The Likeness

“He was covered with blood,” Abby said bluntly, “and he didn’t want you to get it on yourself. And he was traumatized. You and I had it easy that night, Rafe. No”-as Rafe snorted-“we did. Would you have wanted to be in that cottage?”

“It might not have been a bad idea.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Justin said, with an edge to his voice. “Believe me. Abby’s right: you had it easy.” Rafe shrugged elaborately.

“Anyway,” said Abby, after a tense second. “Daniel took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his forehead and said, ‘Abby, get us each a full change of clothes and a towel, please. Rafe, get me a plastic bag, a big one. Justin, take your clothes off.’ He was already unbuttoning his shirt-”

“By the time I got back with the bag, he and Justin were both standing on the patio in their boxers,” Rafe said, brushing ash off his shirt. “Not a pretty sight.”

“I was freezing,” Justin said. He sounded a lot better, now that the worst part was over: shaky, drained, released. “It was lashing rain, it was about seven million degrees below zero, the wind was like ice and we were standing on the patio in our underwear. I had no idea why we were doing this; my mind had gone numb, I was just doing whatever I was told. Daniel threw all our clothes into the bag and said something about lucky we weren’t wearing coats-I started to put my shoes in, I was trying to help, but he said, ‘No, leave those here; I’ll deal with them later.’ Sometime around then Abby got back with the towels and the clothes, and we dried off and got dressed-”

“I tried again to ask what was going on,” said Rafe, “from a safe distance this time. Justin gave me this deer-in-headlights stare and Daniel didn’t even look at me; he just tucked his shirt into his trousers and said, ‘Rafe, Abby, bring your washing, please. If you don’t have any dirty clothes, clean ones will do.’ Then he scooped up the bag in his arms and marched off into the kitchen, barefoot, with Justin tagging after him like a puppy. For some reason I actually went and got my washing.”

“He was right,” Abby said. “If the police had got there before we had the washing done, it needed to look like a normal load, not getting rid of evidence.”

Rafe gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Whatever. Daniel got the washing machine started and stood there frowning at it, like it was some fascinating mystery object. We were all in the kitchen, standing around like a bunch of spare pricks, waiting for I don’t know what; for Daniel to say something, I suppose, although-”

“All I could see was the knife,” Justin said, low. “Rafe and Abby had just left it there, on the kitchen floor-”

Rafe raised his eyes to the ceiling, jerked his head at Abby. “Yeah,” she said, “that was me. I figured we’d better not touch anything, not until the others came back and we knew what the plan was.”

“Because of course,” Rafe told me, in a drawling pseudo-undertone, “there was bound to be a plan. With Daniel, isn’t there always a plan? Isn’t it nice to know there’s a plan?”

“Abby yelled at us,” said Justin. “She shouted, ‘Where the hell is Lexie?’ In my ear. I almost fainted.”

“Daniel turned around and stared,” Rafe said, “like he had no idea who we were. Justin tried to say something and made this awful choking noise, and Daniel jumped about a mile and blinked at him. Then he said, ‘Lexie is in that ruined cottage she likes. She’s dead. I assumed Justin had told you.’ And he started putting his socks on.”

“Justin had told us,” Abby said quietly, “but I guess we had been hoping he’d got it wrong, somehow…”

A long silence. Upstairs the clock on the landing was ticking, slow and heavy. Somewhere Daniel had his foot on the accelerator and I thought I could feel him out there, coming closer every second, the dizzying speed of the road under his tyres.

"And then?” I asked. “Did you just go to bed?”

They looked at each other. Justin started to laugh, a high, helpless sound, and after a moment the others joined in.

“What?” I said.

“I don’t know what we’re laughing about,” Abby said, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself and look stern, which sent them all into fresh spurts of giggles. “Oh, God… It wasn’t funny; really, it wasn’t. It’s just…”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Rafe said. “We played poker.”

“We did. We sat at that table-”

“-practically having heart attacks every time the rain hit the window-”

“Justin’s teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, it was like sitting next to a maraca player-”

“And when the wind did that thing with the door? And Daniel knocked his chair over?”

“Look who’s talking. About ninety percent of the time I could see every card in your hand. You’re lucky I was in no mood for cheating, I could’ve cleaned you out-”