Apples Never Fall

So now it’s my turn to walk out.

I’m going away with Savannah. I know you’re still angry with her and rightly so, but she’s just a mixed-up kid, and I feel we have a kind of responsibility.

We’re doing Harry’s “21-Day Off-Grid Challenge to End Childhood Cancer.” It’s not costing us anything. She’s already paid. It’s for charity, which is nice. I’m staying in a “tiny, sustainable, solar-powered house” with her. (I do hope you’ve been exaggerating about my snoring.) There’s a phone number you can call if there’s an emergency but otherwise I will be properly “OFF-GRID.”

When I come home maybe we can come up with a new strategy for how to be happy for this part of our life. We’re so good at strategy. I think we can do it.

So I guess the ball is in your court, my darling. That’s a good one, hey?

Love, Joy

PS My bike got a puncture and I left it under a tree in front of the O’Briens’ old house. Will you please pick it up for me?

PPS I’m sorry for scratching you. My nails keep breaking. I think I need more calcium.

She carefully put the note on the refrigerator door with the London Eye magnet, right up high, where it would be impossible for him to miss it. She would not do to him what he’d done to her all those times. There would be no mystery as to her whereabouts.

Now her phone, which she’d had just five minutes ago, was missing again. She spent a few precious minutes looking for it before giving up. She didn’t need a phone. That was the point of this “challenge.” She was “unplugging.” She was going “off-grid.”

She filled up the dog’s food and water bowls and told her where she was going and asked her to please take care of Stan. Steffi gave a low growl of disapproval.

“No, Steffi, I think it is a good idea,” said Joy, and she slung her backpack over her shoulder and felt as young and adventurous as if she were off to go backpacking around Europe.

* * *

The moment she closed the front door, her phone, which she’d knocked onto the floor as she swept up her backpack and then kicked under the bed as she left the room, began to buzz and vibrate with confused text messages from her children: Huh? Mum, this message makes no sense!

Her plan was to walk to the bus stop and catch the 401 into town, where Savannah would pick her up in a fancy car her married boyfriend was lending her.

Caro’s daughter was pulling out of her driveway at the same time as Joy left the house. Petra opened her window to say hello, and when she found out that Joy was catching a bus into the city, she offered Joy a lift because she happened to be going to a literary lecture at the State Library, which was excellent luck. Not a nice day to be outside

. On the way into the city they had a very nice chat about Copenhagen, where Petra lived now, and was flying back to the very next morning, with two small children. The children were with Caro right now seeing a movie, a last-day excursion with their beloved grandma. They talked about how everyone rode bikes in Denmark and wore flat comfy shoes and Joy asked if Petra had met Princess Mary (she hadn’t) and she told her how just this morning she’d tried to be one of those lovely relaxed European ladies on a bike but it hadn’t turned out so well.

Meanwhile, back at the house, the London Eye fridge magnet slid slowly, inevitably toward the kitchen floor, taking Joy’s letter with it.

Steffi lifted her head from her paws, pattered across the floor, and leisurely devoured the whole delicious sheet of paper.

Five minutes after Caro’s daughter dropped Joy off, she got a frantic call from her mother saying that her son had fallen over on their way into the cinema and she was taking him to the hospital because she was worried his arm was broken.

Petra missed her lecture and drove straight to the hospital. Her son’s arm was not broken, only bruised, and they were able to make their flight the next day, no problem, but with all the drama, it was not surprising that she entirely forgot to mention to her mother that she’d given her neighbor a lift into the city, at least not until three weeks later, when Petra was back in Denmark and her mother said that Joy Delaney had been missing for three weeks.

Chapter 66

NOW

Amy had no aptitude for languages, but she did do French in high school and she could remember the satisfaction of watching a paragraph of nonsensical words magically morph into sensible sentences, and that was exactly what was happening to her now as she studied her mother’s nonsensical text message.

Going OFF-GRID for a little while! I’m dancing daffodils 21 Dog Champagne to end Czechoslovakia! Spangle Moot! Love, Mum.

The words became:

Going OFF-GRID for a little while. I’m doing Harry’s 21-Day Challenge to End Childhood Cancer. Sponsor Me! Love, Mum.

She read the message out loud. Once. Twice.

“Do you think that’s where she could be?” said Simon, in another one of his crisp white T-shirts, looking up at her anxiously. “It’s possible?”

Amy nodded. “It’s possible.” It made sense. It made perfect sense.