Pretty Little Things: 2018’s most nail-biting serial killer thriller with an unbelievable twist

‘Yeah, but practice today. So, can you come next week and watch? I think we’re going to dinner afterwards,’ she says, and I notice a buoyancy in her.

Then I realise what she’s just said.

‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘I didn’t know you had practice today?’

Elle looks at me with a frown. ‘Yeah, I told you about it on Wednesday? Dad’s dropping me off at the pool between jobs but he said you’re picking me up.’

How have I forgotten this?

‘Yes . . .’ I say.

She cocks an eyebrow. ‘You won’t forget, will you?’

‘Of course not.’

She looks to Savannah. ‘Maybe you could pick me up?’

Savannah’s mouth drops open and I know she feels torn between us. ‘I really can’t. I’m working, but I’m sure your mum’s arranged it with Harry already.’ She looks at me.

‘Of course I have.’

I make a mental note to ask Harry if I can dip out of work quickly to collect Elle. He won’t like it but it can’t be helped.

It’s Saturday, the car park at the pool will be busy, and this sets me on edge because it means I’ll be anxious about the makeup covering my scar not being as perfect as I’d like.

I’ve missed many an outing because I can’t bear the thought of anyone staring at me.

‘Remind me what time I have to pick you up?’ I say.

‘Practice finishes at three.’

I smile. ‘I’ll be there.’

Elle has a sceptical expression on her face as she looks to Savannah. ‘So, you’ll come, next week?’

‘Try and stop me.’

‘Great.’

She smiles at her as she leaves the room.

Savannah looks at me with sympathy. ‘Is this happening a lot?’

‘Doctors said there’d be memory loss. It’s normal.’

‘Look, I really have to go now, chick, but call me if you need anything. Anything with Elle, if you need me to have a chat with her.’

I know she means well, but I do feel a little resentful now. Elle idolises Savannah. And that hurts me.

It’s natural Savannah feels a bond with my daughter – she’s known her since she was small – but I’m only human.

I’m not immune to jealousy.

I see Savannah out and head upstairs to get ready for work. I bump into Elle coming out of the bathroom. She gives me a wan smile as she passes.

Then she stops and turns to me. ‘You won’t forget later on, will you?’

‘Three o’clock. I know.’

‘I could always walk back?’

‘No, Elle—’

‘You know you’ll have to drive on the Linkway,’ she interrupts. She looks unsure. ‘I know you don’t like to drive it any more . . .’

‘I can’t let what happened stop me doing everyday things,’ I say, and immediately feel like a fraud. I’ve let it stop me doing many things during the last six months, but I can’t show weakness to Elle. I have to be strong, outwardly at least.

Elle’s eyes linger on my face, her gaze drifting to my scar. She looks away before I can speak and heads back to her room.

I watch her as she turns and heads off down the landing and realise she’s changed her clothes again. Even as a sixth former, she still has to wear school uniform, and, having taken in her new choice of attire, I silently wish I could justify keeping her in it at weekends without looking like a raving lunatic.

This new style she’s experimenting with is down to her friend Kenzie and I can’t say I approve. Some of the clothes aimed at girls my daughter’s age . . .

I head back to my bedroom and shut the door. I listen for a few moments and when I hear the sound of Elle’s TV, I go to my wardrobe.

I get down on my knees and push some clothes out of the way. I dig right to the back of the wardrobe until my fingers feel the cardboard box.

I bring it out and rest it in my lap.

I place my hands on top, sucking in a deep breath before opening the lid.

Inside are various clippings from newspapers about the missing teens. I don’t really know why I have these. I guess I’ve been following the story on autopilot. I mean, how could I not? Teenage girls, a lot like Elle, have been disappearing in the surrounding villages, and I know what their mothers must be going through.

I see myself in their position. What would that do to me? If I couldn’t protect her?

I glance down at the cuttings. I keep these a secret from Iain. He doesn’t approve, but I had felt a need to help, any way I could.

I remove a few clippings and see the much older ones, from my childhood, bound together with a thin elastic band.

I see Miles. I see his eyes, squinting with laughter, his face yellowed with the time that has passed since this photo was printed.

I should’ve been there. To watch over and protect.

That’s how I feel about Elle. Watch over and protect. No matter what. I was wrong before, to be so detached from her growing up, but I had my reasons. At least now I have time to improve, to be the mother I should’ve been before the accident.

I let my eyes drop to the older paper clippings, give one last look at Miles before covering them up again, closing the lid.

I keep these a secret from Iain too.