but we didn’t want you to see the news and assume it was May. The press are bound to speculate, since it happened nearby and everyone’s looking for May, hoping for news of her.’
‘It started out like that,’ Sean said. ‘But they stopped hoping after the first fortnight. We haven’t. We can’t. But it’s too long to ask ordinary people to stay interested in someone else’s kid. Kat says that at work they won’t look at her any more, as if they’ve decided it’s been so long, May must be … dead.’ His teeth clenched on the word. ‘They’ll start up again when it comes to trial. When you find whoever did it.’ His face collapsed, then reconfigured, scrabbling after a look that didn’t spell despair. ‘I don’t mean … It’s them , not us. We’re still hoping.’
But he wasn’t. No glimmer of hope anywhere on his face. As if he knew for certain that his daughter was gone.
‘We understand,’ Marnie said. ‘We’ve not given up either.’
‘You came here to warn us not to hope. When we hear the news about this girl from last night, you don’t want us to get our hopes up. That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘I wanted you to know as much as we do at this stage. I’m afraid it’s not much. As I say, the driver doesn’t think it was May, but we’re doing everything we can to make certain.’
Sean jerked his head in a nod. ‘I understand. Hope’s a horrible thing. I’ve learned that in the last three months. A horrible, horrible thing. But you can’t stop. We can’t stop. Not until you kill it.’
He pointed a nicotine-stained finger at the street. ‘When you knock at that door to tell us you’ve found her?’ His hand shook. ‘That she’s … that you’ve found her. That’s when we’ll stop.’
10
Aimee
Ashleigh was in the bathroom, trying to get the candle wax and spit off her face. I could hear her moving around. Happy because the heat was off her, even if his spit wasn’t. She’d never liked May, and she hated me.
‘I was here three fucking months,’ that was her favourite bitch, ‘before you two showed up.’
True, but it wasn’t my fault he liked me best. It wasn’t like I wanted him to like me.
Christie had been with him nearly two years, longer than any of us. She’d found Grace about a year ago, and the two of them had found Ashleigh. Always the same story, the same hook.
‘I know this guy,’ Christie would have said. ‘He’s got this house. He’ll let us stay if we behave ourselves.’
Grace probably said something like, ‘Yeah? Behave ourselves on our backs, or behave ourselves on our knees?’ Ashleigh, too.
And Christie would’ve said, ‘He’s not like that,’ and I bet Ashleigh was actually disappointed.
The house was decent. Clean clothes, hot water, food. All of it free, and even if it wasn’t, so what? We’d all done worse, out on the streets. Except May, but she had me. We thought we were good, May and me, because we had each other. It wasn’t until the house got too small and we moved to the flat that the fairy tale turned to shit. We were a couple of stupid, dreaming kids, but we didn’t deserve that. May didn’t deserve it.
Here’s the dumbest thing. We thought we chose him , not the other way around. We thought we were so clever tricking him into giving us a roof over our heads, free food, presents. Ashleigh with her tits like heat-seeking missiles. Wild Gracie, always fighting. May who looked like an angel but she wasn’t, she wasn’t – and now everyone knew it. And me, the victim. His favourite. He liked to sit at the side of my bed and hold a cloth to my head, a glass to my lips. He wouldn’t touch, except to take my pulse, and even then it wasn’t like you’d think. He wasn’t the sick one. It was me. Every day a little weaker, lighter, less like me . He was wiping me out with his cold cloths and his hot stare.
So in case you’re thinking I was mad to ever come here, it wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time it
‘It started out like that,’ Sean said. ‘But they stopped hoping after the first fortnight. We haven’t. We can’t. But it’s too long to ask ordinary people to stay interested in someone else’s kid. Kat says that at work they won’t look at her any more, as if they’ve decided it’s been so long, May must be … dead.’ His teeth clenched on the word. ‘They’ll start up again when it comes to trial. When you find whoever did it.’ His face collapsed, then reconfigured, scrabbling after a look that didn’t spell despair. ‘I don’t mean … It’s them , not us. We’re still hoping.’
But he wasn’t. No glimmer of hope anywhere on his face. As if he knew for certain that his daughter was gone.
‘We understand,’ Marnie said. ‘We’ve not given up either.’
‘You came here to warn us not to hope. When we hear the news about this girl from last night, you don’t want us to get our hopes up. That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘I wanted you to know as much as we do at this stage. I’m afraid it’s not much. As I say, the driver doesn’t think it was May, but we’re doing everything we can to make certain.’
Sean jerked his head in a nod. ‘I understand. Hope’s a horrible thing. I’ve learned that in the last three months. A horrible, horrible thing. But you can’t stop. We can’t stop. Not until you kill it.’
He pointed a nicotine-stained finger at the street. ‘When you knock at that door to tell us you’ve found her?’ His hand shook. ‘That she’s … that you’ve found her. That’s when we’ll stop.’
10
Aimee
Ashleigh was in the bathroom, trying to get the candle wax and spit off her face. I could hear her moving around. Happy because the heat was off her, even if his spit wasn’t. She’d never liked May, and she hated me.
‘I was here three fucking months,’ that was her favourite bitch, ‘before you two showed up.’
True, but it wasn’t my fault he liked me best. It wasn’t like I wanted him to like me.
Christie had been with him nearly two years, longer than any of us. She’d found Grace about a year ago, and the two of them had found Ashleigh. Always the same story, the same hook.
‘I know this guy,’ Christie would have said. ‘He’s got this house. He’ll let us stay if we behave ourselves.’
Grace probably said something like, ‘Yeah? Behave ourselves on our backs, or behave ourselves on our knees?’ Ashleigh, too.
And Christie would’ve said, ‘He’s not like that,’ and I bet Ashleigh was actually disappointed.
The house was decent. Clean clothes, hot water, food. All of it free, and even if it wasn’t, so what? We’d all done worse, out on the streets. Except May, but she had me. We thought we were good, May and me, because we had each other. It wasn’t until the house got too small and we moved to the flat that the fairy tale turned to shit. We were a couple of stupid, dreaming kids, but we didn’t deserve that. May didn’t deserve it.
Here’s the dumbest thing. We thought we chose him , not the other way around. We thought we were so clever tricking him into giving us a roof over our heads, free food, presents. Ashleigh with her tits like heat-seeking missiles. Wild Gracie, always fighting. May who looked like an angel but she wasn’t, she wasn’t – and now everyone knew it. And me, the victim. His favourite. He liked to sit at the side of my bed and hold a cloth to my head, a glass to my lips. He wouldn’t touch, except to take my pulse, and even then it wasn’t like you’d think. He wasn’t the sick one. It was me. Every day a little weaker, lighter, less like me . He was wiping me out with his cold cloths and his hot stare.
So in case you’re thinking I was mad to ever come here, it wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time it
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