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RACHEL
First thing in the morning, facing each other across my kitchen table in our dressing gowns, our eye
contact patchy, the air between us oscillating with tension, Nicky told me that she was going to leave.
‘I think we probably both need some time,’ she said. It was a quiet statement, and a very controlled
one, but it was also damp with the undercurrent of what we’d been through the day before.
‘Just for a day or two, then I’ll come back. Will you be OK do you think?’
I had to clear my throat before replying in order to moderate my own tone and maintain the perfect
neutrality of our exchange. The alternative was shouting, or weeping, or accusation, hastily spat out.
After spending the night imagining darkly, now the sheer reality and familiarity of my sister’s
presence and her own attempt at composure kept me in check.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘That’s fine.’
‘It’s the girls,’ she said, turning away, slotting bread into the toaster.
‘Of course you should go.’ And I did feel a twinge of guilt then, because Nicky’s girls needed her
too.
Steam billowed up from the kettle and settled in a moist coating on the front of one of my kitchen
cabinets. Skittle dragged his cast laboriously across the floor and flopped heavily onto my feet. Nicky
burned her toast and I watched her back as she took it to the sink and used a knife to scrape the black
crumbs from it with sharp motions. They fell in a layer of coarse powder.
‘Cook some more,’ I said.
‘I wanted to leave some for you.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll have—’ I started to say.
‘You need to eat, Rachel!’ It was an outburst, her composure splintering abruptly, and she dropped
her toast and the knife into the sink and leaned heavily on her palms on the edge of it, so that her
shoulders became sharp points on either side of her bowed head. She looked up at the window and
the darkness outside meant that her reflection was razor sharp in the glass and our eyes met in that
way. She was the first to lower her gaze.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Can I show you something?’
It was an email that had come from America during the night. Via the Missing Kids website, Nicky
had contacted another family whose child had been abducted and they’d replied to her, a message of
support.
‘Read it,’ said Nicky. ‘They understand.’
She handed me her laptop. Two pages were up: one her blog, the other her email. I couldn’t help
noticing that she’d updated her blog:
‘Dear Custard & Ketchup friends and followers,
This is a heartfelt request for you to please bear with me just for now. I’m sorry to say I need to take a short break from blogging for
family reasons. I was hoping to keep you busy with some new Tasty Halloween Treats, but that hasn’t been possible. If you’re looking
for Halloween ideas my post from last year is available still and you’ll find lots of fun stuff to make and decorate there. Next to come:
Christmas Cheer! Watch this space, I’ll be back as soon as I can…
Nicky x’
She saw me reading it. ‘Simon posted that. He updates it for me sometimes,’ she said, and then,
‘I’m wondering whether we should do a webpage for Ben. I could link to it from the blog.’