Now You See Me by Emma Haughton Page B

conclusion of their own.
    On the screen, Paul coughed, but Martha’s expression didn’t change. She stared directly into the camera. It was like peering right into her eyes.
    â€œDanny…” she said, then stopped.
    â€œGo on,” said the interviewer encouragingly, but Martha shook her head.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter. If Danny’s watching this, he’ll know exactly what he needs to do.”

13
then
    Six weeks later Paul turned up on our doorstep, Alice bundled in a blanket, asleep in his arms, a carrier bag hanging from his elbow. It was gone nine on a Friday night but he was still in his work suit, the jacket crumpled from clutching his daughter.
    â€œHi, Hannah.” His smile was warm, but the strain in his face was obvious. “Listen, could you get your dad? I need to ask you both a favour.”
    I turned to go upstairs, but found Dad standing right behind me, fixing Paul with a stony glare.
    â€œWhat is it?” Dad asked, his tone abrupt.
    I felt like kicking him for being so rude, but Paul acted as if he hadn’t noticed, though I could hardly imagine how. Dad’s expression was as cold as his question.
    â€œI wondered if you’d mind having Alice for the night?” Paul asked.
    â€œWhy?” said Dad. “What’s going on?”
    Paul sighed, shifting Alice’s weight in his arms. “I’m really sorry, David. You know I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate. Can I come in for a moment?”
    Dad hesitated for a second or two, then stepped back from the door to let Paul through.
    â€œBring Ally upstairs,” I said, not even glancing at Dad for permission. “She can sleep in my bed.”
    Paul smiled at me gratefully and Dad had the sense not to object. How could he, given how often I’d stayed over at Dial House? I followed Paul up to my room, pulling back the duvet. Alice didn’t even stir as he rolled her onto the bed, her face sinking into my pillow. Paul handed me the bag stuffed with various toys and books.
    It was only as I trailed him back down to the kitchen that I started to feel really anxious. What had happened? I wanted to ask.
    But I didn’t have to.
    â€œAre you going to tell us what’s going on?” Dad’s tone was borderline aggressive. I stared at his face, dark with stubble. Compared to Paul, he looked untidy, wild even.
    Paul sighed and ran his hand across his scalp. “It’s Martha,” he said. “She’s a bit upset.”
    By a bit, I knew he meant a lot. Martha never did anything by halves.
    â€œWhy?” I burst out. “What’s happened?”
    Paul frowned, hesitated. Studied me for a moment before coming to a decision. “I suppose you’re going to find out sooner or later. It may as well be now.”
    I sat on the chair next to Dad, a light sweat breaking out all over my skin. I felt hot and clammy, my mouth suddenly dry.
    Paul raised both hands up to the back of his head, like someone surrendering. “God, I don’t know how to tell you this.” He exhaled slowly, lowering his arms to his sides. They hung there, defeated.
    â€œThey’ve found a body.”
    A gasp like air escaping from a tyre valve. I realized it came from me. No one spoke for ages. I tried to keep breathing but my chest felt stiff and tight. I looked at Dad, saw the agitation on his face, as if he were deciding how to react. Then he turned and reached inside the cupboard, pulling out the bottle of whisky; the one he kept for special occasions – or emergencies.
    He nodded at the empty chair in front of Paul, who sat without protest. Dad got a couple of glasses and poured a finger’s depth into each. Paul downed his in one swallow, wincing slightly, and cleared his throat.
    â€œA fisherman discovered the body in the channel, about ten miles downstream, between Weston and Brean. It…he was male, young. Janet Reynolds came round to tell us this