Page 31

Natalie

Natalie pushes open the door to Erin’s bedroom, her eyes adjusting to the gloom to see the outline of the empty cot.

She still feels spacy, as though she’s not really here, and she moves to Erin’s bed, to the empty space where her baby should be sleeping.

She needs feeding , Natalie thinks, her eyes going to the tiny alarm clock that used to sit in Zadie’s bedroom.

It’s one of those ones that sends gradual rays of light into the room, so you can teach your child to only get up when it’s light.

It never worked for Zadie, and now she’s old enough to get up and put the telly on herself, Natalie moved it into Erin’s room for when she’s ready.

Now, a knife twists in Natalie’s chest as she realises Erin might never be ready.

She might never crouch beside a toddler bed, telling Erin to only get up when the light comes on.

She’ll need feeding , Natalie thinks again, still nauseous, even though she leant over the toilet and retched but nothing came up.

She’ll be screaming, crying in that fierce, furious way she has, where her face is bright red, screwed up in anger, her little fists pumping.

The thought of it, something that only hours ago would have caused her blood pressure to rise, makes Natalie feel oddly nostalgic.

She would give anything to hear Erin cry right now.

Downstairs she can hear people talking, the solemn tones of DI Travis wafting up the stairs, and Natalie presumes she’s asking where the guests were when Erin disappeared.

Footsteps creak on the landing outside the bedroom and Natalie wonders which one of the police officers has been sent up here to keep an eye on her.

Probably that young one, the one whose eyes were too wide as he took in the scene in the sitting room, giving away his lack of experience.

There is a grizzly cry from below, one Natalie recognises as belonging to Zadie, an overtired whine that she wheels out whenever she’s been up too late, and then she hears Mari shushing Zadie, and imagines her wrapping her arms around her middle daughter to comfort her.

Natalie knows she should go back downstairs and check on Zadie, make sure she’s not upset, but she can’t.

She feels rooted to the spot; her feet welded to the floor.

Natalie’s eyes go to the window above the cot, and she reaches forward and pulls up the blind.

Below, in the garden, someone has turned on the outside lights and the patio heater, and she can see some guests milling around outside.

All of them wear looks of concern, Gina pressing her hand to her mouth and shaking her head, as if she can’t believe what has happened.

Natalie can imagine the horror they are feeling at being caught up in something so terrible, the underlying feeling a sense of relief, that sense of thank God this isn’t happening to me.

Emily stands at the bottom of the garden, looking out onto the woods, her arms crossed over her body as if cold.

She is stood by the gate, alone despite the groups of guests who still linger, and Natalie can recognise tiny Emily in her, in the way she shifts from foot to foot, a little ball of anxious energy.

Beyond the garden, the trees shake in the wind and there are glimpses of light, flashes from phone torches as people – torchlight rests on a figure and Natalie can see Stu and that awful orange shirt he wore to the party – comb through the woods, searching for her missing child.

How has this happened?

Natalie blinks, a single tear sliding unnoticed over one cheek.

Yesterday I was miserable – I thought I hated my life, but if I had known what was to come …

I would have been more grateful , she thinks.

There is a shout from the woods – a hoarse cry – and her heart turns over in her chest. Flashes of torchlight whip through the trees, and then she sees Pete, emerging from the thick darkness where the woods meet the end of the garden.

His trainers, new brown Adidas Munchen trainers that he spent a small fortune on, are splattered with river mud, and it coats the bottom of his jeans in wild splashes, and in his arms, he holds a tiny bundle.

His face is stricken as he races through the back gate, shrugging Stu off as he reaches for whatever Pete is holding.

Natalie presses her hands against the cold glass of the window, her heart crawling up her chest and into her throat as time slows down.

This is all a dream , she thinks.

This can’t really be happening, because if it was real and Pete was carrying Erin, then Erin would be crying, and whatever Pete is carrying now is still and silent.

‘Mum?’ The word is thick and heavy, pressed between lips numb with fear and dread.

‘Mum.’ Emily steps into the room and comes to stand beside Natalie, her arm wrapping around her mother’s shoulders.

‘You have to come downstairs.’

Natalie knows that.

But she can’t. Because if she leaves this room, this spot beside Erin’s cot, then her world as she knows it is about to change irreparably, and she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to cope with that.

‘Dad found her,’ Emily chokes out, her voice scratchy and raw in a way that makes her sound years older than she really is.

‘Mum, Dad found Erin.’

Somewhere outside, there is the wail of sirens, drawing closer and closer, until all Natalie can hear is the scream ringing out in the empty bedroom, but she’s not sure if it’s the sirens or if the terrible wail is coming from somewhere deep inside her.