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THURSDAY

Opal

Cellar steps: crooked, narrow, barely wide enough for her foot. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, the space below a jumble of shadows.

A strong scent of vinegar filled the air. And something underneath, something musty and unidentifiable.

Opal, accustomed to assessing every situation for the worst possible outcome, considered for the first time whether this could be a trap. Lord knew she’d given this woman a reason to hate her. Both of these women—and she’d given them reason to hate each other, too.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go down into a hole in the ground with them.

She paused and glanced over her shoulder. Lilah, behind her, looked terrified; but Lilah always looked terrified so that didn’t mean anything. Marina’s face was less readable. She was anxious, but there was another emotion, or emotions, that Opal couldn’t quite suss out. And Opal could usually suss everyone out, within a few minutes of meeting them.

For the first time she noticed that Marina was wearing a silk dress and lipstick...was this what normal mothers wore for a quiet evening in with the kids, here in the depths of Richmond, one of the most affluent boroughs of London?

“Be really careful going down the stairs,” Marina said. “They’re rickety. Hang on to the banister, okay?”

If worst came to worst, Opal decided, she’d be able to take the two of them in a fight. She doubted either of these women had ever thrown a punch in their lives.

“I’m dying to know what’s so important down here,” she said, truthfully, and started down the stairs.

The scent of vinegar got stronger as she descended. The floor was concrete, and the space, lined by shelves, was lit by another single dangling bulb.

In the center of the room lay the body of a man.

“Holy shit,” Opal murmured.

Behind her, the other two reached the bottom of the stairs, but Opal’s attention was on the man on the floor. He lay on his side, facing her. She recognized him right away, of course. It had been years, and his hair was a different color, his clothes were unfamiliar, he had cultivated a careful almost-beard.

But it was him. She would know him anywhere, even without seeing his face: she would know him by the lurch in her gut, the sensation poised somewhere between fear and fury.

Over the years, she’d thought she’d glimpsed him many times, here in London and everywhere else she went, too. All those times she’d looked twice, she’d followed him, rehearsing what she’d say, until he turned and revealed a stranger. But she’d never felt the lurch before.

Until this moment, she hadn’t known that he still had that precise power over her.

Closer, she saw that his ankles had been bound together with silver tape and his hands were tied behind his back. He had dried blood on his forehead. How long had he been lying here? Why was he lying here?

A gasp behind her, and the sound of another body falling. Lilah lay crumpled on the cement floor.

Marina cried out and stooped over Lilah, touching her face. “Oh my God, is she okay?”

Opal leaned over the prone woman. “She’s fainted, I think.”

“I’ll get a cold cloth.” Marina ran back up the rickety stairs. Opal quickly checked Lilah over for damage. Her pulse was quick, but otherwise she seemed fine. Opal took off her Sweaty Betty hoodie and folded it under Lilah’s head.

Her gaze traveled back to the man on the floor. There were two small blue Band-Aids on his forehead below his hairline. Opal squinted. The Band-Aids had pink shapes on them, like...

Was that Peppa Pig?

Marina’s footsteps came back down, and she knelt beside Lilah and pressed a flannel to her forehead. “I didn’t know she was going to faint,” she said.

“This isn’t the first body she’s found,” Opal told her. “She’s probably traumatized.”

“Oh no. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry!”

Lilah’s eyelids fluttered. She moaned and opened her eyes, which immediately widened in horror.

“He’s not dead,” said Marina quickly. “That was the first thing I checked after he fell down the stairs. Before I tied him up.”

Lilah sat up. Her face was dead pale and her hair had escaped its clip and hung loose. “You tied him up?”

“Yes, I had to. For my own safely. Our safety. I’ve got three children asleep upstairs. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Why does he smell like pickles?”

“He was carrying a jar,” said Marina. “It broke. I’ve cleaned up the glass, don’t worry.”

To her own surprise, Opal laughed.

“I’m sorry,” said Opal. “I know it’s not funny. But it’s so typical, isn’t it. A woman has an unconscious man tied up in her cellar and her first instinct is to clean up a mess.”

“I’ve got three chi—”

“I know, I know. I think I might also be in a bit of shock. I haven’t seen him in three years.” Opal approached the man’s body, squatted next to him, and touched his neck, checking him over as she had Lilah. “His pulse is strong, and he seems to be breathing all right. Unconscious, though, obviously.”

“He hit his head on the way down,” said Marina. “But he only bled a little bit. I disinfected it.”

“How long has he been out?”

“I don’t know. About...an hour?”

Opal stood. “The real question isn’t about pickles or cleaning. The real question is: why did you message me instead of calling an ambulance?”

“Right,” said Marina. “Right. Well, exactly. Good question.”

“He could have a concussion. Or a broken neck. Or a brain bleed.”

“He could,” said Marina. “Though his color’s pretty good. I put him in the recovery position.”

“Should I google the symptoms?” Lilah asked.

“No,” said Opal. “Don’t google anything. We need to know where we stand first. Which means that Marina needs to answer my question. Why didn’t you call an ambulance when he fell?”

Marina fidgeted.

“Look, I’ll tell you,” she said. “But...I think we all need a drink first.” She made for the stairs.

Opal made a quick decision. “Just a second. Where’s the duct tape that you used on his wrists and ankles?”

Marina pointed at a shelf, and Opal tore a strip of tape off the roll and pasted it over the unconscious man’s mouth.

“Don’t do that!” said Lilah. “Why are you doing that?”

“Just while we’re talking,” said Opal. “If he wakes up, he might scream, and that would wake Marina’s children, and we’d have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Plus it would create childhood trauma,” added Marina.

Lilah bit her lip, uncertain. “But what if he’s sick? He could choke.”

“We’ll watch him.”

“I’ll...I’ll go get us something to drink,” said Marina, and she ran up the stairs.

Opal couldn’t stop looking at the man on the floor. He’d used to have black hair, and now it was silver-gray and white. Had he dyed it? Or had they both aged so much in the past three years?

No, it was dye. She knew how he worked. Black hadn’t been his real hair color, either.

But none of this was part of his plan: the basement, and the duct tape, and the Peppa Pig Band-Aids, and the three women together.

She wondered: would a normal person, a better person, feel pity for him?

Lilah sidled up to Opal. “I think Marina pushed him down the stairs,” she whispered, her words trembling. “On purpose.”