I’m back to Ruby again. It would have been easy enough for her to leave the dolls. Did Layla ask her to leave them? Or is Ruby working alone? What about the couple that Mick saw walking past the house? Was Layla one of them? I need to go back and speak to Mick, ask if the woman had red hair, ask if he’s seen anything suspicious since. But not now. At this time in the morning, he’ll be giving his wife – Fiona, I think he said – her breakfast.
Fiona. That was the name of Layla and Ellen’s mother, I remember.
There’s a sudden explosion in my brain, the sound of every theory I’ve just considered being blasted apart, leaving nothing but a roaring in my ears. And then I’m running out of the house and across the road to where Mick lives with his invalid wife, his invalid wife who is called Fiona, his invalid wife that I’ve never seen and I hammer on the door, shouting to be let in. And of course, it takes Mick a while to open it, and of course, he has a bowl of porridge in his hands, his weapon against intruders. Enraged, I lift my hand, wanting to knock it away, and Mick steps back in alarm.
‘Where is she?’ I yell. I try to push my way into the hall but Mick slams the door into me, blocking it with his foot.
‘For God’s sake, man, what’s got into you?’ he cries, looking frightened. But I see through his act and give the door another almighty shove.
‘Let me in!’ I yell. ‘I want to see her!’
‘What are you talking about? If it’s Ellen, she’s not here.’
‘What do you know about Ellen?’ I snarl.
‘I heard you arguing last night, then I saw you drive off. She’s not here, I promise.’
‘Let me in!’ I push against the door. ‘I want to see your wife!’
‘My wife?’ He stares at me, bewildered. ‘What has she got to do with any of this?’
‘Let me see her!’
‘No.’ His whole demeanour suddenly changes. He draws himself up to his full height, which is still eight inches shorter than me. ‘Go away, Finn. I’m sorry about Ellen but if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police. Ellen isn’t here.’
‘No, but Layla is!’
‘Layla?’
‘Yes, Layla!’ I give the door an almighty shove and Mick stumbles back. ‘Where is she?’ I cry, stepping into the hall. ‘Where’s your wife?’
‘Please don’t do this.’ Mick is almost in tears. ‘You can’t, you have no right.’
‘I have every right!’ Pushing past him, I head down the corridor. ‘Layla! Where are you?’ I open the door to the sitting room but there’s no one there. I turn to Mick, standing in the doorway, the bowl of porridge still in his hands, and knock it onto the floor. ‘Where is she?’ I roar.
And then I hear it, a kind of whimpering coming from a room further down the corridor. I manhandle Mick out of the way and head for the room.
‘No!’ he cries. ‘You can’t! Leave us alone!’
But I’m already flinging the door open.
And there she is, struggling to sit up from where she’s been lying in her bed, a claw-like hand clutching the front of her nightdress, a look of absolute terror on her face. And as I look at her, I can feel the absolute horror on mine.
FIFTY-THREE
Finn
‘Mick, Mick!’ She claws at her nightdress.
Mick barges past me. ‘It’s alright, Fiona,’ he soothes, rushing to her side, pushing her gently back against the pillows. ‘I’m here.’
‘Who’s that man?’ Her voice is shaking with stress.
‘It’s alright,’ he says, swallowing his anger. ‘He’s our neighbour, he lives across the road. He just wanted to say hello to you.’ He looks over at me, his face drained of colour. ‘But he’s leaving now.’
‘Why was he shouting?’
‘I’m sorry.’ My voice comes out a whisper. ‘I’m sorry.’ I begin to back out of the room. ‘I wanted to say hello, that’s all. But I’m going now.’
‘I’ll go and see him out,’ I hear Mick explaining. ‘Then I’ll come back and finish giving you your breakfast.’
He follows me to the door.
‘Mick, I’m so sorry,’ I begin, but he cuts me off.
‘Get out. If you ever come near us again, I’ll call the police.’
I stumble into the front garden and see Mrs Jeffries on her doorstep, a phone in her hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say to her. ‘I’m sorry.’ I want to ask her if she’s phoned the police but she’s looking worriedly at Mick and I can feel them watching me as I cross back over the road.
In the house, I sink onto the stairs and put my head in my hands. Waves of shame flood through me as the whole nightmare scenario plays through my mind over and over again. I can’t get the look of terror on his wife’s face out of my mind, nor the distress on Mick’s as he pleaded with me to leave them alone. How could I have done what I just did, how could I have acted in such a brutish, bullying manner? What if Mrs Jeffries has phoned the police and they’re already on their way? They’ll find out that Ellen is missing and Mick will attest to us having an argument last night.
I take out my phone, call Ellen’s number. Again it goes through to voicemail, again I leave a message asking her to call me back urgently. I check my emails in the hope that there’s something from Layla but there’s nothing.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting there when my mobile rings. Please let it be Ellen, please let it be Ellen, I pray as I fish it from my pocket. It’s Harry.
‘Is everything alright, Finn? Alice said you were looking for me.’
‘No, not really. Can you talk?’
‘The thing is, I’m a bit tied up at the moment. I’m abroad.’
‘Yes, I know.’ I wait for him to tell me where he is and when he doesn’t it quickly turns into awkwardness.
‘Can I phone you back? In about ten minutes?’ Harry asks, breaking the silence.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’ll call you back.’
He rings off and I sit with my mobile in my hand, playing over the conversation again. Something isn’t right. He didn’t even ask what the problem was when I told him something had happened. Why was that? And why hadn’t he called me back until his secretary asked him to? He must have seen that I’d tried to get hold of him earlier, he must have listened to my messages asking him to call me straight back. Did he already know what the problem was, did he already know that Ellen had disappeared?
How many times am I going to wonder if there’s something going on between Harry and Ellen before I actually believe it? When I’d asked Harry if he was in love with Ellen, he had denied it, said she wasn’t his type. Had he been lying, had I been right all those weeks ago when I thought he was behind the Russian dolls? Was it him who lured me to the cottage so that Ellen could leave while I was away? But why bring me back to the house so quickly? The answer stares me in the face. To frame me for her disappearance, to make it look as if I killed her.
Realising the precariousness of my position, I feel ill. If Ellen doesn’t turn up soon, if the police become involved, not only could Mick attest to our argument last night, he could also attest to me leaving soon after in the car. And then the police might start wondering if Ellen’s body was in the boot and if I dumped it somewhere before coming back home. They might think my visit to Mick this morning was some kind of ruse or distraction, part of a plan to cover my tracks.
My mobile rings, making me jump, because it’s still in my hand. I take a moment to compose myself, because I have a horrible feeling Harry is going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.
‘Harry?’
‘Look, Finn, there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Is she with you?’ I ask dully.
‘Yes.’ He gives an awkward laugh. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you – we should have told you,’ he corrects. ‘But we didn’t know how you would feel about it.’
I close my eyes, hardly able to believe that what I feared was true.
‘How do you expect me to feel?’ I explode. ‘I’ve been betrayed by my best friend.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ he protests.
‘Harsh?’ White hot anger rises in me. ‘Why couldn’t you just have told me instead of playing all those stupid games?’
‘What stupid games?’