Where the Memories Lie

 

me, and I remember seeing her walking past, coming from the direction of her house. It was awkward. Like I said, I’d only seen her a few times since the split, and even then not to say hello to because she was too far away. I didn’t know whether to stop her and talk to her, or whether it was better to just pretend I hadn’t seen her. In the end, I decided to say hi.’

 

‘Did she speak to you?’

 

‘She just stopped and stared at me for a moment. She looked really different. Her hair was short and she didn’t have all that heavy makeup on and her clothes were a bit . . . I don’t know, grannyfied.

 

It was weird. I thought she was going to say something. Swear at me at the very least. Tell me to fuck off or something. But she didn’t say a thing. Then she just carried on walking.’

 

‘I vaguely remember you telling me all this at the time, but I can’t remember what happened next. Did you see where she went after you saw her?’

 

‘Yeah, she was walking towards your house.’

 

‘In Back Street?’ I asked, thinking about my parents’ three-bed cottage I grew up in, long sold now after they’d retired to sunny Spain twelve years ago.

 

‘No, Tate Barn. Well, it was our house then. Dad was renovat-ing it at the time for us to live in.’

 

‘Yes, I remember when he was working on it.’

 

Since our house is the last in the village, she could only have been heading towards Abbotsbury, the next village along the main road, or cutting through the woods alongside the barn and hiking up over the hills. ‘So she was going to Abbotsbury?’

 

‘She must’ve been. That’s what that policeman thought, too.

 

She was carrying a big rucksack. I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but then later, after I heard she’d left a letter and run away, it all made sense.’

 

‘You’re absolutely sure?’

 

104

 

Where the Memories Lie ‘Positive. When I found out she’d left home I kept replaying the scene in my head over and over, wishing I’d done something differently. Said something to make her stay. I can even remember what she was wearing because she still looked beautiful to me, and, like I said, I kept thinking about it afterwards. Don’t you remember I used to bend your ear about it all the time?’

 

‘Yes, that’s right. You did.’

 

He stared off into the distance, lost in an old memory. ‘She had on some shiny black leggings and a big yellow button-down shirt.

 

It looked strange, to tell you the truth. Nothing like she usually used to wear. And she was wearing these massive yellow hooped earrings and a silver necklace with a sun and a star on it.’ He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Then the bus pulled up and I got on. If I’d known it was the last time I’d ever see her, I never would’ve let her go.’

 

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Chapter Twelve

 

 

I stood outside the old police house in the village the following day, mentally rehearsing what to say to PC Cook, or Mr Cook as he was now. He’d retired years ago and bought the house he’d lived in as a serving officer.

 

If Chris had seen Katie walking towards Abbotsbury with a large rucksack, then the letter she wrote couldn’t have been a fake and she must’ve really been running away. Which meant Tom couldn’t have killed her and he was just completely muddled.

 

But would Mr Cook remember what was in that letter?

 

I knocked on his door and looked around at the immaculate front garden. There were no prizes for guessing what Mr Cook had been doing in his retirement.

 

He opened the door and it was as if I was transported back in time to the day he asked me if I knew where Katie was, only this time our roles were reversed. I was on his doorstep and would be asking the same questions.

 

‘Hi.’ He frowned in surprise. ‘It’s Olivia, isn’t it?’

 

‘Yes.’ I smiled. ‘Olivia Tate.’

 

He smiled back in recognition. ‘Yes. You’re a nurse at the doctor’s surgery.’

 

Where the Memories Lie