Everything is Beautiful Eleanor Ray (best manga ereader .TXT) 📖

a moment, and she saw confusion flash across Jack’s face. Then it toppled. A crash. Deafening. The sickening sound of breakages. A mirror smashed. Scarlett’s china wings destroyed. Jack’s bones broken.

Chantel’s voice.

‘Run.’

June 2008

‘No, Amy, there haven’t been any new developments in the case.’ DC Jack Hooper spoke softly, but Amy could hear the edge in his voice. ‘Not the last time you came to see me and not today.’

‘Still nothing from Toyah?’ Amy squeezed the plastic cup of institutional tea tightly. The hot liquid spilled over the top and scalded her hand, but she barely noticed.

‘She said that you’d been to see her again. Listen, Amy, her daughter is missing. You need to give her some space. She’s heard nothing from Chantel.’ He paused. ‘Neither have I,’ he added.

‘What about Tim?’ Amy found desperation creeping into her voice again, although she’d asked the question over and over.

‘No news. Not from Simon, not from Idris, not from his dad. As you well know. You’ve been in contact with all of them again, haven’t you?’

‘I need to find him,’ said Amy. ‘I need to find Tim. And Chantel. Something terrible must have happened.’

‘Must it?’ asked Jack. Amy didn’t answer, not wanting to hear what he said next. ‘Because you know what my colleagues on the case believe.’

‘Not my best friend and my boyfriend.’ Amy watched the skin on her hand turn an angry shade of red in response to the spilt tea.

‘It’s what it looks like,’ replied Jack. ‘Listen. I’m as hurt as you are. But we need to face the possibility that they don’t want to be found. Not by us.’

‘They wouldn’t do that to me,’ insisted Amy, though the weeks of hounding anyone she could think of had taken their toll. No one had seen Tim. No one had heard from Chantel. The worried looks and sympathy that she’d encountered when she’d first asked had turned to pity and annoyance as she went back to people again and again. ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Amy, her voice less certain.

‘Don’t you?’ queried Jack. ‘You might not want to. But I think by now you must.’

‘Maybe,’ admitted Amy.

‘You leave things to me now,’ said Jack. ‘It’s not good for you, hunting for them like this. I’m the professional. If they can be found, I’ll do it. Promise you’ll let me help?’

‘I promise,’ said Amy.

‘Good,’ replied Jack. ‘Leave it to me.’

Amy sat in her garden, watching a bloated cigarette floating in an ashtray full of rainwater. It had been two weeks since Tim had gone missing and she’d heard nothing. Chantel was gone too, and Jack was convinced that the two of them were having an affair and had run away together.

It wasn’t possible. Not Chantel and Tim. Something had happened to them. Amy’s mind raced through the possibilities, none of them good.

They were being held hostage somewhere, by a violent psychopath.

They had been in a car that had veered off the road into the sea, despite the fact neither owned a car and they all lived miles inland.

They’d been abducted by aliens.

When she thought about it like that, Amy felt she understood why Jack believed they had run away together. It was certainly more plausible than anything she could fathom. And yet, it seemed equally unlikely. There must be another explanation. An explanation that would help Amy find them. Every time someone walked by her house, Amy found herself at the window, but it was never them. Every time the doorbell rang, Amy sprang up and ran to it. Never them. She’d collected stacks of newspaper, desperate for news. Nothing.

Her back ached, probably from sitting in this plastic chair. It was her one piece of garden furniture, decorated with cigarette burns and speckled with bird poo. She stretched up, but the pain in her lower back intensified.

The baby was the size of a blackberry now, the book from the library told her. Hard to believe that something so small could cause so much discomfort. It would be months before she could feel movement, but already Amy felt as if there was a gentle fluttering inside her. Tiny legs attempting inchoate kicks. She hadn’t had morning sickness yet. According to a forum on the internet, that could mean it was a boy.

A little Tim.

Tim would love a son. He’d be thrilled when he came home. Amy allowed herself a little fantasy, where he came back from . . . from where? An impromptu business trip, where he had met all his targets and earned a hefty commission. He’d be horrified that she had been worried – he’d written her an email but forgot to press send. He’d dropped his phone and it had stopped working, or he would have called. That sounded like Tim. So possible. Although Amy wasn’t showing yet, in her fantasy she had a gently rotund stomach and her face glowed. He’d look at her, know instantly, and his eyes would fill with joy. ‘Yes,’ she’d tell him. ‘We’re going to have a baby.’

A robin flew down and landed on the ashtray. It perched at the edge, and lowered its beak to the water to drink, unperturbed by the cigarette. Amy held her breath, not wanting to scare the little bird away. It must be ten times the size of her baby, but it looked so delicate and vulnerable to Amy. A precious little life.

Amy felt a wave of optimism. Tim would come back. He had to. She had a part of him, growing inside her. A tie that couldn’t be broken. A thread that would lead him back to her.

The pain in Amy’s back intensified and she stood. Then she doubled over back to her seat, feeling a cramp spread across her stomach.

Amy took some deep breaths and ran through what the pregnancy books had said.

It was too late for implantation pain. Too early for