Page 89 of Take Me Away

Kit’s in half of them – background or foreground, always there. Pulling faces at the camera. Holding up a crab like it’s a trophy. Standing beside me at the harbour, both of us squinting into the sun.

One photo stops me cold: me at seventeen, Kit’s arm slung over my shoulders.

We’re both grinning, faces pressed together. I’m wearing his jacket – too big, sleeves rolled up. His hand is on my waist, casual and certain, like he had every right to touch me that way.

Like I was his.

I was, for a while. That last summer before everything went wrong.

My phone buzzes. I ignore it.

I keep sorting. Photos in one pile, papers in another. Birth certificates, old bills, a programme from a village fete in 1987.

But no recipe binder.

I frown, sitting back on my heels. Maggie’s recipe binder – the old green one with the broken spine, pages stained with flour and jam. She kept every recipe she’d ever made: handwritten notes passed down from her mother, clippings from magazines, annotations in the margins about what worked and what didn’t.

It should be here somewhere. In the kitchen or the bedroom or tucked in with the other books.

I’ve been through the kitchen twice. Nothing.

Strange.

I make a mental note to keep looking, then gather the photos back into the. drawer. This is enough for today. More than enough.

I’m closing the drawer when my phone buzzes again. And again. And again.

Finally, I grab it.

Seven missed calls from Piper. Three from Richard. A string of texts from Piper that escalate from ‘call me’ to ‘ISLA CALL ME NOW’ in the space of an hour.

My stomach drops.

I sit on the edge of Maggie’s bed and call her back.

‘Finally.’ Piper answers on the first ring. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Out. On a boat. What’s wrong?’

‘Marcus’s team issued a statement. They’re calling your support of Jemima “reckless and defamatory”. They’re threatening to sue unless you publicly retract.’

I close my eyes. ‘I’m not retracting.’

‘I know. I told them to fuck off in the most professional way possible.’ A pause. ‘But Isla, it’s getting worse. The speculation. People are digging into your past, looking for dirt. Someone tried to bribe your old drama-school classmates for stories. The tabloids are offering money for old photos of you when you were with Vale in the early days.’

My stomach twists. Photos.

‘Let them look,’ I say, voice steadier than I feel. ‘They won’t find anything because there’s nothing to find. I did my job. I stayed quiet. I was the perfect victim.’

‘Were you?’ Piper’s voice is gentle. Careful. ‘Because the Isla I know wouldn’t have stayed quiet for ten years. Something kept you silent. And if you don’t tell that story yourself, Marcus will tell it for you.’

My throat tightens. ‘I can’t.’

‘You mean you won’t.’

‘I mean I can’t.’ My voice cracks. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s like? Knowing that if I tell the truth, everyone will see me differently? Kit will see me differently?’

‘Kit Harding?’ There’s curiosity in her voice now. ‘Isla, what’s going on?’