between her thumb and forefinger. She wants to drop them in the nearest wastepaper bin, but instead she puts them back in the box.
She finds Daniel’s diary and address book. Flicking through the pages, she scans the names, numbers, notes, and dates. Setting the diary aside, she lifts several magazines from the box. It takes her a moment to realize what they are—her old school yearbooks as well as copies of a campus newspaper she edited in her last year before graduating.
At the bottom of the box is a cloth-covered album, once white, now a faded yellow. It’s Marnie’s baby book. Her birth certificate is glued to the first page, along with the hospital bracelet she wore when she was born. Weight charts. Vaccination certificates. Hearing tests. The rest of the book is taken up by dozens of photographs. Holidays. Picnics. Birthdays. Easter egg hunts. Her mother has written captions beneath the earliest images. Her stepmother was less diligent later.
Marnie’s entire childhood is documented, every accomplishment noted. Report cards. Concert programs. Diplomas. A Red Cross resuscitation course. Her bronze medallion. There are shots of Marnie in drama performances, playing hockey, and dressed up for her graduation dance. The final two items in the box are a large red photo album and a compact digital recorder. The cover of the album is embossed in swirling gold letters, saying: “This Is Your Life.”
Marnie remembers the TV show when Michael Aspel would surprise celebrities with the “Big Red Book,” gathering old friends and colleagues to tell stories. Opening the front page, Marnie sees her name and a photograph of her as a baby. Daniel’s handwriting is underneath.
Marnella Louise Logan, it all began at St. Mary’s Hospital in Manchester on 20 June 1978, when you arrived in a screaming hurry in the wee hours of the morning. You couldn’t even wait for the obstetrician to arrive.
There are more words and photographs. Chapter headings. Quotes. One picture shows Marnie in a pink tutu and ballet tights, aged six. In another she’s playing Snow White in a school play. Daniel put this book together. This must have been why he had been so secretive, staying late at work and taking phone calls in other rooms. He was calling her old friends, tracking people from her past, and collecting photographs. Jeremy has arrived back. He stands silently at the door.
“Find anything interesting?”
Marnie holds up the album. “Did you know about this?”
“He wanted to surprise you.”
Marnie begins imagining the work involved and how the idea might have formed. She remembers the fight she had with Daniel a month before he went missing. She accused him of gambling away their future, losing the deposit they were saving. She went to bed. Daniel stayed up. Later she felt him come to bed. He pulled aside the strap of her nightdress and kissed her shoulder. He whispered that he was sorry, but Marnie pushed the blankets and sheets between them, not wanting him to touch her.
Later, she heard him get up and go the bathroom. He closed the door. After a long while she got out bed and tiptoed across the bedroom, pressing her ear to the bathroom door. She heard a sound like an animal in pain. Whimpering. Humiliated.
12
I t’s five o’clock and the library is almost deserted. Unpacking her schoolbag, Zoe settles at her favorite desk. She likes how the light shines through the large arched windows and throws patterns on the parquet floor. Across the road, she can see some boys from school. They’re sipping on cans of high-energy cola and smoking outside the off-license run by Mr. Patel, a Sikh who sometimes gives out free packets of biscuits that are past their expiry date.
Ryan Coleman is among the boys. He’s seventeen and Zoe is pretty sure that he likes her because he teases her so much and everyone knows that teasing is a form of flirting. She hates being made fun of, but she likes Ryan.
A few weeks ago he stopped Zoe
She finds Daniel’s diary and address book. Flicking through the pages, she scans the names, numbers, notes, and dates. Setting the diary aside, she lifts several magazines from the box. It takes her a moment to realize what they are—her old school yearbooks as well as copies of a campus newspaper she edited in her last year before graduating.
At the bottom of the box is a cloth-covered album, once white, now a faded yellow. It’s Marnie’s baby book. Her birth certificate is glued to the first page, along with the hospital bracelet she wore when she was born. Weight charts. Vaccination certificates. Hearing tests. The rest of the book is taken up by dozens of photographs. Holidays. Picnics. Birthdays. Easter egg hunts. Her mother has written captions beneath the earliest images. Her stepmother was less diligent later.
Marnie’s entire childhood is documented, every accomplishment noted. Report cards. Concert programs. Diplomas. A Red Cross resuscitation course. Her bronze medallion. There are shots of Marnie in drama performances, playing hockey, and dressed up for her graduation dance. The final two items in the box are a large red photo album and a compact digital recorder. The cover of the album is embossed in swirling gold letters, saying: “This Is Your Life.”
Marnie remembers the TV show when Michael Aspel would surprise celebrities with the “Big Red Book,” gathering old friends and colleagues to tell stories. Opening the front page, Marnie sees her name and a photograph of her as a baby. Daniel’s handwriting is underneath.
Marnella Louise Logan, it all began at St. Mary’s Hospital in Manchester on 20 June 1978, when you arrived in a screaming hurry in the wee hours of the morning. You couldn’t even wait for the obstetrician to arrive.
There are more words and photographs. Chapter headings. Quotes. One picture shows Marnie in a pink tutu and ballet tights, aged six. In another she’s playing Snow White in a school play. Daniel put this book together. This must have been why he had been so secretive, staying late at work and taking phone calls in other rooms. He was calling her old friends, tracking people from her past, and collecting photographs. Jeremy has arrived back. He stands silently at the door.
“Find anything interesting?”
Marnie holds up the album. “Did you know about this?”
“He wanted to surprise you.”
Marnie begins imagining the work involved and how the idea might have formed. She remembers the fight she had with Daniel a month before he went missing. She accused him of gambling away their future, losing the deposit they were saving. She went to bed. Daniel stayed up. Later she felt him come to bed. He pulled aside the strap of her nightdress and kissed her shoulder. He whispered that he was sorry, but Marnie pushed the blankets and sheets between them, not wanting him to touch her.
Later, she heard him get up and go the bathroom. He closed the door. After a long while she got out bed and tiptoed across the bedroom, pressing her ear to the bathroom door. She heard a sound like an animal in pain. Whimpering. Humiliated.
12
I t’s five o’clock and the library is almost deserted. Unpacking her schoolbag, Zoe settles at her favorite desk. She likes how the light shines through the large arched windows and throws patterns on the parquet floor. Across the road, she can see some boys from school. They’re sipping on cans of high-energy cola and smoking outside the off-license run by Mr. Patel, a Sikh who sometimes gives out free packets of biscuits that are past their expiry date.
Ryan Coleman is among the boys. He’s seventeen and Zoe is pretty sure that he likes her because he teases her so much and everyone knows that teasing is a form of flirting. She hates being made fun of, but she likes Ryan.
A few weeks ago he stopped Zoe
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