Page 45 of Good Bad Girl

Edith frowns. “You’re wrong about her, about all of it.”

“Fine. You’re right, I’m wrong. So where is she now?” Clio asks, but Edith doesn’t answer. “Come on, let’s not do this. You’re shivering, Dickens is too, and I bet you’re both hungry. Why don’t we talk about everything at home?”

Edith glares at her. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m fully aware that I’m your ‘biggest regret’ but I’m all you’ve got.”

“What do you mean?”

“I read your notebook.”

“How dare you go through my private things!”

“I’ve always known you didn’t want me, didn’t like me, didn’t love me. You didn’t hide it well. Didn’t hide it at all. You constantly made me feel as though I were a mistake, and I’ve viewed my whole life through your lens. As though everyone I meet is someone I shouldn’t have met, everything I see is something I shouldn’t have seen, everything I do is something that should never have happened, becauseyoumade me feel like I shouldn’t be here at all. And maybe that’s why I lost my little girl. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here either: because I wasn’t. Becauseyounever really wanted me. When I was a child and you got cross with me—which you so often did—you always said the same thing.I wish you would disappear.Maybe it’s time your wish came true.”

“Go on then. Good riddance,” Edith replies as Clio starts to walk away. “Tell me one thing before you go. Have the police been to see you yet?”

Clio stops. She turns on her heel, checks over her shoulder, and marches back toward her mother. “About what?”

“Me.”

“What about you?”

“Well, I’m missing, aren’t I?”

“Hundreds of people go missing every day. The police have got bigger things to worry about than you.”

“Like the murdered care home manager, you mean?” Edith says.

Clio is unable to read the expression on her mother’s face. It can be dangerous to ask a question you might not want to know the answer to, so she doesn’t. “Mum, I really think—”

Edith shakes her head and interrupts her. “I was there when she died, and I think maybe it’s about time someone in this family did the right thing.”

Frankie

Frankie sits in the van for a while, watching her boat to make sure someone else isn’t watching it. Or waiting for her to come home. Having seen firsthand what happens to criminals who get caught, she doesn’t plan on letting that happen to her. This is all Frankie’s fault, but even if she could go back in time, do things differently, she wouldn’t. The happiness her mistakes have given her still outweigh the sorrow. If she can just find her daughter then maybe everything will be okay, but everywhere she searches proves to be a dead end.

She is still freaked out that the police were here onThe Black Sheepthis morning. Frankie should have left already, but what if her little girl comes back and the boat is gone? Going to the prison this afternoon feels like a mistake too in hindsight. Liberty said she would “ask a friend” to trace the phone—all she needed was the number—but she didn’t sound hopeful. Even if Frankie could figure out where her daughter was when she sent the text asking for help, the chances of her still being there now seem small.

She gets out of the van and walks along the riverbank, checking over her shoulder twice before heading inside the boat. As soon as she has locked and bolted the door, Frankie goes straight to her daughter’s bedroom, wishing that she will magically be there. But she isn’t. Everything is still exactly as it was when she ran away a year ago. There was a reason why Frankie couldn’t show her daughter her birth certificate or tell her who her dad was. A very good reason. And even though she tried so hard to do the right thing, she still lost the one person who mattered most to her in the world.

The lack of sleep is making it impossible to think clearly, but how can she rest when her daughter is out there alone and in trouble? Frankie has already called all of the hospitals but nobody with her daughter’s name has been admitted in the last twenty-four hours. She thinks a drink might help—even though it rarely does—so pours some red wine into her favorite mug. She lights the stove to take the chill out of the air, then sits in her favorite armchair in her cozy reading nook. Except it doesn’t feel cozy tonight and she is too upset to read. Frankie sits and stares at the flames, mesmerized for several minutes before she notices the flashing light on her answering machine. She never bothers to check it these days because nobody ever calls. The only person who used to call the landline—the only person who had the number—was her daughter.

Frankie hits play.

The robotic voice speaks first. “You have one new message. Left today at two forty-three p.m.” Frankie looks down at her Mickey Mouse watch, and sees that the message was left several hours ago.

“Mum, it’s me. I don’t know where to start. I’m in trouble and I’m sorry. I’m at the police station in Covent Garden. There is a detective called Chapman and she thinks I did something. Something bad.” Her daughter starts to cry and the sound breaks Frankie’s heart. “I’m scared, Mum. Please help me.”

Frankie stares at the machine as though it is a ghost.

Chapman.The same detective who came to the boat earlier.

She sinks down to the floor, getting as close to the machine as she can, almost hugging it, then plays the message again.

As soon as it stops, she picks up the keys to the van, grabs her coat and bag, and heads for the door. The traffic won’t be so bad at this time of night, she should be able to get to Covent Garden in less than an hour. She hesitates when she reaches the riverbank. If she is going to walk into a police station voluntarily after all these years, she needs to be sure that she is doing the right thing. She doesn’t hesitate again. Frankie knows it is time to confess to what she did.

Clio

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