‘I still can’t believe she didn’t mention me in her email,’ Millie said, her chin crinkling.
Roxanne cleared her throat. ‘Or Jack,’ she whispered.
Jack drifted behind the inspector and leant over his shoulder. Even the police officers were silent, as Jack’s sad eyes skimmed the words.
Finally, he ran the back of his hand over his eyes, turned and, with glass in hand, padded into the lounge, and dropped, helpless, onto the sofa.
‘Who is Andy?’ Inspector Blackstone asked.
‘We have no idea.’ Sally rubbed her neck. ‘Isla never mentioned him.’
‘To any of us,’ Roxanne added.
‘There’s a lot about him on the blog she was writing,’ Sally said, reaching over and gently touching her laptop, as though Isla was trapped inside. ‘It seems she loved him.’
The inspector began clicking through the blog posts, eyes flicking over the words, thick fingers awkward on the keyboard, as he read Isla’s upbeat posts from August and early September, telling of things she and Jack had done together – places they’d been to – and later the desperate ramblings.
‘Did any of you know she felt this way?’ the inspector asked, eyes narrowing as he focused on each of them in turn.
A pang of guilt ran through Roxanne. Could she have done more? Had she been so preoccupied with her job, her causes? Her mind flashed from Isla pinging the rubber band on her wrist, to her friend collapsing at Millie’s party, sobbing. And why hadn’t Isla messaged her the day she left for Sweden? Isla always texted before she took off abroad.
They all shook their heads. Isla had been acting odd, but not suicidal.
‘So you haven’t heard anything from her since the email?’ the inspector asked.
Sally shook her head.
‘And you’ve tried her mobile?’
‘Of course, a hundred times.’ There was mild irritation in Gary’s voice. ‘Her battery’s flat. She forgot her charger.’
Inspector Blackstone grunted as he heaved himself out of the chair, as though his body wasn’t agreeing to the movement. ‘We’ll contact the police over there. See if there have been any reported suicides.’
Sally burst into tears. ‘Oh God, my darling, darling girl,’ she cried, burying her face in her hands.
Roxanne rarely cried, but at that moment the pain was unbearable. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. It took all her willpower to beat them back.
‘We’ll be in touch, Mr and Mrs Johnson,’ the inspector said, heading for the door. ‘Rest assured, we will do everything we can to find out what’s happened to your daughter.’
Gary saw the police officers out, thanking them. But what could they do? What could anyone do but wait?
Ten minutes later, Sally was upstairs lying down, and Gary was deadheading flowers in the garden, snapping the shears with force. He was a gentle man normally, but today it was as if he wanted to kill someone.
Jack was outside too, smoking, looking on, one hand deep in his trouser pocket. Roxanne could see through the window that they weren’t talking. That neither had anything to say.
‘I should head off,’ she said, turning to see Millie pour another gin.
‘No, no, no, please stay,’ Millie begged, her voice slurred. She picked up the bottle and glass, and stood up. ‘Let’s talk,’ she added, staggering into the lounge, where she dropped onto the sofa.
Roxanne followed. ‘But I’m not much use here, Millie,’ she said. ‘My phone’s on, just call me if you hear anything.’
‘None of us are any use, Roxanne, but it’s good to know we’re all here together, supporting each other, supporting Isla.’ She put the gin bottle on the coffee table in front of her, and patted the seat next to her. ‘Sit with me for a bit,’ she said. ‘Please.’
Roxanne felt she had no choice, and lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa. ‘OK, I’ll stay a bit longer,’ she said. ‘But I really should go soon.’
Millie knocked back the drink, and filled the glass once more. ‘I’m not a drinker, as a rule,’ she said, pulling a face.
‘I know you’re not, so maybe you should go easy, aye?’
‘Julian doesn’t like me drinking, says I show myself up.’
Roxanne had noticed he wasn’t there when she first arrived, and had been relieved. The last time she’d seen him was at Millie’s party, where he’d refused to dress up, finding the whole thing ridiculous. He’d made a comment about Roxanne’s costume being far too tight, and that she should be careful as the men were ogling her. She’d ignored him. He wasn’t worth her energy.
‘Where is he?’ she said, watching as Millie continued to pour drink down her throat.
‘Julian?’ It was as though she’d forgotten her train of thought.
Roxanne nodded.
‘Miniatur Wunderland.’ Millie’s attempts at German weren’t good, especially after so much drink. She shrugged. ‘Somewhere in Germany . . . Hamburg, I think. It’s this huge model railway attraction he wanted to see.’ She flung one arm in the air. ‘So I’m home alone at the moment.’
‘No Abigail?’
‘Staying with a friend. She’s taken Larry.’ She took another gulp of gin. ‘Do you know what? I don’t even like this.’ She held up the glass and stared at it, furrowing her forehead. ‘But these are unprecedented circumstances, don’t you think?’
‘They are,’ Roxanne agreed. ‘But maybe you should slow up a bit. You won’t be much use to Isla pissed.’
‘I’m not pissed.’ Millie’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. ‘You know what, Roxy? Do you mind if I call you Roxy?’
Roxanne hated it, but she kept quiet. It seemed petty.
‘You know what, Roxy?’ Millie repeated. ‘Isla has always been my pretty little sister. So lovely. So perfect.’ She flopped her head back on the sofa with a thud, and closed her eyes. ‘I’m afraid I was left behind the door when God gave out all the good things. He forgot about me, and later gave them all to Isla.’
Roxanne looked at Millie. She wasn’t unattractive, struggled a bit with her skin and weight, perhaps, but Roxanne knew when Millie put the effort in, she looked good.
‘You’re both beautiful,’ she said. ‘And anyway, looks mean nothing. It’s about who you are on the inside. And you’ve always been the best sister to Isla.’
‘Do you think so?’ Millie said, eyes still closed.
‘Yes, and let’s face it, Isla’s life has hardly been perfect.’
Millie opened her eyes. ‘I know. I know. I’m drunk. Ignore me.’ She flapped her hand, and took another gulp of her drink. ‘It’s not exactly been a normal day, has it?’
‘You can say that again.’
‘I guess it’s hit me that Isla has so much. She’s beautiful, clever, and has the most amazing man in her life. A perfect life.’ She glanced out through the window at Jack, and he turned and met her eye. ‘And she’s snuffed it out like a candle . . . just like that.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and dripped from her chin.
‘We don’t know that for sure.’ Roxanne’s words seemed hollow. What more proof did they need? All they could really hope for was that Isla’s suicide attempt had failed. ‘And you have a lovely life too, a great job . . . Abigail . . . Julian.’
‘Ha! A husband who barely looks at me, let alone wants sex with me, and he always pick, pick, picks away at everything I do; and a daughter who struggles to interact, bless her heart. Yeah, my life’s a bed of roses, Roxanne.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love my Abigail, and would kill for her, but sometimes it would be nice if someone in my house actually had a proper conversation with me. I get more interaction from Larry.’
Roxanne took hold of Millie’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’s how you felt. Isla always told me you were happy.’
‘Isla thinks I am, I suppose. I keep it all in here, you see.’ She tapped her head three times. ‘I pretend to the world that all is fabulous in my life, but it’s a big pile of steaming crap.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Roxanne said again, a little stunned by how self-absorbed Millie was being in the circumstances. But then emotions were running high, and she was drunk. ‘Just try to remember Isla’s had it far from easy. Don’t forget what she went through . . . ’
‘Oh no, we mustn’t forget that, must we?’ She rolled her eyes heavenwards.
‘She could have died that day.’
‘Yes, but she didn’t, did she? And then she met lovely Jack.’ Millie’s eyes were back on the window. ‘How could she?’
Roxanne didn’t have an answer. ‘We all thought they were happy.’
‘Mmm, but she decides Jack’s not enough, and sleeps with some Canadian Mountie, or whoever he is—’
‘I don’t think he’s a Mountie, Millie.’
‘—and because that doesn’t work out she gives up on life, without thinking of the effect it will have on us all. Nobody saw that coming, did they?’ She turned from the window, and screwed up her nose, wobbling her head as though struggling to focus. ‘Why would she do that to us, Roxy?’
Roxanne felt helpless. People who take their own lives feel they have no reason to live. Millie had a reason to live, even if she couldn’t see it at that moment. She lived for Abigail. She said herself she would kill for her. But it seemed Isla thought she had nothing to live for any more, narrowing her life to a pinpoint where only Andy was important. She’d lost sight of the people who loved her. She saw no reason to carry on.
‘She’s stupid, stupid, stupid. Couldn’t see how much I adore her,’ Millie cried, her high-pitched tone jabbing into Roxanne’s thoughts, then she gulped and swallowed, colour draining from her face. ‘Actually, I feel a bit sick.’
‘I’m thinking you’ve probably had enough to drink.’ Roxanne took the glass from her and put it on the table.
Millie didn’t resist, and leant her head on Roxanne’s shoulder. ‘I almost had an affair once, Foxy Roxy,’ she said, ‘with a teacher at the school where I work. He asked me out for a drink and I went. I liked him – still do, in fact. I was so close to saying yes to going away with him, but, unlike my sister, I didn’t jump into what looked like greener grass, only to find a swamp. I just bit down hard and got on with it with Julian.’ She paused for a moment, her face wet with tears. ‘Do you think my sister’s dead, Roxanne?’ she said, her voice cracking, as a fat tear rolled down her blotchy face. ‘Because I couldn’t bear it if she is.’
There was a silence before Millie fell asleep. Roxanne eased her from her shoulder, and slipped off the sofa, lowering Millie’s head onto the cushion and covering her with a throw.
Roxanne returned to the dining room to find Jack had come in from the garden and was now sitting alone at the table, reading Isla’s blog on Sally’s laptop. His eyes had landed on a photograph of Isla and Andy outside a café together. They were looking towards the camera. Isla, in a black jacket with a grey fur collar, hair twisted into a messy knot, her fingers gripping a cup, her laptop closed in front of her. To Roxanne, Andy looked ordinary. Neat, red hair, average build, around thirty – not cute and quirkily handsome like Jack – no this Andy, whoever he was, was nothing special. Ordinary. He was dressed in a dark jacket, a green-checked scarf looped around his neck, and there was a cup in front of him too.
‘How did he win her over?’ Jack whispered, as though he could read Roxanne’s thoughts. ‘How the hell did he steal her from me?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I wish I knew.’ She moved closer, and rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m going to Abisko now,’ she said, on impulse. ‘I need to know what’s happened to her. Find out for myself. I can’t just wait around here for Policeman Plod.’
Jack snapped the laptop closed, and turned to look at her. ‘I’ll come with you. Luna’s already in the cattery as I was supposed to be spending the weekend at my father’s.’ His face crumpled with uncertainty. ‘I can’t sit around here and do nothing.’