Sandhayes was quiet when I let myself in, and only Hugo’s car was outside. I stopped in the hall beside the ridiculous, glorious Christmas tree, and fiddled with an angel carved out of a piece of driftwood, obviously homemade. Hugo was the one who was good at working with wood, but he didn’t do it much anymore. I couldn’t imagine being able to make something like the angel, turning a bit of rubbish into something beautiful, something to be treasured. And Hugo took it for granted. I wished I had a talent like that, that I could make something beautiful and perfect, like my mother, like all the Leonards. But Dad’s blunt practicality was what I had, in spades, and there was no point in wishing to be different any more than there was in wishing I was two inches taller.
A low rumble of voices came from the kitchen, along with the unfamiliar sound of Hugo laughing. I wandered down and pushed open the door to the warm, chaotic room where the Leonards spent most of their time. Hugo was sitting on the kitchen counter with his hair all over the place, wearing the ancient T-shirt and shorts that were his version of pajamas. Will was sitting on a chair by the table, tilting it back, his long legs propped up on the corner of the Aga. He was still laughing when I went in, and it killed me—it just killed me—to see the smile fade from his eyes. He looked wary instead, and watchful.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” I said, a tight feeling in my chest making it hard to breathe. What do we do to each other? The thought filled my head, crowding out everything else. I covered it with a smile.
“Oh God, you’re dressed.” Hugo ran his hands through his hair, making it even more untidy. “I bet you’ve been up for hours. Don’t you ever relax?”
“I’m not lazy, if that’s what you mean.” I twisted to look at the clock. “It’s ten to two, Hugo.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So what time did you get up?”
“When Will came round. An hour ago, maybe?” He yawned, stretching, and the kitchen wasn’t a small room but he seemed to fill it. “I need to have a shower.”
“I was going to say.” Will waved a hand in front of his nose.
“I don’t smell,” Hugo said with tremendous dignity. “But I need a shower to wake up properly. Or a bath.”
Hugo’s baths were legendary, hours-long affairs that involved hogging the bathroom, using all the hot water, and ignoring anyone banging on the door in favor of reading whatever book absorbed him.
“That should sort out what you’re doing with the rest of your day, then,” I said.
“Jessica,” Hugo growled. It was just one word, but it gave me chills.
“Ugh. Do you mind? I really don’t need you doing an impression of my dad.” I went over to fill the kettle. “Who wants tea?”
“Me,” Hugo said instantly.
“And me.” Will swung his legs down from the Aga and stood up to give me his mug. He leaned across the table to give it to me, instead of coming round as I’d sort of hoped he might. And then he went back and sat down again. I felt cold air where his body should have been behind me, a chill where the ghost of his arms wrapped around me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I didn’t say much while I made the tea, listening to Hugo and Will bickering affectionately. I sneaked an occasional look at Will, who wasn’t paying the slightest attention to me. There was something wholly pleasing about the way he moved and spoke, the way his expressions changed, the way he listened when Hugo was talking and the way he laughed.
I loved him so much, I ached.
Make it right, I thought.
Easier said than done.
I waited for a gap in the conversation to ask, “Where is everyone?”
Hugo listed everyone briskly. “Mum and Tom are shopping. Dad is working in the garden. Petra is upstairs somewhere. Your mum is…”
I knew this one. “At the market, working.”
“And we’re here,” Hugo finished.
“Have you any plans today, Will?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“No, Jess, I do not,” he said, very serious as Hugo laughed into his mug. “Have you?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
Hugo slid off the counter. “All this dynamism makes me think I should get a move on.”
“You can do it, man. I believe in you.” Will grinned at him as he shuffled to the kitchen door, where he stopped and turned to give us both a warning look.
“Play nicely, you two. I don’t want to hear any squabbling.”
“Hugo,” I said pleasantly, “get out.”
He cackled all the way down the hall. As the sound died away, I looked at Will and found he was watching me. The tick of the kitchen clock sounded extra loud in the silence.
“Hi,” I said eventually.
“We did that bit already.”
I looked down at my mug, turning it round and round. “OK, don’t help.”
“Is it that difficult to talk to me?”
“Apparently so.”
“Well, that’s no good.”
I dragged my eyes back up to him and found I couldn’t quite look straight at him, at his face, at what I might see he was thinking. “Will, I’m scared.”
He’d gone very still. “Of what?”
“Saying the wrong thing? Again?”
“I think,” he said carefully, “I was the one who got it wrong the last time.”
I shrugged. “It was half you, half me.”
“That’s too generous. I was the one whining because you have a life. I was the one who wanted you to abandon your principles.” His eyes shone. “You’re right. You’re not my consolation prize.”
I felt my lower lip tremble. I shut my eyes and two tears slid down my cheeks. I heard Will’s chair scrape on the floor as he stood up.
“But you are everything that matters to me.”
He started to move toward me—and at exactly, precisely the wrong moment, the back door burst open.
“Out of the way, Jess.” My uncle elbowed the door shut behind him, then barged past me, holding his hands up. They were liberally coated in mud. “Can you turn the tap on, love?”
I did as I was told, then stared at Will mutely. The sound of rushing water meant I didn’t have to say anything, which was lucky. I was all out of words. Jack was lathering up a storm, humming under his breath as he scrubbed his nails. He wasn’t going to be finished quickly, that was clear. And then he would probably want a cup of tea, and a chat. I loved Jack, but he was impervious to hints about being left alone. Every second would be a second wasted from my precious time with Will.
Who was thinking along the same lines. He put down his tea and nodded to my mug. “Ready?”
I nodded, finishing it in one gulp.
“See you later, Jack,” Will called over the sound of the water drumming in the sink, and got a grunt of acknowledgment. He held the kitchen door open and I shot through it. “Your room?” he said, following me, his voice slightly rough.
Not as calm as he was pretending to be. Not by a long way, I found, when I turned to say yes and found myself pinned against the wall. He kissed me, hard, and my heart took off, fluttering in my chest like a hummingbird. “Not here,” I managed to say when I could get enough air into my lungs, and he backed off, nodding, as aware as I was that Jack was on the other side of the kitchen door and might appear at any moment.
“Upstairs, then.”
“Yep.” I led the way, at speed, floating up the endless stairs to the top of the house as if my feet weren’t even touching the ground. Will and I would be safely alone in a few seconds, and—
I opened my bedroom door to find Petra standing in front of the mirror, eyeliner in hand. My desk was completely covered in what looked like an entire cosmetics counter, a jumble of brushes, used tissues, and balled-up bits of cotton wool.
“Oh, Petra, you’re here.” I kept my voice super-calm, even though I was screaming inside. I didn’t want to provoke a teenage tantrum for two reasons: it wouldn’t make her leave any quicker, and I liked her too much. Since I’d moved into Freya’s room, I’d taken on the mantle of big sister in her place, and I’d promised myself to live up to my dead cousin’s example.
And OK, maybe Freya would have been livid and would have thrown her out, but I just couldn’t do that. I’d been welcomed into the family with open arms. Playing my part meant being a better person that I was used to being. It meant sharing and compromising. I’d grown up an only child, but I’d longed for siblings. Fundamentally, I was glad to have the problems that came with being in a big family.
Only, not so much at that precise moment, with Will standing behind me.
So maybe there was the tiniest edge to my voice when I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Practicing my evening look. Darcy was teaching me how to do a winged eye.” Petra turned her head from side to side. “I don’t think I’ve got the hang of it.”
“It’s next-level makeup.” I was twisting the door handle to relieve my feelings. “You’ll get there eventually.”
“Looks great to me,” Will said from the doorway. “You look beautiful, Petra.”
She blushed, probably all the way down to her toes. “The left eye is a bit wonky.”
“No one would notice.” He smiled at her.
“I’m just going to try it again.” Petra leaned in to stare at her reflection. “You don’t mind me being up here, Jess, do you? It’s much easier here than in my room. My mirror is rubbish and I don’t have anywhere to put my stuff.”
I went over and picked up the bottle of liquid foundation that was oozing brown goo onto a magazine, standing it upright. “Just be careful, OK? I don’t want makeup all over everything.”
Petra bit her lip. “Sorry, Jess.”
“Don’t worry.” I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Did Darcy show you the dot trick for the eyeliner?”
“Yep. She’s a genius,” Petra said reverently.
I was mildly nettled. Petra hero-worshipping Darcy was a step too far. “She got it from YouTube.”
“She’s still a genius.”
“An evil one, maybe.” I headed for the door.
“You can stay here. Just ignore me,” Petra said. “I won’t get in the way.”
“That’s OK,” I said hastily, pulling the door closed after me. “You just do your thing. It’s fine.”
“I can go somewhere else.”
“No need. Really.” I shut the door and looked up at Will. “What now?” I whispered. There was another bedroom on the top floor, but it was small and bleak and, most importantly, freezing. The mattress on the bed was bare and there was nowhere else to sit.
He looked up and down the hall for inspiration. “Stairs?”
“Stairs,” I agreed. I followed him to the steps, glad that the Victorians had built their staircases with broad, shallow treads. Will braced his back against the wall, stretching his legs out. He pulled me down to sit opposite him, my legs tangled up in his. His right hand was on my left thigh; his right held onto my knee. We were face to face, and alone at last.
“So,” he said.
“So.”
“Where were we?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m everything that matters to you, if I recall correctly.”
“That was it.” He grinned at me. “Your turn.”
“I love you,” I said. “That’s all I have.”
Will took a second to reply, as if he had to get his breath back before he could speak. It was the longest second in the world. His voice was gruff and much lower than usual when he said, “I think that’s enough.”
I slid across from my side of the stairs into his arms. I felt him tense and shiver as I touched him, as I kissed him, and I knew he felt the same way.
And yes, the stairs were just the worst possible place to kiss someone, but we coped.
The sound of my bedroom door opening drove us apart. I shot back to my side of the stairs, my head spinning, my eyes fixed on Will’s, both of us laughing shakily.
“Jess?” Petra padded down the landing, a frown on her face under the metric tonne of make-up. “What’s this?”
She was holding a blue notebook.
Gilly’s diary.
The warm feelings disappeared, and fast.
“Give me that.” I stood up and reached out for it. Long training as a younger sibling made her hold it back, too far away for me to be able to grab it. “That’s not yours, Petra. Give it to me or put it back where you found it. You shouldn’t have been poking through my stuff anyway. That’s the deal if you use my room. You don’t go through my things.”
“I wasn’t. I was cleaning it.” She showed me the edge, smudged with black. “It’s liquid eyeliner.”
“Petra! For God’s sake, I warned you.”
Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I was being careful. The brush just rolled.”
“Oh, did it?” I managed to reach the notebook and yanked it out of her hand. I flicked through it, checking the damage. One page was badly smudged where she’d tried to wipe the make-up off, but the words were still just about legible. “Petra!”
“Are you cross with me?” she sobbed.
“Just a bit.” I couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter. It did. The diary wasn’t mine and, much more importantly, it was evidence. I could just imagine Dan’s face when he saw it.
“Let’s see.” Will had got up. He reached over my shoulder for the diary.
I held onto it. “No, it’s OK.”
“What is it?”
“It’s someone’s diary,” Petra said helpfully. “But that’s not your writing, Jess. I couldn’t work out who it belonged to.” She shivered. “It gave me the creeps. She sounds really upset about something.”
Will hadn’t let go of the diary and he was a lot stronger than me. I gave in to the inevitable and let go of it. He flicked through it. “Who wrote this? Jess? Who does it belong to?”
“It’s Gilly Poynter’s,” I said reluctantly.
“The missing girl? How do you have this?” He looked down at me, doubt in his eyes. “Should you have this?”
“Technically, no,” I said, “but I can explain.”
He was a policeman’s son, when all was said and done, and he knew more than I did about handling evidence. There was nothing exaggerated about his horror when he said, “Jess, what have you done?”
“I’d left something in her house that I needed. And while I was there, I had a look around her room.”
“And you just took this?”
“I wanted to read it.” It sounded bad when I said it out loud. I tried to think of a better way, and couldn’t. “I found it. It was really well hidden, behind a picture.”
He frowned. “Did Dad miss it?”
“He hadn’t actually searched the room yet.” I quailed at the look on his face. “Mrs. Poynter wouldn’t let him. So if I hadn’t taken it, we wouldn’t know what was in it.”
“But Dad doesn’t know you have this.”
“No,” I admitted.
“So he doesn’t know what’s in it anyway.”
“No. But—”
“He doesn’t even know it exists.”
“Possibly not. Well, probably.”
“When did you find it?”
“Yesterday,” I said. “Yesterday evening.”
“Yesterday? When were you going to tell him?”
“Today. I was going to give it to him today.”
Will shook his head, and it wasn’t in an admiring way. “Jess. God. You know better than this, don’t you? He’s going to kill you, and I think he’d be justified.”
“Thanks for your support,” I snapped.
“I’m not going to support you if you do something criminally stupid, Jess.”
Petra was looking from me to Will and back again. She was still crying. “Are you going to get in trouble, Jess?”
“So it seems.”
“What else did you think was going to happen?” Will demanded.
The truth was, I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t considered the consequences. I had just wanted to read the diary and hadn’t thought about what was going to happen next.
But I wasn’t going to admit that.
“I was going to explain it to him.”
“Oh, right. That usually works well.” Will turned away and started to walk down the stairs, muttering under his breath. He still had the diary. I ran down a few steps.
“Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to give this to Dad right now. No more delays. He needs to see it straight away.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat that was a ball of pure fear. “What are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know.” Will paused to look up at me and his eyes were as cold as the December sea. “I’ll think of something.”