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‘Well, no. I just got back, and Mum’s out and she won’t be back until, like, this evening. And I haven’t got a key. She said that you might have a spare?’
‘Oh,’ she says, turning behind her to look at the console where she keeps things like neighbours’ keys. ‘Yes, I think actually I do, hold on just a second.’
She feels through the drawers in the console, but they’re not there. ‘Come in,’ she says. ‘Come in. I think they might be in the kitchen.’
Harry follows her through the hallway and stands awkwardly in the entrance to the kitchen while she goes through more drawers. Eventually she finds them, in an envelope with her neighbour’s name scrawled on it. ‘Aha!’ she says triumphantly. ‘Here they are. I think you were about ten years old when she gave us these. It’s when you were off on your American road trip. Remember that?’
‘Ha,’ says Harry, taking the envelope from her outstretched hand. ‘Yes, I do. And thank you.’
‘No worries at all.’ She leads him back down the hallway and then, just before they get to the door, she remembers something. ‘Oh, Harry. By the way. You and your brother went to Queen’s Park High, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘And you’re how old?’
‘I’m twenty-one.’
‘So, do you remember two sisters at your school – Erin and Roxy Fair?’
She studies his face carefully as he forms his response. ‘Oh, shit, yes. I certainly do,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘Roxy was in my year. She was insane.’
‘Insane?’
‘Yes. Scary as shit.’
‘Oh, that’s interesting. In what way?’
‘Just scary. You know. Hard. Aggressive.’ Harry cocks his head and looks at her. ‘Wait,’ he says, ‘do you know her?’
‘No. No, I’ve never met her. I know her mother though.’
‘Right.’
‘Apparently Roxy left home when she was sixteen.’
Harry throws her another look. ‘Left? Or ran away?’
‘Ran away? Why do you say that?’
‘I don’t know. There were a lot of rumours about her. About both of them. About their home life. Like, dark stuff.’
‘Like …?’
‘I dunno. Abuse, I guess? The older one, Erin. She was so weird. Literally the weirdest person I have ever met. I never spoke to her, but I would see her around, with these really dark brown eyes, and she was so thin. You know, apparently, she never ate solid food. That’s what I heard. Never in her life. Only soft food.’ He tips the envelope from one hand to the next and then beams at Alix. ‘Well, thanks for the keys. I’ll get them back to you later. In case we need them again in another eleven years from now. See you.’
‘Yes,’ says Alix, closing the door as he leaves, ‘see you.’
Saturday, 6 July
Josie returns to the same spot where she’d bumped into Alix the week before, just outside the coffee shop from which she’d run in a state of certainty that she’d seen Roxy on the street. She buys a coffee and sits outside with it. It’s a cool cloudy day, the beginning of July, but it feels more like September and the air carries the sad feeling of the end of summer although it is still in its full stride. Josie knows that it wasn’t Roxy she saw last week. She knows it with 99 per cent of her soul. But there is still 1 per cent that thinks: Why not? Why wouldn’t it be Roxy? Roxy had once existed in three dimensions, there is no reason why she shouldn’t exist in three dimensions still, and no reason furthermore why those three dimensions should not be here, on Salusbury Road, inches from where she sits.
She sips her coffee and stares across the street, her eyes taking in the form and shape of every young woman who passes. The dog sees a standard poodle and starts yapping madly at it. ‘Shhh,’ Josie whispers into his ear. ‘Shush now.’
She makes the coffee last as long as she can and then she sighs and gets to her feet.
She has not seen Roxy.
The emptiness of this realisation scoops out the base of her belly.
