Where the Memories Lie
By: Sibel Hodge
‘It wasn’t hours. That would’ve taken up the whole film, and I seem to remember it being about a lot more than just that.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, a long time, then. Imagine how painful that is. And what if you really did kill an innocent person?’
Anna looked horrified at that prospect. ‘I mean, what if I was wrongly convicted of murdering someone and I got the death penalty?’
‘You wouldn’t kill someone, sweetheart. You can’t even kill those disgusting ticks we find on Poppy, and they serve no purpose in life except to be horrible parasites that spread disease.’
‘Actually, everything has a purpose in our ecosystem.’
‘Yes, but not ticks. They should be banned. Like scratchy labels in clothes.’
‘Yes, but what if they were innocent, Mum?’
‘Can we talk about this another time? I really need to use the laptop. I can’t use the Internet on my phone ? it’s too slow using the touch screen.’
‘But it’s just getting to a—’
‘ Now, Anna!’ I said, my words coming out harsher than I intended.
She looked up at me sharply. It wasn’t often that I lost my temper, and she could sense something was wrong.
She made a big show of pausing the film, and passed the laptop over to me in pouty silence.
I took it into the kitchen and typed in Georgia Walker’s name, along with missing person and Dorset.
I looked down the hits. There was a LinkedIn site for an Emily Walker, a Facebook page for someone called Georgia Williams, a blog about Dorset Walks and, bizarrely, a link to a page about 43
Sibel Hodge
American slavery. There was also a link to a missing persons website in Georgia, USA, a Walker County Sheriff’s Facebook Page (also in the USA – what was that about? I’d thought Google knew everything except, apparently, where Dorset was), and a plastic surgeon in Savannah which was – yes, you guessed it – in the USA!
I deleted Dorset and searched again. Maybe she wasn’t even local. This time I found a Twitter account for George Wilmington, a website for a dental surgery in London, an article about a man on death row in Georgia (don’t tell Anna) and a story about a man called John Hamilton who’d gone missing a week ago from Scotland. Nothing useful at all.
I sat back in the chair with a frustrated sigh. If Tom had heard about this woman, she must’ve been local, surely. I found British Telecom’s online directory. It asked for a surname and location so I typed in Walker and Dorset.
Too many search results. Please try again, it said.
I tried her surname and narrowed it down to Portesham. There were four Walkers but no G. I tried Dorchester next, where I hit fifteen Walkers but no G.
I gave up after trying Weymouth with the same result. She could be anywhere. Or the phone could be listed in her husband’s name. Or she could be ex-directory.
Oh, this is stupid. I was just letting my imagination run away with me. I closed down the search tab and shut the laptop as Ethan wandered in wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt, hair still damp from the shower. I felt a jolt of desire hit me. Despite the fact that his long working hours meant he didn’t have much time to exercise, he had a naturally muscular body. At forty-three, his stomach was still flat and toned.
‘I’m sorry about snapping earlier. It’s been a nightmare week.’
‘It’s OK. It’s forgotten already.’ I smiled.
44
Where the Memories Lie He pulled me to my feet and slid his arms around my waist, nuzzling behind my ear, his lips seeking that place that made me want to melt. Maybe it was an erogenous zone. Whatever it was, I definitely appreciated him doing, oh, yes, that thing right there.
45
Chapter Five
The doorbell rang at 9 a.m. the next day as I was packing the food into a large cool box. Poppy barked and rushed to the front door, ready to greet the visitor with an excited wagging tail and a wet nose. She’d never make a good guard dog. She’d welcome any intruder into the house with a lick and nuzzle.