There was surprise and disapproval on Christopher’s face. It took me a second to draw the blinds on my embarrassment. I slipped into defence mode because Ethan’s a fantastic husband. He is. And it doesn’t matter that Christopher’s an ex from a zillion years ago, he’s still an ex; I couldn’t have him thinking badly of my relationship. ‘The firm has some huge new clients. He’s an accountant and, well, he desperately wanted to be here tonight, but I made him go. Anyway, he’d be here if he could.’
Christopher nodded. ‘Sure. Just asking because he’s a witness from the night Elodie was attacked. The more people here to spot the attacker, the better.’
‘Oh, yes, exactly.’ I felt instantly stupid for misreading his motivation and fought against the colour flushing my cheeks.
‘There are a few of us here,’ he assured me. I could only assume he meant undercover officers. ‘We have the composite drawing Jack helped us with, but if you see the guy, give me the signal we discussed.’
Excusing myself, I made my way to the gazebo to get things started when an older gentleman stepped in my path, his hand held out in a formal greeting. ‘I’m George Winkelman.’
I took his hand, thinking his name sounded like something from the books I used to read to you as a child.
‘Your sister’s a lovely young lady,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t believe the news. Still can’t.’
‘How do you …’
‘Mugs,’ he said. ‘Before that wrong ’un, Richard, gave her the sack.’
‘The sack?’
George looked abashed. ‘Well, I could be mistaken but, yes, I think so. Not that she deserved it. Elodie’s got a kind heart and she’s a hard worker. I saw the way Richard looked at her and, well, it wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. If there’s anything I can do to help find her, I will.’ He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and gave it to me. ‘There’s my phone number. You can call anytime.’
I can see why you like him, El. He’s warm, like Grandad was. But why didn’t you tell me you’d been fired? Why were you fired? When?
At the gazebo, I took the mic Margot held out to me. I’ve hosted hundreds of events, but my hands have never trembled the way they did as I lifted the mic to my mouth. After I thanked everyone for coming, instructed them how to light their lanterns and scanned the crowd for him, it felt wrong to step down without saying something heartfelt about you. I opened my mouth, and expectation swirled in the spaces between the gatherings of people, but nothing came out. The thing is, it feels cheap to say something mushy now you’re gone when I didn’t say anything like that when you were here, so I thrust the mic at Margot instead, who talked about your kind heart and how you were taken just as your dream of being an author was coming true.
The violinist we hired started up. When it came time to write a message on the lantern, I penned, ‘Ellie-Bee, you will come home. I promise.’ Then I shook out the lantern, lit it and, along with hundreds of other arms, lifted mine to the sky.
Margot counted down, ‘Three … two … one!’ and we let go. They drifted up high into the dark sky; hundreds of flecks of flickering gold. It made me think of the glitter painted across your cheeks on your seventh birthday.
I imagined you looking up at the sky, seeing all these dancing flames and wondering what the celebration was. Then the next morning, walking across a field not too far away, you’d find my lantern. Mine out of all the lanterns released tonight and you’d know I was searching for you, you’d know the lights in the sky were all for you, and you’d leave behind whatever adventure you abandoned us for and you’d run all the way to my front door.
A hand pressed against the small of my back. Christopher whispered, ‘You okay, Ada?’
I nodded, grateful he’d asked. Missing Ethan in that moment, I wished he was here, his arms around me.
The crowds lingered, enjoying the music and the coffee cart. I looked over at Richard and the flinty young redhead he was with and thought about confronting him over your dismissal, but then I heard Dad’s voice. He was standing at the foot of the gazebo with Mum. I hugged them both. They looked tired. Older. Dad hadn’t shaved.
‘You shouldn’t have done all this, love,’ said Mum all sniffly. ‘It’s too much.’
‘Actually, we’re meant to look out for—’
‘It’s not necessary. Elodie will be back soon and—’
‘Stop it,’ snapped Dad.
Mum blinked, aghast, but didn’t speak again. The tension between them was so thick, you could slice it up and spread it on toast.
‘If I’d known you were coming, I’d have picked you up,’ I said.
‘Jack brought us,’ said Dad, just as I spotted him and Kathryn coming across the park towards us.
We all hugged and kissed and hugged again. Dad caught my eye and said, in a voice so low only I could hear, ‘Sorry we’re late. We would’ve been here sooner but your mum …’
I squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t worry. You’re here now.’
‘You threw this together quickly,’ said Jack smoothly. But he isn’t smooth is he, El? He has rough edges and spiky bits. I remember all the fights he got into at school. I remember Kathryn cradling a cup of tea in our living room, telling Mum she was at her wits’ end with Jack’s aggression, that Jeffrey was having to pay more and more money to different private schools to secure Jack a place.
Then, over Jack’s shoulder, I saw a man in a black hoodie, staring up at the dark sky through glasses I recognised. Ones he’d worn the night he attacked you outside my house.
Flinging my arm out wide, I frantically looked for Christopher. He was only a couple of car lengths away from where I stood. He started moving quickly through the crowd in the direction I was pointing. I knew I was meant to be subtle, but there was this crazy adrenaline pumping, so I was pointing instead. It took all my willpower not to shout too.
Jack was the first to realise what was going on. ‘Oh fuck, it’s him,’ he said, cluing in the others.
I didn’t expect Dad to start running, El, running at your stalker the second he laid eyes on him.
Mum screamed after him, ‘Martin! Martin! Martin!’
The crowd parted but the commotion drew your stalker’s attention away from the drifting lanterns. Seeing Dad bearing down on him, he turned and sprinted away. There was an uproar of noise as Christopher and a couple of other undercover police pelted after them both, knocking into bystanders as they did. Then I was stepping forward, ready to join the chase.
Margot grabbed my wrist. ‘Don’t. You’ll just be in the way.’
‘Jesus,’ said Jack, pushing his fingers back through his hair. ‘Intense.’
I stared at him, wondering why he hadn’t joined the pursuit. He was eager enough to go tearing after this guy after your party, so why not now? I couldn’t ask that – too accusatory – instead I said, ‘How’re you holding up, Jack?’