Martin – 3.58 a.m.
It’s been nearly twenty minutes since Martin checked in with Frank, but he knows that if Freya had woken up needing her inhaler – the one still in the glovebox of Jessie’s car – Frank would have called, and seeing as he hasn’t, Freya must still be sleeping, which means she’s fine, for now at least. And while Frank’s silence also means Jessie isn’t back at the house yet, given how bad the storm is, her staying put is probably the smartest and safest thing she can do.
Right now, Martin has no real reason to believe that either his wife or his daughter are in any immediate danger. So why doesn’t it feel that way? Why is the fight or flight response in him so strong that his palms are sweating and his heart is thumping in his chest?
He thinks about Jessie and Amy, how close they were. They were connected at a deep, almost psychic level. Multiple times, he saw Jessie try to call Amy, only to find the phone was engaged because Amy was calling her. They’d often wear the same outfit, down to their choice of earrings, without having consulted each other beforehand. And Jessie once told him that, when Amy went missing, she knew something terrible had happened to her – could feel it in her bones.
Is that what he’s feeling now? he wonders. Can he feel Jessie’s distress in his bones?
It stands to reason that if such a connection can exist between two people, if they can feel each other’s pain, even when they’re apart, he would have that with the woman he has shared so much of his life with. On the other hand, maybe the panic in his chest is simply due to the fact that he’s heading back to Westhaven, a place so full of bad memories – from the bullying that made his schooldays so miserable, to Amy’s murder, to his parents’ divorce – that when they bought their house, he made sure they had enough room for Frank to come and live with them. Jessie said that was just about the kindest thing she’d ever heard, but the truth was he only did it so he wouldn’t ever have to visit that awful town again.
Sometimes Jessie likes to remind him that growing up in Westhaven wasn’t all bad, even for him, and she’s right. There was a short period, of around six months, when everything was fine. Better than fine, in fact. The bullying had all but stopped, and he had a girlfriend, who he loved very much. He was truly happy, for the first time in his life. And then, one rainy afternoon, everything changed.
The summer holidays had been a total washout. It had rained pretty much every day, and he, Jessie and Amy were forced to spend most of their time indoors. Sometimes they went to each other’s houses but, more often than not, they’d end up at Doolallys, a trendy coffee shop at the bottom of town. They’d huddle by the rain-slicked window, drinking marshmallow-loaded hot chocolate, reading books and magazines, playing board games, or idly watching the tourists, who filed past the café in their transparent ponchos, clutching sopping wet street maps.
Martin didn’t mind the rain, because he couldn’t remember a time when he felt more at ease, more himself, than when he was sitting in that quiet little café with his girlfriend. It was the perfect place to be. At least it was until Amy’s boyfriend turned up.
She’d told them she’d met him at school, that he was in the year above but had failed one of his exams so was retaking some classes, and the teacher had sat them together, saying she hoped Amy would be a good influence on him.
Martin liked the idea of there being another boy around, and the idea of Amy having someone else to hang out with. Maybe now he’d finally get some time alone with Jessie.
But when Amy’s boyfriend arrived at the café – Amy rushing over and standing on her tiptoes to greet him with a kiss – Martin’s heart sank. He recognised him immediately as the boy who’d assaulted him three years earlier, who had thrown his library book in the gutter, kicked him as he bent down to pick it up, then ripped the book in half. He knew the boy’s name, had overheard it on the school sports field once and that night had written Fuck You Connor Starling on a piece of paper, folded it into quarters and hidden it under his mattress, a little talisman of hate he’d hoped might bring bad luck to his bully.
What on earth was Amy doing with him? She was petite and looked young for her age, whereas he was built like a barn and looked like he was in his twenties. He wore a leather jacket and had stubble on his cheeks, for God’s sake. She was clever, top of her class for some subjects, whereas he was undoubtedly a total thicko, seeing as he’d been held back a year. And worst of all, Amy was nice, whereas he was a thug.
He would have to say something, he decided. She deserved to know what her new boyfriend was really like, what he was capable of. Of course, he wasn’t going to do that in front of Connor, but at the earliest opportunity, he’d take Amy aside and tell her what her new boyfriend had done to him. She’d probably dump him on the spot, he thought – and wouldn’t that be fun to see.
For now, he just had to sit tight and pretend that everything was normal, a task made that much the easier by the fact that although he recognised Connor, Connor didn’t seem to recognise him. It made perfect sense. Victims dream about their bullies’ faces at night, while bullies don’t care enough about the people they hurt to remember them.
Connor took a seat at their table, though he pulled a face when Amy suggested he get a hot chocolate for himself.
‘What, we’re just going to sit here all day, in this boring café?’ he said. ‘Why don’t we go and do something?’ The girls giggled. ‘Let’s go to Bristol. Let’s go ice skating!’
The girls loved the idea. Of course they did.
Martin demurred. ‘Um … I think I’ll give it a miss,’ he said to Jessie. ‘But you go, if you want.’
He didn’t much like the idea of Connor laughing at him while he embarrassed himself on the ice, but Jessie insisted she’d show him how to skate, and Amy gently teased him until he agreed to come. Perhaps while they were on the ice he’d get a moment alone with Amy; then he could tell her the truth about Connor.
Before heading out, the girls went to use the bathroom together, whispering in each other’s ears as they walked away, and Connor and Martin were left alone at the table. Connor sniffed, then took a packet of tobacco out of his inside pocket and started rolling himself a cigarette. Ugh, he was a smoker too. No surprise there.
When Connor was done, he popped his cigarette behind his ear, then looked up at Martin with a smirk, and said, ‘Read any good books lately?’
Martin felt a rush of panic and a sudden need to use the toilet.
‘You remember?’ he said, and for a split second he wondered if Connor was going to apologise. After all, it had been three years since the incident. Martin had changed plenty during that time. Perhaps Connor had too?
But Connor didn’t apologise. He leaned back in his chair and said, ‘Oh yeah, I remember. You had that weird rash on your face, didn’t you?’ Then he checked over his shoulder, presumably to make sure the girls weren’t on their way back from the bathroom, and added, ‘You’d better not say anything to Amy, or it won’t be your book I rip in half next time. OK, mate?’ He leaned over and slapped Martin hard on the upper arm, the way bullies do when they’re pretending to be your friend.
A moment later, Jessie and Amy returned from the bathroom in a cloud of perfume. Amy immediately sat on Connor’s lap, and they kissed, noisily. Jessie tried to kiss Martin too, but he wasn’t into it – couldn’t be further out of it, in fact.
‘What’s up with you?’ she asked him.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I just don’t feel well.’ Which was true. He’d had a stomach-ache from the moment Connor arrived.
‘Aww, poor baby.’ She kissed him on the tip of his nose, the way he liked, which usually made him feel better, but didn’t work that day.
‘Guys, Martin’s not feeling good,’ she told the others, while she stroked his arm. ‘Maybe we can go ice skating tomorrow instead?’
‘Aww, what?’ moaned Amy.
‘Hmm. You do look a bit peaky there, mate,’ said Connor, acting all concerned.
‘Cool,’ said Jessie. ‘We’ll go tomorrow then. Our first double date!’ She looked over at Amy and a psychic message passed between the two of them. They laughed, and Martin felt his world shift, because he knew that his perfect place, his perfect time, was ruined.