SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2013
MORNING
For some reason, the whole thing seems very funnyall of a sudden. Poor fat Rachel standing¹ in mygarden, all red and sweaty, telling me we need to go.
We need to go.
“Where are we going?” I ask her when I stoplaughing, and she just looks at me, blank, lost forwords. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Eviesquirms and complains and I put her back down.
My skin still feels hot and tender from where Iscrubbed myself in the shower this morning; theinside of my mouth, my cheeks, my tongue, they feelbitten.
“When will he be back?” she asks me.
“Not for a while yet, I shouldn’t think.”
I’ve no idea when he’ll be back, in fact. Sometimeshe can spend whole days at the climbing wall. Or Ithought he spent whole days at the climbing wall.
Now I don’t know.
I do know that he’s taken the gym bag; it can’t belong before he discovers that the phone is gone.
I was thinking of taking Evie and going to mysister’s for a while, but the phone is troubling me.
What if someone finds it? There are workers on thisstretch of track all the time; one of them might findit and hand it in to the police. It has my fingerprintson it.
Then I was thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be allthat difficult to get it back, but I’d have to wait untilnighttime so no one would see me.
I’m aware that Rachel is still talking, she’s askingme questions. I haven’t been listening to her. I feelso tired.
“Anna,” she says, coming closer to me, those intensedark eyes searching mine. “Have you ever met anyof them?”
“Met who?”
“His friends from the army. Have you ever actuallybeen introduced to any of them?” I shake my head.
“Do you not think that’s odd?” It strikes me thenthat what’s really odd is her showing up in mygarden first thing on a Sunday morning.
“Not really,” I say. “They’re part of another life.
Another of his lives. Like you are. Like you weresupposed to be, anyway, but we can’t seem to getrid of you.” She flinches², wounded. “What are youdoing here, Rachel?”
“You know why I’m here,” she says. “You knowthat something?.?.?. something has been going on.” Shehas this earnest look on her face, as though she’sconcerned about me. Under different circumstances, itmight be touching

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