Charlie was about to put her phone back in her bag when she noticed a small envelope symbol on its screen. A message. How long had it been there? How long since she’d checked? She pressed ‘1’ to play it, expecting to hear Simon’s voice, and heard, with a jolt of surprise, Ruth Bussey’s instead.

25 - Wednesday 5 March 2008

25

Wednesday 5 March 2008

‘Wait here,’ I tell the driver, halfway out of the cab as it draws to a slow halt outside Garstead Cottage. ‘Keep the engine on.’ I run past the cardboard cow with the yellow earring and pound on the cottage’s back door. Mary’s ‘Survivor’ song is playing. She opens the door and squints at me, as if I’m a bright light and she’s been in the dark for a long time. She wasn’t expecting me back. ‘You’ve got to get out of here,’ I tell her. ‘No time to explain. The taxi’s outside. Go somewhere, anywhere. Go to Martha’s mother’s house.’

‘Cecily?’ She looks down at her bare feet, doesn’t move. She’s wearing torn jeans and a black shirt with paint on it. I want to grab her, pull her outside and out of the way. ‘What’s going on?’ she asks.

I’m going to have to tell her something. ‘I rang the police in Lincoln. Two of the gardens I designed have been vandalised—turf torn up, plants pulled out of the earth. One last summer and one in the early hours of Tuesday morning.’ Not more than six hours after Gemma Crowther was murdered.

Mary’s eyes widen. ‘Cherub Cottage?’

‘No. Two of the three I won awards for.’ I can’t understand it, not really, and I don’t want to try. For someone to attack something as beautiful and natural as a garden, something so irreplaceable—it’s beyond my comprehension. The owners will replant and reseed, but it won’t be the same. No two gardens are ever the same.

I can’t let the sadness in, not now, when I need to stay alert.

Mary grips the door frame. ‘He did it to you as well.’

‘Look, there’s no time. He’s coming here. Go.’

‘I’m not leaving you to—’

‘You have to! I can’t explain now. You have to trust me, like I trusted you. Give me your mobile number—I’ll ring you as soon as I can.’

‘I need a few minutes,’ Mary says, disappearing inside.

The seconds drag. The taxi-driver turns off his engine and I gesture at him to switch it back on.