By the time I get home, it’s dark. Still, I sit at my dining table and pen a letter to my parents explaining that I’m going to travel for a little while. I keep it short and to the point. I wonder if they’ll be relieved when they read it. Out of sight, out of mind.
I send an email to my school, telling them that in light of my sister’s return, I’ll be taking some time away. I don’t think they can argue with that, though they’ll be furious it’s only a couple of days before term starts. Even if they decide not to pay me, and I wouldn’t blame them, I can still operate Wanderlust Illustrations from abroad. A few years ago, when I’d first pitched the idea to Oscar of taking some time out to travel, I’d found a company that can print and ship all my art to customers for a small commission, so I fire off an email to them now to confirm my plans. Knowing Wanderlust can generate an income on top of the savings I already have brings me peace of mind. As for the house, it might be best, and fairer even, for me and Oscar to rent it out until we’re ready to sell – like Gemma is doing. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with him paying half the mortgage if he wasn’t living here and I’d be resentful if it were the other way around. This way, we both win. I draft an email to him, too – it feels more formal than a text.
On a roll, I book a flight to Italy, leaving tomorrow night, and promise myself I’ll leave my loneliness at the departure gate. I’ve always wanted to see the Colosseum, walk the Amalfi Coast, ride a gondola in Venice. I’m going to eat my bodyweight in pasta and gelato and use my time there to plan the rest of my travels.
The sensible thing would be to sleep on any big, life-changing decisions and act only once I’ve put some distance between myself and the events of today, but I can see my new life on the horizon and I want to seize it before it sinks below the shoreline.
The only task on my list that I can’t bring myself to complete is writing to Florence. I write the words ‘I’m sorry’ at the top of the page. Then scratch them out. They aren’t enough. No words will ever be enough. Or none I can find right now.
Unable to sleep, I go upstairs and turn on my phone. I’d left it here, at the house, when I went to meet Gideon. There aren’t any missed calls – not even from my parents. Disappointment and shame curdle in my gut; I suppose this is confirmation that I am so far past the line, my family has given up trying to reach me. They’re sure I’m beyond saving now.
I start adding to my overnight bag, carefully placing my passport in the side pocket. I’m just zipping it up when my phone vibrates. It’s another withheld number. I answer, thinking it’s Gideon.
‘You were quite the entertainment today, little sister.’
I grit my teeth against Olivia’s playful, mocking tone. ‘What do you want?’
‘To see you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have something you need.’
‘Which is?’
Silence, then, ‘Answers.’
My heart quickens. ‘To which questions?’
‘All of them. Who I am, what I want …’
Suspicion and doubt race to the forefront. ‘Why would I trust anything you tell me?’
‘Trust me, don’t trust me, that’s up to you. But if you ever want to see your sister again, you’ll meet me.’
The phone almost slips from my fingers. ‘She’s alive?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you said—’
‘I know what I said.’
Adrenaline replaces my blood, pint for pint. ‘You lied?’
‘Yes.’
I want to believe her, want to hold on to this sliver of hope so hard it will crystallise into a diamond, but diamonds, when squeezed too tightly, will slice deep enough to draw blood. ‘Where is she?’
‘My game. My rules. Agree to meet me – alone – and I’ll answer all your questions, just like I said. Cross my heart. Do we have a deal?’
I don’t trust her. Every fibre of my being is screaming at me not to trust her. ‘Why now?’
‘Honestly? I have almost nothing left to take from you. I have your friends, your parents, and, if I wanted, I’m pretty sure I could have your fiancé too. I could keep kicking you while you’re down, but where’s the fun in that?’
Snarling, feral, tar-black anger rages within me. ‘This entire time, it’s me you’ve been after—’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘If you ask me one more question, I’ll retract my offer.’
I clamp my mouth shut.
‘I’d be stupid to agree to come alone.’
‘I just want to talk in private.’ When I don’t respond, she sighs as though this conversation is painfully boring. ‘If I wanted to hurt you, Caitie, I would have.’
Just because she hasn’t physically attacked me up until now, it doesn’t mean she won’t. Sensing my hesitation, she says, ‘As I see it, you have two choices. You either agree to meet me in exchange for answers and a chance to see your sister again. Or you refuse and we keep playing this game. One in which I am winning and you are losing. I’ll ruin you, Caitie, and you’ll never see Olivia again. The choice is yours.’
I didn’t save Olivia that night, but maybe, if she’s still alive, I can now. I think of her being led, a knife to her throat, down the stairs. How, even in her darkest moment, she lifted a finger to her lips, urging me to stay silent. Maybe that is the only reason I’m alive today. She was brave and selfless, even then, even as a child. So, no, I don’t have a choice. ‘I’ll meet you.’
She tells me to go to the abandoned shed in the wood behind our parents’ house. The one she shouldn’t have known anything about if she really was my sister. But at least it’s somewhere I know and it’s within running distance of my family. I’m to arrive just before midnight, which is a little under an hour’s time. I agree to leave my phone at home and have to prove this to her by downloading a tracking app so she can see its location. I was reluctant, claiming twice that the app wouldn’t download, but she isn’t stupid, and warned me she’d call the whole thing off if I didn’t obey. Still, I plan to record our meeting so I can take whatever she says to the police later. I rummage through Oscar’s study until I find his old work phone. I leave it on charge while I change, settling on an all-black outfit because in a dark wood, I’ll be more difficult to see if I need to hide.
Olivia is convinced she’s cut me off from everyone who cares about me. For whatever reason, her plans hinge on me being isolated, but she doesn’t realise how close I am to Gideon. He is my best hope of getting out of this unscathed. I call him and tell him everything.
‘Caitie, you can’t go to the woods alone,’ he insists.
‘I won’t be alone as long as you agree to come.’
‘You need to call the police.’
‘And say what? The woman I assaulted earlier today wants to see me? Meeting someone in the woods isn’t illegal. She’s untouchable, Gideon. The nation’s sweetheart. No one believes a word I say, but everything that comes out of her mouth is taken as gospel. She’s successfully painted me to be completely mad and now she has a crowd of over one-hundred wedding guests to back her up. If I have a recording of her admitting she isn’t Olivia Arden or that she’s been manipulating me and everyone else then maybe I’ll be listened to.’ I sigh. ‘I have to go, Gideon, with or without you.’
But the idea of going alone makes me feel queasy with terror. He’s quiet, that quick mind of his sifting through all the options. He soon arrives at the same conclusion I did.
‘OK.’
We decide he’ll get to the woods ten minutes earlier than me to take a look around. I give him the number of Oscar’s old work phone and he says he’ll call me if he thinks it’s too dangerous.
If my suspicion that Olivia and the masked man are working together is correct, it’s likely he’ll be there, too. I open my mouth to warn Gideon, then close it again because I don’t want to talk him out of coming. It’s a selfish, reckless decision but I need answers. I won’t be able to live with myself if I let a second opportunity to save my sister pass me by. Still, I go to the kitchen and take a small, sharp knife from the drawer. I make sure the safety sheath is secure and then slip it into my pocket.