They discussed the police search next, Hannah asking question after question for all the world as though she didn’t already know the answers. Just when Clara thought she would crumble under the strain of it all, Hannah glanced at her watch. ‘I must go,’ she said. ‘But I’m so glad I’ve been able to talk to you.’ Her eyes met Clara’s. ‘I hope you know that you’re not alone in this. If ever I can help, in any small way, I want you to know I’m here for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Clara said gravely, relief overwhelming her as they both got to their feet. On the street, Hannah took Clara’s hands in hers, exactly as she had the time before. It was all she could do not to snatch them away.
‘Keep strong,’ Hannah said, looking deep into her eyes. Now that they were standing so close to each other, Clara felt her fear return two-fold as she forced herself to meet Hannah’s gaze. Something must have shown in her face because Hannah tilted her head, her eyes quizzical. ‘Are you OK?’ she said.
‘I—’ Clara stammered.
‘What, Clara? What is it?’
As Hannah’s hands tightened on hers, she had the overwhelming sense of suffocation, an instinctive compulsion to run. Her mouth dried. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered, ‘nothing at all.’
Hannah nodded. ‘This must all be so hard on you.’ She smiled compassionately again and the moment stretched until, all at once, she released Clara’s hands, pulled her hood up around her face and with a final, brief look of sympathy she turned and left, leaving Clara standing alone, her heart pounding, as she watched her walk off down the street.
Relief surged through her at the knowledge that her part was over, at least for now. But when she looked across the street and saw Zoe emerge from the pub opposite then set off slowly after Hannah, Clara’s fear returned. What the hell was she doing, letting Zoe get caught up in this? She wanted to run after her and drag her friend back, but, terrified that Hannah would turn and see her, she made herself set off up the street the way she’d come. She’d barely reached the corner, however, when anxiety got the better of her and she stopped and turned, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Zoe before she disappeared from view. And then she gasped. Because there Hannah was. Not walking away from her as she’d expected, but standing stock-still not far from where they’d parted, her eyes fastened upon her.
Clara felt a jolt of shock. Unable to help herself, she glanced across the road, seeking out Zoe and, sure enough, she spotted her friend standing by a bus stop a few yards further on, pretending to look at her phone. Panicked, she looked back at Hannah. Had she seen her eyes dart across the road? Had she given Zoe away? What on earth was Hannah doing, anyway? Uncertainly she raised her hand to wave, shooting her a questioning smile. Hannah’s face remained expressionless for a beat or two, then abruptly she nodded and turned, continuing on her way.
Across the road, Zoe met Clara’s frightened gaze and shrugged. Clara scrabbled for her phone. ‘Zoe,’ she said when her friend picked up. ‘She’s on to us, I’m sure of it. Let’s give up, it’s too dangerous. Don’t follow her, I’m sure she knows what’s going on.’
But even as she replied Zoe turned and continued following Hannah down the street. ‘No way, I’m not giving up now. Fuck knows what all that was about, but I’m certain she didn’t look at me once. I’m going to keep following her. I’ll speak to you soon.’ And with that, she hung up.
Swearing loudly, Clara watched as they both disappeared from sight. Frantically she dialled Mac’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. ‘Clara? Thank God. Are you OK? Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker.’
Quickly she told them what had happened. ‘I don’t know what to do! Zoe thinks Hannah didn’t see her, but what the fuck was she doing? Why was she staring at me like that? The expression on her face was just – oh God, I’m really worried, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I think you should call Zoe, Mac, and tell her to back off, I—’
But Rose’s voice cut through her garbled words. ‘No! Don’t call it off! Please, Clara. Please let Zoe find out where she lives.’
She closed her eyes. The desperation in Rose’s voice was tangible. She heard Tom speak next. ‘Mum’s right,’ he said. ‘It’s our only chance.’
She released a long, pent-up breath. ‘OK,’ she said reluctantly. ‘OK. I’m on my way back now. I’ll see you soon.’
When she returned to Mac’s flat, the air was thick with tension as she took a seat amongst them in the kitchen, four pairs of eyes fastened on her face as she described to them what had happened, recounting every single word and gesture, careful not to leave anything out, beginning from the moment Hannah appeared in front of her and ending with the strange shock of turning to find her standing motionless in the street, watching her.
When she’d finished, an anxious silence hung in the air and they sat staring at Clara’s phone, which she’d placed on the centre of the table, waiting for Zoe’s call. ‘Christ, when will she ring?’ Clara asked shakily.
‘Surely she should have phoned by now?’ Rose asked.
‘Not necessarily,’ said Mac. He looked at Clara and tried to give her a reassuring smile, adding, ‘I’m sure it’ll be soon.’
It was half past eight – an hour and a half since Clara had left Zoe to follow Hannah – when the phone eventually rang. Clara leapt on it, putting it on speaker. ‘Zo?’ she said. ‘Oh thank God, are you OK?’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ she said, her voice breathless and exhilarated above the noise of traffic in the background. ‘I’m fine. I’m on my way back now.’
Clara closed her eyes, relief washing over her. ‘What happened? Where did you follow her to?’
‘To her flat, I think. At least I assume it’s where she lives. Acton, to be exact, north-west London. I followed her to Liverpool Street Tube, then got on the Central Line. I was about to give up, because by the time we got there the carriage was practically empty. But I don’t think she had a clue I was following her. She didn’t look at me once. She got off at Acton and the streets there were fairly busy. Luckily she lives not too far from the station and there was a noisy gang of drunk lads who walked between us almost the whole way, so I think I was safe.’
Tom cleared his throat and, raising his voice, asked, ‘What does her place look like?’
‘Total dump. Massive old Victorian building, about five floors, a flat on each one, I’d guess. She let herself in then a light went on in a ground-floor window, so I’m pretty sure that’s hers. I went around the back of the building and there’s this sort of parking area, and a back door, too, which again I think must be hers. I’ve got the address for you, I’ll text it.’
When Clara hung up they all stared at each other wide-eyed. ‘Fuck,’ said Tom.
‘So what do we do now?’ asked Mac, nervously.
‘We wait,’ said Oliver. ‘We wait until the middle of the night, when she’s least expecting us, and then we go round there.’
‘But then what?’ said Tom. ‘She’s not just going to answer the door and welcome us in, is she?’
‘No,’ said Clara quietly. ‘No, she’s not.’
31
London, 2017
It was 2 a.m. when they set off for Acton, the five of them in Tom’s car. Clara looked out at the dark, mostly empty suburban streets. She couldn’t seem to stop shivering, despite the fact that Tom had turned the heating up full. In the trapped tension of the car they listened to the satnav’s incongruously dulcet tones guiding them ever nearer to whatever it was that was waiting for them at their journey’s end.
She put her cold hands in her jacket pockets and, feeling something sharp, withdrew her fingers with a start. Before they left, Mac had pulled Tom and her aside. ‘I think you should take these,’ he’d said, and when she looked down she’d seen two small kitchen knives in his hand.
She’d backed away. ‘No! Are you crazy? I don’t—’
But Mac had pleaded with her. ‘We don’t know what she’s going to do when we get there. She’s crazy, dangerous. Hide it in your pocket. Please, Clara, just in case, OK?’
She’d glanced at Tom and when he’d shrugged and taken one, she’d reluctantly done the same.