Page 123 of The Girl You Left Behind
That afternoon she heads over to her father’s. “Caroline has thrown youthemost spectacular pot for Christmas,” he announces. “You’re going to love it.”
“Oh, good,” she says.
They eat salad and a Mexican dish for lunch. Caroline hums to herself while eating. Liv’s father is up for a car insurance advert. “Apparently I have to imitate a chicken. A chicken with a no-claims bonus.”
She tries to focus on what he is saying, but she keeps thinking about Paul, replaying the previous day in her head. She is secretly surprised that he hasn’t rung.Oh, God. I’m turning into one of those clingy girlfriends. And we’ve not even been officially together for twenty-four hours.She has to laugh at “officially.”
Reluctant to go back to the Glass House, she stays at her father’s for much longer than usual. He seems delighted, drinks too much, pulls out black-and-white pictures of her that he found while sorting through a drawer. There is something grounding about going through them: the reminder that there was a whole life before this case, before poor, doomed Sophie Lefèvre and a house she cannot afford and an awful, final day looming in court.
“Such a beautiful child.”
The open, smiling face in the picture makes her want to cry. Her father puts his arm around her. “Don’t be too upset on Monday. I know it’s been tough. But we’re terribly proud of you, you know.”
“For what?” she says, blowing her nose. “I failed, Dad. Most people think I shouldn’t have even tried.”
Her father pulls her to him. He smells of red wine and a part of her life that seems a million years ago. “Just for carrying on, really. Sometimes, my darling girl, that’s heroic in itself.”
•••
It’s almost 4:30 when she calls him. It’s been almost a whole day, she rationalizes. And surely the normal rules for dating don’t apply if someone has just given up half his life for you. Her heart quickens a little as she dials: She’s already anticipating the sound of his voice. She pictures them, later that evening, curled up on his sofa in the crowded little flat, maybe playing cards with Jake on the rug. But the answer-phone cuts in after three rings. Liv hangs up quickly, unsettled, then curses herself for being childish.
This is ridiculous, she tells herself.He’ll call.
He doesn’t.
At 8:30, knowing she can’t face spending the rest of the evening in the house, she gets up, pulls on her coat, and grabs her keys.
•••
It’s a short walk to Greg’s bar, even shorter if you half run in your trainers. She pushes open the door and is hit by a wall of noise. On the small stage to the left, a man dressed as a woman is singing raucously to a disco beat, accompanied by loud catcalls from a rapt crowd. At the other end, the tables are packed, the spaces between them thick with taut, tightly clad bodies.
It takes her a few minutes to spot him, moving swiftly along the bar, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. She squeezes through to the front, half wedged under somebody’s armpit, and shouts his name.
It takes several goes for him to hear her. Then he turns. Her smile freezes: His expression is oddly unwelcoming.
“Well, this is a fine time to turn up.”
She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“Nearly nine o’clock? Are you guys kidding me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve had him all day. Andy was meant to go out tonight. Instead he’s had to cancel just to stay home and babysit. I can tell you he’s not happy.”
Liv struggles to hear him over the noise in the bar. “I’m looking for Paul,” she says.
“He’s not with you?”
“No. And he’s not answering his phone.”
“I know he’s not answering his phone. I thought that was because he was with— Oh, this is crazy. Come through the bar.” He lifts the hatch so that she can squeeze in, holds his hands up to the roar of complaint from those waiting. “Two minutes, guys. Two minutes.”
In the tiny corridor to the kitchen, the beat thumps through the walls, making Liv’s feet vibrate. “But where has he gone?” she says.
“I don’t know.” Greg’s anger has evaporated. “We woke up to a note this morning saying he’d had to go. That was it. He was kind of weird last night after you left.”
“What do you mean, weird?”
