Have You Seen Her

by Lisa Hall

  ‘Anna . . .’ Fran speaks, but keeps her eyes straight ahead on the flame of the candle. ‘You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if you thought Dominic was keeping a secret from me?’

  Shit. I shuffle my feet slightly, if only to reassure myself the ground hasn’t fallen away beneath me.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I stall.

  ‘I . . . I think he’s hiding something from me, but I don’t know what. I thought maybe . . . no, I am pretty sure he’s having an affair, but I think there’s more to it than that.’

  I bite down on my lower lip, frantically thinking how best to respond, but Fran doesn’t wait for me to speak.

  ‘I mean, why would he be so desperate to go back to work? I know his job is important, and life-saving and everything he constantly rams down my throat about it, but Laurel is his daughter! How can he think about work at a time like this?’ She turns to me, eyes shining with unshed tears.

  ‘I don’t . . .’ I stutter for a moment, ‘I don’t think he knows what else to do.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s having an affair. The way he storms out at any little chance. Have you seen or heard anything, Anna?’

  I think about the phone call I answered, the breathy, flirty voice at the other end of it, but it’s not enough, it’s not proof. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘There was a woman before me, you know?’ Fran gives me a conspiratorial look, as if sharing a secret. ‘I honestly think that she and Dominic would have got back together if it hadn’t been for me.’

  ‘Really?’ I’m not sure what to think. The Jessops have a volatile relationship – Fran is high maintenance and they argue about ridiculous things sometimes – but it always seemed, before, anyway, that the volatility was what kept them coming back for more.

  ‘Oh, yes. I got pregnant within a few weeks of Dominic and I meeting each other. Of course, he wanted to do the right thing, so we got married. But I sometimes think that he and Pamela would have got back together and lived happily ever after if I hadn’t had Laurel.’ Fran pauses for a moment. ‘I think maybe he was with Pamela that night . . . or maybe he was somewhere else. The night Laurel went missing.’

  I freeze for a moment, ice trickling through my veins, before I try and hide it by reaching down to scratch at my ankle, hiding my face from Fran. ‘Why would you think that?’ I say, eventually, when I can’t keep up the fake scratch any longer without looking weird.

  ‘He said he was at the hospital. That’s what he told me and the police anyway. But I overheard you, Anna, on the phone.’ Fran’s eyes meet mine and my breath sticks in my throat. ‘You rang the hospital that night, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, quietly. She knows – there’s no point in lying to her about it.

  ‘And they told you he wasn’t there?’ I nod, and she closes her eyes for a moment. ‘I suppose he told you not to say anything, didn’t he? Don’t look so sheepish, Anna, I’m not cross with you. Dominic is your boss as well – he put you in an awkward situation.’

  ‘He did ask me not to say anything to you, not until he had a chance to speak to you himself. And he told me that he’d already spoken to the police and told them his whereabouts.’

  ‘I don’t think he did that, Anna.’ Fran gets to her feet and I follow suit, relieved that we are finally leaving. Fran puffs out the candle, crosses herself, and we walk back up the aisle to the heavy oak doors where she stops for a moment. ‘I don’t just think he’s having an affair, Anna. I think there’s something else. I think he’s hiding something worse.’

  As we walk back to the house, through the damp fog that has descended whilst we sat in the church, I toss Fran’s words over and over in my mind. Does she really think that Dominic is hiding something? It makes my stomach hurt to think about what she’s really saying. Does she think Dominic had something to do with Laurel’s disappearance? The hair on his jacket springs into my mind, my own suspicions rising to the surface, and my stomach does a somersault. Maybe I should tell Fran about it? But it could be from weeks ago. And if I’m really honest with myself – Dominic? He has his faults, but could he really do something this . . . awful? My mind bounces from one thought to the next and back again, my thoughts conflicting. I jump when Fran lays a hand on my arm at the bottom of the hill.

  ‘You won’t say anything to Dominic, will you? About what we’ve talked about this evening?’ she says, her eyes wide with something like fear.

  ‘No. Of course not. But maybe you should speak to Kelly . . .’

  ‘Maybe.’ Fran starts walking again, slowly this time, the fog leaving fine droplets in her hair. ‘When Laurel comes home, things will be better. With Laurel at home we can talk about things, I can make a decision about how we’re going to carry on.’ It’s almost as though she’s talking to herself. I stay silent, letting her speak. ‘I’ve missed her so much. I never realised how much it would hurt, how difficult it would be, until she wasn’t there every day. I hate myself for all the time I could have spent with her, instead of at the theatre, or all those auditions. Things will be very different when she’s back.’

  ‘I’m sure they will be.’ I don’t know what else to say – clearly Fran is clinging on tightly to the idea that Laurel will return. We reach the front path, and I step to one side to let Fran in first, catching a glimpse of someone loitering a little further down the street, watching us.

  ‘What is it? Anna?’ Fran turns back to me, a frown creasing her brow.

  ‘Nothing. I thought I saw something.’ I peer back down the path, and there is a long shadow where someone stands, tucked behind the hedges further down. ‘You go in. I’m going to have a quick look.’ Grumbling, Fran goes into the house, warning me not to speak if it turns out to be yet another journalist, and I walk silently down the path to the bank of hedges.

  ‘God, you scared me.’ Ella steps out of the hedges, and I press my hand to my racing heart. ‘What the hell are you doing, lurking about in the bushes?’

  ‘I had to walk this way home, so I thought I’d see if you were OK. Things were . . . tense, when I saw you last. When George Snow was arrested.’

  ‘That still doesn’t explain why you were in the hedge?’ I force out a laugh, but with the dark, the fog, and Fran’s words about Dominic I am feeling on edge.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ella raises her hands in a gesture of surrender, ‘I saw you walking with Fran, and it looked like an intense conversation. I didn’t want to disturb you – I know Fran is going through enough right now, without strangers ambushing her on her doorstep. But, as long as you’re OK?’

  ‘Fine. Thank you – I appreciate the gesture, even if it was a little bit weird.’ We both laugh, and after we say our goodbyes I head back towards the house, trying to throw off any feelings of unease but no matter what, I just can’t shake the idea that Ella wasn’t walking past as she claimed. She was watching the house.

  CHAPTER 17

  Fran is already in the kitchen when I make my way downstairs early the next morning, her laptop in front of her. Today marks three weeks and two days since we last saw Laurel, and I barely managed an hour or two of sleep, my mind fizzing with Fran’s words the previous evening. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Laurel getting into a car, Dominic behind the wheel, spiriting her away never to be seen again. As a result, I feel sick with exhaustion this morning, my stomach churning and my face clammy and pale. Fran would look the same, if she hadn’t taken the time to smooth on some foundation and a lick of mascara. She holds out the coffee pot to me and I shake my head, acid already burning at my stomach lining at the thought of it. There is no sign of either Dominic or Kelly.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ I pour myself a glass of water and sip at it slowly, relishing the icy feel as it slides down my dry, sore throat.

  ‘Kelly will be over later, apparently. She had to go to the station for a briefing or something. God knows.’ Fran sighs, and as she types I see she’s bitten her nails down to the quick. She still hates Kelly, still thinks her a nosy snoop and no support f
or the family. ‘Dominic is upstairs. Asleep.’ Bitterness seeps into her voice and I can see the dark rings under her eyes showing through her make-up. She punches a key on the laptop and I see the screen come to life.

  ‘Are you working?’ The words tumble out before I can stop them.

  ‘Huh. No. I’m not Dominic. I’m not ready to start working again, not yet.’ She types rapidly, the screen giving her face an eerie blue glow. I feel like a bit of a spare part this morning, with no Kelly to talk to, no updates to hash over . . . no Laurel to take care of. Things feel like they are slowing down, almost to a stop, and I know that before long Laurel will fade from everyone’s memories and something else, something bigger will take over the news. I don’t want that to happen. I finish my water and get to my feet.

  ‘I might go over to the community centre. I haven’t been for a few days and I’d like to see how they’re getting on over there.’ Fran is silent, her eyes still fixed on the screen. She hasn’t been over to the community centre once to meet the volunteers and see what a brilliant job they’ve been doing. I overheard Kelly asking her if she’d like to, a few days after Laurel went missing, and Fran had simply shaken her head, saying that if she saw all of those people searching then it really would feel like Laurel was lost.

  ‘OK, I think I’ll stay here. It’s still a little . . . Oh.’ Fran sucks in a deep breath and a look of hurt crosses her face.

  ‘Fran? Are you OK?’ I come around behind her, peering over her shoulder at what is on her screen. ‘Hey! That’s Ella – do you know her?’

  ‘Ella?’ Fran twists round in her chair to face me. ‘Do you know this woman?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I say, a bit unnerved by the strange look on Fran’s face. As I say it I know immediately that I’ve said the wrong thing. Fran pats the chair next to her and I obediently slide into it, my bare feet cold on the floor.

  ‘How do you know her?’ Fran’s voice is like the cold blade of a knife against the frayed edges of my nerves.

  ‘She was at the school the first morning that they were searching for Laurel,’ I say. ‘I got talking to her. Her name is Ella, and she moved back to the area a short while ago. She went to school with Dominic. She was quite concerned when she heard about Laurel, said she wanted to help look for her.’

  ‘Ella?’ Fran lets out a screech of laughter. ‘Is that what she’s calling herself?’ She scrolls up the Facebook page to show the profile picture and name, and my heart sinks in my chest.

  ‘Pamela?’ I whisper. Unable to believe what I’m seeing, I yank the laptop towards me, peering closely at the screen.

  ‘Yes,’ Fran bites back, ‘Pamela. Bloody, bloody Pamela. Popping up exactly where you least expect her.’

  ‘Is this . . .? Is she Dominic’s Pamela?’ I already know the answer, as I scroll down to see a picture of a younger Ella, her face squashed against Dominic’s as they both grin wildly at the camera. It’s the same picture I once found tucked inside an old copy of Rebecca I had borrowed from Dominic. A picture I hadn’t given any thought to at the time, aside from a passing curiosity. No wonder I thought her face looked vaguely familiar. I feel the sharp bite of betrayal as I think about the way she struck up a conversation with me that first day, telling me she knew Dominic from before. The way she lurked in the hedges last night, all under the pretence that she was my friend, that she was looking out for me, when really, she was only spying on the Jessops.

  ‘Of course, she’s Dominic’s Pamela. And she’s been hanging around, getting friendly with you?’ Fran stares at me. ‘What did you tell her, Anna? Have you been reporting back to her? Does she know something about what happened to Laurel?’ A note of hysteria has crept into her voice, and I rush to reassure her.

  ‘No, Fran, I swear, I had no idea.’ I look back at the photo on the screen. It is unmistakably her. Thank goodness I never confided anything in her. ‘She just . . .’

  ‘You don’t know the full story, Anna.’ Fran’s voice thickens even though her eyes are still dry. ‘You do know they were together before? Pamela and Dominic?’

  ‘Yes, you told me that. But honestly, Fran, I don’t think she’s had anything to do with Laurel’s disappearance.’

  ‘Just listen.’ Fran is impatient, keen to tell me the story. ‘They were childhood sweethearts, engaged to be married, but Dominic kept putting it off. You know Dom, the hospital comes first.’ She takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving mine. ‘So, one day they have a row and Dominic tells her that it’s over. He doesn’t want to get married. He throws her out of the house . . .’

  ‘Wait – this house? They lived here together?’ That’s how she knew where I lived – it never crossed my mind until I went to bed last night, and I wondered how she knew where to find me.

  ‘Well, yes. Of course, they lived here. Anyway,’ Fran rattles on, the words clear and concise as if she is performing a monologue on stage. ‘Not long after they split, Dominic and I met and ended up having this wonderful whirlwind romance. Only, then I found out I was pregnant with Laurel. For whatever reason, Dominic decided to do the right thing and marry me, so that’s what we did. Pamela turned up here three days after we got home from our honeymoon in tears, telling Dominic that she didn’t care if they didn’t get married, she just wanted him back. Obviously, Dominic had to tell her that we were married. She was a bit deranged, if you ask me.’

  Jesus. I have no idea what to think. Poor Pamela. Knowing Fran as I do, knowing how Fran always gets what she wants, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit sorry for Pamela/Ella. Until I remember how she lied to me.

  ‘I think Pamela is in contact with Dominic,’ Fran says, quietly. ‘What if she had something to do with Laurel going missing? Remember someone saw a blonde woman lurking around by the gates that night? What if that was Pamela and she took Laurel for revenge? To get back at Dominic and me?’ She looks at me in horror. ‘What if they’ve planned this together? What if Dominic planned to take Laurel and start again with Pamela?’ She presses her hand to her mouth, as a low moan seeps out from between her lips.

  ‘We have to tell Kelly.’ I get to my feet, reaching for my mobile with shaking hands.

  ‘Wait.’ Fran lays out a hand to stop me from dialling. ‘What about Dominic? Shouldn’t we speak to him first? Maybe I can get him to tell me the truth, if I have something to back it up.’

  ‘OK,’ I say slowly, ‘but do you really think he’ll be truthful with you? I mean, to be honest, Fran, you don’t even know that he and Pamela are in contact . . . and there’s nothing to suggest that Pamela had anything to do with Laurel’s disappearance.’ I want to say there’s nothing to suggest Dominic did either, but there is still that heavy, dark suspicion that makes my stomach turn over when I let myself think of how Dominic has proved himself to not be who I thought he was these past few weeks.

  ‘His phone,’ Fran says.

  ‘What – you think you . . .’ I stop, seeing the frown settle in on Fran’s forehead. ‘We should check his phone?’

  ‘Yes . . . well done, Anna. That’s a brilliant idea.’ Fran nods, frown easing away, and I hurry away to the stairs, horror and betrayal leaving a bitter, metallic taste on my tongue.

  I knock on their bedroom door, but there is no answer and I hear the faint rush of the shower running in the en suite. Tentatively I push the door open and slide in, spying his mobile phone left on the bedside table, exactly as Fran suspected it would be.

  I cautiously pick it up, my ears straining to hear the moment the shower goes off. Fran told me his passcode – turns out it’s the same as the alarm code for the house – and with shaking fingers I tap in the code waiting for the screen to come to life. His background picture is a photo of Laurel taken last summer, on a rare day when they went to a theme park as a family, leaving me at home, and my heart twists at the sight of her blonde hair, her gappy grin. Swiping into his messages I scroll down, scanning over them until I see the one I was really hoping I wouldn’t. It’s a number, not a stored name, an
d as I open it I swear I can hear my heart thundering in my chest so loudly it drowns out the sound of the shower. It says:

  ‘I KNEW YOU’D SEE SENSE IN THE END. THIS WILL ALL BE OVER SOON. P xxx’

  What? I can’t even begin to make sense of the message. What will all be over soon? Dominic and Fran’s marriage? Or the fact that Laurel is missing? And it’s signed P, so surely it can only be from Pamela? The abrupt sound of the shower turning off startles me and I jump, throwing the phone back on to the bedside table, scurrying downstairs to the kitchen before Dominic returns.

  ‘Well?’ Fran looks as though she’s been pacing since I left the room. ‘Did you find anything?’

  I nod, urgently. ‘Yes, there’s a text message on his phone from P . . . I think it must be Pamela. It didn’t really make much sense, but they’re definitely in contact. But that doesn’t mean she had anything to do with Laurel’s disappearance.’

  ‘I’ll have to speak to DS Wright about it though. Any lead helps, doesn’t it? And if Pamela had something to do with Laurel disappearing I have to say something. She’s already trying to steal my husband, why not take my child? She’s trying to steal my whole life.’ Fran’s face crumples, and she puts her head in her hands as she starts to sob.

  ‘You speak to DS Wright,’ I say, already pulling on my jacket, ‘I’m going to go and find Pamela and ask her exactly what is going on. I can confront her – she lied to me, remember? Oh Fran, please don’t cry.’

  I stand there awkwardly unsure of what to do, how to comfort her, the ghost of the old, spiky, prickly Fran still standing between us. The ring of the doorbell saves me from my indecision and I hurry to open the door, thinking it will be Kelly only to see Ruth on the doorstep.

  ‘Ruth. Hello.’ My hearts sinks a little at the sight of her on the doorstep, once again. At least she doesn’t have a casserole with her this time.