‘What had she done?’

‘Broke my heart when she told me about the times she’d gone back before she met me. Kept making the same mistakes as far as I could tell. And no one to help her, because how could they? And don’t say she should’ve called the police! Ha! She was up against them, too. But I’d had enough of it, the pain it was causing her. Wish she’d told me earlier. I’m not young but my noggin still works. I had a plan. She knew that. Even drew me a map.’

‘Dad, what?’ I try not to sound annoyed, but his ramblings and half-stories are getting on my nerves. That, and the fact I don’t want to be here, and my sister, and my gut-wrenching guilt. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘That young cop who came around, Roberts. He doesn’t know. I can tell. But there are others who do. World’s gone to hell, Charlie.’

‘Dad, what’s the “go back” bit, the map? Do you know where she was going?’

‘Maybe. But no, it doesn’t make sense. Why would she run off and do it the night I’d arranged for you to meet her, the night after I’d asked her to marry me? I said I had a plan, and she knew that.’ He sighs. ‘I worry about him. I never told her how much I worry about him.’

‘Who?’

‘Dad.’

Abby taps on the door. Taps. Timid and bossy at once.

‘Not now,’ I call out. ‘Dad.’ I reach out and touch his shoulder. ‘Who’s “him”?’

Abby opens the door. ‘Everything all right?’ She walks in and stands next to the bed, arms wrapped around her like a straitjacket.

‘I said “not now”. I know you heard me.’

She furrows her brow. ‘Would you like something to eat or drink, Dad?’ She lets her eyes wander around the room.

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘Should I put fresh sheets on the bed? Tidy the room?’

I silently curse her for coming in before he finished his story.

‘I’m sorry she’s gone, I am.’ Her voice quavers. ‘Do you have a picture? A photograph of Skye?’

‘What are you doing?’ I scowl.

‘No,’ Dad says. ‘For someone so beautiful, she didn’t like having her picture taken. Maybe she’s in the background of a house shot, but I doubt it.’

‘Oh, your camera’s here, on the dressing table. I can get the film developed if that would be helpful. I’ll go to the chemist.’

‘No.’ He sits bolt upright. ‘Don’t touch anything. Leave it alone.’

And then I hear my father let go of a sob, like a child. I sit in my chair, paralysed, and watch as Abby perches on the edge of the bed by his side and places her arm around him with a touch so light it’s as though her arms are hollow.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Monday 9 December 1974

Charlie

‘Dad.’ I stand in his bedroom doorway. It’s early in the morning but I see that Abby has already left him a tray of breakfast to ignore. ‘Cops are here. They want to talk to you.’