Page 134 of Good Girl, Bad Blood
It was Connor who opened the door to her, his eyes rubbed red and a twitch in his upper lip.
Pip stepped inside without a word. She gripped his arm, above the elbow, for a long, silent second. And then she let go, saying, ‘Where’s your mum?’
‘Here.’ His voice was just a croak as he led Pip into the cold living room. The daylight was wrong in here, too harsh, too bright, too alive. And Joanna was huddled against it, wrapped in an old blanket on the sofa, her face buried inside a tissue.
‘Pip’s here,’ Connor said in barely more than a whisper.
Joanna glanced up. Her eyes were swollen and she looked different, like something beneath her face had broken.
She didn’t speak, just held out her arms, and Pip stumbled forward to lower herself on to the sofa. Joanna wrapped her arms around her and Pip held her back, feeling Joanna’s racing heart in her own chest.
‘We need to call Detective Hawkins at the police station in Amersham,’ Pip said, pulling back. ‘Ask if they’ve identified the –’
‘Arthur’s on the phone to them now.’ Joanna shuffled over to clear a space between them for Connor. And once Connor had settled, his leg pressing into hers, Pip could hear the sound of Arthur’s voice, growing louder as he left the kitchen and walked towards them.
‘Yes,’ he said, entering the room with the phone to his ear, blinking as his gaze settled on Pip. His face looked grey, mouth in a tense line. ‘Jamie Reynolds. No,Reynolds, with an R. Yes. Case number? Um . . .’ His eyes darted over to Joanna. She began to push up from the sofa but Pip cut in.
‘Four nine zero,’ she said, Arthur repeating the numbers after her, into the phone. ‘Zero one five. Two nine three.’
Arthur nodded at her. ‘Yes. Missing since last Friday night.’ He chewed his thumb. ‘The body found by the A413, do you know who it is yet? No. No, don’t put me on hold aga—’
He leaned against the door, closing it, his head resting against one finger, pushing his skin into folds. Waiting.
And waiting.
It was the worst wait Pip had ever had in her life. Her chest so tight she had to force the air through and out of her nose. And with every breath she thought she might be sick, swallowing down the bile.
Please, she kept thinking, no idea who she was thinking it to. Just someone. Anyone.Please please don’t let it be Jamie. Please. She’d promised Connor. She’d promised she’d find his brother. She promised she’d save him.Please. Please, not him.
Her eyes slipped from Arthur back to Connor beside her.
‘Should I be here?’ she mouthed silently.
But Connor nodded and took her hand, their palms clammy, sticking together. She saw him take his mother’s hand, too, on the other side.
Waiting.
Arthur’s eyes were closed, the fingers on his free hand pressing into his eyelids, so hard it must have hurt, his chest rising in stuttering movements.
Waiting.
Until . . .
‘Yes?’ Arthur said, his eyes snapping open.
Pip’s heartbeat was so loud, so fast, it felt like that was all she was: a heart and the empty skin around it.
‘Hello detective,’ said Arthur. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m calling about. Yes.’
Connor gripped Pip’s hand even tighter, crushing her bones together.
‘Yes, I understand. So, is –’ Arthur’s hand was shaking at his side. ‘Yes, I understand that.’
He went quiet, listening to the other end of the phone. And then his face dropped.
Cracked in two.
He doubled forward, the phone going limp in his fingers. Other hand up to his face as he bawled into it. A high, inhuman sound that wracked his entire body.
