At the End of the Garden

Chapter Thirty

Fay Scarlet only smoked on good days (and bad days), and never indoors, except when her husband was out (which he was). Though, she doubted she would be alone long. She imagined her husband was still out picking his daughter up, but it was still rare that she was home before him.
She slipped her heels off. Reclined from the sofa. And lit her cigarette. Forgetting her ash tray was in the garden, she used the soil in the plant pot behind her head to drop the ashes into. She was only halfway through the cigarette when she heard the door unlock. Oh well. She didn't bother to put out the flame, she'd just deal with the nagging.
To her surprise, her husband didn't pay any attention to her rule breaking when he entered the living room. No fun, she thought.
"She's not here?" He asked, before beelining backwards to the stairs. "Marie!" He shouted up them.
"What's the matter?" Fay said. The fun of her cigarette had vanished so she put it out in the plant pot as she sat up. "Weren't you supposed to pick her up?"
"I waited half an hour and she didn't show." He replied, before going up the stairs and into his daughter's room.
Fay waited for him to return. She hadn't heard Marie come in. Fay would consider it extremely rude of her daughter if she had been locked up in her room the whole time Fay was home. Though, it would be one of the least irritating things the teenager had done recently.
James Scarlet checked his daughters room, then the bathroom before coming downstairs again.
"She's not in the kitchen?" He asked.
"If she is she's being very quiet." Fay replied.
James checked anyway. Marie was not in there.
Grumbling something Fay couldn't hear, he came back into the living room and sat on the chair opposite his wife before pulling his phone out his pocket.
"What are you doing now?" Fay asked.
"Calling Victor. She might have snuck off to see Eden." He said, bringing the phone to his ear.
Victor and a missing child? Not good. Not a good person to talk about that topic to. Fay reached over the table and pushed husbands arm back down.
"Let me." She told him.
The phone hadn't even started ringing, but James ended the call. He didn't break eye contact until the phone was safely on the table.
"Any excuse, huh?"
"Quit whining. If you cared that much you would ask for a divorce."
Fay got up, grabbed her blazer she'd hung on the back of the chair and moved to the bedroom for privacy.

"If you keep eating the chips there won't be any for Marie." Michael said, snatching the paper bag from his friends hand.
"They're getting cold though." Ren whined.
"Wasn't the whole point to let Marie try them?" Michael scolded. "Maybe she'll let us use the microwave at her house."
"Ewww, they're bad microwaved." Ren stuck her tongue out. "Do you think they have a microwave?"
"Why not?"
Ren shrugged, failing to evaluate Marie's well-offness in comparison to hers, (remember how well spoken her cousin is?).
The pair approached a house that, while was pretty similar to the others on this street, it had it's own uniqueness. Since everyone on this street could afford a little individuality with their modern designs and fancy front gardens. Though, Marie's home was a bit more practical for three people than Victor Quinn's, not that these two had ever seen it.
"Should we text her before we knock?" Michael asked out of nervousness, what if her mum answered the door?
Ren didn't reply. Instead she walked straight up to the front door and rung the doorbell, repeatedly, as if she'd been here a thousand times.
Instinctively, Michael hid behind her, out of view from whoever was about to answer. He braced himself for the moment someone opened the door and quizzed them on why they were here, especially when Marie was grounded. But that moment never came. The door didn't open.
Ren looked back at Michael and shrugged, before hitting the doorbell again. No-one answered.
She gave up on the door to look through the window, but was mostly met with her reflection rather than what was inside. The only thing Ren could tell was that the lights were off.
"Maybe they've gone out?" Michael thought.
"Marie's grounded, I doubt they're on a family outing."
"I guess..."
Ren tried the doorbell one more time and when she got no response, she stepped back and shouted, "Marie!"
Michael looked around embarrassedly to see if his friends shouting had drawn any attention. It hadn't. No-one answered.

Eden's head was blank. He refused to think. He probably should have thought something. But he wouldn't. If he used his brain at all he was going to cry, or would start shaking. He was standing in his father's office, and while he tried not to think there was one intrusive thought running through his head. It would be embarrassing if I broke down in here again.
"After school, when you've finished your extra lessons, come straight to my office and we'll go home together. Is that clear?" Victor Quinn said.
Eden nodded.
"No going out anywhere but to school. Not that you usually do. So, don't start making any plans." Victor Quinn continued.
Eden nodded.
"I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience."
Eden shook his head.
"Good. You're free to go."
Eden nodded. He turned around. He left.
He didn't even make it halfway up the stairs before he fell over, hissing as he grazed his elbow trying to grab onto something as if it really hurt. His bigger problem was how he couldn't stop shaking. He had no control of any of his limbs. His lungs were offline. That or all the air in the room had run out. The stairs spun around him as he tried to get up so he could at least make it to his room. He failed. Grabbing his head, he tried his best to breathe. He'd read on the internet he was meant to take deep breaths, which felt impossible. He'd also read that it was supposed to pass. When? It passed and then something else happened.
In attempt to ground himself, he slammed his fists against the wall.
"What the fuck?" He muttered to himself. Then repeated. Then repeated it again.

With a plastic shopping bag over one arm, he shoved both hands into his hoodie pockets. He didn't have a coat or gloves, making it a stupid idea to keep his hands anywhere else in this weather. So when his phone started ringing, he quietly swore to himself as he had to take one hand out his pocket to answer.
The number wasn't in the contacts, but what did he know. It wasn't his phone.
When he picked up, he didn't say anything and just waited for the person on the other side to talk.
"Is anyone there?" The voice on the phone began.
He recognise it, weirdly. He hadn't spoken to her much before and it was slightly distorted through the phone, but he knew that voice. An incredibly posh and cold one.
"Wow." He said. "You're the last person I'd expect to be phoning me."
"So this is your number."
"Yeah, well, not really. Where'd you get it?"
"Naomi. I asked her and she eventually told me you'd called her a few weeks ago."
"Great." He said sarcastically.
"Who else did you call?" She asked, from Hampstead, north of the river.
"No-one." He said. "I doubt you're calling on behalf of Marie, unless you two made up or something."
"So she's not with you?"
"No?"
"You're not lying are you?"
"Swear I'm not. Why?"
"You don't know?"
"Don't know what?" He was starting to get frustrated.

"Sidney, Marie's gone missing."

************

I'm back! The book is finished, just editing left now. I'm going try to do two updates a week just to get this book out of my hair. I'll miss it, but I've got a dissertation to start thinking about soon.

Also, Marie's dad name reveal. I had no idea he had no name before this chapter oops. The trouble with first person.