Despite having an early start, Ethan got out of bed and made me and Mum some tea. While I comforted her, he put fresh sheets on the spare bed and texted Dad so he wouldn’t worry when he woke up and she was gone. He did it all without complaining and I was reminded again why I fell in love with him. One moment, I wonder why we are still married, and the next, I can’t imagine my life without him.
I slept in the guest room with Mum, wrapping my arms tightly around her, inhaling the smell of her lemony shampoo. We used to sleep together like that, do you remember? You’d creep into my room after a nightmare, not our parents’, and you’d get into my bed and fall asleep, your warm little body curled up against mine.
Over breakfast the next morning, Mum announced she’d called our family liaison officer and agreed to do the press conference later that day. Ethan left for work, but he’d been so great with Mum the night before, I didn’t mind. By mid-morning, the house was full: Dad, Kathryn, Jack, Charlie and Tobin joined us, along with some officials who locked themselves in my living room with our parents to brief them on what to expect and what to say when they addressed the media.
In the kitchen, Charlie helped make cups of tea and little plates of sandwiches.
‘Good lord, your house is like something from a magazine,’ said Charlie.
It never gets old hearing how wonderful my home is. I take pride in it. I always dreamt of having a house like this, and enjoy that people envy what I’ve created, even if they do sneer behind my back that without Ethan, I wouldn’t have any of it. What people forget is I won Ethan over. He could’ve had anyone, and he chose me. I earned this house, so I thank Charlie for the compliment.
He’s sweet, Charlie. At Wisteria, while Jack whisked you away, Charlie and I used to take the kayak out and paddle to a little alcove. It was innocent enough. Though, when we were fourteen, he kissed me. It was gentle and awkward. I think I knew he was gay before he did.
‘She’s going to come home,’ said Charlie, cutting a sandwich into triangles.
‘I know,’ I said, even though I didn’t know. Nobody did.
‘Jack won’t rest until she’s found.’
I get the impression Charlie and Jack aren’t very close because Jack’s only ever been interested in forging an unbreakable bond with you. Charlie lives in London, and despite Jack travelling there fairly often for work, he only bothers to visit Charlie once a year. He’s exchanged obligatory Easter escapades with Jeffrey to Wisteria, for obligatory Easter escapades with Charlie in London.
‘How’s Jack coping?’ I asked.
‘He’s working away a lot. I think being in Crosshaven is hard for him without her. Work’s a good distraction.’
‘Where’s he working?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘London, Cornwall. Wherever. He called the other night, telling me how he wished he’d been here the night she was … He’s convinced it’s his fault.’
‘Unlike Jack to take responsibility for anything,’ I said before I could stop myself.
Nothing is ever usually his fault. All those fights he got into at school? The other boy started it. All those times he mouthed off to a teacher or got angry and kicked a desk or a wall? The staff were out to get him. All the internships Jeffrey arranged to teach Jack responsibility which ended up letting him go? The companies weren’t innovative enough, creative enough, didn’t appreciate him enough.
Charlie stiffened beside me, twin urges wrestling within him: defend his brother, be nice to the woman whose sister might never be found. As ever, Charlie was gentle and awkward. ‘Jack’s life wasn’t easy, you know that. And finding Dad’s body the way he did …’
‘They. Jack took my little sister into that study.’
‘He didn’t know, Ada.’
We muddled through the silence.
‘So,’ I ventured, ‘why did Jeffrey make Jack’s life so difficult?’
Charlie put the sandwiches onto a plate and wiped his hands on the towel. When he looked at me, he was no longer gentle and awkward, he looked … uncomfortable.
‘Your mother wants you,’ said Dad, appearing in the doorway.
He looks older. He’s never looked his age, our dad, but lately he does. You’ve aged him.
Outside the guest room, I listened to Jack tell Mum, ‘If you don’t want to go through with the appeal today, you don’t have to. No one would think any less of you, Meredith. Elodie certainly wouldn’t.’
‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘You look tired. We can call it off – it’s not too late.’
What was he doing? We’d spent days trying to convince her to do this. Blood boiling, I pushed open the door. ‘Got you a glass of water, Mum. How’re we doing? All set for this afternoon? Dad was just saying how proud he is that you’re doing this today.’ A white lie. In my peripheral vision, Jack stiffened.
Mum looked up at me, doe-eyed and hopeful, and it was obvious things between our parents weren’t good. ‘He did?’
I nodded. Jack’s eyes burned into me, but I ignored him. ‘Absolutely. So’ – I clapped my hands together – ‘where’re these dresses?’
Most of her options were in appropriately dark hues, all except for one brightly coloured number.
‘Jack’s choice,’ said Kathryn, holding it up and looking as confused as I felt.
Canary yellow didn’t exactly scream ‘serious address to the nation’. It was too bright. Too cheery. Completely wrong. I took it from Kathryn and held it out between my thumb and forefinger, treating it with the distaste it deserved. ‘Mum, I don’t think yellow is the way to go.’
Jack swept in, crouching down in front of Mum on the bed and placing his hands on her knees. I didn’t like his hands on her at all. ‘Black is for funerals. This isn’t a funeral. Elodie isn’t dead. She’s missing and we’re going to bring her home.’
Tears in her eyes, Mum nodded.
Jack went on, placing the cherry on top of his bullshit cake. ‘Elodie is a warm person. She’d like the yellow.’
‘And Noah liked Elodie in yellow too,’ said Mum and I swear Jack’s expression darkened. Though Noah was adored by us all, I’m not sure he was even liked by Jack.
Switching sides, Kathryn nodded along too.
‘Stop fussing,’ snapped Mum when I told her, again, that yellow was far too chipper.
For the rest of the day, Jack wore a shit-eating grin.