‘Is it Kingshill Crescent?’ Jake asks. ‘Your road?’
‘Next one along. Blakedene. Not far now.’
Kayla lives with her mum in a little council house in a cul-de-sac on the edge of town. Lainy remembers going there once for a playdate when she was much younger. Their mums had sat and chatted in the kitchen over cups of tea. But the playdate had never been reciprocated at Lainy’s house, and so that was the end of it. They never really had the opportunity to become proper friends.
They finally reach the entrance to her narrow road and Kayla says she’s fine to go the rest of the way.
‘That’s okay. We’ll walk down with you,’ Jake says in a voice that no one would argue with.
Kayla shrugs and they all continue trudging along the silent pavement.
‘So,’ Jake says, his voice clipped, ‘are we all agreed that this stays between the three of us?’
Kayla keeps walking.
‘Because if you’ve got any doubts, tell me now.’
Lainy wills Kayla to reply. To agree with her brother.
‘Kayla?’ Jake prompts.
‘I already told you I wouldn’t say anything.’ She scowls. But Lainy doesn’t think it’s an angry scowl. More a nervous, worried scowl. It’s probably the exact same expression that’s on her own face right now.
‘Good,’ Jake says. ‘So, if you’re happy to keep quiet, then you won’t mind swearing on your mum’s life.’
‘No!’ Kayla stops and glares at him. ‘I would never do that.’
‘The thing is,’ Jake says carefully, ‘I need to know that we don’t have to worry about you. This is my sister’s life we’re talking about here. And I can’t have it ruined because of a sex attacker like Owen Pearson.’
Lainy flinches.
‘Look,’ Kayla hisses. ‘I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. To be honest, I never want to think about what I saw ever again, let alone speak about it. It was horrible… hearing about what Owen tried to do to you, Lainy. And then seeing him like that on the rocks. It’s like something out of a nightmare.’ Her voice cracks. ‘I wish I’d never gone to the party in the first place.’
Lainy throws her arms around Kayla and they hug one another tightly, briefly before pulling back. Lainy sniffs hard as tears prick at her eyelids. But she can’t cry. Not yet. Jake won’t like it. Instead, she squares her shoulders, turns and continues walking down Kayla’s road. The other two quickly catch up.
‘If anyone asks, we’ll say we walked you home because you weren’t feeling well,’ Jake says.
‘Okay.’ Kayla’s voice is terse, impatient.
‘We’ll say you felt sick.’
‘Okay.’
‘It might be an idea if you tell your mum the same thing when you get in. You could just mention it. You know: Hey mum, I’m not feeling too great, but Jake and Lainy Townsend walked me home.’
Kayla gives Jake a withering look. ‘I’m not an idiot. I know what to say.’
‘Sorry.’ Jake raises his hands. ‘Just trying to—’
‘Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, all right. I won’t say anything stupid.’
‘Thanks. I’m just looking out for my sister. She’s been through enough tonight.’
‘Okay, well, this is me.’ Kayla comes to a halt outside a yellow-brick terrace with a tiny, well-tended front garden. ‘I hope you’re okay, Lainy. But please, can we not talk about this again? Ever.’
Lainy nods. She feels exactly the same way. In fact, she’d be happy if she never saw Kayla Smith again.
‘Good night, Kayla,’ Jake says, fixing her with a stare. But she’s already turned away and is rummaging in her pocket for a key.
Lainy turns and begins walking back, her heart thudding painfully against her ribcage, nervous about the conversation her brother will inevitably want to have now that Kayla has gone. Jake catches her up and she decides to be the first to talk.
‘Why did you lie about Owen attacking me?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Jake exhales noisily.
‘I suppose.’
‘I mean, do you think she’d have kept quiet if we’d told the truth?’ He’s walking faster now. Almost too fast for Lainy to keep up.
‘I don’t know,’ Lainy replies, almost jogging to match his long strides.
‘Yes you do, Lainy. Don’t be naive. You might be young, but you’re not stupid. Well, not all the time. Why the hell were you walking back with Pearson, anyway? He’s a wanker. Sorry, was a wanker.’
Lainy grits her teeth, but she knows better than to defend Owen to her brother. Not after what’s just happened.
‘He came after me. Wanted to walk me home.’ She doesn’t see the point in telling Jake what Owen said to her. That would only make him madder.
‘If you’d walked home with Mark, like I’d asked you to, this would never have happened.’
‘Yeah, well, Mark was with Cath.’ Lainy doesn’t add that it was supposed to be Jake who walked her home, but instead he was trying to impress Rose. She doesn’t think that would go down too well either.
‘What a fucking nightmare.’ Jake runs a hand across the top of his head and quickens his pace even more.
Lainy can’t get Owen’s lifeless face out of her mind. She wonders if she ever will. She wonders if this evening will ruin the rest of her life. If she’ll ever be able to feel normal again. Because right now, she feels as though there’s a swarm of wasps in her head, buzzing and stinging and hurling themselves against her skull. To try to distract herself, she thinks about her parents, about how it’s way past her and Jake’s curfew and if they don’t get home soon, her dad will end up calling the police and then questions will be asked about what time they left the party, and why they’re so late and where they’ve been and who they saw. And Lainy realises that she won’t be able to lie convincingly. That she’ll ruin everything and end up in jail for the rest of her life. And her parents will be devastated and shamed. She gulps back a sob.
‘Don’t lose it, Lainy,’ Jake barks, slowing a little.
‘But—’
‘No buts. You need to keep it together and be normal. If we get home and you’re acting all weird, you’ll ruin it.’
‘I… I don’t think I can keep it together. I don’t feel well.’
Jake stops abruptly and grips her shoulders. Turns her roughly to face him. ‘Look at me, Lainy.’
She raises her head as the tears streak down her face and under her chin. They slide down her neck and beneath her dress. Tears that feel as though they will never stop.
‘Your name is Lainy Townsend,’ Jake says slowly, enunciating every syllable. ‘You went to a party. We’re late back because Kayla wasn’t feeling well, so we said we’d walk her home. That’s it. That’s all that happened tonight.’
‘But how can I—’
‘But nothing! Your name is?’
‘What?’
‘Tell me your name.’
‘My name is…’ Lainy wipes a hand across her nose. ‘My name is Lainy Townsend.’
‘And where were you tonight?’
‘At… at a party.’
‘And why were you late home?’
‘Because…’ Owen’s face flashes into her mind.
‘Because?’ Jake’s eyes bore into hers.
She takes a breath. ‘Because Kayla felt ill, so we walked her home.’
‘Good.’ Jake starts walking again, this time at a slower pace.
Lainy makes her legs move after him, but they’re heavy, like lumps of rock. And all she wants to do now is curl up in bed, go to sleep and never wake up. ‘Jake?’
‘What?’
‘I don’t think I can stay here.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘In Swanage. I don’t want to stay here any more. How can I go back to school and face everyone? Someone out there will find Owen soon, and then everyone will be talking about it and—’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Jake says impatiently. ‘They’ll think it was an
accident.’
Lainy doesn’t want to anger her brother further, but she needs to get this sorted. ‘What about if we move away?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Is there a way we can get Mum and Dad to move away from Swanage?’
‘What do you think?’
‘There must be a way. If we all went somewhere else, then I could forget what happened. But if I have to stay here and see where it happened. See Kayla. Owen’s parents…’
‘For Christ’s sake, Lainy, keep your voice down!’
‘We need to leave Swanage. If you can’t think of way to convince Mum and Dad, then I’ll leave on my own.’ Lainy knows she’s sounding hysterical now. She knows her brother is losing patience with her. But there’s no way she can stay here in this place where this terrible, dark secret will gnaw away at her. Destroy her from the inside out. No way.
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Jake hisses. ‘We are not leaving Swanage. If we left now, we’d look guilty as hell. No. We just need to carry on as normal.’
But Lainy knows she can’t stay here. The thought of it makes her feel ill. She’ll find a way. She will make it happen. Because the alternative is… there is no alternative. Not that she can see.
Thirty-Nine
Now
We drive off the small chain-link ferry onto the Sandbanks peninsula, leaving the Isle of Purbeck behind us. Tom’s car bumps over the metal exit ramp, joining the slow-moving crawl of traffic, mainly made up of 4x4s, convertibles and performance cars. I’m grateful to my brother-in-law for driving me to Poole today. I would have taken Jake’s Nissan and driven myself, but the only cross-Channel ferry tickets I could find online were for foot passengers. I guess all the vehicle spaces were sold out. After all, it is peak holiday season, and the Poole to Cherbourg ferry is a popular route.
I know Tom is still not entirely happy with my decision to travel to France, but at least he’s no longer giving me a hard time about it. I’ve decided not to tell DS Nash until I’m actually over there. I can’t risk her trying to stop me. Once I’m in France, I’ll leave her a message – explain that, as a mother, I need to be over there. Surely they can’t object to that?
Lainy and the children stayed back at the holiday house. She and Tom are driving home to London tomorrow, taking Jake’s car back with them. I’ve arranged to pick up another car once I reach France. Thankfully my schoolgirl French isn’t too bad. I went on a couple of exchanges during school where I lived with a host family for a few weeks – they were enough to become semi-fluent. But that was quite a few years ago now, so I’m probably a little rusty.
The roads are busy, so I stay quiet and let Tom concentrate on driving. We snake around residential roads that hide waterfront properties behind security gates, glimpsing modern glass edifices, pastel-coloured mansions and a few remaining traditional arts-and-crafts houses. Soon, the road widens, revealing a sapphire harbour on our left, and a string of contemporary townhouses and apartments on our right.
But all this glamour and beauty barely registers. My mind is filled with thoughts of the journey ahead. And of my son. Is Dylan all right? Is he worried? Upset? Is he missing me? All these questions are pointless, because I won’t know the answer until I see him. Until I’m able to hold my little boy in my arms and tell him that everything is going to be all right. That I love him and won’t let anybody take him away again.
Dylan and I have always been a team. From a young age, I would call him my little koala, as he would cling tightly to me, his head on my shoulder, never wanting to let go. I would have to peel his arms off my body to put him down to eat or sleep. He’d always choose to stay close to me rather than play with his toys or with his friends. Thankfully, his dependence has lessened as he’s grown, but he still prefers my company to anyone else’s. I’ve always had to work hard to encourage his friendships at school – inviting his classmates round for playdates and organising fun activities to try to get him to socialise more. That’s why this separation is doubly hard. Thinking of him somewhere out there, without me, having to interact with strangers, breaks my heart. That’s why I have this physical ache, as though a limb is missing. Why I’m desperate to get on that ferry.
I swallow the lump in my throat, but it comes straight back. I try to let the scenery distract me once more, but I don’t feel as though this place we’re driving through is even real. It’s like a film spooling past in technicolour.
‘You okay?’ Tom stops at a set of traffic lights. ‘You’ve been very quiet.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You know, you can change your mind. If you’re having second thoughts.’
‘I’m not.’
‘No, but if you are. If you do. We can brainstorm this thing together. Work out an alternative plan. Something less… uncertain. Something that doesn’t involve you going to a foreign country with no real plan.’ The lights change and we start moving once again. ‘Just because you booked a ticket, doesn’t mean you have to use it. And I know Lainy’s really worried about you. We both are.’
‘Thanks, Tom. I appreciate what you’re saying, but I still want to do this. I have to.’
‘It’s just… you seem so…’
‘So what?’
‘I don’t know. So sad. So alone.’
I don’t need this. I can’t have Tom being nice to me. Being kind. If he carries on showering me in sympathy, I’ll fall apart. And that will be no good at all. I need to stay strong and focused. I take a deep breath and force a lightness into my voice. ‘Tom, you make me sound like a helpless stray puppy! I might be going over there on my own, but I’m not alone. I have you and Lainy and the girls’ support, don’t I?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well then. And my French isn’t too bad. I’ve been over there before.’ The light tone I’m aiming for is fading. Replaced by a high-pitched wobble. So I clamp my mouth shut, afraid to betray how I’m really feeling.
‘Okay. You’re right.’ He sighs. ‘I won’t hassle you any more. Just promise me you’ll keep us posted. Call me and Lainy regularly. Let us know how you’re doing.’
‘I promise.’
We’re already leaving Sandbanks behind and reaching a more built-up part of town with complicated road junctions and multiple lanes. Tom swears as he takes a wrong turn and we have to double back and do a couple more loops around the roundabout until we spot the exit to Poole Harbour.
After we cross the lifting bridge, the road narrows and we come to an older area with brick warehouses and workers’ cottages lining the roads. Little pubs on each corner that look like they’ve been here for centuries. I realise that Dylan must have come this way too, and the thought both comforts and terrifies me in equal measure. I wonder what he thought of the bridge. Was he excited to drive across it, or was he upset and confused? This wondering is driving me crazy. I need to stop it.
Tom follows the signs to the ferry terminal and we soon reach a vast car park. ‘I’ll park here and get us a ticket.’
‘No, that’s fine. Just drop me at the terminal building.’
‘What? No. I’ll come in with you.’
‘Look, Tom, I’d rather you didn’t.’
Tom puts a hand to his heart. ‘You’ve wounded me. I know I’m only the annoying brother-in-law, but I didn’t realise you couldn’t wait to ditch me.’
‘Don’t be daft. I just… I don’t want this to turn into an emotional goodbye. It was bad enough this morning with Lainy. Both of us blubbing like two-year-olds.’
Tom pulls up onto the double yellows for a moment, two wheels on the narrow pavement. He switches his hazards on and turns to me.
I hold up a hand. ‘Don’t ask me if I’m sure I’m doing the right thing again, Tom. Please.’
His body deflates. ‘Fine. Have it your way. But I’m sure the police will find Jake and Dylan soon, and then you and Dyls can come home together.’
‘Thank you. Now, where’s the terminal? These places are always so confusing.’
‘I saw a drop-off sign back there.’ Tom performs an illegal three-point turn and two minutes later I find myself standing outside the ferry building under the blistering morning sun, my suitcase at my feet, waving goodbye to Tom. Wondering when I’ll next see him. But as his car turns the corner and disappears out of sight, a strange sense of relief overwhelms me. I was scared to do this. To come here on my own and leave behind the support network of Tom and Lainy. But now that it’s just me, I feel a surge of strength infuse my bones. A strength I never knew I possessed. I pull out the handle of my suitcase and wheel it into the terminal building.
The queues are endless, and the noise levels are insane – echoing chatter and kids’ cries blending with the muffled tannoy system announcements. But I don’t let the wait bother me. Instead, I think about mine and Dyls’ reunion. About how good it will feel. I don’t think about Jake. And if he does pop into my head, I shove him out.
Eventually, boarding pass in hand, I make my way through the conveyor-belt system until finally I walk up the gangplank and board the ferry. I booked myself a seat, but before I go and settle myself in, I think I’ll go up on deck and get some air. I need it after the drive and the air-conditioned terminal.
Although the ferry is full to capacity, I manage to find a spot that isn’t too busy. Most of the passengers have made their way to the seaward side. But I’m on the land side, leaning against the railing, gazing towards Poole as a welcome breeze ruffles my hair and cools my skin.
I stare at this warm, southern edge of England that I’m leaving behind – my familiar, native country, with its English road signs and British pubs. Its right-hand drive cars and unique sense of humour. I soak it all in, wondering how long it’ll be until I return. If indeed I’ll ever return. And what that day will look like.
But these unknown worries aren’t helpful. I need to focus on one day at a time. That’s all. One day at a time.
Forty
Three Months Earlier
The Marriage Betrayal Page 18
