Louisa waited until Emily was back in the room and for Brian to have sunk into a post-hangover slumber as the TV played in the background, then she went upstairs. Retrieving the list Tiff had given her, along with her own sub-lists, Louisa sat on the bed and searched through the names again. She should contact some of them. Thank them for coming to celebrate her fortieth with her, have a general chat, then drop into the conversation the terrible news about Melissa. You could always get people gossiping. And a hot topic like a disappearance must surely have got some chins wagging. Maybe being spoken to by the police was too scary, had prevented them from remembering anything in detail. Speaking to a friend, however tenuous that friendship might be, would be more likely to draw out the memories.

Someone must know something. And if not one person on the list could remember Melissa Dunmore, then that raised questions Louisa didn’t want to contemplate.

26

THE BRUSH-OFF

Monday a.m. – Day 10 post-party

‘What are you doing, Lou?’

‘I’m feeding Noah.’

‘Come back to bed, love. It’s still early.’

‘When he’s finished,’ Louisa said. A bubble of impatience was steadily inflating in her belly.

‘I think he has, Louisa. Look, he’s asleep in his cot.’ Brian encouraged her to look.

Louisa snapped her head up. Shook it. No, she’d been in the nursery chair, feeding him; she was certain. ‘Oh.’ She saw the little bundle, lying still, through the bars of the cot. ‘I must’ve dreamt it.’

Why weren’t the dreams, the hallucinations, stopping? Her sleep hadn’t been as disturbed as before, not since Noah had begun bottle-feeding. They should’ve stopped now. Unless her hallucinations were linked with her mental health, like that article had stated. Had she been blaming her strange behaviour on Noah keeping her up all night when it had just been her all along?

As she walked across the landing behind Brian, a memory flashed across her vision.

Darkness. Trees.

Voices.

Her feet, cool in the grass.

‘Can I blag one of them off you?’

The face.

Louisa swallowed hard. The images were gone but her fear remained. Whoever that had been in the beer garden at her party was someone who’d caused her to feel afraid.

Louisa got into bed, telling Brian she was fine, not to worry.

‘Try and go back to sleep, Lou,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek.

Sleep was impossible again now. Louisa lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Dark shadows from the trees outside danced along the edges like the lost memories dancing along the edges of her consciousness.