Greenwich Park, Katherine Faulkner [ereader android .txt] 📗

I hear snatches of laughter from the dining room. I should go in, but I just need a minute. A minute to sit. And be away from Rachel.

After our awkward breakfast this morning – and Serena’s visit – Daniel stood up as if he could take no more. He grabbed a bag and strode out of the house saying he was off to play squash, even though he hadn’t mentioned anything about it before. Rachel said she was going out, too. Something about getting her nails done, for the party, as she kept calling it.

As soon as I heard the door close after them both, I was in Rachel’s room, throwing open her suitcase. No more messing around. I had to know what she was up to, why that note had been in her bag. I couldn’t bear to think about what I might find. A whole load of those red envelopes, a whole string of her and Rory’s letters to each other? A diary, photographs even?

I searched through her case, carefully at first. Then – deciding it was such a mess she’d never know either way – I turned the whole thing upside down, slid my hands inside all the pockets.

But there was nothing. The laptop had gone. The note addressed to W was nowhere to be found. Nor were the things missing from my book – the note I found at Rory’s, and the taped-together photograph – even though I’m sure, now, that it must be her who has taken them.

I looked everywhere, then. The chest of drawers, the bedside table. Behind the books on the shelves. Under all her clothes on the floor. No sign. By the time I got to the end, my hands were shaking.

I stare into the crackling fire. There is a scrape of chairs. People must be sitting down to eat. I know I should go and join Daniel and the rest of them next door, but the thought of eating turns my stomach. I hear a muffled chorus of happy birthday. Charlie must have arrived – as usual, he is singing the loudest, completely out of tune. Then I hear Rory laughing, telling them all to shut up. Starting a speech. He is so good at speeches. He always makes everyone laugh.

I feel a prickle of anxiety, the dull ache of dread. Is it possible I imagined it? Finding the note, the laptop? Impossible. I can’t have done. But if I didn’t, then where have they gone?

‘Helen? Are you in there?’

That sounds like Serena. I haul myself up, straighten my spine. Rub at my eyes so no one can see I’ve been crying.

KATIE

Rachel has found a coffee mug from somewhere and is pouring what looks like an expensive bottle of red wine directly into it. Everybody’s conversations sort of trail away and quieten until the glug, glug, glug of her pouring is the only thing any of us can hear.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll just drink out of this,’ she says. She says it as if it’s the answer to a question.

She is standing right in the middle of the room, by the kitchen island. She is wearing a red dress, cut low over her breasts. I can’t seem to not look at her, her dark, catlike flicks of eyeliner, her glossy-painted mouth. I see other eyes darting at her, too. It takes a few moments before I realise it isn’t just the crimson dress, the pale, exposed décolleté, which is attracting these glances. It is the ugly necklace of marks, like huge purple welts, all around her throat. What on earth has happened to her?

With dinner over, the kitchen is filling up. People are gathering in groups, eager to finally be in company of their own choosing. Me included.

I search the kitchen for Charlie, or Helen. I’d hoped Serena would seat me next to Helen for the dinner. I’d been feeling guilty that I hadn’t seen her since that lunch – she keeps asking if we can go for a coffee, and I keep having to tell her I can’t, that work is just too busy because of the trial. But I looked at the plan as I came in, and both of them had been on the other side of the room. I knew from experience that no one would dare defy Serena’s seating plan, the little name cards propped up on the plates. The dining room had been full of candles and roses, the cutlery on each plate tied together with little scraps of lace and a sprig of rosemary. Anyone would have thought they were hosting a wedding reception. When I glanced over to see who Charlie was sat with, I could see he was next to Rachel.

‘Katie! So good to see you again!’

Rachel has noticed me. I smile, trying to stop my gaze from drifting down to her throat. She smiles back, her mouth wide, glassy and cherry red. Her lip liner is slightly off, making her smile appear lopsided. Most of her body is sparrow-thin, but her breasts are swollen full, her tummy starting to curve. She still doesn’t really look pregnant so much as someone whose torso has been inflated like a blow-up doll.

‘Hi, Rachel,’ I say. ‘How are you?’

Apparently, Rachel is living at Helen’s house now. Over dinner, I tried to ask Daniel about it, but he was sitting diagonally across, a few seats away, and we couldn’t hear each other properly. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

I glance at the doors out to the veranda, wondering if Charlie might have gone out to smoke. The doors are open, and Serena has set out lanterns on the decking, fairy lights in her cherry tree. It rained a little earlier, but now it is cool and fresh, the plants wet, the air from outside thick with the smell of earth.

‘How’s the rape case?’

Rachel asks this loudly. A few people turn round to stare at me, silenced