped her hands.
‘Okay. Girls, go into the kitchen and decide what you want for dinner – both of you, Rebecca, please –’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘I’m not arguing. No, I mean it, not tonight –’
‘But –’
‘Rebecca, for God’s sake!’ Lauren’s voice seemed to come out louder than intended and she bit the words short. She took a breath. ‘I’m sorry. Please, just go.’
With a mutinous glance, Rebecca turned and left the room, followed by Margot. Lauren waited until she heard their footsteps disappear down the hall.
‘I’ll make sure Margot’s settled in. Keep her offline if I can.’
‘Thank you for this,’ Carmen said as they walked to the front door. ‘A liaison officer’s spoken to Margot’s dad. He’ll pick her up tomorrow when she’s calmed down.’
‘It’s fine. It’s the least I can do for Alice.’ Lauren followed them out into the driveway. She glanced back at the house. There was no noise or chatter coming from the kitchen. ‘It hasn’t been easy around here lately, but at least I got to come home.’
Day 3: Saturday Evening
The fire was something, at least.
It glowed in the small clearing outside the cabin door. The flames were too weak to give off any real warmth, but as Lauren stood beside it she felt a little better than she had in the past two days. Not good, not by a long way, but better.
It had taken more than an hour of solid coaxing to light it. Lauren had turned her back to the wind, her hands numb as she held Beth’s lighter to a pile of damp kindling. After twenty minutes, Alice had unfolded her arms from across her chest and come over to help. She was obviously more cold than she was angry, Lauren thought. Jill and the twins had retreated into the cabin. Eventually Alice had cleared her throat.
‘I’m sorry about before.’ Her voice had been hard to hear. Alice’s apologies, when they came at all, always managed to sound begrudging.
‘It’s okay. We’re all tired.’ Lauren had braced herself for another argument, but Alice had continued fiddling with the fire. She’d seemed distracted, putting sticks into small piles, then breaking them down to rebuild them.
‘Lauren, how’s Rebecca?’
The question had come out of nowhere and Lauren had blinked in surprise.
‘Sorry?’
‘I was just wondering how she’s coping after that photo thing last year.’
That photo thing. It made it sound like nothing. ‘She’s all right,’ Lauren said, finally.
‘Is she?’ Alice sounded genuinely curious. ‘Is she going back to school?’
‘No.’ Lauren picked up the lighter. ‘I don’t know.’ She concentrated on the task in front of her. She didn’t want to talk about her child with Alice, sitting there with her healthy daughter and her prize nights and her prospects.
Lauren could still remember the first time she’d seen Margot Russell, sixteen years ago at the maternal health centre’s vaccination clinic. It was only the second time Lauren had crossed paths with Alice since school, but she recognised her straight away. She’d watched as Alice wheeled a pink bundle in an expensive pram up to the nurses’ desk. Alice’s hair looked like it had been washed and her jeans were not straining at the waist. Her baby was not crying. Alice was smiling at the nurse. She looked rested and proud and happy. Lauren had slipped out into the hall and hidden in the toilets, staring at the contraception advert on the back of the cubicle door while Rebecca screamed at her. She had not wanted to compare daughters with Alice Russell then, and she certainly did not want to now.
‘Why are you asking?’ Lauren focused very hard on flicking the lighter.
‘I should have asked ages ago.’
Yes, you really should have, Lauren thought. But she said nothing and flicked the lighter again.
‘I think –’ Alice started, then stopped. She was still fiddling with the kindling, her eyes downcast. ‘Margot –’
‘Hey, here we go!’ Lauren breathed out as a spark bloomed, rich and bright. She cupped her hands to shelter it, feeding the small flame until it caught, just in time for nightfall.
Jill and the twins came out of the cabin, relief visible on their faces, and they all stood in a circle around the flames. Lauren glanced at Alice, but whatever she’d been going to say had been lost with the moment. They stared at the fire for a while and then eventually, one by one, they spread their waterproofs on the ground and sat down.
Lauren felt the damp start to lift a little from her clothes. The way the orange light danced on the others’ faces reminded her of that first night, back at the first campsite with the men and the booze. And the food. It seemed very far away and long ago now. Like it had happened to someone else.
‘How long do you think it will take for them to realise we’re lost?’ Bree’s voice broke the silence.
Jill was staring glassy-eyed into the fire. ‘Not long, hopefully.’
‘Maybe they’re already looking. They might have worked it out when we didn’t make the second campsite.’
‘They don’t know.’ Alice’s voice cut through the air. She pointed upwards. ‘We haven’t heard a search helicopter. No-one is looking for us.’
The sound of the spitting fire was the only reply. Lauren hoped Alice was wrong, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. She wanted to sit there and watch the flames until someone came out of the trees for her. Until searchers came out of the trees for her, she corrected herself, but it was too late. The thought had already planted a rotten seed and she glanced around.
The closest trees and shrubs glowed red, with the campfire giving the illusion of twitching movement. Beyond that, it was like staring into a void. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Still, she didn’t look in the direction of the horrific dent in the ground, which really wasn’t so horrific at all when you considered it was probably soil erosion. Alice was right, though, a little voice in her head whispered. There had been no helicopter.
Lauren took a few deep breaths and dragged her gaze away from the bush, instead looking up to the sky. She felt a rush of surprise as her eyes ad
justed, blinking to soak in the sight. The clouds had cleared for once, and stars spilled across the inky night in a way she hadn’t seen in years.
‘Everyone, look up.’
The others leaned back, shielding their eyes from the low fire.
Had it been like this on the other nights? Lauren wondered. She could remember only oppressive cloud cover, but perhaps she simply hadn’t bothered to notice.
‘Does anyone know any constellations?’ Alice was leaning back on her elbows, staring up.
‘The Southern Cross, obviously.’ Bree pointed. ‘And you can sometimes make out one of the main stars in Virgo at this time of year. Sagittarius is too low on the horizon to see from here.’ She noticed the others staring at her and shrugged. ‘Men like to show me stars. They think it’s romantic. Which it is, a bit. And original, which it’s not.’
Lauren felt the hint of a smile.
‘It’s amazing,’ Jill said. ‘You can see why people used to believe their futures were written in the stars.’
Alice gave a short laugh. ‘Some people still do.’
‘Not you, I’m guessing.’
‘No. Not me. I think we all make our choices.’
‘I think so too,’ Jill said. ‘Sometimes I wonder though. I mean, I was born into BaileyTennants. I followed Dad into the business like I was told to, I work with my brother like I’m expected to.’ She sighed. ‘Every day I do what I need to do for the business, and for our family legacy and everything Dad worked for. Because that’s what I have to do.’
‘You have a choice, though, Jill.’ Alice’s voice had a quality to it Lauren couldn’t identify. ‘We all do.’
‘I know that. But sometimes my hand feels a bit –’ Jill flicked something into the fire. It flared and hissed. ‘Forced.’
In the dark, Lauren couldn’t quite tell if there were tears in Jill’s eyes. It had never occurred to her that Jill might be unhappy with her lot at BaileyTennants. She realised she was staring and looked away.
‘I know what you mean,’ Lauren said, because she felt she should. ‘Everyone likes to feel in control, but maybe –’ She pictured Rebecca. So controlling with what she ate, but so out of control with the illness that was destroying her. Something that no number of therapy sessions or hugs or threats or mindfulness bracelets seemed able to touch. Lauren ran a finger over the woven bracelet on her wrist. ‘I don’t know. Maybe we can’t help how we are. Maybe we’re born a certain way and there’s nothing you can do about it.’
