His face set a little, smoothed into something almost defensive.
‘The handwriting…?’ he mused out loud, and for the first time I had the sense that he was not being wholly honest – that he knew exactly what I meant.
‘No, you said something else. That there were “other reasons” the letters were of interest.’
He froze, and then, as though considering, glanced quickly over both shoulders, then moved to rejoin me at the gate.
He bent low, next to my ear, and there was a strange, ambiguous moment during which I wasn’t sure if he meant to kiss me or not. I was about to draw away when he whispered, ‘The second letter mentioned soundproofing.’
‘What?’
‘Soundproofing,’ he repeated. ‘They found fragments of insulation material on Bethan’s nightdress, they think it was used for soundproofing.’ He stepped back, with a little shrug. ‘It was never made public.’ He beetled his brows at me. ‘So please keep that to yourself.’
It was over and I was back on King’s Parade, in the mob of tourists, hurrying academics and office and shop workers in search of some lunch. I wandered, in a kind of weird, anxious dream, back towards the Copper Kettle and my bicycle. A big tour group was coming towards me and I stepped out of their way. As my groping hand reached out to steady myself it touched glass, and I became aware of a loud ticking, sinister and yet familiar.
I was in front of the Corpus Clock. I glanced at it, caught. Behind the glass a huge rippling gold disk, backlit in bluish-pink, the edges ratcheted with teeth, moved in fits and starts. Above it was a large gleaming metal locust – the Chromophage, the time-eater – who rode the teeth as they moved beneath its chrome body, each one issuing a harsh metallic click.
I have stood here for up to a quarter of an hour at a time before now, entranced by its slightly irregular, sinister movement, which is only absolutely accurate every five minutes. On one of our first dates, Eddy taught me to read the markings on the gold-plated disk to translate the hour. I sighed and glanced down at the inscription in stone below it: ‘Mundus transit et concupiscentia eius.’
‘“The world passeth away, and the lust thereof,”’ I murmured.
I considered Martin Forrester, his piercing eyes, his thick dark hair, before firmly shaking my head and trying to dismiss him from my thoughts.
I had to go.
Work passed in a dream, and then there was the Classics Club after school – we were doing the third of our Conversational Ancient Greek nights this year, which is normally hugely amusing, but somehow I felt a little distant, a little lost, and had to work hard to hide this from the kids. We were doing an improvisation with Demeter asking in various shops and public amenities whether anyone had seen her lost daughter Persephone – the goddess of the fields looks for her daughter, the goddess of spring growth, who has been abducted by Hades, Lord of the Dead and the Underworld.
It was the sort of thing the children found funny and as a consequence their language skills raced ahead – in their version, Persephone has lied to her mother about where she’s gone and is instead hiding with her unsuitable boyfriend underground – but tonight everything about it, especially the ribald undercurrent, grated upon my nerves.
It was late when I got back home, and there were no further letters from Eddy’s lawyers. The bedroom was slightly chilly, and I hurried into the bathroom, anxious to huddle myself into my bed as soon as possible. I pulled the cord dangling from the bathroom ceiling, and the light came on with a hum and a click.
My face was thrown back at me from the fluorescently lit mirror. I looked dreadful. A light sheen of sweat covered all the visible surfaces of my skin. My nervous lines had returned – they never really go away – but right then they were pronounced. When they get worse, the muscles they bind start to jump. Then they are twitching cords running from my cheeks to my chin, framing my nose with its rumpled bent bridge, making me look like a gargoyle or a damned soul.
I washed my face carefully, and then fumbled through my bag, finding the right bottle of pills. I was tired, so it took a few minutes. ‘ZORICLORONE – TAKE AS DIRECTED’, and then my name. I unscrewed the lid and shook one into my damp palm. It was snow white against my pink skin.
I raised it to my mouth. The woman in the mirror mimicked my actions, my greedy haste. I suddenly stopped and so did she. What the hell was I taking it for? I looked terrible but I felt… I felt fine. I could take my quiet heart and clear mind to bed to a just sleep, as deep and refreshing as a baby’s. I couldn’t remember feeling so good for a very long time.
The harried, nervous woman in the mirror raised a sardonic eyebrow at me, wondering what I would do next. She glanced down at the pill she held in her palm. Then she carefully tipped it back into the bottle, screwed the top back on and yanked decisively at the cord hanging from the ceiling, dismissing me with darkness.
I left the bathroom and stumbled through the gloom to my bed, barking my shin against the bedside table in the process.
But I slept like a baby.
8
LUISA MARTINEZ’S FACEBOOK FEED
Luisa Martinez
Crying all morning – really missing my bae Katie now whose been missing for nearly 5 weeks! I hope the angels in heaven are watching over you, my beautiful bae and wherever you are hope you’re OK.
Charlotte Finley
Sorry to hear you’re upset, I keep crying too! Hopefully there will be news soon.:(
Amber McGowan
You’re such a spaz Lu you hardly knew her and anyway everyone knows she’s obvs gone off with her gyppo boyfriend. You’re so thirsty for attention and its pathetic.
Sorcha Malone
Katie finished with Nathan before she went missing and he’s still around. Check yourself Amber cos her Mum can see this page.
Amber McGowan
It’s not me upsetting Katie’s mum but Katie the selfish bitch, and IDK what you’re so righteous about Sorcha cos you never liked her anyway.
Sorcha Malone
You lying cow! I NEVER said that! And Luisa is allowed to like her and miss her if she wants. What’s it to you anyway? Stop being such a bitch for once in your life.
Luisa Martinez
I can’t beleive how horrible your being to me. I was just being worried about my bae! I have been crying for weeks!!!
Sorcha Malone
Stop it Luisa you’re just embarrassing yourself. Amber is right you hardly knew her tbf.
Amber McGowan
It’s always about YOU isn’t it La-La Lulu, and you can stop being 2-faced Sorcha. We all know Katie Browne’s probably gone off to have an abortion or because that stepdad of hers has buried her under the patio, or whatever these social housing types do LOL!
Brian Morris
is that what they teach you to be like at that posh school you stuckup little madam how dare you talk like that about our katie where my wife can see it you heartless little sod!!! see you in school amber mcgowan i have took a pic of this scren bfore you dletee it and that posh school is goin to be hearing all abot you!!!!!!!
And Brian, being as good as his virtual word, had done precisely that, and so here we all were.
‘My account was hacked,’ Amber said, tossing her blonde head, though the two burning patches of red on her cheeks betrayed her as a liar.
Ben, our headmaster, had Luisa Martinez’s Facebook page open on the laptop on his desk. Though he’s quite content to bully Lily, Estella and me in meetings, the girls at the school, particularly the pretty ones, tend to reduce him to pusillanimous mumbling.