Part 2 (2/2)

'Does that mean she's dead, Daddy?'

'No, sweetheart. Somebody made her, like we sometimes make things out of Play-Doh. She's never been alive.'

'Is that what people's eyes look like if they've never been alive?'

The doll now lived in a cupboard, but Maggie knew exactly what Josh meant about the eyes.

6.

12 years ago May 7th Sonia Beecham almost didn't recognise the eyes staring back at her in the mirror. They were still pale blue, of course, but the pupils were slightly dilated with excitement, and the eyelashes were tinted with grey mascara an unusual indulgence, but she wanted to look her best because today was special. In fact Sonia thought it was her best day since starting at Manchester University six months previously. She had always found it difficult to make friends and the eagerness on her parents' faces when she came home each night was painful to watch as they waited to hear whether she had met new people. She knew it was out of love for her, but they didn't understand the pressure it put her under.

She was shy. Painfully, embarra.s.singly shy. If anybody spoke to her, she blushed bright red. It was an instant reaction, and one that made her turn away. Never in her wildest dreams could she imagine starting a conversation with anybody. She would rather stick her head in a vat of boiling oil, if the truth were known.

She had heard her parents talking once, a few years ago. They wanted to know what they had done wrong why their daughter had grown up the way she had. So now she had that guilt to bear as well. If only she could make some friends so they would know they had done nothing nothing, that is, except love her and shelter her from anything and everything that would be considered by most people to be a normal experience.

Now, though, things were changing. Her mum had been so concerned that she'd persuaded Sonia's father to stump up for some counselling. Sonia had been horrified. The idea of sitting in a chair telling a complete stranger how embarra.s.sed she was to open her mouth in company made her legs go weak. She had resisted for months, but after Christmas not only had her mum arranged the counselling sessions, she had insisted on going with Sonia for the first few meetings to be sure that Sonia was over her initial embarra.s.sment and was happy to carry on alone.

Sonia had hated it to start with, but gradually her counsellor had given her some tools to help build her confidence. The best of these was the name of a website designed for people like her. She had heard of chat rooms but never been in one. Within a month she had realised that she had plenty to say as long as she could keep it anonymous and n.o.body could see her face. The best of it was, people wanted to listen. She didn't have her own computer to access the site, but there were plenty she could use at the university, and that was better because n.o.body would know what she was doing. If she had had a personal computer at home her mother would forever have been looking over her shoulder.

What she hadn't told a soul because he had asked her not to was that she had met somebody online who was as crippled with shyness as she was. He had told her he was surprised he could even type without stuttering, and that had made her laugh. That was his issue, the burden he had to bear. He couldn't get a whole sentence out without this dreadful stammer halting him in his tracks. They had been talking online now for a couple of weeks, and he said that he thought he might possibly be able to speak to her. They had agreed that if she went red, or if he stuttered, it wouldn't matter. They were both in the same boat. And tonight she was meeting him for the first time.

She had lied to her parents. She had never done that before, but Sonia had known what her mum would say: 'Bring him home, first, love. Let me and your dad meet him do it properly.' Her mother didn't seem to have any concept of how things were done now. Not that Sonia wanted to behave like some of the girls on campus but having to be vetted before he could even go for a drink with her was a sure way to frighten a man off especially one as shy as Sam.

Sam was a good name. Solid-sounding, rea.s.suring. He had said it wasn't a good idea to meet anywhere too public. Having other people around was sure to make them clam up and not be natural with each other. So she was going to meet him in a little park just off the Bridgewater Ca.n.a.l towpath. He said it would be okay there, because there would be people on the other side of the ca.n.a.l at the cafes and bars, but n.o.body would be able to hear if they made complete fools of themselves.

Sam had even told her which tram to get and where to get off. She had followed his instructions to the letter. The walk along the ca.n.a.l was fine to start with. It was quite pretty, and she thought it was wonderful the way places like this were being brought back to life. But as she walked further on it all changed. There was a lot of redevelopment of old mills, their blank windows facing onto the ca.n.a.l. There were no cafes and bars. And no people.

Sonia hurried along the towpath, ducking to walk through a long, low tunnel. She was nearly at the meeting place. As she neared the end of the tunnel, a tall figure stepped out onto the path and for a moment Sonia felt a jolt of fear, but he gave her a little wave so she carried on walking. She knew who he was. He was taller than she expected, and as she got closer, she could see him smiling at her.

'Hi, Sonia,' he said. 'I'm Sam.'

He didn't stutter once.

7.

Tom usually enjoyed the experience of going back to somewhere he was once familiar with. The streets, the houses, the places that had once been important to him evoked distant memories that rushed at him, jumbled and incomplete but soothing in their ordinariness.

Driving to Leo's didn't give him the pleasurable buzz of a flashback to another time, though. Perhaps it was too soon. All he could remember now was his final visit this time last year when he had told Leo that they had no future. He hadn't been sure he could go through with it, and had hoped that somehow he would see a gentler side of her.

'You must do what you must do, Tom,' was all she had said, even though he could see how hurt she was. He had started towards her, wanting to pull her to him, but she had held her arms out in front of her, palms facing him.

'No, we don't need to touch. It was always going to end this way. I told you at the start.'

He had been so exasperated with her that he had turned on his heel and left. It shouldn't have had to end that way. All she'd had to do was trust him.

Now here he was, pulling into the all-too-familiar visitors' parking s.p.a.ce of her apartment building and looking around. Nothing had changed. Not that he could see much. The heavy clouds that had been threatening snow all day were obscuring both moon and stars, and the white lights that lit the pathways around the old warehouse in which Leo's apartment was situated didn't shed much light above knee height.

Tom hadn't meant it to be this late when he arrived, but no sooner had he picked up his car keys to drive here than he had received a summons to brief his boss on a current case. Still, even if Leo had been out during the day, she should be back by now.

He pushed open the car door against a gust of icy wind and pulled his jacket across his chest. There was still no snow here in the urban heat island of central Manchester, but he was well aware that in the outer reaches of his patch the roads would be treacherous.

Head down, Tom walked to the main entrance and pushed Leo's buzzer.

Nothing.

He could try again, but it was b.l.o.o.d.y freezing, so he pressed the buzzer of one of Leo's neighbours, an Italian girl called Daniela whom Tom had met on a few occasions.

'Si. Chi e?'

Tom had forgotten that her spoken English was so poor, although she appeared to understand everything that was said. He hoped her boyfriend was with her to interpret if he wanted to ask her any questions.

'Hi Daniela. It's Tom a friend of Leo's. She's not answering. Can you let me in, please?'

He heard some muttering in the background, none of which he understood, but then the door buzzed and clicked, and he was in. He decided to walk up the three floors to Leo's door.

Daniela and her boyfriend were standing on the landing waiting for him.

'Buona sera,' Daniela said. That much Tom could understand. He nodded to the girl and her boyfriend, whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him.

'Buona sera. I'm so sorry to disturb your evening, but can I ask if you've seen Leo at all? Her sister's worried about her because she didn't turn up to a party on Sunday.'

Daniela frowned and turned to the boyfriend. Her voice rose, and she gabbled away in her own language, complete with hand signals that made no more sense to Tom than her words.

'Daniela says she hasn't seen Leo since Sat.u.r.day, but her car's still in its s.p.a.ce,' the boyfriend said.

It seemed to Tom that Daniela had said much more than that, and he couldn't decide whether the fact that her car was in the underground garage was good news or bad. Was she ill in bed? Or had she gone away for a few days and maybe taken a taxi?

'Do you mean her car hasn't moved?'

Daniela clearly understood that and nodded. She started speaking again, and Tom waited for the interpretation.

'Dani has knocked on the door a couple of times, but Leo hasn't answered. We didn't want to pester her. Leo's a very private person.'

Tom kept his thoughts on that subject to himself. 'Have you got a key, by any chance?' he asked, still not sure what he should do.

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