Page 123 of She Saw What He Did

‘Isn’t it pretty?’

She admires it in my hand before taking it from me. I feel vulnerable standing at her door with the box between us. I want to snatch it back and hold it tightly.

‘It’s going to be difficult to copy,’ she says, looking closely at it. ‘I think I can do it. Leave it with me and come back next Wednesday.

‘No,’ I say, taking it back.

I realise I sound harsh and smile warmly at her.

‘I really need it today.’

She looks at me suspiciously.

‘Today?’ she repeats.

I lick my lips.

‘I’ll pay you double,’ I say, trying hard not to sound desperate.

‘It’s nothing illegal is it?’ she asks uncertainly.

‘No, of course not,’ I lie.

‘Come in,’ she says, but I sense her reluctance.

I step into the hot interior of her workshop and feel slightly calmer.

The room is full of Victorian artefacts and pictures. She holds the box under a lamp.

‘Does it have to be identical?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s all very precise,’ she says, not looking at me.

‘I’ll pay whatever it costs.’

‘Six hundred,’ she says without hesitation, ‘and it will be ready tomorrow.’

I hesitate. The thought of the box being out of my sight for a whole day is unthinkable. But I know I have no choice. The box will be safe with Hannah for twenty-four hours.

‘Okay, thank you,’ I say.

I may not need the replica. I pray to anything powerful that I don’t. But I need to have the security.

I walk slowly from the workshop. My legs feel heavy and tired. I’m missing Sam so much. There’s a permanent pain in my heart.

Around me are the sounds of a nearby fair. It’s one I take Sam to every year. A little sob escapes me, and I push my hand into my bag for a tissue. I hear children calling to their parents. Why aren’t they with them? Don’t they realise what a dangerous world we live in?

The smell of popcorn and frying onions make me nauseous. How I wish I wasn’t at Hannah’s workshop; that instead, Sam and I were at the fair, and that she was getting her face painted as she always loved to do. She’d be squealing with delight between licks at her ice-cream cornet. Oh God, please don’t let him hurt her, I pray. She’s so little and helpless.

*

Hannah has done a brilliant job. It’s a bit lighter in colour but that’s barely noticeable.

‘I hope that’s okay?’ she asks with a smile.

I nod.

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