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me, from Sister Kwame’s bottle, and I answered all Silver’s questions as he took me home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Someone was calling my name, over and over again. I swam up to the surface. As I bashed against sedation’s spongy crust, it was too late—I had remembered. Frantically I tried to burrow back down into oblivion, but oblivion had gone.
    I covered my face with the sheet until eventually I was forced out by Leigh. She stood above me, steaming cup in one hand, pill bottle in the other, and I sat bolt upright in hope but she quickly said there was no more news, not yet. Mickey was still unconscious, Louis still not found—but not long now, eh? Leigh was carefully cheerful—over-cheerful in fact—and her make-up was perfect. She said DI Silver was back, downstairs, and he wanted to go through things again. And then the doorbell rang, and my stomach leapt. She went down to answer it.
    ‘It’s just Deb,’ she called up and I sank back down again, forlorn.
    I was befuddled. The bed was all wet; I couldn’t think why. Then I realised that my milk was spillingout, the bed soaking it up. I sipped and burnt my mouth-on the boiling drink, I clutched my damp knees and tried not to shake. Then I got up very suddenly and went into the glossy en suite with the roll-top bath and the shower so powerful it stung my skin every time I stepped beneath it, the bathroom that used to excite me so, and I threw up. I retched and retched until there was nothing left inside. I slumped over the toilet. I thought that I would kill myself if my baby was not alive. After a while I forced myself up off the floor; I wiped my face and cleaned my teeth.
    I tried to think for a minute but my brain felt like the fuzzy bit when you can’t tune a telly in. Then I picked up the phone and I dialled my mum in Spain. There was a hiss on the line like I was ringing outer space and then George answered, out of breath. I didn’t tell him anything. Irrationally, I wanted my mother, but she was out, of course, probably playing bridge and drinking gin, or shopping for more headscarves. He was jolly old George and he made me want to cry again but I didn’t, the tears had dried for now. Instead I asked that she ring me back as soon as possible, and then I went down to see DI Silver.
    Leigh was fussing round him in a way that immediately put me on edge. I slopped more coffee from the pot on the side into my cup. My eyes felt hot and sandy as the policeman smiled at me, folding his used napkin very tight. It was rather a lopsided smile, out of kilter with his measured movements.
    ‘The au pair?’ Silver asked politely, placing the napkinneatly on the table in front of him. I waited impatiently as he unwrapped a stick of gum. Last night, I wondered, why didn’t I warm to you?
    ‘Maxine Dufrais—is she here? I’d like to speak to her.’
    I glanced at his plate, wiped totally clean; looked over at Leigh. She flushed. ‘Eggs, Jess?’ she asked, and turned back to the hob. I shook my head. The thought of food made me want to retch again.
    ‘Is Maxine up?’ I asked, and I tried hard not to see the pile of Louis’s bibs folded neatly on the counter. Leigh moved herself surreptitiously to stand in front of them.
    ‘Haven’t heard her.’
    I went out into the hall to call Maxine. Anything to get away from Silver’s polite but probing stare. My head felt strange and woozy; I was puzzled that my sister was flirting with this stranger in my kitchen. Then I thought of Louis and how much I needed the stranger, and I shoved my discomfort down.
    Maxine wasn’t stirring apparently. I went up to the next floor and called again. Silence met me. Balancing precariously on one bare foot, I craned up through the twisting stairwell. I could just about see her bedroom door from here, up in the attic. It was very slightly ajar.
    ‘Maxine,’ I called again. Nothing. Muttering, I tramped up the attic stairs.
    She wasn’t there. The room smelt fusty, the bed was rumpled.