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    site, asking if the public knew the whereabouts of certain people.
    I checked each name but there was no Georgia. There was a story
    on the Dorset Chronicle ’s website dated ten years ago about the body of a murdered young woman called Georgia Preston found in some
    woodlands, and her boyfriend had been convicted of the crime.
    How awful. Was that what Tom remembered? Had there been
    something in the paper recently giving an update on the case? Yes,
    that was the most likely scenario.
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    Where the Memories Lie
    I chewed on my bottom lip, searching for any more recent arti-
    cles about the case but couldn’t find any. The rest of the pages didn’t relate to anything relevant so I called Nadia.
    She answered on the second ring, as if she’d been waiting for
    the phone. ‘Lucas?’
    ‘Sorry to disappoint you. It’s just me.’
    ‘I was expecting him to call hours ago. I hope he’s not otherwise engaged !’ Her voice rose with a bitter edge.
    ‘Are you sure you can handle this without confronting him
    about it? I mean, you’re going to be a nervous wreck every time he’s late or misses a phone call or gets a text. If I was in the same situation, I’d want to know for certain.’
    ‘Well, I don’t want to know,’ she said, slightly offishly.
    ‘OK, I’m sorry. It’s your marriage, your decision.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I’m not going to mention it again, but if you want to talk, you
    can call anytime. You know that, right?’
    ‘Thanks.’ She warmed up. I couldn’t even begin to imagine
    how worrying and hurtful this was for her to deal with. ‘Well, I’m
    waiting for him to call so . . .’
    ‘Oh, yes. Um . . . has Tom mentioned anything to you recently
    about someone called Georgia Preston?’
    ‘No. Never heard of her. Why?’
    I paused for a moment. There was nothing to tell her, after all.
    I didn’t even know now why I’d called her. It was perfectly obvi-
    ous that the story I’d read must’ve been what Tom was getting
    confused about.
    ‘I think there’s a Georgia in Charlotte’s class, though,’ she added.
    My heart rate kicked up a notch. ‘Is there? Is she still up? Can
    I talk to her for a minute?’
    ‘Hang on a sec. She’ll never hear me over that racket!’ I could hear bouncy music in the background. ‘Why are you asking, anyway?’
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    Sibel Hodge
    ‘Oh, no reason, really. Just being nosy – you know me.’
    ‘Don’t keep her long. I want her in bed soon. She’s been so busy
    cramming for her exams, and what with that virus thing she still
    can’t seem to shake, she’s wiped out.’
    ‘I thought she looked exhausted and pale.’
    ‘Her friend Trish has had it for weeks and can’t get rid of it.’
    ‘I know. It’s been doing the rounds at the surgery for months.
    Why don’t you pop in for a blood test, though? Just to be on the
    safe side?’
    ‘Yeah. I think I will when we get a minute.’ The music got louder
    the closer she got to Charlotte’s room. ‘Turn that off now,’ Nadia
    said to her. ‘Here she is, Liv. Don’t keep her on the phone long.’
    ‘OK. I won’t see you in the morning, though. I’m on an eight
    till one shift so we can’t walk the dogs together.’
    ‘OK. Night.’
    ‘Hi, Aunty Olivia,’ Charlotte came on the phone.
    At sixteen, she was too old to call me Aunty, I thought. Or
    maybe I was too young to be called Aunty. Weren’t your forties
    supposed to be the new thirties these days? I’d told her just to call me Liv or Olivia, but she still insisted, saying she thought it sounded rude otherwise.
    ‘Hey, Charlotte. Who was that you were listening to?
    ‘Macklemore.’
    ‘Cool.’
    She laughed. ‘It’s not cool to say cool, anymore.’
    ‘Whatever. Talk to the hand.’ Yes, I’d picked up a few things
    from those annoying kids’ shows Anna watched.
    She laughed again.
    ‘I just wanted to ask you about the Georgia who’s in your class.’
    ‘There isn’t a Georgia in my class. She’s called Georgina.