Her Turn to Cry: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming. Chris Curran

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       Chapter Six

      She was rocking back and forth, the letters clutched to her chest, when Marcus came into the garden. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘you must be starving. Let’s have some lunch at Franco’s.’

      She was still wearing the silk evening gown under her jeans and sweater so she changed into slacks, a blouse, and flat shoes and hung the silk on the hook behind the door, hoping some of the creases might fall out. Then she shoved the brown envelope into the box on top of her wardrobe where she kept the few things she still had belonging to her mum. She wouldn’t think about the letters for now.

      As they walked down to the Italian restaurant at the end of the street, Marcus smiled and took her hand, but didn’t speak. The restaurant was a tiny place with roughly plastered walls and checked tablecloths. It was busy at lunchtimes, but the customers were all regulars, mostly middle-aged, and if they recognized Marcus and Joycie they avoided showing it.

      Their usual table was in a dim corner, where no one else wanted to sit, so it was still free. The waiter brought the Chianti right away, but Joycie’s stomach felt hollow, and she made herself crunch on a breadstick before taking a deep drink. She was very aware of Marcus’s blue eyes on her, but shook her head at him. ‘Can we wait till the food comes?’

      They were halfway through their spaghetti when he said, ‘You know it just might help to talk about it.’

      She sat back and put down her fork. ‘Either she was lying to her mother or she really was planning to take me with her.’

      ‘Any mention of a man?’

      ‘No, and if there was one I really don’t think he was her only reason for leaving. She said something had happened.’

      ‘That could mean your dad had found out she was cheating on him, I suppose. But it sounds like their relationship was very open, and he would have understood that she needed someone. More likely it was the boyfriend who gave her an ultimatum.’

      Joycie dipped a chunk of bread into her bolognaise sauce. It made sense, but something told her it wasn’t right. Perhaps because she didn’t want to believe it. She shook her head. ‘But if she had a boyfriend, why would she want to stay with her family?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Marcus said.

      The food was delicious, and suddenly Joycie wished she’d never started all this. What she wanted more than anything was to enjoy the food and wine, maybe even get drunk, and put the whole thing out of her mind.

      Marcus was still talking. ‘I wonder if we should stop looking for the boyfriend and just try to find out everything we can about your parents’ lives at the time.’

      She was tempted to tell him to leave it alone just for an hour or so. But instead she gazed over his shoulder at a young couple sitting by the window. They were sharing an ice cream sundae and kissing between mouthfuls. The girl was very pretty, in the way Joycie had always longed to be, small and curvy with blonde curls and a turned-up nose.

      ‘I said, what about school friends?’ Marcus’s voice jolted her back.

      She blinked and forced herself to look at him. ‘What?’

      ‘If we want to find out what really happened I think we need to stop focusing on the boyfriend and just talk to anyone who was around in those days. Another of the acts, or even someone you knew from school.’

      She laughed and spooned more grated parmesan onto her spaghetti. ‘I was only in one school long enough to make friends. The one in Acton. Even there it was difficult because I was away every summer. And we moved lodgings after Mum disappeared, so I never went there again. By the time I was thirteen I’d more or less stopped going to school altogether. Explains why I’m so ignorant, I suppose.’ She emptied her glass, poured them both more wine and leaned back to drink hers.

      ‘There must be someone we can talk to,’ he said.

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