Page 28

TWENTY-SEVEN

SUNDAY 2 FEbrUARY

Harper knows she shouldn’t call him. They have a pact, made months ago; each of them bound to keep its promise – but this is an emergency.

She closes her bedroom door and dials his number, holding her breath while she waits for him to answer. Two seconds. Three. Four.

‘Hello.’

‘We need to talk.’

There’s a pause so long she assumes he must have ended the call, until he finally speaks. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Not on the phone. Can you come over? When Dexter’s asleep?’

There’s a heavy sigh; he must be weighing up the consequences of this decision. He’s cautious like that, and they both know this is risky.

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea. We said?—’

‘I know what we said and I don’t care. You need to come tonight. Dexter goes to bed around nine so should definitely be asleep by ten. Come then.’

Another heavy sigh. ‘I’ll see.’

The beeps on her phone warn her he’s gone. But he’ll come; she knows he will.

Downstairs, she finds Dexter in the living room, playing on his Xbox. ‘Enough screen time,’ she says, when the truth is he’s probably only just gone on it – he’s spent most of the evening doing his homework in the kitchen.

‘Just ten more minutes,’ he pleads.

‘Five. And then shower.’

Dexter nods and resumes his game.

There are three hours to fill, and Harper can’t bear idly waiting. She’s nervous – a feeling she’s tried so hard to push from her body whenever it surfaces. Normally she can do it, but right now it’s overpowering her. She grabs the vacuum cleaner from the cupboard under the stairs and sets to work on carpets that are already spotless.

When she gets to Dexter’s room, she’s surprised to find it messy. He’s normally particular about things; Jamie’s death is affecting him in unpredictable ways. She needs to provide him with answers if he has any hope of healing.

She picks clothes and books off the floor, taking her time to make sure everything is neat. There’s a scrunched-up tissue down the side of his bedside table, and when Harper picks it up something drops to the floor. It takes her a moment to realise what she’s looking at. She bends down to pick it up, and her breath is snatched away from her. Jamie’s ring. The one she got him even when they decided they wouldn’t marry. It made her feel better, somehow. And he’d done the same for her, even though she never wore it. The one she’s holding now is just a plain gold band with a bevelled edge, yet she knows it’s Jamie’s. But she examines the inside, just to be sure, and there it is – the italicised message that Jamie thought would be funny to have engraved in both their rings. It’s just a piece of paper.

This doesn’t make sense. Why would Dexter have Jamie’s ring? Jamie never took it off, at least not in the house. Harper has no idea what he did with it when he wasn’t here. All part of his act. Perhaps he did leave it here that night; it’s plausible given that he was going to that bar in Putney to meet Kate. Dexter must have found it and kept hold of it. But why wouldn’t he mention it? Harper studies the engraving again, picturing Jamie’s laugh as he’d made his suggestion for their rings. We don’t have to be the same as everyone else. Love doesn’t conform to rules – it can’t be caged.

Then Harper sees the speck of dark red blood opposite the engraving.

Numb with shock, her mind whirs with all the possibilities of what this means, and she rushes downstairs, clutching the ring so tightly it digs into her skin.

‘Dexter!’ She bursts into the living room. ‘What are you doing with this? I found it in your room!’ She tries to keep her voice measured, but panic drowns her words. She holds up the ring.

Dexter stares at it and then at Harper, his eyes wide. ‘I…I found it.’

‘Where?’

A suffocating silence surrounds them. ‘Answer me!’

‘At…at Thomas’s house.’ Dexter only stutters when he’s nervous.

Harper takes a deep breath to calm down, and sitting next to Dexter, she takes his hand. ‘I need to know everything,’ she says. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me and we’ll work it out together.’

Dexter nods, but takes his time to speak. ‘It was when we had a playdate there. Thomas went to the toilet and I was just…just looking around. I found it. In a drawer in the kitchen.’ He stops, his lips quivering like they do when he’s about to clam up.

Harper puts her arm around him. ‘You’re not in any trouble, Dexter. ‘I just need to know exactly what happened.’

‘I thought it must be Thomas’s mum’s, but then I read the writing and it’s the same as yours. So I knew it was Dad’s. I thought Thomas must have taken it from our house and I didn’t want to get him in trouble so I just took it back. I was scared I’d get into trouble. For going through their stuff.’

‘It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re definitely not in any trouble and I won’t say anything that will get Thomas in trouble. He might not have realised what it was.’

‘Who did that to Dad?’ Dexter says, burying his head in her arms, wailing, finally letting out all the emotions he’s been bottling up.

‘I don’t know. But whoever did it will be found out, Dexter. I promise you.’

He takes his time to calm down, but gradually his sobbing subsides and his breathing returns to normal. And once she’s sure he’s okay, Harper smiles.

It’s ten past ten and there’s still no sign of him. He won’t come – he’s washing his hands of this now, walking away because he thinks it’s nothing to do with him. But now she has evidence to show him that he’s wrong. This is everything to do with him. She hopes his tardiness is just a precautionary measure. Harper checks on Dexter again, to make sure he’s still asleep.

Finally, at ten seventeen, there’s a knock on the door. Listening to make sure there’s no sound coming from Dexter’s room, Harper rushes to check through the peep hole before she opens the door.

‘Thanks for coming,’ she says.

‘What choice did I have?’

She holds the door open and peers outside. ‘Come in, then.’

Ellis steps inside, and Harper closes the door behind him.