Holly drew her robe more closely about her throat. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll ring Gran straight away and let her know I’m OK.’
Fran was watching her as though she knew there was something wrong but could not quite work it out. ‘Are you feeling ill? Has it all been too much for you? I’m so, so sorry about Ben. Has there been no word? I just don’t understand it. It’s not like him.’
There was a sound upstairs. Fran started to say something else but Holly spoke quickly.
‘I’d better go and get dressed. I’m really sorry, Fran. I’m feeling a bit weird about it all to be honest. I’ll come and seem you later.’
Fran huddled deeper in her jacket. ‘You poor thing! No wonder you haven’t got up yet. Look, do you want me to come in and make you a cup of coffee? We could talk—’
There was another sound from upstairs, too loud to ignore. Fran frowned. ‘Holly, is somebody here already? What’s going on?’
Holly shivered. ‘Sorry, Fran, it’s not really convenient to talk right now.’
‘Has Ben come back?’ Fran demanded.
‘No,’ Holly said.
‘Then did Guy come down after all? Because last night he said—’
‘No,’ Holly said again.
She saw the moment that the penny dropped in Fran’s mind, the widening of her eyes, the look of comical shock on her face. Fran clapped a hand to her mouth. Her gaze roved over Holly’s tumbled hair, her bare feet. ‘Oh Holly,’ she said, ‘What have you done – Oh my God, you haven’t … Say you haven’t. What’s happened to you? You never do things like that!’
Holly caught her arm urgently. ‘I can’t talk now. Please, Fran, it’s a bit complicated.’
Fran looked torn between stunned horror and concern. ‘Holly, you’re in shock. I’ve read about this. When people go missing their relatives can suffer from something called suspended grief, not knowing whether someone is dead or not—’
‘Thanks, Fran,’ Holly said. Despite herself she could feel a flicker of a smile starting and some sense of normality returning. Fran’s monumental lack of tact had always been cheering rather than anything else. ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ she said. ‘Really, I will. I’ve got things to sort out.’
‘I can imagine,’ Fran said dryly. Then she looked past Holly’s shoulder. Holly saw her expression freeze before Fran rearranged her face into ultra-casual indifference.
‘Mark,’ she said brightly. ‘Hi. How are you?’
Holly spun around. Mark, fully dressed, was standing in the doorway. He nodded to Fran.
‘Hi, Fran.’
Holly felt her stomach dip as though she were on a roller coaster. The previous day she hadn’t spared a single thought for who Mark was or what he was doing at Ashdown. Now, though, she realised that far from being a random tourist who would disappear in the morning, he must live there and would be going precisely nowhere. Her stomach tightened and panic fluttered in her throat.
‘You’ve heard about Ben?’ Fran had waited for Holly to speak and then, when she hadn’t, had rushed in to fill the awkward silence as best she could.
‘Just now,’ Mark said. His gaze was on Holly’s face, dark and inscrutable. ‘What happened?’
‘He’s missing,’ Holly said. ‘He vanished a couple of nights ago.’ It felt ridiculous, surreal, to be standing here like this politely discussing her brother’s disappearance when she had neglected to mention it before.
‘Holly didn’t tell you—’ Fran began, then saw the expression on Holly’s face and gulped. ‘Well, anyway, I’d better …’ She waved her hands about in mute confusion. ‘I’ll be at home later so give me a ring, Holly … Or call round. Whatever.’ She was edging away down the path as she spoke. ‘Take care.’
She hurried off towards the gate and Holly went back inside. Mark stepped back to allow her to pass him. She could feel his gaze on her face and she felt the heat burn beneath her skin. Suddenly the paisley robe felt far too flimsy and she felt far too vulnerable.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly, before Mark had the chance to say anything and the situation became even more excruciating. ‘I should have told you, but …’ She stopped. She had no excuses. She couldn’t even connect with how she had felt the day before, how isolated, how desperate she had been not to be alone.
‘That’s OK,’ Mark said. His tone was level but she had an unnerving conviction that he was angry. ‘I knew you were upset, I just didn’t realise—’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry to hear about Ben,’ he added. ‘Are the police looking for him?’
‘No,’ Holly said. ‘They think he’s just gone off somewhere and that he’ll turn up.’ Her eyes were burning and it felt as though something sharp was wedged in her throat. She could not believe how right everything had felt whilst she had been with Mark and how wrong it all felt again now. That was the trouble with forgetting, she thought. It didn’t last long before everything crowded back in worse than before. She should have realised; realised she couldn’t lose herself, realised she couldn’t escape her fears about Ben.
‘I wouldn’t want you to think …’ She stopped. Mark waited. She felt a spurt of anger that he wasn’t making it easy for her.
‘I didn’t mean to use you,’ she said. ‘I don’t usually do this sort of thing.’
Mark shrugged. ‘I heard what Fran said.’ He picked up his jacket off the back of the sofa. ‘Just for the record, neither do I. Except that we both did.’
There was another sharp silence then Mark sighed.
‘I don’t want to leave you if you’re upset,’ he said. ‘Holly, please, talk to me.’
The look in his eyes was gentle and it made Holly feel more angry. She remembered his tenderness the previous night and how she had driven it out with need. She didn’t want it now, either. She couldn’t deal with it.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. She drew the robe tight about her throat. ‘Thanks.’
‘Right,’ Mark said. He reached for the latch pausing for a second as he was about to open the door. ‘It might help to know,’ he said, ‘who you are …’
‘Oh!’ Holly jumped, the colour flooding her face again. ‘Holly Ansell. Ben’s sister.’
‘And who is Guy?’
Holly hesitated a second. ‘Guy is … was … my fiancé.’
She saw Mark’s expression harden. ‘Okay. I get it. Well, I’ll go then.’
Holly didn’t try to stop him. She heard the door slam behind him and felt the silence of the house press in on her. She fumbled on the dresser for her phone. She needed to ring her grandmother. Guilt swamped her. Everything else could wait. She didn’t need to think about it now.
She pressed the button to call her grandparents’ number. Hester answered on the second ring.
‘Gran,’ Holly said. ‘I’m so sorry not to have called before—’ And submitted quietly to her grandmother’s scolding, hearing the fear beneath her words of reproach.
Wassenaer Hof,