I filled them in on the latest news, i.e. nothing. No one had managed to get hold of April’s mum, which may have been for the best. April remained in a stable but critical condition, accompanied by long words and medical jargon my brain had no capacity to comprehend at that moment.
‘Come on, darling,’ Melody clucked. ‘I’m taking you home.’
‘Can you drop me off at Dylan’s instead? Sam’s there.’
‘Of course. No problem.’
Only there was a problem. Sam was not there.
After banging on the door for longer than my nerves could stand, a dishevelled Dylan let us in.
‘Sorry. I must have dozed off. We sat up most of the night, but Sam went to bed around five.’
‘You dozed off?’ My heart started hammering. ‘You weren’t watching him?’
‘Only for an hour or so. He was sleeping. I checked on him first.’
I pushed past him, through into the tiny living room. Whirling out again, I confronted Dylan in the kitchen.
‘Where is he?’
‘Upstairs, in the spare room. Calm down, Faith. It’s okay.’
‘No.’ My voice was loud, angry. ‘It is not okay.’
I raced up the stairs, banging all four doors open until I located what had to be the spare room.
My howl rattled the window frames. Dylan found me on my knees in the doorway. He said nothing, but I heard him searching the house, opening the front door and no doubt doing the same in the garden, the car park, the side alleyway.
I remained on the floor, bent double as the numbness set in.
It was too late. Searching was pointless. Dylan had fallen asleep, and now my brother, my family, my heart, had gone.
The next week or so passed in a haze. I clung to the numbness for dear life. I answered questions, signed official statements, gave out information, went through the motions. Gwynne came to tell me how Kane had managed to keep travelling to Nottinghamshire undetected. Stolen cars, old contacts, forged ID. None of it mattered. None of it could change anything. None of it could penetrate the grey.
Perry moved in, bringing flowers and fruit and more films to watch, as if any of that could make things better. He even took a few days off work, before fetching his laptop and setting up an office in my kitchen. I kept my new phone switched on, at the authorities’ request, in case Sam got in touch. It made no difference to me. I knew there would be no call.
After two days, Perry told Dylan to stop leaving messages and sending texts. When he called round, I listened from the bedroom as Perry politely told him to leave me be. I felt nothing. All-encompassing, grey nothing.
Cards came through the door, more flowers were dropped off. And food – pasta bakes and casseroles, cakes and steamingpies. Perry ate what he wanted, the rest I calmly scraped into the bin.
Larissa and Milton called round. Again, I stayed in bed, listening detachedly as the voices rose to penetrate the ceiling.
She’s a liar, Peregrine.
How can you trust her?
All this time, and not a word…
He’s an addict. Do you really want to take that on?
No wonder she…
I brushed off the flicker of curiosity at whether Perry would stay and sank back into the grey.
After a week, a soft-spoken doctor with sharp creases between her eyebrows came to my bedroom, perching on the empty side of the bed. She asked me more questions, most of which I forgot as soon as I answered them. I laughed when I saw the familiar name of the pills she prescribed, startling myself with the bitter cackle.
Eleven days in, I lay alone in bed, Perry having nipped to the office for a meeting. As I stared at the ceiling, somebody knocked on the door.
