“Now, Katie, I’m offering your dad a retail opportunity here. All these glampers of yours—they’ve got houses to furnish, haven’t they? I got this job lot of rugs from a bloke in Yeovil. Proper Persian antiques. Bit of furniture too. Take a look, anyway.”
“Sorry, Katie.” Dad pats me on the shoulder again. “I’ll just have a quick look. Be back in a minute.”
I know Dad. He can never resist a poke around Dave Yarnett’s van.
“OK, no problem.” I shrug, feeling a guilty relief wash over me. I’ll tell him later, when it’s a better time. When I’ve worked out a script. And maybe had a vodka or two. “Hey, don’t buy any rugs,” I call after Dad, as he disappears off with Dave. “Not without discussing it. We’re a partnership now!”
—
I sit there awhile longer, watching the sky change tone gradually, from intense mid-blue to a softer indigo. Dave’s van disappears back down the drive and I see Dad making his way over to the campfire again. I just hope he isn’t making plans to turn us into the Ansters Farm Glamping and Rug Emporium.
I decide to head back over to the fire myself, toast a marshmallow, and get myself a sugar hit. But as I’m walking in that direction, I see a familiar car wending its way up the drive. Oh my God. Demeter.
I increase my pace to a run and arrive in the farmyard as she’s getting out. She looks white and exhausted. Her eyebrows are drawn in a frown and there’s a piece of paper in her hand, which she keeps glancing at.
I’m about to greet her when another voice gets in first: “Hello, Demeter.”
It’s Alex, stepping out of the kitchen door. He’s holding his phone and staring grimly at Demeter. Like an assassin.
“I’d like to see you for a meeting,” he says. “Biddy says we can use the sitting room.”
I feel a dart of shock. That’s what he’s been doing. Setting up the execution chamber.
“Now?” Demeter seems a little stunned. “Alex, I’ve only just got back. I need some time, I need a chance…”
“You’ve had plenty of time. Plenty of chances.” His voice is strained, and I can tell he’s been psyching himself up to do this. “Things have been getting worse for months. Now they’ve tipped over the edge. Demeter, you know that. Things are a shambles. And that’s why we need to talk.”
“I need to work some things out first.” Demeter closes her car door, then comes toward him on trembling legs, her eyes like shadows in her pale face. “Please, Alex. Give me till tomorrow.”
“Demeter.” He steps toward her, his face tight, avoiding her eye. “I don’t want to be doing this, you know I don’t, but I have to. Things have got out of hand and they can’t carry on. We’ll put together a story for the press; you’ll get a good package—” He stops. “We should go to the meeting room.”
“I’m not going to any meeting room.” Demeter shakes her head adamantly. “Alex, there’s another side to this. There’s stuff that doesn’t make sense. I need to show it to you.”
But Alex isn’t listening.
“All we think is, you took on a big job,” he presses on doggedly, as though reading lines. “It was too much, but it’s not your fault—”
“Stop the spiel, Alex!” Demeter yells. “Just listen to what I have to say! OK, so I went home today. I looked through some old emails, trying to…I don’t know. Work out what the hell has been going on.” She gestures to a massive bin bag I hadn’t noticed before, stuffed full of email printouts.
“What the hell?” says Alex incredulously, as some of the printouts start to flutter on the evening breeze.
“They were in my attic. I print out a lot of emails,” says Demeter defensively. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but…Anyway, so I found this.” She holds out the paper and Alex glances at it without interest.
“It’s an email.”
“Look at it!” Demeter exclaims, shaking it at him. “Actually look at it!”
Alex puts both fists to his face. “You will kill me,” he says in a muffled voice. He looks up. “OK, what?” He takes the paper, reads it, then raises his head again blankly. “It’s an email from Lindsay at Allersons. Forwarded to you from Sarah, two weeks ago. So what?”
“Read it aloud.”
For a moment, Alex looks as though he might spontaneously combust. But he starts to read: “Dear Demeter, thanks for that, and I must say, we appreciate your ongoing patience—”
“Stop there.” Demeter lifts a hand. “My ongoing patience. Do you see? My ongoing patience.”
Alex frowns blankly. “What about it?”
“Why would Allersons ‘appreciate my ongoing patience’? They say they were waiting for us to get a move on. So why would I have needed to be patient?”
“Who knows?” Alex brushes it off. “It’s a turn of phrase.”
“It’s not! It’s crucial! This email fits with my version of things, where they told me to halt on everything until further notice. I remember reading it. I replied to it! Do you realize I thought I was going mad?” She jabs at the paper. “Well, I’m not!”
“Jesus, Demeter.” Alex sounds exasperated. “We’ve been through this. Sarah’s shown us the email correspondence; none of it accords with what you’re saying—”
“Well, that’s my point!” She cuts him off, trembling.
“What? What’s your point?”
“I don’t know exactly. At least…” She sounds suddenly hesitant and less Demeter-ish. “I know it sounds far-fetched, but maybe someone hacked into my computer and…I don’t know. Messed with my emails.”
“Oh Jesus.” Alex looks as though this is all he needs.
“Alex, I know I received an email from Lindsay, telling me that Allersons wanted to pause. It said they were waiting for some research to come in.” Demeter’s voice shoots up in agitation. “I read it! I saw it!”
“OK, so show me now. Is it on your laptop?”
“No.” Demeter looks beleaguered. “It…it disappeared. I went up to London to find the printout, and I couldn’t, but I found this one instead. This email isn’t on my computer either. I know, I know it sounds crazy…but look. This is proof. Look!” She thrusts the paper at him and he reluctantly takes it. “If you give me time to go through all my old printouts…I’m sure I’ve been hacked, or something….”
“Stop saying that!” Alex looks properly upset. “Demeter, I’m an old friend and I’m telling you: Don’t go around saying things like that. You sound—” He breaks off. “Who would do it, anyway? And why?”
“I don’t know.” Demeter sounds desperate. “But it doesn’t make sense, nothing makes sense—”
“Hey,” I chip in. I’ve been gazing at the email over Alex’s shoulder and something’s caught my attention. “Look at the email address. It should be Demeter-dot-Farlowe at Cooper Clemmow-dot-com. But this has been sent to Demeter-underscore-Farlowe at Cooper Clemmow-dot-com. It’s a totally different email account.”
Even Alex is silenced. He peers closely at the email address, his brow furrowed.
“Oh my God.” Demeter grabs the paper from him. “I never even noticed that.”
“There are lots of possible explanations,” begins Alex. “It could be…I don’t know. An IT-department experiment. Or maybe you started a new email account yourself and forgot—”
“Me, start an email account?” retorts Demeter derisively. “Are you joking? I wouldn’t know where to start! Sarah does all that stuff. She organizes my emails, she forwards things, she’s the only one who ever—” Demeter breaks off and we meet eyes. And I feel a huge lurch.
Sarah.
It’s like a curtain has fallen down. I can suddenly see. Sarah. Oh my God.
Demeter’s face has turned ashen. I can see her mind is turning over this idea as quickly as I am. Sarah. Sarah.
It all makes sense. Emails changing…messages disappearing…Sarah and her hostile, exaggerated patience…Demeter standing in the office, peering at her phone as though she thinks she’s going mad…
“Sarah?” I say at last.
“Sarah,” echoes Demeter, looking a bit ill. “Oh God.”
“What?” Alex is looking from Demeter to me and back again. “Who’s Sarah?”