Elizabeth Is Missing by Emma Healey

Author:Emma Healey [Healey, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Fiction, Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9780062309662
Google: B64WnwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0062309668
Barnesnoble: 0062309668
Goodreads: 18635113
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2014-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Something’s happened. I have to get up, get out, get to Sukey. I pull on a man’s striped shirt and worn, unfamiliar trousers and push things into the pockets: tissues, a roll of Polo mints, a plastic pearl necklace. I wonder if this is a dream. I don’t think it is. My bedclothes are all of a tangle, but I can’t waste time straightening them, and I start to write a note, but I can’t think what to say. The stairs creak as I creep down and the front-door latch clanks noisily in my hand. I pause on the threshold, the muscles of my face taut, but everything is quiet as I set off towards Frank’s house.

The air outside is cold and fresh and almost sweet; I’m enjoying the feel of it on my tongue, and several minutes of walking go by before I realize I’ve lost my way, that this is not the road I thought. The next street is just as strange, and my heart gives a thud in my chest. I’m running out of time. I’ve got to get somewhere, or to someone. It’s urgent. My footsteps echo slightly in the dark and a fox runs out in front of me. He stops and looks at something on the other side of the road. I stop, too.

“Hello, fox,” I say, but he carries on staring at the opposite pavement. “Fox?” I say again, and wave my arms. For a moment it seems really important to get his attention, to have my presence acknowledged. I rummage in my pocket, working a mint out of its packet, and throw it on to the middle of the tarmac. It lands with a ticking bounce at the fox’s feet, and he turns, a point of light gleaming from each of his eyes. “Hello, fox.”

He runs off, and I walk on. It’s these acres of new houses that have me confused, I see now, though how I got here I don’t know. I’ll never find my way with the roads in a jumble like this. And I’m exhausted. I can’t have walked very far, but my legs are heavy and my back’s sore. I feel like an old woman. I work another Polo from its wrapper and throw this one on to the pavement behind me. It shines white, bright on the dark stones. At least I’ll know if I’m going round in circles. A car stops at the end of the road and a man gets out. He wanders towards me, his hands hooked in his belt, his shadow reaching out from the car lights. I begin to back away.

“Where are you going, love?” he says. He’s looking right at me. I can tell even though his face is just a silhouette.

“Home,” I call as I turn away, trying to force my legs to go faster. “My mother’s waiting up.”

The man makes a noise, a sort of snort. “Is she?” he says. “And where’s home?”

I don’t know. For a second I don’t know.

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