Finn
Reading Layla’s message, I prepare myself mentally for ten days of silence. I doubt she’ll be emailing me unless I tell her what she wants to hear and as I won’t ever be able to, I won’t be emailing her. At first, I feel lost – how am I going to last ten days without some sort of contact with her when a day without news is already difficult? But then disquiet sets in at what might happen once the ten days are up. Surely Ellen won’t be in danger from Layla? But what if she is? I feel torn between my desire for Layla and my desire to protect Ellen. Now, more than ever, I need to tell Tony. But I feel stuck in an impasse, unable to move. Maybe a ten-day silence will be a good thing. I’ll have time to clear my head, devote myself to Ellen, work out a strategy. We’ll go away for a few days and I might even begin to forget about Layla.
I go up to bed and when the sun wakes me early the next morning, I feel calmer than I’ve felt for ages. With the prospect of ten days’ respite from Layla’s increasingly erratic demands, I feel almost optimistic. I look at Ellen asleep beside me and feel a twinge of guilt at the way I turned my back on her last night. I wish I could make it up to her, take her in my arms, show her that I love her. But I can’t. And the thought that she might wake up and expect me to propels me out of bed.
I dress quietly and go downstairs.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’ I ask Peggy, giving her a morning cuddle.
It’s one of those beautiful, still Sunday mornings when everyone is in bed and the only sound comes from the birds chirruping in the trees and the chickens clucking in the garden of a nearby house. I glance across at Mick’s house and see him standing at the window. I raise my hand in acknowledgement and when he waves back, I feel guilty that I haven’t made more of an effort to get to know him.
As I walk along the river, I think about where Ellen and I could go. I’ve never lost my desire to visit Lewis but when I suggested it to Ellen last year, she said it was the last place she wanted to go. I can understand why. It’s where she lost her mother, where she lost her father – even if that wasn’t such a great loss. It’s also where she saw Layla for the last time. Anyway, it’s too far. Perhaps we should just stay here; Simonsbridge is so beautiful at this time of the year. Why sit in a car for hours only to end up somewhere equivalent?
My sudden reluctance to go away niggles at me, urging me to be honest with myself instead of hiding behind a long car journey. The truth is shameful; in a hotel, I won’t be able to wait until Ellen is asleep before joining her in bed. My mood plummets. I call Peggy from the river, hating the person I’ve become, the person Layla has made me become.
The village shop opens at eight on a Sunday so I buy bacon and eggs along with the papers before heading home. As I approach the house, I’m struck by a terrible sense of déjà vu. Because there, standing on the wall, is a little Russian doll.
I cover the last few yards in a couple of seconds and snatch it up, putting it quickly in my pocket. I look up and down the road but there’s no one around. Remembering how I saw Mick standing at his window, I go over and knock on his front door, forgetting that it’s only quarter past eight in the morning.
He takes a while opening it.
‘Sorry,’ he says. There’s a bowl of porridge in his hand. ‘I’m in the middle of giving my wife her breakfast.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I say, taking in his dishevelled appearance. ‘I’ll come back later. I just wanted to ask you something.’
I wait for him to ask me what it is I want to know but he’s already shutting the door.
‘Sorry,’ he says again. ‘I have to go.’ He raises the bowl of porridge, reminding me of his task in hand. ‘Come back in about an hour, I should have finished by then.’
I cross back over, looking up and down the road again, knowing that I’m not going to see Layla because she’ll be long gone by now. Gone where? Back to Cheltenham? My ears pick out the sound of a car engine turning over, then the sound of it driving off. It sounded as if the driver was in a hurry. Was it Layla? She hadn’t yet learnt to drive when I knew her, but twelve years is enough time for that to have changed.
In the hall, I hear the sound of the shower running, which means I have a few minutes before Ellen comes down. I take the shopping through to the kitchen, intending to make a start on breakfast. But I feel too agitated so I go out to the garden, hoping its tranquillity will work its magic on me. A window opens upstairs and looking up, I see Ellen smiling down at me.
‘Did you go for bread or have you been in your office?’ she asks and I want to yell at her to leave me alone.
‘Bread,’ I say. ‘I got some bacon and eggs too,’ I add, making an effort.
‘Not for me, thanks,’ she says. ‘I’ll have muesli.’ Words rush into my mouth – why can’t you be more like Layla! – and I bite them back quickly.
Over breakfast, I feel her eyes on me as I work my way through my bacon and egg sandwich.
‘Finn,’ she says, after a moment.
‘Please phone Tony.’
‘It’s Sunday.’
‘He won’t mind.’
I know she’s right. Besides, Layla has gone too far now with the doll with the smashed head. At least the one I just found on the wall was intact.
‘Alright, I’ll phone him after breakfast.’
I don’t particularly want to phone Tony in front of her but she’ll think it strange if I disappear into my office to do it, and I don’t want her to think I have anything to hide. Even though I do. Which is why I draw the line at putting Tony on loudspeaker, as Ellen perhaps expects. But the risk of him mentioning that Thomas saw Layla standing outside the cottage is too great.
‘I’m afraid this isn’t just a social call,’ I say, once we’ve established that we’re both fine.
‘Go on,’ he says, and I suddenly realise that Ellen doesn’t know I told Tony that she thought she saw Layla in Cheltenham.
‘It’s about Layla,’ I begin. ‘A couple of things have happened that have made Ellen and I wonder if she might still be alive.’
‘Has something else happened?’ he asks.
‘Some weeks ago, Ellen found a little Russian doll on the wall outside the house. Then a few days later she thought she saw her in Cheltenham,’ I add for Ellen’s benefit.
‘Yes, you told me about that. But what has a Russian doll got to do with it?’
‘When they were young, Ellen and Layla had a set each of Russian dolls and one of the dolls went missing. Since the one that Ellen found, another has turned up – two, in fact,’ I amend quickly, remembering the one Ellen saw me with in The Jackdaw. ‘Ellen received one in the post and we found the other one in the local pub, along with our bill. The thing is, they – Russian dolls – have a significance for both Ellen and Layla, a significance nobody else knows about.’ And I go on to explain the story from their childhood.
‘And nobody else knows the story?’ he asks when I’ve finished.
‘Only Harry – Ellen told him.’
‘And you’re sure you didn’t mention it to anyone else? Someone who would want to get back at you? An ex-girlfriend, maybe?’
‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘I’ve never told anyone.’
‘Hmm. The one that came through the post – do you know where it was sent from?’
‘Cheltenham – which is where Ellen thought she saw her.’
‘That lends a lot more weight to Thomas’ assertion that he saw her outside the cottage,’ he says. There’s a silence while he mulls it over. ‘Leave it with me, Finn. I’ll have a think, speak to a few people and get back to you.’
‘Thanks, Tony, I appreciate it.’ I hang up and turn to Ellen. ‘He’ll get back to us.’
‘But does he think that Layla has come back, that she’s alive?’
‘I think he thinks it’s worth looking into.’
She gives a small smile. ‘It seems a lot more real now that we’ve told somebody official. I began to wonder if we were mad to think that Layla had come back. What I don’t understand is why she’s hiding. I can’t stop wondering what she actually wants.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ I get to my feet. ‘I need to do a couple of things. See you for lunch?’
In the office, I think about phoning Tony back and telling him about all the other dolls I’ve found, including the one with the smashed head. But if I’m going to go that far, I’ll have to tell him about the emails, as there’s no point him only having half the story. In the end, I decide to wait until he phones me back. If he says that what they’ve got to go on isn’t enough to spend time looking for Layla, then I’ll tell him the rest.
It’s a long morning. I take a look at the markets but I need to be in a good place to trade and today isn’t one of those days. I look for something to distract me and remember that I’m meant to be going to see Mick.
‘Just popping to see Mick,’ I tell Ellen. ‘See if he wants to come over for a drink.’
‘That’s nice of you,’ Ellen says approvingly.
He doesn’t take as long answering the door this time and I’m relieved to see that his hands are free.
‘Sorry about this morning,’ I begin. ‘I didn’t realise it was quite so early. I was just wondering if you saw anybody hanging round outside the house this morning, you know, when you were standing at the window.’
He shakes his head. ‘Can’t say I did but I wasn’t there long. I’d just opened the curtains when I saw you, and then Fiona called me. A couple walked past but they didn’t stop.’
‘Past your house or mine?’ I ask.
‘Yours.’
‘I don’t suppose you saw them leave something on the wall, did you?’
‘Not to my knowledge. Unless they came back once I’d gone. You could always ask Mrs Jeffries, although she tends to sit in her conservatory out the back.’
I nod. ‘Well, thanks, Mick. How’s your wife doing?’
He shrugs. ‘No change.’
‘Well, if you ever feel like having a drink, just pop over. We’re usually in.’
‘Thanks.’ He gives a rueful smile. ‘You never know, I might take you up on your offer one day.’
As I cross back over the road, I think about the couple who walked past our house, wondering why I had dismissed them without a second thought. I should at least have asked Mick if the girl – woman, I remind myself – had red hair. But I don’t want to believe that Layla has someone in her life. If she did, why would she be playing these games?
The rest of the day passes unbelievably slowly. Then just before I go to bed, I check my emails and see that one has come in from Layla. I think about not opening it but as always, curiosity gets the better of me. There’s just one word.
TEN