No, that was the old Amy Nash. The new one was only half-done, but soon she'd be reborn from her chrysalis of dye and peroxide. Things would be different today, and for every day after.
Her phone blipped again, and Amy hesitated with her gloves half-on and brought up the message, expecting Jenny to have changed her tone or for another anonymous to have come chiming in.
The text wasn't either of these things.
"I'm really sorry I can't find Jack, please do you know where he is?" asked Jessica.
Five
Amy stared at the little screen in disbelief. Was Jessica just going to pretend it hadn't happened? Perhaps there was no reason why it should amount to anything – they'd both been drunk, they'd fallen, nothing had been deliberate.
"I'm sorry I haven't," she messaged back. "Are you ok, I was really worried?"
The answer came seconds later. "I'm fine the hospital said it's nothing but a graze BUT they tried to call Jack to pick me up and he wasn't answering, and now he's not at the house."
Amy checked the time. She had a couple of hours before her shift – later today, someone else was taking the early start – but that was barely enough to recolour her hair properly.
She'd stay blonde for now. She could condition it in five minutes, and there were more important things.
"Do you want me to come over?" she sent, and found her fingers trembling.
Jessica's reply was only one word.
"Please."
Jessica's head felt like someone had taken a hammer and chisel to it. The hospital had insisted on keeping her overnight, just in case, and had sent a protesting Terry away, leaving her with no company but for the hum of distant machinery and the smell of medical alcohol. She'd barely slept, tossing and turning on the well-starched mattress until dawn released her.
Jack hadn't come. The hospital had rung and she'd rung again later, hiding her phone under the covers against the instructions of the nurse; but the calls hadn't even got through, only reaching voicemail. Was he asleep? Out? She didn't know, and regretted her anger of the other day.
With no-one else to ask she'd messaged Terry and he'd shown up that morning full of smiles to help walk her home, chattering and showing off all the way back. Jessica found herself falling into silence, and even though her legs were still uncertain refused the offer of his arm. She tried not to think of last night, but it kept coming up like a bad meal.
"This is you, yeah?" Terry had brought her to the front gate, and Jessica nodded and realised the hated smile was back on her face. Terry grinned back, and looked stripped of his confidence in that moment, like an uncertain little boy.
"Want me to come in?"
"Thanks but no, I'll be fine." Jessica needed to rest, properly sleep, not to be bombarded with hands and gestures. She allowed him to hug her, but ducked away when he tried to add a kiss. "Look, I'm really tired. I'll talk to you later?"
"Yeah, ok," and with that he was away down the street. Jessica could see Terry pausing to kick the drifts of leaves, sending them scattering into the air.
She turned the key in the door, thinking of beds and curtains and warm welcome darkness when –
– the interview.
She'd forgotten the interview.
Jessica checked the time, and she barely had an hour. She needed to wash, change, get moving.
She was about to sprint up the stairs when she noticed the sounds coming from the kitchen. Someone was moving around – and not only moving, she could hear the bang of metal and the crackle of glass.
Poised to run, Jessica edged around the kitchen door.
The back door was open, and the kitchen table had been pushed to one side. Standing in the middle of the floor was a man she didn't know, dressed in a long coat and stained overalls, with his head enveloped by an enormous flat cap. His back was to her, and he was poking and prodding at the light fitting with a metal pole of some kind.
Jessica knocked on the half-open door. She could see a toolbox on the floor by the man's feel, full of gleaming metal.
"Good morning." The man spun, still holding onto his pole, and touched the tip of his cap to her. "I must apologise, I thought everyone was out." His voice was dry with age.
"My brother should be here," Jessica said. She couldn't see the man's face properly – the cap kept his eyes in shadow, leaving only a chin exposed. "I'm sorry, what're you doing here?"
"Fixing that," said the main in the flat cap, and managed to point towards the light fitting without either of his hands letting go of the pole. "Your landlord gave me the keys, said one of you had been calling."
"Jack must've." Jessica remembered the light acting up. "You got here really quickly."
"Just passing by." The man touched his cap to her again. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to excuse me–”
Of course, she'd interrupted him. Jessica mumbled "I'll leave you in peace," and headed backwards out of the kitchen.
Her foot caught something and sent it clacking across the tiles. Jessica bent to look at it, and found herself looking at Jack's phone.
"Are you sure no-one was here?" she asked the workman, but he shook his head and kept wrenching at the ceiling. There was some kind of claw on the end of the pole, and Jessica wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just climb up there.
Grabbing the phone, she left.
Her brother's phone was switched firmly off, and refused to turn back on. Jessica didn't know where he kept the charger. She headed upstairs to Jack's room – he'd probably fallen asleep and forgotten it downstairs – but found the room empty and the curtains wide.
Moving faster now, ignoring the increased pain this brought, Jessica flew through every room in the house. All empty. Jack's clothes were there, his shoes were there. Only the clothes he'd worn yesterday were missing.
She needed to talk to someone. She needed to breathe, to calm down and think and stop imagining murders and kidnappings and fatal accidents. Where had that workman come from? He'd known about the light and the back door hadn't been forced, so he couldn't have broken in – besides he'd shown no interest in her or the phone.
She needed to ask where Jack was, but who would know? Jessica thought of Steven, and a wave of bile rushed into her throat. That horrible little bastard kid had shown his true colours, and she would never go within a mile of him again. No to Steven, never Steven.
She thought of trying Mum and Dad, but even in her desperation didn't want to face that talk. She didn't know any of Jack's other friends, not the ones he'd made since she left, and the people she remembered him knowing in childhood had all disappeared save for the horrible Steven. Her brother had grown while Jessica had been away, and these last few days had barely begun to show her how.
That only left Amy. Amy who'd broken down in tears after trying to –
Jessica killed the last thought before it could start.
She'd been drunk, and Amy had been drunker. For all she'd been angry at the time, Amy's behaviour was nothing compared to what she'd been through the rest of the night. Maybe it could be forgotten, and she had to talk to someone, just to be reassured or told where her brother was or if he was okay.
She was going to be late for the interview. Hang the interview. Damn the interview. Her head was flaring up again, and Jessica could barely think.
She tried to text with Jack's phone without thinking, and dropped it on the floor and sat down on her bed.
To her relief and surprise, Amy answered almost instantly. A couple of messages later, Jessica put her knees to her chest and hugged herself, waiting.
When the knock came and Jessica opened the door she found a changed Amy, hesitant and uncertain but with her hair a stark bleached-blonde and all her fire gone. It didn't suit her.
Amy hung back, and Jessica made herself step forward and hug her and bring her into the house. "Thanks for coming," she said, and found tears creeping into her voice.
Amy clung to her, then Jessica could feel her friend tense up and pull back. "It's
okay," she said, and bit her lip. "And um. Sorry. Sorry about before."
"I can't really remember it," Jessica lied, closing the front door. She saw Amy look towards the kitchen, and explained "There's a man in there fixing the light."
"Oh." Amy seemed short on words, and sat herself down on the foot of the stairs. There was one of those silences, and just as Jessica began to shiver Amy spoke again. "So, about Jack–”
"I can't find him anywhere," Jessica said and sat beside Amy, though keeping a careful distance between them. "I tried calling last night and I've looked everywhere this morning and he's disappeared."
"Maybe he went out?"
"He can't have done." Jessica bent her head, not wanting to show her face. "His shoes are still here, and I found his phone in the kitchen. It won't switch on and I think the battery's dead."
One of Amy's hands found its way to her shoulder. Jessica bristled, but then she felt the hand shake and realised Amy was as scared as she. She let the hand stay.
Her phone chimed. Jessica tore it out of her bag so fast that it fell on the carpet, and both she and Amy went for it and saw the message.
No name, no face. "It's safe in the dark."
"I – I keep getting those." Amy's voice was cracking. "I think it's someone I know."
"Same here." Jessica deleted it and sat back on the stairs. She knew what was coming next, and the heavy anguish of it made her feel ill.
"I'd better call my parents," she said.
"I – I have to go to work in a bit," Amy said, and looked utterly miserable about it.
Jessica knew she shouldn't but there was a wrench inside her at the idea of being left alone, and she found herself saying "Can you call in sick?"
"I suppose." Amy looked torn, but Jessica offered her no escape. She didn't want to bring last night up again, but surely Amy owed her after that? Her friend could do just this one thing and then Jessica would forget about it, let things go back to how they were before.
Amy fumbled for her phone, and Jessica left her to it, heading into the rarely-used living room and bringing up her parents' number.
She had another message. Steven.
Jessica deleted it without reading.
Steven had only spoken to Hazel's parents once, back when they'd come for her birthday. He'd used the number to talk to her when she went home for Christmas, and forgotten he still had it.
Not here. He wasn't going to call them from outside her house, with the shape that might-or-might-not be Hazel listening through the windows. He'd go home and shower and eat and get himself in order, then he'd ring them and ask about what was probably nothing.
He hoped Hazel was okay though. She would probably have answered if he hadn't been there. It wasn't like her not to answer.
Jessica, though, wasn't okay. Steven shuddered, seeing again the table, her face, her falling as if in slow-motion. He hadn't meant to. It'd been a slip, an accident, the kind of thing anyone could have done.
He needed to know if she was all right, no matter what Jenny said.
Staggering back home again, Steven sent her a message, but no answer came. She hadn't forgiven him. Couldn't she see how he felt? If he didn't care so much he wouldn't have done anything.
Langley Avenue was busy that morning – people taking their kids to school, bundling groups of children along the pavement. Dogs barked, pushchairs skidded off the kerb. Steven shouldered wearily through it all, ignoring the stares he got for his hair and smell.
Tom was where Steven had left him earlier, curled up on the sofa with one arm wrapped protectively around his laptop. Steven went to open the curtains, and Tom groaned and twitched and tried to roll over.
"Hey man," Steven said to him.
For a second, Tom's expression was one of absolute panic, arms wrapping around his computer, then he recognised Steven and relaxed. "Alright mate. Send anyone else to casualty?"
Steven kicked the foot of the sofa. "Leave off."
"Just kidding," Tom said wearily, sitting up. "What're you up to today?"
"Got work later." Steven didn't want to think about that.
"That's what you said yesterday, you liar." Tom chuckled and leaned forward, flipping his laptop open and powering it up.
Steven kicked the sofa again and Tom jumped. "What's wrong with you?"
"You should know, he's your friend." Steven sat down at the table, pushing the discarded cans off the seat and onto the floor.
"No I don't." Tom typed as he spoke, eyes never leaving the screen.
"Sodding Terry," Steven shouted, and the feelings he'd been trying to bury came rushing up. Losing Jessica was bad enough, but to him?
"Eh, I don't think he's the type." Tom smirked.
"Wait, what?" That took Steven a few seconds to get, then he threw an empty can at Tom's head when it finally sank in.
"Ow!" Tom actually let go his laptop and stood up, revealing himself to be as crumpled and dishevelled as Steven himself. "Mate, you need to drop this. Chill. Right now."
The light popped and flickered as if it could hear them shouting. Train of thought broken, Steven and Tom both stared at it.
"There's been a lot of that lately," Tom said, sitting back down and reaching for his computer.
"Faulty wires," Steven shrugged.
"Don't think so." Tom pointed to his screen. "There's some references on here, on the local groups – lots of people complaining."
"How does that mean it's not the wires?" Steven didn't have time for Tom's conspiracy junk today, for all it was normally funny.
"There's patterns," Tom said, playing it up. "You just gotta know where to look for them."
"Hey, you heard anything from Hazel?" Steven remembered with a wave of shame, and pulled his phone out.
"Not a thing." Tom was gone again, immersed in the glow of pixels."I thought she was still pissed at you."
Steven ignored him, heading upstairs and dialling Hazel's mum's number. Jenny'd be cross at him otherwise, and the last thing he needed was any more people getting mad.
He swallowed, sitting at the top of the stairs. This was going to be awkward.
When Steven finally climbed out of the shower, his legs were itching and his fingers had started to wrinkle at the tips. He'd stayed under the hot water until it ran out, thinking without point or purpose.
Hazel's mother had been polite, but Steven had got the impression she really didn't want to talk to him. Hazel must've told her the other side of the story last week. He'd tried to communicate Jenny's concern, but Steven had been hindered by the fact he himself wasn't sure if there was anything to be worried about – Hazel had always been a private person, and it wouldn't take much of a push for her to shut herself off completely.
Either way he'd done all he could do. He texted Jenny, "Told her mum, says she's going to come down sometime."
No reply. Jenny must be at work by now, and Steven remembered her saying mobiles weren't allowed.
He didn't have work until the afternoon – it was just a short shift like yesterday, barely worth turning up. Steven thought about trying Jessica again, but decided it might be best to give her a few hours at least. Show her he was being sensitive and patient.
There was one person he could message, though.
Steven brought up Terry's number, still finding that taunting message from last night. Good. He needed to be angry.
"Leave her the hell alone you sodding arse or I'll kick your head in so help me"
Jenny was having a busy morning, even for her. There was an auto-dialling program that sent you off to a new call every time you'd logged one, but it normally gave you a couple of minutes between to catch your breath. A couple of people hadn't shown up today, though, so the calls were going through non-stop, reaching irate homebodies and pensioners and benefits claimants nation-wide.
Jenny was good at sales, it suited her. The trick wasn't just to flirt, like some of the other girls did, but to persuade yourself you actually fancied the person on the other en
d of the line. It just flowed naturally after that. Blokes were easiest of course, but Jenny found she could make herself interested in women as long as it was only over a phone line – and women were less used to that approach being taken with them, got confused and folded more easily. With calls coming as quickly as they were that morning, she'd already passed her target halfway through the shift and started to get bored.
She surreptitiously checked her phone under the desk – even the managers did that, for all you weren't supposed to. There was an excuse from Steven about how useless he was, and some new public posting by Terry – she'd come back to that – and a new anonymous question.
Jenny nearly didn't open the last. It said "hey wats that banging outside"
The one last night could have been coincidence, but this – this gave Jenny a rushing in her ears, as if she were outside in the wind. It didn't make sense, but it fitted whatever was happening. Why couldn't she get the old pervy questions instead, the ones asking for pictures of her bum?
She looked at Terry's update instead, trying to distract herself. He was sharing a message he'd received from someone, and commented "Look at this prat hahahah"
That made twice in two days Steven had lost his temper. Jenny didn't care too much for Jessica and her plastic-good-looks, but the way he was starting to behave around her wasn't healthy, and he had to be told. She added her own comment.
There was no sense asking him to help with Hazel again. Maybe Amy would be better. Amy was okay really, and she should be feeling a sense of obligation towards Jenny by now.
Checking for managers on both sides, Jenny sent her text and dropped her phone carefully back in her bag just as the next call started.
Amy had tried to rough her voice up before she rang Peter Urbas, and it seemed to work, for she got a "Miss Nash, whatever is the matter?" as soon as she said her name.
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