After a while, I moved into Jon’s area, got a job – supermarket checkout girl – and waited some more. I let a life build up around me. People believe lives, as if they’re the truth of a person rather than the window dressing. You only have to look at Facebook. All those miserable people trying to outshine each other with holiday photos and humble brags and #feelingblessed. Adding people they’ve never met and thinking they somehow know them from the shit they share. One random friend in common. Your father didn’t like social media. After his experiences with the press, I think anything with media in the name was a turn-off. But he was lonely and sober and he made it so easy to get close to him. Slowly, slowly I let him fall in love with me. Well, not with me, but with Anna. Anna the shopgirl. Sweet and giving.
They say women are the softer sex. The more emotional. Which fool decided that? A man in love is weakness personified. A man in love will tell you anything. Share anything. Give you everything. And he did. Once I turned on that tap inside him, the whole story poured out. He loved you, you see, in his own weak way. He showed me the letter your mother sent him back in 2006 when he’d given her the money. He’d kept it.
He said they’d called you Crystal, but he thought she’d change your name to Ava. She’d always wanted to call you Ava but he hadn’t let her. He thought it was an old woman’s name, but now he thought it was beautiful. He whined and whined about wishing he knew you or knew where you were and hated that you probably knew nothing about him. Nothing good. He wanted you to know he loved you.
I had to bite back a laugh, if I’m honest. What is it with men? They create their own misery and then act as if it was somebody else’s fault. So much self-pity in their genes. Or in their jeans? He wanted to find you but he had nothing to go on and he’d tried to contact the probation services about it but they’d told him he’d have to wait until you were eighteen. What did he expect? He’d cost them a whole new identity and I for one know that’s not cheap.
I told him to forget you. I told him it wasn’t healthy and he should move on. I said his future was with me. He was weak – always weak – and agreed. I took the letter, of course. It was dwelling in the past.
He didn’t deserve to keep that letter – he hadn’t seen the clue to where you both were, right there in front of his eyes. The small faded postmark on the envelope. I did though. I saw it very clearly indeed.
59
MARILYN
It was a good job I came back early because I wasn’t long out of the shower when Simon rang up to my room and said he’d arranged a meeting room for some things he wanted to go through with me. He’s pale and the slump in his shoulders screams tiredness and I don’t need to ask why.
‘You look a bit under the weather,’ I say, my heart sinking as he thuds a pile of printouts and training manuals down on the table and turns the projector on. There’s a plate of pastries there too, but neither of us takes one. ‘I’m sure there are other things I could get on with today.’ Like continuing to help a suspect on the run.
‘I’m fine. Not enough sleep.’ I don’t need any further explanation. Lisa’s the news story of the month and although the police haven’t revealed any fresh evidence that’s not stopping all the news channels continually talking about her and digging through her past. Might be useful for Lisa and me, but probably less so for Simon.
‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘I want to go through the various training programmes and reward schemes we have in the Manning group for both contract workers and full-time staff. I like to make sure everyone has a chance to achieve their potential.’
‘That’s the sort of thing Lisa would say.’ The words are out before I can stop them. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have – it’s just – well, whatever she did or didn’t do, that was her philosophy when hiring people and I don’t have any reason to think she was faking it.’ I speak defensively, and part of me is challenging him to fire me. If he did, my life would be fucked, but at least I’d be out there helping to find Ava.
I expect him to snap at me, but instead he glances up as if wanting to say something, yet not knowing how to. ‘It’s odd, isn’t it?’ he says, eventually. ‘I mean, odd isn’t a big enough word, but it is odd.’
‘What do you mean?’ My heart thumps. Is he trying to catch me out here? Has Penny told him about my outburst yesterday and he’s trying to figure out how crazy I might be?
‘What they say she did. What she did. I don’t know.’ His jaw is tight. ‘I told her once that I’d made mistakes in my past. Did things I shouldn’t have done. I was involved in – well, I guess illegal activities would be the truth. They say never ask anyone how they made their first million. I wouldn’t want to have to answer that question. Not honestly, anyway.’
‘We all do things we regret.’ I don’t know what else to say, but I want to keep him talking.
‘I’m a good judge of people. I always have been. I’ve had to be at times.’ He looks at me, direct. ‘And all these things in the press, this new murder, her ex, and Ava … it’s so hard to believe. I can’t get my head around it. I mean, could she really have done all that? The … the thing in the past, well it’s awful and terrible and I’ll never understand it, but it was a long time ago. This new stuff? Another murder? While we were around her? It doesn’t feel right. Not at all.’
There’s a brisk knock at the door and a woman in her fifties in a smart suit bustles into the room to join us, a sharp efficient smile on her face. ‘Karen Walsh. Head of in-house staff training. I manage everything across the leisure and hotel range. You didn’t have to join us, Simon.’ She smiles at him, but it’s clear that his presence is unusual.
‘I like to keep my hand in,’ he replies, and whatever moment we had to talk about Lisa has passed. I want to punch the woman in the face for interrupting. Does Simon think Lisa’s innocent of Jon’s murder too?
He turns his attention back to the paperwork. ‘These are the presentations the new staff will all be seeing on our training days. We have very high standards that have to be exact across all the hotels so it’s important there’s nothing unclear. Penny tells me you’re pretty much seconded to me for now. You may as well know as much about the business as you can absorb.’
Oh great. So Penny has told him about my outburst. I look down at the long and tedious list of things they want to work through. This is going to take hours. ‘Let’s get started,’ I say, through gritted teeth. ‘Sooner we begin, the sooner we finish.’ Why today, I think, as he turns the main light out and starts the projector. Why, when Lisa needs my help? I look at him. He’s staring at the screen but his mind’s not on it. He’s too tense. A different knot is untangling in his thoughts. I know how he feels. I’ve been through it myself.
At the front of the room, Karen Walsh starts talking through the first presentation, and although I try to focus, I can’t. My head is buzzing. What if Lisa gets seen? What if she can’t figure out who Katie is? What if we don’t get to Ava in time? And could Simon be an ally?
60
LISA
I didn’t spray my hair but just ponytailed it, and kept my make-up light. This is a nice part of town and, although I’m sure they’re not all curtain-twitchers, for now the brash look isn’t going to suit me. As it is, the streets are quiet, people either at work or maybe away on long summer holidays, months in France or Spain, the kind the people who own these large detached homes take as a reward for burning themselves out to pay the mortgage.
The curtains are open but there’s no sign of life through the large front windows and I’m not surprised. This isn’t an endgame location, not for me and Katie, only a stepping stone along the way. Still, my palms sweat and my mouth is dry and I like the reassuring feel of the knife in my jacket pocket. I can’t call the police or Marilyn – not until I’m sure. Even then, I can’t tell the police until I know exactly where she is. I can’t risk my baby. They’re not looking for Katie, only Charlotte. They’ll throw me in prison and Ava will be lost forever.