Chapter Two
I spent my birthday—and the two days after that—lounging on the sofa in my underwear, eating way too much and barely moving.
I hadn’t realised how tired the last few weeks of uni had made me. Too many nights of studying for my final exams, living on energy drinks and terrible food and not enough sleep.
On Friday, I forced myself to get up and clean the house in preparation for Dad and Mags’ return. He’d said he was picking her up from her sister’s today, but I didn’t know if that meant they’d get back tonight or stop somewhere on the way and finish the drive tomorrow.
By the evening everything was clean and I’d done my laundry and showered. As I towelled off my wet hair, I shot off a text to Dad asking if they wanted me to make them some dinner for when they got home. When he didn’t reply after half an hour, I guessed he was probably driving.
I ate in the garden again. I’d forced myself to, every night, to prove to myself that the first night had just been a blip. And I’d been right. The creepy feeling hadn’t returned. The moth hadn’t returned. It was peaceful and quiet out here again.
Dad and Mags hadn’t gotten home by the time I went up to bed at midnight, so I assumed they’d stopped somewhere overnight. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep, but I was jerked awake by a patient but insistent knock on the front door.
The room was still dark. Frowning blearily, I fumbled for my phone and winced as the screen lit up.03:07,the display read.
Had Dad somehow forgotten his keys? Or lost them? I stumbled out of bed and downstairs. I’d left the hallway lamp on in case they got home in the night. I had the sense to peer through the spyhole before opening the door, and my blood ran cold when I saw the two police officers standing out there.
My heart pounding, I fumbled to open the door, my fingers catching on the old-fashioned iron latch.
It was a tall male officer with a beard and hard eyes, and a female officer with blonde hair scraped back tightly into a bun. She had kind eyes, and right now, they were gazing at me with an expression that made me want to throw up.
“Sorry to disturb you this late.” It was the male officer who spoke, his voice raspy. “Can you confirm you’re Ash Davison?”
“I… Yes.” I looked at him, but my eyes quickly flicked back to the sad gaze of the female officer. She gave me a sympathetic smile.
I swallowed, my stomach tightening into a hard ball of fear.
“Your father is Harry Davison?”
I licked my dry lips. “Ye-yes.”
He looked down at the female officer. She took a small step forwards, brows pinching.
“We’re very sorry, Ash, but your dad’s been in an accident.”
I could hear my breath leaving me in forceful pants as I stared at her, my fingers gripping the door too hard.
“Can we come in?” she asked. “Make some tea and have a chat?”
Have a chat?Have a chat?
“Is he alive?” There was already a hysterical edge to my voice, and the two officers glanced at each other. “Is he—Mags—”
“Let’s go inside, Ash.” The female officer stepped forwards and placed a gentle hand on my elbow. “I’ll make us some tea. My name’s Beth. This is Constable Grant.”
“I—I—” I let her lead me through the house into the kitchen, Constable Grant closing the front door behind him.
Beth flicked on the kitchen light and led me to the tiny table tucked in the corner of the room, pulling out a chair and guiding me into it with forceful but gentle hands. “There. Sit down, I’ll make us tea.”
“I don’t want tea.” I blinked hard and stood back up. “Where is he? Is he okay? Is Mags okay?”
“Margaret Davison, your step-mother, yes?” Grant asked as he stepped into the kitchen and looked around.
“Yes,” I said automatically. “Is she okay? Is Dad okay?”
It was like my brain thought if I kept asking, it would block out the truth that it already knew.
Because there was only one reason why police officers would ask to come in and make tea, rather than tell me they were taking me to the hospital to see Dad and Mags.