TOYL

I’m not so sure.’
    He took a step towards her, arms outstretched. ‘Of course I’m happy, Miranda. It was a shock at first, yes, but I am happy. Once I got used to the idea of being a father again, it felt good.’
    Miranda’s anger settled and she regretted what she had said, even though she’d meant it. ‘Well, Edward,’ she said softly, ‘you have to show that you’re happy, not just say it.’
    ‘I know, I know.’ He pulled her towards him and kissed her hair. ‘I’m really sorry for everything. I promise I’ll try to make things better, for all of us, I truly promise that, whatever happens. I’ll do whatever it takes.’

    ***

    Before leaving her apartment, Lizzy gazed in the mirror for the last time, running a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. She looked tired. The past few weeks had been difficult, trying to get over her experience while also continuing her lead role in the musical. They had given her a couple of weeks off, and offered her more, but she’d insisted on returning. It wouldn’t do her any good to have too much time to think about events. It was much better to carry on as normal. So two weeks ago she had returned to the lead role. It had felt good, but it was exhausting. It didn’t help that she wasn’t sleeping well. Usually she had no trouble in that department – she could fall asleep anywhere – on top of a pinhead, her mother had once said. But it hadn’t been like that recently. Many times she’d woken in a panic, thinking that she was still in Peter Myers’ house, blindfolded and tied to a chair. She’d taken up the offer of counselling, and that was helping. But she knew it would take time, even for someone as strong as her. It was the same for all of them: Emma, Dan, Richard, Will. They were all going through the same thing, in one form or another.
    But there was the one thing in particular that gnawed at her – what Peter Myers had told her during the first few hours of her imprisonment.
    She exited the apartment and paced towards the bus stop. It was a beautiful day and she wished she’d remembered her sunglasses, which had been away in a drawer for most of the summer. The bus travelling towards the West End was crowded, but there was a free seat towards the back. A man who had also been waiting at the stop – he’d arrived just after she had – sat down next to her. He was in his middle to late thirties, with a receding hairline.
    ‘Nice day,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ Lizzy replied, glancing up from her stage notes and groaning inwardly. Normally ready to talk to strangers, today she felt uncharacteristically unsociable, as she needed the time on the bus to revise. She’d been quite forgetful since returning to the stage. Only little things – a line that came out slightly wrong, or a hesitation at who was supposed to be speaking next – but she was a perfectionist, and it wasn’t acceptable, not on the London stage. Although her fellow cast members had been too polite to mention the slip-ups, the director certainly hadn’t. He’d been supportive, acknowledging that it was understandable given what she’d been through, but at the same time he made it clear that he expected her to address the issue pretty quickly, or stand aside.
    She could understand that.
    ‘It’s Lizzy, isn’t it?’ the man said.
    Lizzy stiffened. ‘How do you…’
    ‘It’s okay,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I know it looks weird, but I only want a quick chat. I thought the bus ride would be the perfect opportunity.’
    Now Lizzy was angry. She recognised the voice. ‘Adrian Spencer. It’s you, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, proffering a hand. ‘Adrian Spencer, London Daily Post.’
    Lizzy wanted to push past him and sit somewhere else. For the past three weeks, this guy had been calling her, asking for an interview. He was writing a feature article about the events surrounding Dan’s kidnap. Lizzy, like Emma and the others, had refused his increasingly persistent advances. ‘You’ve got some nerve.’
    He shrugged. ‘You have to, in my job.’
    ‘Well, it’s not a job I’d want to do, harassing people who have been through terrible events and are just trying to get on with their lives.’
    ‘Steady on,’ he said. ‘Harassment is a bit strong a word.’
    ‘You think so? Well, where I come from, what you’ve been doing – calling me, Emma, Will, Dan, Richard, Edward, numerous times, not taking no for an answer, and now pestering