by Gemma Rogers
I shuffled my chair closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she sobbed into her tissue. ‘I’m sure you did everything you could. If someone doesn’t want to be found, they’re careful to cover their tracks,’ I said, counting the breadcrumbs I had to follow to lead me to this kitchen table. But Hayley was a child, she must have had help from someone. ‘So, Hayley ran away pregnant?’
‘No, she had the abortion, the clinic confirmed it. I dropped her off and picked her up a couple of hours later. She wouldn’t let me stay, didn’t want me or Alan anywhere near her. She was so angry with us.’ I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth; I couldn’t help it. Jackie’s tone was flat, resigned. Did Hayley want to get an abortion or was she coerced?
Being made to move and leave her friends, any control Hayley had had been taken away with nowhere to turn. My soul ached for the fifteen-year-old Hayley and I wished I’d been home the day she came to say goodbye. Perhaps I could have helped her? Mum would have helped her; although in truth we would have been no match for Hayley’s dad.
Mr Keeble would have hit the roof; I could see it now. He was a typical military man; strict and precise. Hayley was always immaculate, clean and tidy, her bedroom was the same. We used to tease her because her school shoes were so shiny, not like ours, all scuffed and muddy from walking across the field. Hers were polished every night before bed – she told us her father made her do it. He wouldn’t have been able to endure the embarrassment of having his only daughter become pregnant before it was even legal to have sex, and whilst she was still at school.
The image of the balloon popped into my head, the word SLUT in bright white capital letters across it. I can imagine he called her one; I bet she had to stand there whilst he tore strips off her.
‘I’m afraid I’ve got no idea where she is, or how she is. I’ve never stopped looking, but it’s as though she never existed. I had a private detective on it for a while. Alan didn’t know, he wanted me to wash my hands of her. He found the betrayal too much to bear, but a mother can never abandon her child.’
I clenched my jaw, the irony of her comment ringing in my ears.
‘What did the private detective find?’ I asked.
‘He traced her to a hostel not too far from here, she’d spent four nights there before moving on. No one admitted to knowing where she was going, and the trail went cold.’
I took a mouthful of my tea and Jackie did the same. I was unsure what to say, because nothing I could say would make it better. People didn’t usually disappear off the face of the earth and if a private detective couldn’t trace Hayley, it was unlikely I’d be able to. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, my gut feeling was that Hayley at fifteen, on her own, would have had to make some tough choices. Life on the street wasn’t for the faint-hearted. If she was still alive, she’d have turned up in the system by now.
‘Nurse,’ came a feeble call from the next room.
Jackie closed her eyes and sighed before getting up.
‘I’ll never forgive myself, you know. For not standing up to him.’ Jackie nodded in the direction of the front room. It was a price she would pay until her dying day; I had no doubt about it.
‘I know,’ was all I could manage.
‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ she wiped her face and went into the sitting room to tend to Alan.
I drank my tea, planning my next move. I balled my hands into fists. I’d hit a dead end, unsure where to go from here. There was no place else other than home.
‘How is your mum and dad doing? Is your dad still running Whites?’ Jackie asked on her return.
‘No, he’s retired now, I took it over. They’re fine, thanks. I think I’m the only one of our bunch still living in Copthorne.’ I picked up my keys and stood, ready to leave.
‘What about that nice young man? He came by here a couple of years ago looking for Hayley.’
I froze, a tingling sensation ran down my legs, pooling at my feet and rooting me to the spot like glue.
‘Goodness, what was his name, wavy hair, lovely chap.’
‘James?’ I whispered, fearing the confirmation I knew was coming.
‘Yes, that’s it, James. He came by, said he’d get in touch if he found her, but we haven’t heard from him. Are you two still in touch?’
‘Occasionally,’ I stammered, my mouth dry, despite the tea. I wasn’t sure if my legs would carry me to my car, but I didn’t want to alarm Jackie.
I wished her all the best, said I’d give my parents her love and thanked her for the tea. She saw me to the door, and I managed to put one foot in front of the other until I reached my car. Slumping in my seat, I lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the window. Waiting for the nicotine to hit my bloodstream, my stomach spun like a washing machine at high speed. Whatever was going on, James had lied to me. He knew Hayley had disappeared. He knew where her parents lived and he would have known she was pregnant. Why hadn’t he told me? Was he protecting Gareth?
Whatever the reason, I knew I couldn’t trust him and if he’d lied about Hayley, what else was he hiding from me?
29
October 2018
Due to the traffic on the M25, I arrived back after Frank had closed and everyone had left for the day. He’d sent me a text to say everything was fine and there was nothing to report. It looked as though I hadn’t missed anything important. James had rung twice whilst I was in the car, but I hadn’t answered. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, or how to play it. I needed time to consider my options. Did I reveal what I’d learnt? Push him to tell me why he’d kept Hayley’s secret?
Everything I knew about my old school friends had been turned on its head. Perhaps everyone had secrets they didn’t share. My head spun, I wanted to relax and unwind, to shut my mind off. I knew a headache was brewing and once it was in full flow, I wouldn’t be able to shift it.
Back home, I ran a bath and had a long soak, trying to undo the tangled mess of thoughts and sort them into order. All I knew was I didn’t trust anyone, bar my parents and Frank, and that felt lonely. The water was warm and comforting and I spent so long in there my fingers wrinkled like prunes. The stress melting away, all I needed was a glass of wine.
My eyes were drooping when the phone rang and I jolted upright, sloshing the water over the side of the bath and onto the floor. The caller had rung off by the time I got out of the bath and reached my phone, on top of the washing basket. I’d expected to see James on the display, but it was Becca. I slipped on my dressing gown and called her back.
‘Hey, are you okay? Back home?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, back home now, thank you. Cars a write-off, but it’ll get replaced. Insurance will sort that and the front of the house where it was scorched.’
‘God, I can’t believe it. Who would do this?’ Harassing all of us with cards, flowers, balloons and now intensifying to torching cars. Were we all in danger?
‘They’ve arrested Robyn!’ Becca said, her voice breaking.
I was too stunned to speak, but Becca continued.
‘Her fingerprints were on the petrol can, which was left at the scene. I don’t believe it though, there’s just no way. She’s out on bail, but her conditions are that she can’t contact me. That’s why I was ringing, if I give you her number, could you ring her. Check she’s okay?’
‘Of course,’ I stammered.
‘Have the police been in touch with you?’ she asked.
‘No, but I’ve been out all day,’ I replied, not wanting to divulge what I’d found out about Hayley. First, I needed to work out who I could trust.
‘Well, I doubt they will now. I don’t think they are going to look that hard into the cards.’ Becca sounded tired and anxious. She was as confused as I was.
I took Robyn’s number and said I’d text Becca once I’d been in touch.
I put on my pyjamas and pulled a random box out of the freezer to microwave. It was a leftover Cajun pasta dish from Mum. I didn’t have much of an appetite but knew I n
eeded to eat something. While it was defrosting, I dialled Robyn, who answered after a single ring.
‘Yep?’
‘Robyn, it’s Sophie, Becca asked me to call. Are you okay?’
‘Ah fuck, Sophie, it’s been a nightmare. I got bail today, had to borrow Mum’s savings.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’ve got no idea, they came for me, at work yesterday. Carted me off. Christ knows if I’ve still got a job. Got to go back in and beg tomorrow.’
‘Becca said they’ve got your prints on a petrol can?’ I said, hardly able to believe it myself. Robyn wouldn’t do that to Becca, I was certain. They were friends.
‘Well yeah, the fucking can is mine, but god knows how it got there. I didn’t set fire to her car. They’ll see when they check my whereabouts. I was with Chloe all night.’ Robyn sounded furious, as though she was ready to blow.
I asked her if there was anything I could do, but she only needed me to pass the message back to Becca that it wasn’t her.
‘Don’t worry, Robyn, she knows it wasn’t you. But how do the police have your prints?’
‘Got picked up shoplifting when I was nineteen, had to do community service. It worked though; I’ve never stolen anything since.’ We both laughed, as I remembered Robyn being light-fingered when we were kids. We’d all leg it, terrified we’d be caught, but she saw it as a bit of fun. I couldn’t imagine Robyn being behind it but on the other hand if it wasn’t one of us, then who was it?
‘Be careful okay, keep in touch,’ I said, already penning a text to Becca that Robyn was fine.
I pushed the congealed pasta around my plate. I wasn’t hungry. Not only had Becca’s car been torched, but someone had also tried to frame Robyn. Picking us off one by one. Unless it was to divert attention elsewhere? My head started pounding, thudding against my temples. I wanted to go to bed and pull the duvet over my head. Stay cocooned like that until it was all over.
I woke early in the morning, the consequence of going to bed earlier than normal. Still as unsettled as the day before, I poured boiling water into my jar of coffee instead of my mug. My phone had another missed call and text from James asking if I was okay. I knew I’d have to respond, otherwise there was a chance he’d turn up on the doorstep tonight, or worse whilst I was at work.
I sent a quick message to say I was fine but had a long day at work and sorry to text back so late. Hopefully it would bide me some time. I still didn’t know what to do or who it was targeting us. If it was Hayley, why had she appeared out of the blue twenty years later with a vendetta we knew nothing about? It made no sense.
Work was busy and it was what I needed. I had plenty of emails to get through, two new instructions and a review with Gary and Hope on their initial six weeks at Whites. The day flew by and Frank brought tea and lunch to my desk to keep me going. He stopped to ask how I was, and we caught up briefly.
‘I’ve put a bulb back in your hallway, I noticed there wasn’t one in there the other day when the kitchen door was open.’
‘Ah thanks, Frank. I’ve been meaning to do that. Actually, do you know what circuit it’s on? Is it the office one?’
‘Yes, think so. Why?’
‘No reason,’ I said lightly, although now I knew why the bulb had been removed in the first place. It must have been the one light that still worked after the fuses were tripped.
‘What am I going to do without you?’ I continued.
Frank shrugged, his eyes twinkling. ‘Diane keeps hassling me about you coming over for dinner.’
‘Sure, just let me know when.’
Frank began to cough and left my office to get some water.
Hope came in for her one-to-one and we had a quick chat about her progress. Was there anything she required more training on? How was she finding the sales role? Frank and I were thrilled with her progress and the fact that she’d made a sale so soon was fantastic.
‘I’d like to stay if you’ll have me,’ she said, her hands clasped together tightly.
‘Of course! I think you’re perfect for the role. I’ll organise some more training on the sales system and how you can view each sale through from offer to completion. It helps if you can see the whole process and what you’ll need to provide. You’re doing an amazing job, Hope.’ She beamed at me, eager to please.
Hope bounded out of the room when my phone rang. I spent ten minutes talking to a solicitor because the purchaser of Highlands Drive was certain it was listed for sale with the jacuzzi included, however it had mysteriously disappeared from the fixtures and fittings list. Once I’d finished, I called Gary in, he delivered another cup of tea, which put him in my good books.
‘Nice move, bringing me tea.’
‘I can’t pretend I made it,’ he admitted with a smile. Gary was charming, but I was unable to relax completely in his company. What with the flyer and card found in his drawer, as well as what he said to Frank about me living upstairs. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t freak me out a little, but he had been nothing but polite and professional to me. Plus, he was excellent at his job. I gave him a glowing review and he was modest, telling me he believed he could do better, sell more.
‘Gary, it’s important that you sell obviously, that’s your job, but you’ve exceeded your monthly target already. I’m not telling you to slow down, but I want you to be happy and healthy with no burn-out. I want to retain my staff, and as long as you keep doing what you’re doing, I’m thrilled to have you onboard.’
Gary shook his head. ‘This place is so different to where I was before. I’m still trying to get my head around it.’
‘I don’t believe estate agents have to operate like that, flogging their sales team and encouraging underhand behaviour where they only care about their money. Our industry has such a bad reputation already. I’m trying to break free of that preconception.’
Gary looked at me in awe and I felt my underarms start to dampen.
‘One other thing, we need to make sure the office is a harmonious place, so be mindful of what you say once you have a few drinks. I can’t have any discord between the staff. Are you and Hope okay now?’
‘Yes, we’re fine. I apologised and, absolutely, I’ll think before I speak in future.’ Gary swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
‘Anyway, that’s enough from me. Have you got any concerns or comments you wish to add?’ I said, shuffling my papers like a newsreader.
‘No, I think we’re done. I’ll carry on as is boss.’ Gary shook my hand before leaving the office.
I disappeared upstairs a little while later, my stomach somersaulting and the unpleasant tang of salt in my mouth. I just managed to reach the bathroom before being violently sick in the toilet. Two hours later, I was still there, wrapped in a blanket, my throat burning and stomach sore from all the heaving. I must have picked up a bug from somewhere.
30
October 2018
A noise from outside woke me around three, I heard some shuffling, a grunt, followed by a loud smash. Then all hell broke loose. I’d never heard the alarm before, only the tiniest beep when Dad had pressed the button to test it. I covered my ears, it was so shrill. It screamed through the flat and out into the street, so loud my head throbbed. I stumbled out of bed in a blind panic, still weak from the lack of food or drink as I’d tried to flush out the bug.
Pulling on my dressing gown, I ran down the first set of stairs, then the second. Almost crashing through the door into the kitchenette and again into the office. As I thrust open the door, expecting to find looters, filling their bags with whatever they could find, a gust of wind shoved me back.
It was freezing and dark except for the blue flashing beacon that resembled police lights spinning around, illuminating houses nearby. I wasn’t going to be popular with my neighbours. I switched on the lights and looked around, an icy breeze crawling up my bare legs. Why was it so cold? Then I saw why; a complete pane of glass had been smashed. The sheet that stretched acro
ss my office, allowing me to look out onto the street. Property particulars and shards of broken glass littered the floor. I looked down at my feet, exposed skin ready for slicing. My heartbeat thudded like the speaker at a club. I couldn’t hear anything, only the wailing siren, but my heart was pounding against my ribcage as if afraid it wouldn’t be heard.
‘Where’s the panel?’ I muttered, confused by my panic. The alarm had been going for a good three minutes now. The sound so ear-piercingly loud, I was disorientated. I had to turn it off.
Stepping gingerly across the floor, I trod on some glass and stubbed my toe on something hard.
‘Fuck!’ I shouted, fear turning to anger. I clutched my foot, blood dripping through my fingers. Limping on, I found the panel by the door to the kitchen and keyed in the same code I’d used every morning since I took over. It was the same code Dad had keyed in for the last thirty years. The screaming stopped, although my ears didn’t adjust, the wailing continued like a ghostly echo. Had I damaged my eardrums?
A dog barked nearby, angry at being woken, no doubt like its owners. I stumbled back to the object I’d stubbed my toe on, slipping on the blood and landing hard on my behind. Hoping the dressing gown had prevented me embedding glass into my buttocks.
I picked up a brick that had a note tied to it. The obvious choice for throwing through a window. I slid the elastic band off and pulled the paper away from the brick.
