Her eyes brim with tears. ‘Yes,’ she whispers.
My breath comes juddering out of me. Be careful, a voice warns. Remember, she lies.
‘So how did she get here? How did she get from France to here?’
That blank look again. I’m still gripping her shoulders so I lift her to her feet. She stumbles against me and I have to stop myself from pushing her away.
‘Answer me, Ellen! How did Layla get to Lewis from France?’
‘A lady took her.’ Her voice trembles. ‘Then she hid in a caravan, then she got a lift, then she got the ferry, then she walked.’
‘You’re lying! There was no lady!’
‘Yes.’ Ellen nods her head. ‘The driver of the car.’
‘It was a man!’
‘No, no.’ Another vigorous shake of her head. ‘It was a lady.’
I stare down at her. Could she be right, is that why the police never found him?
‘So if Layla came to Lewis,’ I say, moving on, ‘why didn’t the police find her?’
A crafty look comes over her face. ‘She hid.’
‘Where?’
‘Here.’
‘Why? Why did she hide?’
‘So he wouldn’t find her.’
‘Who?’ I cry, suddenly afraid.
‘Him.’ I wait. ‘Our father.’
Not me then. I look hard at her, barely recognising her, wondering if she’s mad, or just very clever.
‘How long did she stay hiding?’
Ellen smiles at this. ‘Forever.’
There’s something about the smile that chills me. ‘Is Layla dead, Ellen?’
She makes a noise, half-laugh, half-sob. ‘Almost.’
A terrible dread takes hold of me. ‘Where’s Layla, Ellen?’
Her eyes dart towards the door and before I can stop her, she wrenches herself from my grasp and runs from the room.
‘Ellen!’ The roar in my voice matches the roaring in my ears. I tear after her. ‘Ellen!’
Dusk has arrived, dragging a dark sky behind it. The wind whips my face as I follow her, the ground soft beneath my feet. I catch up with her by a stone wall, grabbing her arm, pulling her back towards me, spinning her round to face me.
‘Where’s Layla?’ I yell, aware of Peggy behind me, growling, something she never does. ‘Tell me where she is!’ I’m shaking her so hard she can’t answer but I can’t stop, I can’t stop the rage, because somewhere inside me, I want to kill her. ‘Where is Layla?’
‘Don’t, Finn!’ she screams. Something in her voice stops me in mid-shake. I push her blindly away from me. She cries out, I hear a thud – no, not a thud, a crack, the sound of a skull on stone. I can’t see, there’s too much mist, not in the air, in my eyes. I lift my face to the sky, letting the rain wash it away, my breath juddering in and out of me, fighting for control. I claw my way back, lower my head, open my eyes. They come into focus and fall on Ellen, lying motionless on the ground. My heart leaps in fear.
‘Ellen!’ I crouch on the ground beside her, bend my body over her, protecting her from the elements. ‘Ellen!’
Her eyes flicker open. Her skin is waxen, nothing to do with the rain.
‘Layla,’ she whispers. ‘Layla.’
I put my hand under her head, lift it slightly so that she can see me. ‘You’ll be alright,’ I promise desperately.
‘Layla.’
‘Layla isn’t here,’ I say gently.
She shakes her head. A trickle of blood seeps from her nose.
‘Layla,’ she says again. ‘Not Ellen, Layla.’
Her eyes fix on mine, then close. I stare down at her, my fear doubling in size. Still cradling her head, I check her neck for a pulse with my other hand, my fingers trembling on her wet skin. It’s there, but faint, so faint. Next to me, Peggy whimpers.
‘It’s alright, Peggy,’ I tell her. ‘It’s alright.’
I reach into my pocket, take out my mobile, switch it on. As I feared, there’s no network. I twist my head this way and that, looking for a house, for someone to help. There is nothing and no one, so I gather Ellen into my arms and carry her down to the car, trying to hurry, trying not to slip, or trip over Peggy, who is walking too close to my heels. I open the door, lay Ellen on the back seat, pull my jumper over my head. And as I fold it into a rough pillow, I see that my hand, the one that had cradled her head, is stained with blood.
Peggy climbs in and lies down on the floor. I close the door behind her, try my mobile again. There’s still nothing.
I drive as fast as I can, as fast as I dare, talking to Ellen over the sound of the wipers, telling her that it’s going to be alright, that she’s going to be alright, my mind chewing feverishly over what she had said. Not Ellen, Layla. Not Ellen, Layla.
‘No.’ Someone moans – me, not Ellen. ‘Please God, no, don’t let it be that, don’t let it be that.’
I reach the end of the single-track road, driving faster now because the road is better. As I get nearer to Stornoway, I hear the sound of what seems like a hundred messages arriving on my mobile, and realising that the phone signal has kicked in, I pull quickly to a stop so that I can call for help. There are missed calls from Harry, Ruby and Tony, text messages asking me to call them but I ignore them and turn to check on Ellen. And my heart lurches, because her face is death-white and she is still, too still. Throwing my phone onto the passenger seat, I lean into the back of the car and take hold of her hand, feeling clumsily with my fingers for a pulse. I can’t find one and I force myself to calm down, to stop my fingers from shaking, and try again. Still nothing. Letting go of her wrist, I wrench my door open and as I get out, the wind slams me back against the car. Opening the back door, I bend over Ellen, shielding her from the rain, and this time, search her neck for a pulse, praying that I’ll find something, just a flicker, to tell me that she’s still alive. But the towel under her head tells me otherwise; it is no longer stained with her blood, but soaked with it. Another moan escapes me. My phone starts ringing and I reach into the passenger seat and answer it in a daze, my eyes never leaving Ellen’s face.
‘Finn, thank God! Listen, Finn,’ Harry says, his voice urgent. ‘You need to look at your emails. I’ve sent you something, something I found on Ellen’s computer. You need to read it, do you hear me? You need to read it before you see Ellen. Finn! Finn, are you there?’
I hang up. He’s too late. I need to phone for an ambulance. But it’s too late, far too late. I sink back onto the road. Ellen is dead. The words beat in my brain. Ellen is dead, Ellen is dead, Ellen, not Layla. Not Layla. Please God, not Layla. I need it to be Ellen. If I’ve killed Ellen, I can take it.
I know, though. Even before I look at the email Harry sent me, before I even look at the attached file, I know. I read it anyway.
I’m still here. Ellen didn’t overpower me, not completely. I was stronger than she thought, stronger than I thought. She hasn’t gone away though. She’s still around, lurking in the shadows, I can feel her. But for now she is quiet and while she is quiet, my mind is clearer. So I’m going to use the time I have left to write to Finn, in case things don’t work out as I hope.
So, Finn, this is for you. When I disappeared that night, I didn’t think about what I was doing or where I was going, all I wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. I thought you were going to kill me, you see. I know now that you weren’t, I know that you walked away so that you wouldn’t hurt me. But I didn’t know that at the time. I only understood once I’d read your letter.
The man that you saw coming out of the toilet block wasn’t the driver of the car parked outside; he must have been one of the lorry drivers. The driver of the car was a woman and as I ran down the slip road onto the motorway, she nearly ran me down. When she screeched to a stop beside me, I opened the passenger door and climbed in. She looked terrified, but then a lorry came down the slip road behind us and she had no choice but to drive off.