Page 97 of Glasshouses

“Detective,” she said when I was close enough. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have fifteen minutes for a coffee?”

“That long?” She turned around towards Peter Street. “I’ll have a tea. You go ahead and I’ll get us a table.”

I found myself doing what she’d said, something oddly calming about being given a clear instruction with no need for me to think, and I wondered whether a holiday abroad would be a good idea. When I had the drinks, I found Tabitha next to the window in a corner, looking at the passersby and seeming weary compared to when I’d first met her.

“Here. I brought sugar.” I took the sachets out of my pocket and put them on the table.

“I won’t need it.” She stirred milk into the tea, watching the circles. “You want to talk about Lily?”

“We don’t know where she is. She hasn’t been home for two nights.” We’d confirmed no one was in the house. Curtains were opened and there was no sign of life, her car not on the drive.

“I see. I heard about the boy in the fire at Lily’s old home.” She swallowed, still looking out of the window. “Lily should’ve met me today. She didn’t show up. That’s the first time since she was released.” Her focus landed on me; she took a long breath, the exhale visible. “Something’s not right.”

“We know. That’s why we’re looking for her. But I don’t think we have all the information, do we, Tabitha?”

Tabitha bristled, sipping her tea. “I wish they’d use proper tea bags in these coffee chains, ones that had a bit of taste.” She put the mug down. “Lily is a complex girl - ”

“Woman,” I corrected. “She’s thirty-one.”

“She’s still a girl. The trauma she went through – whether she started that fire or not, it was still traumatic for her – has kept her as a child. I often thought that was the best outcome, because as an adult she could be dangerous.” She sat back in the chair, people watching again.

“What do you mean?”

“She has no empathy, but she has a huge desire to please people. That’s why her gardening clients love her, that’s why those of us who work with her are hopeful for her. She will act in the way you want her to, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how she’s manipulating you too.” She leaned forward and picked up her drink.

“Why are you telling me this now, and not when we first spoke?”

“Because I had no reason to.” She rested the mug on her lap. “I’m a hopeful person. Lily was doing well at work, booking little jaunts abroad and trying new places and she hadn’t deviated from anything. Every appointment was met, she kept us informed about when she was going on holiday, when she changed her vehicle, everything was transparent.”

“What changed?”

“She phoned me the night the brick was put through her window. She was shaken and upset; she was still very nervous about her identity being discovered, all of that was genuine. But during that conversation she mentioned Stefan Taylor, that she thought he’d thrown the brick because the message was something he’d given her before. He was one of the boys she hung around with before the fire, and when she was first in hospital, she’d written his name on lots of notes with hearts, even her own name with his.” She put down the mug, barely any of it drunk.

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

“Because it wasn’t relevant, until the night of the brick. But Lily did sometimes teeter between fragile but plausibly stable and living with one foot on a different plane. Trauma. Her memories weren’t always based in what had actually happened; she would have violent nightmares and was often sure that they’d happened and then she’d tell us when it actually had. The dreams were part of the reason she stayed in hospital longer than perhaps she should, although maybe it should’ve been for longer.” Another sigh. “I spoke to her two days ago. I gave her a call because I was surprised I hadn’t heard from her – anything remotely like that and I’d be hearing from her three or four times a day. She sounded completely different than I’d ever heard her; euphoric, almost and very excited.” She paused, drank her tea.

I waited. There was a huge contradiction between having no empathy as well as being eager to please, suggesting Lily had learned social performance cognitively rather than emotionally. She had learned compliance, mimicry and appeasement as survival strategies as a child, until for some reason she stopped and became wild.

What caused that change? Who caused that change? Was it Stefan Taylor?

“She said something about Stefan – Stefan said she was a better gardener than her father – but then she went off on a tangent that was barely understandable.” She used a napkin to wipe her fingers. “I contacted Doctor McKay.”

“Why didn’t you contact us?”

“You were already suspicious. If I said anything about a change in Lily’s behaviour, she’d have been suspect number one in your case.”

“And she probably should be. If she’s involved in the fire that nearly killed a child, you could’ve prevented that.” It was a low blow.

Tabitha shook her head. “I can’t imagine her being involved in that. Not the Lily I know. But I am worried, Detective. I’ve not heard from her, and she’s not been at home. That house is her safe space. She’s lived there since it was built and she calls it her cocoon. If she’s not gone home, something’s changed.”

I left Tabitha to finish her tea, calling Wrigley on my way to my car, legs tired from the morning’s run. He’d spoken to Ste Taylor’s manager and found that he hadn’t turned up for his shift. No one had heard from him either. There was a car going round to his house as Wrigley spoke, while I was heading straight over to Millstone Secure Hospital.

I phoned ahead, checking that Doctor McKay was on shift and could be available, the urgency in my voice making the receptionist nervous, placing me on hold and enforcing three minutes of holding music before telling me she’d see me as soon as I got there.

The journey was a blur, terraced houses transforming into stone houses with gardens and then longer roads with wooded land between them. Millstone was bathed in June sunshine, looking like a house from a fairytale until you zoomed in and noticed the subtle signs that all was not as it seemed.