They walked towards Bluebell Cottage, and as her mum opened the door, Amelia said, ‘We’ll find them; try not worry.’
‘Of course we will.’ Her mum touched her cheek gently. ‘I’m overtired, that’s all.’
But as Amelia hurried back to where her dad and Finn were waiting, she felt sure it was more than that. She’d seen the looks her mum gave Jackson, the way her hands curled into fists earlier.
‘To be honest,’ Finn said, as Amelia approached, ‘we’ve only covered a small part of the forest tonight. If they’ve taken a wrong turn, they could be anywhere. We should probably call the local countryside ranger.’
‘That’s a bit of an overreaction, Finn,’ Amelia said, heading off towards the wood. ‘They couldn’t have gone far, surely,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Lark!’ she cried, as they followed her. But it was so quiet – too quiet.
*
‘Lark! Jackson!’ Amelia yelled. They’d been searching for ten minutes now, making their way deeper into the forest. And she was about to suggest Finn could be right about the ranger, when she heard the low rumble of agitated voices in the distance. ‘Lark?’
‘It must be them,’ Finn said, as they all picked up speed, and headed towards the voices. ‘Jackson?’
The talking stopped, and everything was quiet for a moment, before the sound of someone running – twigs breaking, getting closer – reached Amelia’s ears.
‘Lark!’ she cried, as her sister appeared through the bushes, her cheeks blotchy, her eyes red. ‘Thank God.’
‘Amelia,’ Lark said falling into her arms.
‘What’s happened? Is Jackson with you?’
‘Yes!’ he cried, appearing through the bushes. ‘I’m here. We got a bit lost, is all.’
Lark glared at him, and Amelia could feel the tension in her sister’s body. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, as Lark stepped away from her.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s like Jackson said, we got a bit lost, is all.’
*
‘Are you OK, Dad?’ Amelia said, looping her arm through his elbow, once Jackson and Lark were back in their cottage and Finn was making his way to his.
‘Jackson’s a dick.’ He blinked repeatedly. ‘I’d do anything to get that excuse for a man out of our lives. He’s a bloody idiot!’ He took a breath, and looked down at Amelia. ‘Sorry, love. Excuse my awful language. But what was he playing at, leading Lark off course like that? I don’t trust him. Never have done.’
‘I don’t know.’ She was still at a loss to how her mum could have chosen to live with Jackson instead of her dad. Her mum had had low times through the years, but Amelia never saw the cracks in her parents’ relationship – never once saw them argue.
She touched her dad’s arm. ‘It’ll soon be over,’ she said, and realising immediately her words weren’t the best she could have chosen, added, ‘The holiday, I mean.’
‘I know what you mean, love.’ He smiled, and reached into his pocket for the key to the cottage.
As he pushed open the door, she heard the TV blaring out.
‘I’m heading straight to bed,’ she said, walking through the lounge and taking the stairs two at a time, unable to face Thomas and Maddie snuggled on the sofa together.
‘Night, Amelia,’ her dad called up the stairs after her.
Upstairs, she flopped on her bed, and closed her eyes. A trip to the beach tomorrow would be emotional – childhood memories were sure to flood into her mum’s head – and into hers.
She closed her eyes, and tears seeped through her lashes and rolled down her cheeks, dampening the pillow. It was almost an hour before she drifted into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 15
Present Day
Amelia
I glance up the hill I’ve just tobogganed down, and at Maddie standing beside me. She takes hold of my arm, and yanks me up. And as I scramble to my feet, I move away from her, making a show of dusting snow from my jeans.
‘Thanks,’ I say through a tense smile, dashing tears away with my scarf. ‘That was so cool,’ I add, deciding to fake brightness. I don’t want her to know how desperate I am. I don’t want her sympathy, or worse her mentioning me on her vlog.
‘That was so much fun.’ She looks far too happy, her cheeks glowing.
‘Well, I’m freezing down here.’ It’s Thomas, sitting in the snow, laughing as he rolls a snowball in his gloved hands. Several pre-made snowballs are lined up next to him, and I instantly know what he’s planning – still a kid at heart. Within seconds one hits me in the head, and ice-cold snow slips down my collar and down my back. I shudder. I’m not in the mood, and my stomach tenses. I envy but struggle to understand his ability to be so playful.
‘You can’t retaliate, sis.’ He picks up another. ‘I’m disabled. It would be cruel.’ Another hits me in the shoulder.
‘Cut it out,’ I say, and turn to look once more up Vine Hill. The snow has eased off, and I can just make out the shape of Finn at the top, staring down at us. He turns and walks away, and a few minutes later I hear the faraway rumble of his quad bike engine.
‘It’s going to take a while for Finn to ride down.’ I’m concerned for Thomas sitting waist-deep in the snow. We really hadn’t thought this through. I look about me, try to think what to do, and notice a bench near the trees. I remember the bench from when I was here last.
I dash over, and brush away the snow from the wood. ‘Let’s get you onto this bench, Thomas,’ I say, noticing there’s an inscription on the back. I rub the snow from it.
Kyla. Forever loved.
Footprints lead to and from the farmhouse, and I wonder if Michael Collis is there.
Maddie and I carefully lift Thomas onto the seat.
‘I’m a pain in the arse,’ he says, as we lower him down, both of us breathing heavily. He shakes his head in despair, hates relying on anyone – still clings to his independence as much as he can.
‘You’re not a pain,’ Maddie says. ‘In fact, you’re amazing. My favourite man in the world.’ She kisses his cheek.
We sit down either side of him. The sun reflecting off the sheer expanse of white hurts my eyes. Eventually, Maddie gets up and heads for the sledges.
‘Do you miss, Mum, Thomas?’ I say, while I’ve got his attention. He was never an open boy, not one to rake over his life or show his true feelings, often brushing them away with humour, or quotes from Shakespeare. When he returned from America following his accident, he folded into himself. But once Maddie arrived he began making joke after joke about his situation. Even now, none of us know how he really felt – still feels – about cutting his life in the US short. How he really feels about losing the ability to walk. ‘And Lark, do you miss her?’ I go on. ‘Do you wonder where she is?’
‘Of course I miss Mum and Lark,’ he says. ‘But life goes on, doesn’t it? It has to.’
‘Bit harsh,’ I say, clapping my hands together to free the clumps of snow from my woollen gloves, as Maddie approaches, dragging the sledges behind her.
‘I have to be,’ he continues. ‘If I wasn’t, I would never get up in the morning.’ His nose and cheeks are pink on his pallid face, and the furry lapels of his hat hang down over his ears. His brown eyes are bloodshot. ‘That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give anything to see them again. But I know it’s never going to happen. Mum’s dead, Amelia. And however much Dad thinks coming here will trigger something that will lead to us finding Lark – and despite supporting him in every way I possibly can – I don’t believe we’ll ever find her. We have to get on with our lives, sis, or we might as well be dead too.’
‘Wow!’ I say, now picking snow from my gloves. ‘You’ve really thought this through.’
Finn approaches, roaring across the snow towards us on his quad bike.
‘Here comes our hero,’ Maddie says with a giggle.
‘Gosh, that was quick,’ I say, getting to my feet, as Finn cuts the engine.
‘Yeah, this old thing can go pr
etty fast downhill,’ he says, turning to Thomas. ‘Let’s get you on the back, mate, before you freeze to death.’ He lifts my brother from the bench, and onto the bike. ‘You guys need to follow the track back towards the ruin. But be careful as you go; keep on the pathway. The drop is lethal.’ He climbs on the bike, and Thomas grips his waist.
‘Before you go,’ I say, ‘do you know who Kyla is?’ I point at the inscription on the bench.
Finn looks at me for some moments, before simply saying, ‘That ol’ bench has been there for years.’ He revs the engine. ‘See you at the top,’ he says, and roars away.
I lead the way up the windy path, dragging one of the sledges, Maddie close behind pulling the other. Keeping to the track, we eventually reach the top of the path, where Finn and Thomas are waiting for us.
I look down the hill, and can just make out the footprints stretching across the untrodden snow from the farmhouse to the bench. ‘Is Michael on the estate at the moment?’ I ask Finn.
‘Why?’
‘No reason – just wondered.’ I give an odd laugh that doesn’t sound like me.
‘I think he’s away. You know he’s rarely there,’ he says, and pauses for a moment, studying my face. ‘He had nothing to do with your sister’s disappearance, Amelia, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wasn’t even in the country, remember?’
‘Yes, I know,’ I say, feeling chastised.
‘We all know Jackson took her,’ he adds, sounding so certain. As certain as I’d been when I first arrived. But doubts are creeping in. What if it hadn’t been Jackson?
‘Hey, I’m still here.’ It’s Thomas, peering around Finn. ‘And freezing doesn’t begin to cover it.’
‘Let’s get you back then,’ Finn said with a laugh, and he takes off across the snow. My brother flutters his fingers at me and Maddie, and winks, despite his obvious discomfort.
‘Finn’s great, isn’t he?’ Maddie says, as though she would trust him with her life. ‘I like him a lot.’
I don’t reply – simply turn and head towards my cottage, the snow crunching under my boots. Michael Collis was abroad when my sister disappeared, and had nothing to do with it – I know that deep down. But still my curiosity is piqued. I want to meet him. Find out more about him. Discover who Kyla is.
Chapter 16
Present Day
Me
Misty nudges my face with his nose, and the rumble of his continuous purr is comforting. He has no concept of what I’m going through. He comes and goes as he pleases through the cat flap, unlike me. There’s no escape for me.
I’m on the bed where I spend almost all of my time. Waiting. There’s no structure to my days. And I’ve given up thinking anyone’s looking for me. Nobody will find me here.
I look through the window, as I tickle Misty’s soft ear. Clouds move fast across the dusty-grey sky as though escaping. It hasn’t snowed in a while.
I rest my face against Misty’s coat, breathing him in. He smells of winter – but he isn’t cold. Neither am I. The heater is on.
There is a small TV here in this tiny room. I can get a few channels, and watch endless repeats of Friends. It no longer makes me laugh.
I’ve given up shouting and screaming. Only you hear me. Only you answer my calls.
I lift my heavy head, thump it against the wall, and smooth my hand over Misty’s silky, grey fur hoping he’ll stay for a while.
Chapter 17
Present Day
Amelia
Exhausted, and freezing to the tips of my fingers and toes, I shuffle out of my damp coat, tug off my snow-caked boots, and attempt to rub life back into my feet. Dad looks up from his Kindle, his face set in a frown.
‘What’s up?’ But I know exactly what’s irking him. He didn’t want me to go sledging. He thinks it’s too frivolous when we are meant to be here looking for clues that could lead us to Lark.
‘Come by the fire, Amelia. You’re freezing.’ His tone is blunt, sad. He looks back at his novel.
I rub my hands together and approach the wood burner. And once I’ve warmed up to the point where I can feel my extremities again, I turn my back on the fire, and stare steadily at my dad on the sofa. He looks like a once-plump teddy bear that’s had the stuffing knocked out of him. ‘You’re annoyed with me, aren’t you?’ I say. Even at my age I hate it when he’s upset with me.
‘No.’ His eyes stay fixed on his Kindle.
‘You’re pissed off because I went sledging, when I should have been searching for … for a pipe dream.’
‘A little, maybe.’ He looks up and meets my eye. ‘But I know there’s nowhere to look. Especially now we’re buried under a mountain of snow. Coming here was a mistake. I know that now.’ He puts down his Kindle, leaving it on, the large text of his sci-fi thriller glowing.
‘Let’s go home,’ I say, twiddling my damp hair around my finger. I can think of nothing I want more. ‘We could try the roads. Surely if we go slowly, we …’ I stop. He’s shaking his head, his forehead furrowed, as it used to when I was in my teens trying to convince him to order a takeaway, or to let me stay out after midnight.
‘I want to go home too, Amelia,’ he says. ‘But I called the local police when you were sledging, to ask how the roads are. They said we’re stuck here for now at least. Snowploughs haven’t got this far yet, and with more snow expected, even the emergency services are struggling.’ He lowers his head. Sounds defeated.
I sit down on the rug on the wooden floor, and cradle my knees; the warmth from the fire has thawed me out. ‘Shall I put the TV on? Look at the long-range forecast?’
‘No power.’
‘Really?’ Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.
‘It went down over an hour ago. I’m sure it will be back on again soon.’
I bury my face in my knees, my mind drifting; wondering if what I’m feeling is depression, grief, or are they the same thing? The tragedy is that I thought being with Dad was exactly what I needed to lift me, but being with him, here of all places, is making me feel worse than ever.
‘So, did Thomas have a go on a sledge?’ Dad says, after a while.
‘What do you think?’ I look up to see him raise a smile. We both know Thomas. He tries anything. It’s the way he has always been. Why he is in a wheelchair.
We are silent again. Struggling to communicate. It isn’t like us. We’ve always got on great.
‘Do you remember the owner of the estate?’ I ask him, eventually.
‘Michael Collis?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes. Well, no, obviously I don’t remember him as such as he was abroad.
‘Why?’ His eyes sparkle as though he hopes I’m about to reveal something important.
‘No reason, really,’ I say with a shrug. And it is nothing. Michael Collis was definitely away that day, a year ago. And the police searched his property. I get to my feet. ‘I saw his farmhouse, that’s all. It brought back memories.’
His sparkle fades. ‘Well, the police ruled him out of any connection to Lark’s disappearance.’
‘Yes, I know.’ I drift towards the window and look out, thinking of the beautiful late sunshine we had this time last year. Recalling the day we all spent on the beach with Mum, the ghost walk. ‘I think I’ll head out again. I feel a bit claustrophobic stuck inside.’ I pad across the room, and grab my coat from the hook. ‘Want to come for a walk, Dad?’
He shakes his head, and picks up his Kindle once more, and I wonder why he doesn’t seize the opportunity to explore. But the truth is he’s already defeated, and I know how he feels. Finding Lark here is as unlikely as the chance the snow will thaw before tomorrow.
*
‘Heading out?’ It’s Rosamund, fluttering her gloved hand. She’s stomping towards her cottage in a sunshine-yellow anorak. Her grey fur hat elegantly perched on her head. Her baby bump is clearly visible through her coat, and another pang of envy shoots through me. She must have been to Ruth’s cottage, as she�
��s carrying a French stick and a carton of milk. The cottages all have small kitchens: microwaves, dishwashers, even washing machines, but Ruth sells filled rolls, bread and milk, and various other things, from midday until three o’clock daily. I realise I’m hungry – all that sledging – but it’s just gone three so I’ve missed my opportunity. ‘We’re about to have a bite to eat,’ Rosamund goes on, and I can’t make up my mind if it’s an invitation to join her and Elise, but it’s the last thing I want to do.
‘I thought I’d take a walk,’ I call, quickening my step, which isn’t easy in the deep snow, and I trip, almost falling over.
‘Good idea, I might do the same later if Elise fancies it. I think I’ll go stir-crazy stuck inside. You can only play so many board games, can’t you?’ She smiles, throws me another flutter of her fingers, and, passing the snowman that still stands proudly, goes into her cottage, calling her stepdaughter’s name.
The snow is soft and crunches like meringue each time I lower my boot, which amuses me far more than it should. There’s no strength to the sun, which peeks out from behind soft, smoky-grey clouds, and the wind, after settling down earlier, has got up again.
I make my way over to Vine Hill and stand at the top, scanning the area. The snowy view – which I didn’t fully appreciate before, far too busy debating whether to slide down or not – is beautiful. The Scottish Highlands are stunning at any time of year, but the unblemished snow stretching for miles over fields, hills and mountains, is breath-taking. My eyes sting from the cold as they travel across the splendour, landing on Michael Collis’s house. It’s large – too big for just him – but being a farmhouse it suits its surroundings. A lonely place to live, I imagine. But then if he travels abroad a lot, perhaps he’s glad of the tranquillity when he returns home. I wonder for a moment whether the disappearance of Jackson and Lark affected him at the time. Whether he was concerned when he returned from his travels to find two people had vanished while staying on the estate.
I set out towards the farmhouse. Trying to recall the route we’d travelled earlier, but in reverse, stepping gingerly, unsure where the path ends and the edge, which falls away to a sheer drop, begins. Eventually I reach the bottom.
I Lie in Wait: A gripping new psychological crime thriller perfect for fans of Ruth Ware! Page 8
