Abby swallowed down the anguish and made herself sit up. ‘It’s OK,’ she said stiffly.
‘I’m here to talk to you about the incident the other evening,’ said the policeman. ‘My name is Captain Matteo Morelli.’
She’d given him a description of one of her attackers – the other man, the one who’d thrust his knife into her shoulder, she hadn’t seen. Captain Morelli had asked if he could stay in touch while the police tried to pursue the culprits. Of course, nothing came of it. Back in the UK, Abby was left broken. The mugging had changed her. She lost a client at work – or at least, she knew her boss silently blamed her for the client’s withdrawal of business. Before she’d left for her trip she’d been at the top of her game. A director with lucrative bonuses, shares in the company. But now she was petrified of everything. She couldn’t walk home from the station at night, which put paid to staying late at the office. In fact, she no longer even had the energy for work; she could barely get up in the morning. The whole thing felt so pointless. All that effort, all those savings, and for what? What if she’d lost her life that night in the alley?
The hospital staff had got in touch with Susanna when Abby was admitted, but Abby had fobbed her off with a story of a minor theft and downplayed the physical injuries. She’d made it sound so inconsequential she knew her mother was likely to forget about it fairly quickly. Abby didn’t bother telling Ellie at all. She couldn’t. She’d spent her entire life proving to her sister and her mother that she was entirely self-sufficient and now she felt great shame at what she’d allowed to happen.
The official emails from Matteo had migrated to a personal address and Abby kept up the correspondence as a distraction from work as much as anything else. But she also got a comfort from them. Matteo was the person who’d been there when she needed help. He was the only one who fully understood what she’d been through. They met up in London a couple of times and then Abby went to visit him on the island of Elba, where he’d been offered a new post. They sat in cafes by the beaches, the skies still blue even in winter, and Abby relished the peace, the tranquil pace of life. People were friendly; the villagers appeared to all know one another and look out for each other. Above all, it seemed safe.
During that trip he asked her to marry him. He also showed her a house he’d found, and when Abby went out into the back garden and saw the pathway to the sea, she felt herself well up.
Abby decided to quit her job. For good. It was the only rash thing she’d ever done in her life. Then she did the second rash thing – she bought the house with Matteo in the fear that she might change her mind about the retirement. Now there was no going back. They moved in together in early spring and Abby told herself she was living the dream.
FORTY-TWO
Abby opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. She lifted her head off the gravel that was cutting into her cheek and looked up the alley, silently begging for someone to see her. People were passing by on the main street, just metres away, but totally oblivious to her attack. She tried to cry out again and again but her vocal cords failed to vibrate. She was aware of the two men beating her, of the pain and the overpowering sense of helplessness, and then she saw her mother up ahead. Her heart soared – surely Susanna had come to look for her? And despite the fact Abby was unable to cry out, she somehow sensed that Susanna would look straight down the alley and see her. But her mother was facing in the wrong direction. Turn, urged Abby desperately, look around, but Susanna didn’t and then she started to walk away. Panic gripped Abby, along with a sense of total and utter abandonment.
Her eyes flew open. Her heart was thudding in her chest and it took her a minute to understand where she was. She could feel her sweat on the sheets and pulled her damp T-shirt away from her body. Leaning over to the B & B’s bedside table, it was just light enough to check her watch. It was five thirty in the morning. Dawn was breaking and the room’s shadows were beginning to slowly lighten. Abby looked across at Ellie’s bed.
It was empty.
Puzzled, Abby got out from under the covers. She checked the bathroom but Ellie wasn’t there either. Her suitcase was still beside the bed, but her shoes that she’d left by the door were missing.
Abby quickly got dressed and packed up her things. She took both her and Ellie’s luggage and quietly carried it down the shadowy stairs. As she neared the ground floor, she thought she could hear a muffled voice, but then it became quiet and she felt she must have been mistaken. Where the hell is Ellie?
‘Morning,’ whispered her little sister as she appeared from somewhere in the darkness at the back of reception. ‘You couldn’t sleep either, eh?’
Abby jumped in fright. She looked at Ellie, who seemed pale and a little distracted. ‘Is that why you came down?’
Ellie nodded. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
Her sister was staring at the bags in her hand. ‘I think we should get going,’ said Abby, by way of explanation.
Ellie snapped her head up in alarm. ‘What, now?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s the rush?’
‘Shush! Don’t wake anyone,’ said Abby. ‘We should go while the roads are quiet.’
Ellie didn’t move. She seemed to be searching for something to say.
‘You want to stay longer?’ queried Abby, a frown appearing on her face.
‘No,’ said Ellie quickly. She attempted a smile. ‘Happy to get on.’
‘Good.’ Abby hurried over to the desk and opened her purse. Suddenly she stopped. Agonized, she bit her lip.
‘What’s the matter?’ whispered Ellie, her heart racing.
Abby looked up. ‘You don’t have a five-euro note, do you?’
‘What for?’
‘The room is eighty-five euros and I only have tens.’ Abby saw Ellie was staring at her incredulously. Abby grudgingly put some money on the table. ‘Guess Madame will get a tip,’ she said, then made her way to the front door. When she looked back, Ellie was still standing in the hallway. ‘Well, come on then.’
‘Yes,’ her sister said and finally picked up her suitcase and followed her.
The sun was lightening the very bottom strip of the sky, a pale blue line flecked with gold. The girls crunched across the gravel and put their bags on the back seat of the car. Then they got in and buckled up. As Abby pulled away, Ellie quietly, anxiously, checked her watch.
‘No tolls, remember,’ said Abby and Ellie jumped to, retrieving the road map from the door pocket. She concentrated for a moment on their route, directing Abby to the quieter roads. After a few minutes they heard the sound of sirens. Abby urgently looked in her mirrors but the road behind was empty. Then they saw them: two, three police cars on a road running adjacent to theirs, going in the opposite direction.
‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ mused Abby.
‘Hmm,’ said Ellie, but then the police had gone, their sirens fading into the distance.
They continued to drive, away from Carcassonne. Abby saw Ellie glancing in the wing mirror. After the third time she asked, ‘Is there something up?’
‘No! Nothing,’ said Ellie.
‘Only you keep looking behind us.’
‘There’s nothing there,’ reassured Ellie.
Abby frowned. ‘Is everything OK? You seem a bit jumpy.’
‘Just tired. No sleep, you know.’
Abby nodded and then looked back at the road. ‘At least the police have gone,’ she said.
Ellie kept silent.
FORTY-THREE
The three police cars, sirens now silenced, pulled up into the driveway of Le Jardin Bed & Breakfast. Police emptied out of the vehicles, running stealthily up to the building, spreading out, covering every exit.
‘Ouvrez cette porte! Police!’ shouted the French chief. His colleague stood by with the ram – he’d give it five seconds before giving him the nod to use it. His team were in position at the back of the building. A window opened a couple of floors up and a bleary-eyed woma
n leaned her head out, asked what was going on. They ignored her.
The front door suddenly opened. An imperious middle-aged woman in a bed jacket, her long grey hair curled over one shoulder, stood on the threshold.
‘Are you the owner of this business?’ asked the police chief, in French, as he entered, his team streaming past into the property.
The madame eyed him haughtily. ‘Yes.’
‘We’re looking for two English women, mid-thirties.’
‘They’re on the second floor. Room five.’
The words were barely out of her mouth when the police chief, accompanied by his colleague, were up the stairs. The door to room five was shut.
‘Key,’ barked the police chief to the madame, who elbowed him aside and, removing a key from a large bunch in her pocket, slid it into the lock.
‘Step aside, Madame,’ said the police chief and, gun raised, he pushed open the door. It swung open to reveal an empty room.
‘Merda!’ muttered Baroni. She’d been in this house since the early hours of the morning, holed up in the living room. She looked at the English woman with the red face who was sitting down in the armchair. ‘You’re certain you rang us the minute Ellie called?’
‘Positive,’ said Susanna. ‘I was asleep when she phoned me from the B & B in Carcassonne – like I told you. She said she’d crept downstairs leaving Abby in bed. She’s found your gun.’ Susanna turned accusingly to Matteo, who was leaning against the wall, listening to Baroni’s report of failing to catch his wife and her sister.
‘She’s terrified,’ continued Susanna. ‘She begged me to send help. To get there before Abby woke up,’ she emphasized, this time turning to set her accusing gaze on Baroni.
‘We sent the message through immediately,’ insisted Baroni. ‘As far as I’m aware, the French police responded rapidly. Perhaps Abby woke early.’
‘It was five thirty a.m.!’ said Susanna.
Matteo looked up at his mother-in-law. ‘She has a lot on her mind,’ he said pointedly.
‘None of this is normal behaviour,’ said Susanna, upset. ‘My daughter is running across bloody Europe with a bloody gun and dragging poor Ellie along with her and God knows how this is all going to end. But if anything happens to my beautiful girl’ – Susanna looked from Baroni to Matteo, her eyes blazing – ‘I will never forgive either of you.’
FORTY-FOUR
They were on the move again. Driving, driving. Running. Ellie was following the map, giving her sister directions. To where, she didn’t know. She was just heading in the opposite direction to where they’d come from.
Ellie suddenly realized she was having trouble focusing. She looked down at the page again. A jumble of squiggly lines, the minor roads white and ghostlike in contrast to the main red roads they had to avoid. It was easy to lose your way, easy to get snarled up on a route that became like a tangled mess of spaghetti, twisting this way and that, with no way to get back on track.
Ellie had given up checking the mirror to her right. No police cars had followed them. She understood the police they’d seen early that morning had got to the B & B too late. And now the two of them were untraceable again.
‘Where are we going?’ she suddenly asked Abby.
‘Just keep heading west.’
‘West is Spain.’
‘Is it? Fancy some paella? A bit of flamenco?’ asked Abby, breaking into hysterical laughter.
Ellie glanced across. Her sister was losing it. Or had she been like that since they’d set off? Mad? Obsessive?
‘Has Jamie called?’ asked Ellie.
‘I haven’t switched the phone on yet. It’s only just gone six in the morning, five in the UK.’
‘We should check.’
‘I will.’
Ellie still wasn’t sure if she believed in this Jamie. Why would Abby need to speak to a criminal lawyer about all this mess if she’s planning on doing me in?
Oh! Ellie’s blood suddenly ran cold.
Abby pulled up at a T-junction and waited for instruction. Ellie glanced down at the map but it was blurred. She tried following the map with her finger but the image wouldn’t steady. Everything was in double vision. She looked up out of the windscreen. It was the same with the landscape. Two hedges, two electricity pylons, two birds balancing on the wires.
‘Left or right?’ asked Abby.
Ellie lifted the map closer. It didn’t help. She shook it, frustrated.
‘Are you OK?’
‘It’s gone a bit blurred,’ admitted Ellie.
‘Want me to take a look?’
Ellie handed the road map over and Abby silently checked it, then she gave it back and turned the car left.
‘What was all that about?’ Abby asked once they were driving again.
Ellie shrugged.
‘Do you think . . .?’
Ellie looked up at her sister. Abby was biting her lip.
‘What?’
‘It’s just a thought . . .’
‘Spit it out.’
‘You haven’t been right since we left on Tuesday afternoon.’
‘And?’
‘Mum served up. Your first night here. She was alone in the kitchen. You don’t think she gave you something, do you?’
Ellie looked over at her sister. Nothing but innocence and concern sprang from her eyes.
FORTY-FIVE
The reporter was one of the best-turned-out women Susanna had ever seen. She wore a navy pencil skirt with a discreet split up the thigh. Her elegant arms were caressed by a fluid silk shirt in a soft pink. At her tanned neck was a single, subtle diamond. Gabriella was in her early forties, but Susanna thought she looked much younger. Her glossy dark brown hair was lifted with copper highlights and her skin glowed. Oh, how Susanna envied her skin, her smooth face. Ashamed of her own, she’d insisted on having her back to the camera and under no circumstances was the cameraman to take any shots of her sunburned face.
Susanna felt insignificant sat in front of this Italian beauty, but reminded herself it wasn’t all painful. Gabriella had contacted her asking for an exclusive interview for their cable magazine show, a call that had caught Susanna unawares, and a producer had offered a fee. Something else that had surprised her. The producer had been quite persuasive, Susanna remembered, and she’d concluded that it couldn’t do any harm, especially as they’d promised not to broadcast any of the interview until Ellie had been found. They didn’t want to get in the way of the investigation and knew that Abby mustn’t find out that Susanna was alive in case it made her act rashly.
Susanna had trusted them and invited them in. Matteo had been told to keep out – it was her story, they were her daughters. And it helped to talk about it. She was so desperate for Ellie to be safe and well and she had no one else to confide in. She’d kept the secret of Ellie and Abby’s childhood for decades. Matteo was hard to talk to – he was struggling to believe his new wife was temperamental and volatile. It was understandable, but Susanna was losing patience.
‘Are you ready?’ asked Gabriella in her beautifully accented English.
Susanna nodded. ‘Just don’t . . .’ she began again, nervously.
‘It’s OK. Paolo will not show your face,’ reassured Gabriella. ‘Now remember, my introduction will be in Italian and then we will conduct the interview itself in English. OK?’
Susanna nodded.
Gabriella took a breath, then another, a well-practised act of composure. She nodded at Paolo, who’d set his camera up behind Susanna. Then, on his signal, she began to speak.
‘It was meant to be a special time, a family reunion between a mother and her two grown-up daughters. One of them lives here, on our beautiful island of Elba; the other has come to visit from London. These sisters have a history of being estranged, after a difficult and painful childhood. There has been a terrible rivalry, where Abby, the older sister, has resented her beautiful blonde baby sister, Ellie, since birth. Imagine the difficulty for Susanna, the poor mother cau
ght between them, who is here with me today. Imagine her heartbreak when her eldest daughter, Abby, rejects the younger one, Ellie. Then imagine her horror when she discovers Abby tried to murder Ellie when they were children.’
Gabriella paused, her hand fluttering to her chest, then composed herself and continued.
‘Susanna managed to save Ellie’s life all those years ago – and we will be talking to Susanna more about that in a minute. But now we have a situation of grave and immediate danger. At this very moment, as we are speaking right now, Abby has kidnapped Ellie and gone on the run with her. They are currently missing, having eluded the Carabinieri for almost two days. We know they have left Italy and made it to France. We do not know where they are now. Meanwhile, their distraught mother, who cannot show you her face due to a terrible accident inflicted by her daughter before she left, is desperate for them to be found.’
Gabriella turned her gaze from down the lens of the camera to Susanna, where her features softened in empathy.
‘Susanna, there is much to talk about here but why don’t we start with the most important thing? How concerned are you for Ellie’s safety?’
Susanna swallowed; her voice had suddenly dried up. ‘I’m desperately worried,’ she said. ‘Abby has a history of being obsessive and ruthless. She will set her sights on a goal and nothing will distract her.’
‘And you think she may have a goal now?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘And that goal is?’ prompted Gabriella.
Susanna felt her voice catch. She had to say it, however hard it was. ‘I think she wants her sister out of the way. Forever. She’s always been jealous of her – she still is. Only the other day, here in this house, she was upset that Ellie was getting on well with Matteo.’
Gabriella raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Matteo is Abby’s husband,’ explained Susanna. ‘I was with Abby when she overheard the two of them talking. Ordinary stuff, you know, just friendly conversation. But Abby hated it. She won’t let go. She has everything she could wish for – a nice house, a great life – but she isn’t happy.’
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