by Lisa Hall
‘The same car?’ I ask, pausing with the banana halfway to my mouth. ‘This is good, isn’t it?’ I look to Kelly for confirmation.
‘Yes, in a way,’ she nods, ‘we now have two separate sightings of Laurel getting into a car, both witnesses saying it was an SUV, although we don’t yet know for definite which make. We’ll be looking into this further, obviously. We also have had a witness call in to say they saw a woman.’
‘A woman?’
‘Yes – someone saw a woman hanging around outside the entrance shortly before Laurel was last seen. She was alone and didn’t enter the field. The caller said it was almost as though she was waiting for someone. DS Wright will be chasing that up too.’
‘It still might be nothing,’ Dominic says, before pushing his stool back and getting to his feet. We watch in silence as he leaves us, and as the tension thickens again, that thick, stifling aura filling the room, I slide away, shoving my feet into trainers and escaping out to the fresh air, away from all of them.
*
The volunteer hub has been moved from the school hall to the community centre next door, to allow the children to get back into a normal routine. Part of me feels as though the school has acknowledged that there’s a chance that Laurel won’t be found anytime soon by moving the search hub, but equally I get that they need to think of the other children – it’s been ten days now since Laurel was last seen.
Pushing the door open, I hear voices and realise the hub is still buzzing, only slightly less so than at the start of the search. While many of the original volunteers have had to go back to work and their everyday lives, a few dedicated members of the community are still here, still working hard. Posters are still piled up waiting to be given out, and a new stack of T-shirts bearing Laurel’s face wait to be worn by new volunteers. I see Ruth as I enter, still in her familiar outfit of worn out, filthy jeans and headscarf. I raise a hand to her, but I don’t stop when she looks as though she wants to speak to me, instead hurrying past her to where Ella stands by the toilets.
‘Ella?’ I was sure she would have been busy at work, doing whatever it is that she does, by now. ‘You’re still here.’
‘Just checking in to see if there’s anything I can do,’ she says. She holds her phone in one hand, and her eyes keep drifting down towards it as though waiting for a call or a text.
‘Well, I’m sure Cheryl will find you something.’ I nod towards the front of the hall where Cheryl is busy handing out leaflets.
‘How did the reconstruction go? I watched it,’ Ella says, dragging her eyes away from her phone screen as she tucks the device into her pocket.
‘Great.’ I wince as I say it. ‘You know what I mean. There’s been a few leads from it. Someone said they saw Laurel getting into a car, and another witness said they saw a woman hanging around outside shortly before Laurel disappeared. Shit. I don’t know if I should have said anything.’
Ella’s face is pale, and she pulls out her phone again, checking the screen and fiddling with the ringer the way you do when you want someone to call and you’re terrified you might have missed it. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says, pushing her hand through hair that looks a little greasy. She looks as tired as I feel. ‘I won’t mention it. A woman, you say? Could they describe her?’
‘I don’t know . . . I didn’t get the full details, but you know DI Dove, he’s like a dog with a bone.’ I think of the way his face seemed to come to life every time he discussed the case. ‘I doubt he’ll let it go, not until he finds out who she is and why she was there.’
‘Excellent.’ Ella says, giving me an awkward smile. ‘You know, Anna, I need to get on. Catch up with you later?’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’
There is a sudden rush of commotion as someone flies into the school hall, and I hear my name being shouted.
‘Anna? Anna!’
Pushing my way past Ella, who stands frozen in front of me, I see Jess coming running into the hall, Daisy holding tight to one hand as she desperately tries to keep up with her nanny. Jess slides to a halt in front of me, pulling Daisy tight towards her as she tries to get her breath back, her cheeks pink and her hair standing out in a halo around her head.
‘Anna . . .’ Jess gasps, ‘I’ve just seen Mr Snow. He was getting into a police car. Anna, they were taking him away.’
CHAPTER 11
The buzz of chatter in the hall dies away completely as Jess’s words ring through the air and the world tilts on its axis briefly. There is a rumbling in my ears, as though I am under water and I feel for a minute as though I might faint.
‘Anna? Anna, are you OK?’ I look down to see Jess grasping my elbow tightly. She guides me towards a small, plastic chair, the kind children sit on to eat their school dinners. ‘Here.’ She passes me a cup of water. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.’
I take a tiny sip of water. ‘Are you sure they were arresting him? What did you actually see?’
‘Not much. Just him coming out of his house. There were a couple of police officers either side of him, and they bundled him into a car that was waiting outside his gate. I don’t know if they actually arrested him, or if he’s merely “helping them with their enquiries”.’ She crooks her fingers in quote marks.
‘Do you think this is something to do with the reconstruction?’ I ask, my mind racing. How could frail, innocent-looking Mr Snow have anything to do with Laurel going missing? He’s . . . well, he’s nice.
‘I don’t know. Seems a bit suspicious though, doesn’t it?’
‘But he’s always so . . . friendly. So normal. I can’t believe . . .’ I trail off, not sure how to continue, as a horrific thought strikes me. What if this really is all my fault? What if Mr Snow is somehow responsible, and my encouraging Laurel to be friendly to him is what started it all? It all began because each day we would see him at his gate, on our way to school. I told Laurel to say ‘good morning’, and after a few weeks we went from a brief hello as we passed to a full-on chat every morning before we hurried up the lane to get to school before the bell rang. He gave her that tiny little doll. Oh God. I get to my feet, pushing my hair away from my face. ‘I have to go.’
‘Go? But Anna . . .’ Jess shakes her head, ‘you need to calm down – look, just sit for a moment before you go rushing off.’
‘I can’t, Jess. This is huge news – everyone overheard you, and I have to get home and see whether Fran and Dominic know what’s happened. They can’t hear it from someone else. They’re . . . things are fragile at the moment.’
‘Anna, at least let me walk you home, you’ve had a shock.’ Ella appears beside me and I look at her in confusion. I had forgotten she was even still here.
‘What? No, thank you. Honestly. I need to go.’ I want to get home, and I’m sure the last thing Fran and Dominic need is an old school friend landing on the doorstep. A look I can’t quite place crosses Ella’s face before she gives me a quick smile.
‘Of course. And I have a meeting to get to, so . . . I’ll catch up with you soon.’ Without saying goodbye, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the main table at the front of the hall. I hurry out and along the lane, averting my eyes as I pass the Snow house, but not before I catch sight of a police car parked outside and a flicker of movement at the window that tells me someone is inside, searching.
I let myself back in, my feet aching and my chest hitching as the dash from school to home catches up with me. The house is quiet as I make my way towards the kitchen, and I feel Laurel’s absence acutely. No sound of her singing floating down the stairs from her bedroom, no tangle of shoes to be hurriedly tidied away before Fran gets home, no demands for snacks before tea.
As I reach the patio doors to the garden, I see Kelly is outside in the wintry sunshine, somewhat futilely hanging out washing that won’t dry in these temperatures. Seeing as the cleaner hasn’t been back since Laurel went missing (I’m unsure if Fran told her not to come, or whether she is avoiding us, in case it’s
catching), Kelly seems to have absorbed all of the chores that the cleaner used to do. Maybe it’s a bid to make herself seem less like a police officer, and more like a friend of the family. I’m guessing then, that no one has been told yet. I walk along the hallway back towards the stairs, intending to head up and see if Fran is in her room, when I see that the door to Dominic’s study is half open. A noise stops me in my tracks, as I realise someone is in there, and then Fran’s voice floats out to me.
‘. . . no, it’s OK. I’m OK. I promise.’ There is a noise that sounds like drawers being pulled open. ‘Just stay there. I don’t want you to come, all right?’
I hold my breath as Fran’s voice rises and there is the thunk of another drawer slamming closed. I know I should move away, but I can’t.
‘. . . yes, it’s fine. I mean, he’s no better than he usually is, but no worse either.’ A squeak as Fran sits in Dominic’s office chair. ‘Hang on . . . I thought I heard something.’ Her footsteps tap lightly across the wooden floor of the office and I scuttle around the corner and put one foot on the stairs as if just coming down, but she doesn’t appear. ‘No, it’s fine, must be my imagination. I thought he was back for a moment.’ I let myself breathe again, and tiptoe back round to the office door. ‘He’s so . . . you know, he grabbed me again the other day, in the kitchen. Was screaming in my face. And I know that no one believes me when I tell them that he has this . . . side to him. I’ve got to hang in there, for Laurel, you know? Once I get her home then maybe . . . maybe I can see a way out. But I need her back first.’ Fran gives a dramatic sniff, and I decide enough is enough. She’s clearly on the phone to her mother again, so I am intruding on what is a private and personal conversation.
Fran’s words run round in my head as I return to the kitchen to wait for her to finish her conversation. He grabbed me again . . . she must be referring to the day I saw them together in the kitchen. A shudder runs down my spine, as I remember the look on his face as he hurled the glass into the fireplace, the way his eyes narrowed, and his cheeks flushed an angry, ugly red. I have never, ever seen Dominic like that before. He simply isn’t the man that I know.
I think back to the tail end of summer, when it was my birthday. I had come downstairs in the morning to find a home-made card next to a plate of toast and a mug of tea.
‘A little bird tells me it’s your birthday,’ Dominic had said, as Laurel giggled on the stool next to him. I had kissed her, and thanked him, a little bit tearful at the thought that had gone into it, when Fran entered the room.
‘It’s your birthday?’ she’d said, frowning at the card before turning to Dominic. ‘Well, Dominic, I’m sure Anna is delighted to be reminded she’s another year older. Why didn’t you buy her some eye cream and be done with it?’ Before flouncing out of the house to yet another audition.
I simply can’t reconcile the man who would be that thoughtful – that nice – with the man I saw in the kitchen the other night.
Fran is right – I would never have believed her if she had said anything to me before – not that she ever did. My relationship with Fran has always had clear boundaries. We are employer and employee, not friends, which is perhaps why I am finding it so difficult to comfort her now. Dominic is usually the one who smooths things over when Fran has lost her temper about something. So, if Dominic has been violent towards her all this time, I would never have known about it, not unless she had said something. Once Laurel is in bed, I am off the clock, and spend most evenings holed up on my own in my room, watching Netflix with my headphones on. But now I’ve seen it with my own eyes, now that I’ve seen the way his face changes when anger consumes him, then yes . . . now I can believe it, and I feel slightly sick at the thought of the things that Fran may have had to hide from me.
Fran drifts into the kitchen, her eyes slightly tinged with pink, a thin floaty kimono-style dressing gown that is totally inappropriate for the outside temperatures wrapped around her skinny frame. As she enters, Kelly bustles in to the kitchen, empty laundry basket in her hand.
‘Oh, you’re both back,’ Kelly says, and I wonder for a moment where Fran has been while I’ve been gone.
‘I have something to tell you,’ I blurt out before I can stop myself, before I can think through how I’m going to say it. ‘It’s Mr Snow.’
‘Who is Mr Snow?’ Fran asks, her eyes darting in Kelly’s direction before coming to rest on my face.
‘He’s . . . he’s a man who lives by the school,’ I stammer, feeling flustered under her gaze, even though I am pretty sure I haven’t done anything wrong. Have I? ‘Jessika Lewis saw him being taken away by a police car this morning.’
‘And you think this has something to do with Laurel?’ There is a slight tremble to her tone, but her words are like chips of ice, and I recognise it as her professional-but-angry mode. It rears its head when I haven’t done something I said I would, or if she disapproves of something I’ve said or done with Laurel. I knew I should have let Kelly or DS Wright tell her.
‘I’m not sure. It just seems like a coincidence that . . . after the reconstruction . . .’ I tail off, pathetically, looking away so I don’t have to meet her eyes.
‘And how does this Snow man know Laurel?’ Fran asks. One hand comes up to brush a stray hair away from her lip, and I see her fingers shake slightly.
‘I . . . I started talking to him. On the way to school. We pass by his house every day, and it was the polite thing to say hello. And then we got talking a few times. He was nice.’
‘Nice!’ Fran’s voice rises to a screech and as she slams her hands down on the table in front of me I resist the urge to clamp my hands over my ears. ‘He might have taken my daughter! What the fuck were you thinking, Anna? Encouraging a four-year-old to talk to a stranger? After everything I tried to teach her!’ She shoves her hands through her hair and starts pacing the floor. ‘I need to speak to Dove. Get me the phone.’
But Kelly has already beaten her to it, and is muttering into the phone, herself pacing backwards and forwards in much the same fashion as Fran.
‘I can’t believe you would be so stupid,’ Fran hisses at me, out of Kelly’s earshot, ‘after all the things I did to try and drum it into her that she shouldn’t speak to people she doesn’t know, and you go and do this. No wonder there’s a chance she got into someone’s car.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I gulp back tears, forcing the words out through the lump in my throat. ‘I didn’t think . . .’
Kelly turns to us, hanging up the phone, a grave look on her face. ‘Your information was right, Anna. George Snow is helping us with our enquiries, but at this moment in time that’s all I can tell you.’
‘What? Are you kidding?’
The shrill ring of the doorbell stops all of us in our tracks.
‘I’ll go,’ I say, eager to get away from Fran before she turns on me again. I don’t even care if it’s the press, I want to get out of this room. There is a single silhouette in the glass of the front door when I reach it though, and I heave a sigh of relief that there is only one person outside, not a press mob.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ Opening the door, I stare in surprise as Ruth stands on the doorstep, yet another foil-covered dish in her hands.
‘I brought a casserole,’ she says, shoving it towards me. The dish is lukewarm and a vague meaty smell wafts out from under the foil, making my stomach turn.
‘Thanks.’ I don’t know what else to say.
‘Can I come in?’ Ruth has one foot on the doorstep, one grubby, denim-clad leg already poised to push her way inside.
‘It’s not really a good time,’ I say, thinking of Fran in the kitchen, her hair standing on end, kimono slipping off one porcelain-white shoulder as she shrieks at me.
‘I thought Fran might want to talk to somebody,’ she says, her dirty trainer still wedged on the doorframe. I don’t think I’ll be able to get rid of her, and I don’t have the energy to fight with anyone else today. I sigh and pull the door open a fraction.
‘It’s really not a good time. Things are . . . fraught at the moment.’
‘There’s never a good time, not when something like this has happened.’ Ruth gives me a sympathetic smile and steps past me into the hallway before I can react. She follows me through into the kitchen, and I can feel her eyes running over everything, peering into the living room before we reach the kitchen door.
‘Who . . .?’ Fran looks startled when she sees Ruth standing beside me.
‘This is Ruth,’ I say cautiously, not sure if Fran is about to launch herself at me again. ‘She brought you a casserole.’ I lift the heavy dish slightly in Fran’s direction before placing it on the counter.
‘Oh, isn’t that lovely of you?’ Kelly flashes a quick smile at Ruth. ‘Are you a friend of Anna’s?’ She looks between the two of us, a slight frown creasing her brow, probably wondering why Ruth hasn’t appeared on her radar yet.
‘My daughter was at Oxbury Primary – Laurel’s school,’ Ruth says, ‘I’m on the PTA. How are you, Fran?’ She turns her pale, limpid gaze to Fran.
‘How do you think?’ Fran says, before dabbing at her nose with a tissue. I don’t see any sign that she recognises Ruth at all. ‘I’m sorry, it’s a terribly difficult time for us.’
‘I understand.’ Ruth’s eyes fill with tears, and I think that maybe she knew Laurel better than I realised. Or maybe she’s thinking that it could have been her daughter instead. ‘I just want you to know, I’m here if you need me, Fran. OK?’ She grasps Fran’s hand earnestly, pulling it towards her.
‘Yes. Of course.’ Fran frowns as she gently tugs her hand free. ‘Thank you.’
‘Anything at all, you know? This is my number.’ Ruth pulls a ragged piece of paper from her back pocket. ‘I’ll come by tomorrow and bring you another dinner. Lasagne, OK?’
