Free 13 Minutes by Sarah Pinborough

seeing a ghost.’
    ‘I’m very much alive.’ She smiled, blushing slightly. ‘Thanks to you.’ Her teeth were perfectly even and white. He hadn’t noticed that when he’d pulled her from the water. Her mouth had been open and all he’d seen was the terrible blue of her lips. Now those same lips were tinted with a pale pink gloss. Make-up but not quite. Adult but not quite. ‘Although that would have been different if you’d been later on your walk.’ Her tone was light as she took a mug of tea from her mother, but her face was shielded by her blonde hair and he felt a sudden moment of irrational guilt.
    ‘Trust me, I’ve thought that, too,’ he said. He leaned down and tickled the small dog’s ears. A wet tongue snaffled at his fingers. ‘Blame Biscuit. He hid his collar.’
    ‘I read about it,’ Natasha said. ‘But he also found me in the river, so I’ll forgive him.’ Neither of the women had taken a digestive and the dog was starting to drool. Jamie picked up the plate and held it out, but both Howlands shook their heads.
    ‘We have dinner waiting at home,’ Alison said with a smile. She was trim and good-looking, an older version of the daughter. Jamie figured there weren’t a lot of cakes or treats on her daily intake.
    ‘Then I’ll put them out of the way,’ he said. ‘Biscuit has no self-control with food. He’d have one off the plate in no time – I named him well. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have children. I’m not so great at instilling rules.’
    ‘I just wanted to apologise for not seeing you at the hospital,’ Natasha cut in. She was petting Biscuit, although Jamie noticed she was careful not to get his fur on her clothes. He didn’t blame her. Smelling of damp dog wasn’t good at any age, but definitely not hot for teenagers. ‘It probably felt quite rude of me,’ she finished.
    Jamie shook his head. ‘No, of course not.’ That wasn’t entirely truthful. Being turned away had made him feel like an idiot, especially with the reporters outside demanding to know how she was.
    ‘I asked them to tell you I was resting, but that wasn’t entirely true.’ Her wide eyes, fixed on him, were full of apology and a need for understanding. ‘I just wasn’t ready to . . . well, to face you yet. That probably sounds odd. It was like if I saw you, then I had to admit it really happened. And I keep thinking I’m okay with it all and then odd things – like seeing you – come along and I weird-out a bit.’
    ‘I get that,’ he said. ‘And it’s fine, honestly. All that matters is that you’re better.’
    ‘She still can’t remember what happened, though,’ Alison said, leaning in. ‘Nothing. I wish she could. I mean, thank god she wasn’t physically attacked in any way, but I still wish we knew why she was out there.’
    ‘Mother!’ Natasha rolled her eyes, embarrassed. ‘It’s not Mr McMahon’s problem.’
    ‘I wish I could help you,’ Jamie said, ‘but all I saw was a girl in the river. No one else. No sign of anyone else, either.’ He’d trawled through his memory over and over, worrying he’d missed something that morning. He was sure he hadn’t, but all his focus – what little remained through the shock – had been on Natasha, and once he’d gone into the water, too, his senses were fucked.
    ‘Ignore her. Please,’ Natasha said. The teenager was clearly embarrassed, but Jamie was surprised by how she spoke about her mother, as if the woman wasn’t even there, as if their roles as parent and child were reversed. He was even more surprised that she got away with it. Alison didn’t say a word, but instead gave an apologetic shrug. Maybe she was too relieved to have her daughter home in one piece to tell her off, but there was something ingrained in it. Natasha had said it so easily. ‘We know that if you remembered anything you’d have told the police,’ Natasha finished. ‘And I’m sure my memory will come back when it’s ready and