‘You certainly look a bit peaky. Any idea what it is?’
‘I think it’s a migraine.’
‘Yes, I remember reading on your medical form you suffered from them. I’ll need to call the Newmonts, they’re your guardians, aren’t they?’
‘Yes.’
The clock on the wall has a gentle tick, a trance-like rhythm like the one in my bedroom the night the police came. I have the same feeling I had then, the waiting, the wishing it was over. Only this time I don’t know what the ‘it’ is.
‘That’s fine, I spoke to Mr Newmont. Either he or his wife will be home in an hour or two, the housekeeper’s there at the moment. Will you manage the walk back?’
I nod.
‘Good, well feel better, get some rest and lots of fluids.’
Sevita’s waiting for me when I get there.
‘Hello, Miss Milly, you like some lunch?’
‘No thank you, I’m going straight to bed, I don’t feel very well.’
‘Okay, I’m in the laundry.’
I see her hand cross her chest as she walks away from me, a Hail Mary. A prayer for me, or her. Home alone. With me.
I pace in my room for a bit, need to think clearly. Does Phoebe know? Was the post on the forum directed at me or just a sick game in response to the trial verdict? Cornered. Me. No way out. Fight, flight. Where would I go if I ran? There’s nowhere for someone like me to go.
I have to find out what Phoebe knows and if anyone else does. Who would she have told? Clondine? Izzy? All of the girls in my year maybe but I saw some of them on my way out of school and nothing happened. They’d have said something if they knew. I sit down on my bed, try to still my mind, all the while feeling sand in the timer slipping away. I stand up, pace back and forth again. Think, damn it, think. A golden nugget of memory lands when I see the top corner of my laptop poking out of my school bag.
The door I open I shouldn’t, it’s not mine. One of the house rules, bedrooms are private, it’s forbidden to go into each other’s without permission. Mike. His idea of domestic utopia but there’s nobody here to ask so I give myself permission. Her room is a cliché, I’ve been in before over half-term. Posters and pink, a sweet smell in the air. Candyfloss. Caramel. Sugar and spice. Polaroid strips of her and her friends sit Blu-Tacked on the wall above her desk. Fairy lights the shape of hearts hang over the foot of her bed. A grotto. A sleigh for a princess, a queen made of ice. Sticky tubs of lip gloss stand tall like stones from Stonehenge on her bedside table, you never know who you’ll meet in your dreams. I do.
I find what I’m looking for in the middle drawer of the desk. I’m lucky, it could’ve been at school with her but I know she hardly takes it, prefers her phone, that’s where most of the action happens. I slide the laptop out, power it up, her email account open on the screen, one new message. I can’t risk reading it – she’d know if it had been opened – but I read the most recent ones between her and Sam, where she tells him she’s lonely, hates her life, wishes she could live in Italy with him. The last email she sent was late last night, mentions some notes she saw in Mike’s study about me. She goes on to say she thinks I might have something to do with the Peter Pan Killer, that it’s fucking freaky because I look just like her.
The unread message is his reply. What did he say? What will she do?
I put the laptop back where I found it, leave and close the door, go along the corridor to my room. I lie down on my bed until it gets dark outside. Until the migraine subsides and no longer bears down on the back of my neck or pinches the top of my spine. I turn on my side, open my eyes, head hurts less now but when I look around my room, my heart hurts more. What will Phoebe do? What will happen to me? Where will I go?
I can’t lie still any more so I go downstairs. Both Saskia and Mike are talking to Phoebe in the snug. I look for clues she’s told them what she thinks she knows but nothing seems untoward.
‘See, Mike, she’s fine, there’s no reason to stress about going out,’ Saskia says.
Phoebe won’t make eye contact with me, leaves the snug shortly after I arrive.
‘Where are you guys going?’ I ask.
‘Sas and I have been invited to the Bowens’ for dinner tonight but seeing as you’re not feeling very well I thought we should stay home instead.’
‘I feel better now after resting.’
Perhaps if they go out I could talk to Phoebe, reason with her, persuade her I’m different from you.
‘I’m not sure we should go, you’ve had a lot to deal with recently,’ Mike says.
‘I’m fine, honestly, I’m going to catch up with some schoolwork.’
‘I hope you’d tell us if you weren’t, Milly, that’s what we’re here for.’
‘Mike, she said she was okay, didn’t she? Anyway, we cancelled last time, we really should go.’
Mike nods, says, looks like I’ve been out-voted. Once they have their coats on he delays their departure, a series of time-wasting tactics, sorts through the junk mail on the shelf by the door, uses his foot to rearrange the pile of shoes on the floor. Comments on how the porch could do with being re-tiled.
‘Shall I quickly measure it now?’ he says.
‘No, we’re already late, come on,’ Saskia replies.
It’s not maternal his instinct but he senses it, some kind of tension in the house. He makes a final attempt.
‘What about Rosie then, she needs to go out.’
‘One of the girls can do it,’ Saskia replies.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind us going, Milly?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘The number for the Bowens is on the blackboard, call us if you need anything, anything at all,’ he says before they leave.
I don’t know what to do. Whether I should go up to Phoebe’s room, knock on the door. Ask her if I can talk to her about something, but I’m not sure what to say. I sit down on one of the sofas in the games room to think, Rosie at my feet. Her sharp ears hear it first, movement from above. She sits up, cocks her head, listens to Phoebe’s footsteps coming down the stairs. She calls for Rosie, but the dog doesn’t move. She calls again, this time more impatient. Forceful.
‘She’s in here with me,’ I respond.
She doesn’t answer straight away, must have thought I was elsewhere. Then she says without coming into the room, ‘She needs to go out, Mum just texted me.’
Rosie gets up at the mention of going out, pads into the hallway towards Phoebe.
‘For fuck’s sake, I’ll do it then.’
When she comes into the games room she ignores me, walks over to the patio door and opens it. Rosie follows her but won’t go outside, sits down at the open door.
‘Out, now.’