The Flower Girls
Page 26
‘Thank you, my love,’ she says as she sits down.
Jonny pours her a glass of white wine and they touch glasses, smiling at each other, content.
‘Here’s to us,’ he says. ‘What a time it’s been.’
‘To us.’
‘Did you see the flowers that Romilly sent?’ Jonny drinks his wine, looking over at the sideboard where a huge vase of pink roses bloom in the corner. ‘To congratulate you for that TV show and all the press you’ve done this week.’
‘She’s sweet.’
‘By the way, I forgot to mention, sorry,’ Jonny says as he picks up his knife and fork. ‘Evie’s coming to stay at the weekend. Now you’re all moved in, I called her. Said I’d like her to spend some time with us. Get to know you better. She put up the usual fuss, blaming her mother . . . but then finally she agreed.’ He points his fork at Hazel. ‘I think she’s impressed with all this media you’re doing. Seems all the kids at school are fawning over her about it. Said if you could get on The One Show, she’d love you forever. Her words.’ He smiles at her as he cuts a piece of chicken. ‘So thank you for that.’
‘I’m so pleased, Jonny. She’s really a lovely girl.’
They eat in silence for a moment.
‘So much has happened in the last few days. I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages.’ Jonny clears his throat. ‘I was just thinking the other day . . . Did you ever hear anything again from the police down in Devon? That woman officer?’
‘Why are you asking that now?’ Hazel asks neutrally.
‘No reason,’ he replies lightly. ‘I just wondered, with all the publicity you’ve had, whether she’d got in touch about anything. Asked any more questions about that girl going missing.’
Hazel picks up her fork and spears a carrot. ‘She did come to see me actually. I didn’t mention it because it was so stupid. It was the day before we signed the contract. The day Max died from the heart attack.’ She bites into the carrot and chews as she speaks. ‘She was asking questions about the timings at the hotel when we were having tea that day. You know, after we came back from the beach?’
‘Yep,’ Jonny says, after swallowing his wine. ‘We came back and had tea together in the lounge. And then we went to get changed for dinner.’
‘Right. She was going on about it, like it mattered. So I just told her that we were together the whole time.’
‘Which we were.’
‘Yes. Well, apart from when you went to take that call, remember?’ Hazel says, glancing up at him. ‘You were gone for a while. That business call you took. You went outside because when you came back in, you didn’t have your jacket and your shirt was soaked with the snow.’
‘Did I?’ he says. ‘Was it?’ He reaches across the table for the salt. ‘I can’t say I remember.’
‘Yes,’ Hazel says. ‘I remember.’ She smiles at him and sips again from her glass. ‘We never did find your jacket, did we?’
Jonny’s lips turn down and he jerks his head imperceptibly.
‘I didn’t say anything, though,’ Hazel continues as she bites into a piece of chicken breast. ‘What’s the point? The girl just wandered off, right?’
‘Right,’ Jonny says, his eyes on his glass.
‘Just one thing, though, darling,’ Hazel says softly.
He says nothing, but stares at his glass.
‘If it happens again, make sure you see it through.’
He whips his head up, looks at her.
‘You were lucky this time, my love,’ Hazel says. ‘You won’t be again.’
She leans over and turns up the music, the strains of ‘Dido’s Lament’ filling the room.
‘So everything’s OK now, isn’t it?’ she says, stroking his arm. ‘We’re the same, you and me. I knew it from the moment we met. You, me and Evie. The three of us. All together. And also . . .’
Jonny lifts his eyes.
‘. . . I found out today,’ Hazel says, ‘we’re going to have a baby.’ Her eyes are shining.
Jonny makes a sound like a cry and a laugh rolled into one. He finally meets her gaze. ‘A baby?’ he asks, his voice trembling. ‘We’re going to have a baby?’
Hazel nods, smiling at him. ‘Yes, darling. A baby all of our own.’ She reaches over and strokes the back of his hand. ‘So there’s no need to worry about anything. Is there, my love?’
‘No,’ he replies, wiping a tear from his cheek. ‘There’s no need to worry at all.’
Hazel exhales as the music swells, moving her hand over her stomach, feeling the burgeoning life within it.
Her own child, her own daughter.
Her own little precious girl.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The term ‘Acknowledgements’ seems to signify a nod of the head whereas, in this case, what I’d like to do is give every person a big thank you hug.
The writing of The Flower Girls has been a marathon rather than a sprint, and the main person passing me the water and jelly babies has been my amazing agent, Ariella Feiner. At the last few miles, when I’d lost all hope that the book would ever make it, she convinced me to have faith that the time was right and that the perfect publisher was out there.
Which is just what Raven Books have been. The enthusiasm, joie de vivre, and general awesomeness of everyone I’ve dealt with there has meant the editing process has been less a grind than actually (amazingly) fun. Thank you so much to Alison Hennessey for believing in the book, and me, and for welcoming me so fully into the Raven family. Also thanks to Marigold Atkey for being so superbly efficient and delightful with it. And to Ros Ellis, Rachel Wilkie, Lilidh Kendrick, Lisa Finch, Sarah Knight and Fabia Ma for being the comprehensive dream team. Thanks also to Molly Jamieson and Georgie Le Grice at United Agents and Eleanor Jackson at Dunow, Carlson and Lerner for their suggestions and help with everything over the last year.
Special thanks to Renee Jarvis who has been a writing stalwart and true champion of the book since its first imaginings. Her ideas and notes and support have kept me going and helped me cross more than one gaping plot ravine.
Thanks to the people who gave me brilliant advice on prisons and police procedure. Not least, Elizabeth Watts, Lisa Kinchin and Karen Veitch.
To my writing friends from The Singapore Writers’ Group and from around the world who are always full of ideas, suggestions and general positivity. Thanks to Lisa Beazley, Jo Furniss, Grace Coleman, Elin Daniels, Heidi Perks, Dawn Goodwin, Moyette Gibbons, Alex Clare, Julietta Henderson and Catherine Bennetto. And to Alex, George, Antonia, Susie and Cate for all the coffees, chats and the odd glass of wine.
To Laura Bell for the amazing photographs.
To Fran Rittman and Lynda Woolf for keeping me sane.
To Mum and Dad for always listening and for the reading of hundreds of drafts… We may be far away, but it never feels like it really. I love you both very much.
Finally, to Tom, Connie and India for making me laugh, suggesting awesome book titles, for spurring me on and for being the best family I could possibly have.
A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR
ALICE CLARK-PLATTS is a former human rights lawyer who worked at the UN International Criminal Tribunal in connection with the Rwandan genocide and on cases involving Winnie Mandela and Snoop Dogg. She is the author of the police procedurals Bitter Fruits and The Taken. The latter was shortlisted for the Best Police Procedural in the Dead Good Reader Awards 2017. Her work was included in Deadlier:100 of the Best Crime Stories Written by Women, selected by Sophie Hannah.
First published in Great Britain 2019
This electronic edition published in 2019 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © Alice Clark-Platts, 2019
Alice Clark-Platts has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coinciden
tal
The moral right of the author has been asserted
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ISBN: HB: 978-1-5266-0214-5; TPB: 978-1-5266-0215-2; eBook: 978-1-5266-0212-1
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