Chapter 7

SEVEN

Baby Louis was snoring lightly but Lottie was wide awake.

She couldn’t sleep until her girls were home safe. She usually wasn’t this pent up, but some unknown and possibly unrealistic feeling of foreboding was crawling through her blood tonight. She had to do something, because they were not answering their phones. Maybe she’d have a soothing warm bath. Throwing back the duvet, she padded across the newly carpeted floor, relishing the warmth between her toes, and stepped into the bathroom.

‘Oh Holy Mother of God,’ she said. The white ceramic-tiled floor and walls were smeared with fake tan. It was like a troupe of actors had used the small space to get ready for a stage performance. She traced the edge of the integrated shower tiles above the bath with a finger. It came away smudged brown.

‘I’ll kill them. Both of them,’ she whispered. Picking up discarded items of clothing, she dumped them into the wash basket and with all thoughts of a relaxing soak in the bath scuppered went downstairs to heat a mug of milk. One of her mother’s remedies for sleeplessness.

The milk didn’t work. She paced the hallway, phone in hand. It was now past two o’clock. Their curfew was one a.m. For sure she was going to kill the pair of them. Why had she allowed Chloe to go out? She argued with herself in the silence. But she knew she had to trust her girls, even though they had a habit of finding trouble. Or did trouble find them?

Her bare feet slapped against the hall floor. She couldn’t go out to look for them. She had the baby to watch. Unless she roused Sean. She tried Katie’s phone again. Dead. She tapped Chloe’s number. Same thing. Why didn’t they charge their phones? She toyed with the idea of calling Boyd to see if he’d go out to look for them. No, she dismissed that thought. He’d tell her she was being overprotective and to let them live a little. Her new resolution of being a better mother was quickly evaporating, and still she couldn’t shift the quiver of unease fluttering at the base of her neck.

Where the hell were her daughters?

Penny Brogan knew she had a wide smile on her face and that her cheeks were flushed. She felt slightly giddy, and it wasn’t just from the last two shots Ducky Reilly had dared her to drink. She ran her tongue slowly over her lips, trying to feel the memory of his. Ducky was a friend. Just a friend. But after the last J?gerbomb, she’d kissed him. Leaning against the scratchy wall behind the seats in the smoking garden. And oh my God, she’d never have guessed in a million years how good it would feel. She was glad she’d worn her lace knickers and not a thong, because she could still feel his hands moving beneath the elastic waistband of her shimmery dress and his fingers toying with the knickers. She shivered with delight. His hands on her bum. Searching and probing. A soft squeal escaped her lips now as she stood outside the nightclub wondering where the hell Amy had gone. Stupid bitch. Should have waited the five minutes.

She glanced at the screen of her phone and realised it was half an hour since she’d last seen her friend. Why hadn’t Amy waited? But Penny wasn’t going to allow that inconvenience to dim the glow that was warming her body. She couldn’t even feel the rain.

Making her mind up, she set off in the direction of her apartment. She wasn’t that drunk; she knew how to get there. She might even take off her shoes and dance in the puddles the whole way home. She giggled out loud. She should have more sense at her age, she thought, then laughed.

As she turned the corner at the end of the street, a figure loomed up in front of her. Her hand flew to her mouth, cutting off her scream. A head bent in towards her ear and she had no option but to listen.

‘Amy? Is she okay?’ she said, hearing her friend’s name.

‘She’s in a bad way. You need to come.’

Penny stalled under the street light. The person was still in the shadows. The light caught their eyes and she took a step backwards. ‘Maybe I should call her dad. Or the guards. Maybe I?—’

‘Maybe you should hurry up. She might have been raped. She sent me to get you. Said not to tell anyone. She’s in a right state. Are you coming, or are you going to stand there with your mouth open catching moths all night?’

A hand rested on Penny’s shoulder and she was sure she felt something prick the side of her neck. Damn moths. She didn’t know what to do. The memory of Ducky’s fingers on her skin dimmed and was replaced by a sick feeling of unease. But she had to make sure Amy was all right. Then she’d call her dad. Or the guards.

‘Okay, I’m coming.’

She slipped her high-heeled shoes off and set off through the puddles, slipping and sliding on the greasy footpath in her efforts to keep up. Her mind was whirling with insane thoughts and she was finding it hard to focus.

As they hurried down Petit Lane towards the bridge under the railway tracks, Penny wasn’t at all sure she was doing the right thing.