The pair introduce themselves as Doug and Faith. They’re younger than I would have thought and I doubt either of them are touching fifty. They are both wearing thick waterproof jackets and trousers, as if they’ve hiked across a moor to get here. Faith looks astonishingly like her daughter, so much so that I have to stop myself from staring at her. They have the same narrow face, with striking green eyes. I wonder if that’s how Jade got her name. If so, it would be apt.
‘I suppose you’ve heard,’ Faith says. She’s on the brink of tears already, not that I blame her. I assume she’s talking about the discovery of Jade’s body.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
Both parents nod, although Doug is struggling. He’s staring at the ground, biting his bottom lip.
‘Did you know her well?’ Faith asks.
‘A bit,’ I reply. ‘She lived across the hall. We said hello a lot. She liked my dog and would sometimes buy him a pack of doggy biscuits.’ I tail off, not entirely sure what to say because I didn’t know their daughter. Not really.
There’s an uncomfortable moment in which nobody knows what to say. I end up breaking this by asking them if they want to come up. It’s with the eagerness of their thank you’s that I realise this is what they were hoping for.
The four of us head up the stairs. Karen is at the front and halts outside my apartment. Faith and Doug understand the significance by stopping and turning to face the door of the flat in which Jade lived.
‘Is this it?’ Doug asks. He’s gruff and his accent is far stronger than his wife’s.
‘Yes,’ I say.
They stand solemnly staring at the door. In the meanwhile, Karen leans in close to me and whispers, ‘I need a word.’
‘You okay?’ I mouth.
She shrugs, whispers, ‘When you’re done.’ and then clears her throat. ‘I’ve got to get back.’ She shakes hands with both of Jade’s parents and wishes them a safe journey.
‘Do you want to come in?’ I ask, nodding at my own apartment.
‘That’d be nice,’ Faith replies, and so I unlock the door and head in. If I had any doubts about Billy’s recovery, then they disappear immediately as he trots across to Jade’s parents and gives them a good sniff. His tail wags enthusiastically and I wonder if he can smell a link from these newcomers to the woman who used to give him treats. Faith crouches and makes a fuss of him as her husband watches on.
‘Have you ever been here before?’ I ask.
‘No,’ Faith replies. ‘We live up near Dunblane and it’s so far to come. Whenever we suggested something, Jade said not to. She came up for the holidays anyway.’ She pauses for a moment and then adds: ‘Does someone else live there now?’
‘I think so,’ I say. ‘I’ve not seen whoever it is, but there’s music sometimes. The building manager thought Jade had taken off without paying rent…’ I tail off. ‘Sorry,’ I add, not sure why I blurted out the last bit.
Faith stands and waves it away. ‘The police already told us that,’ she says. ‘When we reported her missing, they spoke to someone…’ She swirls a hand around and then says: ‘Lauren, I think. We had a bit of a row with the police because they were saying there wasn’t much they could do.’
She sighs loudly and then we stand around for a second before I offer them the sofa. I ask if they want tea and then get to work in the kitchen. Billy comes over to check on me before mooching around the living room area, looking for attention.
As I make the tea, Jade’s parents mutter quietly to one another. I can’t make out a word, but there is urgent annoyance in Doug’s tone. When Faith catches my eye, she presses her lips together and glances back to her husband. The whispering stops straight away.
When their teas are ready, I put the mugs on the table in front of them and then drag across one of the dining chairs. The room suddenly feels even smaller than usual.
‘Was her flat like this?’ Doug asks. I get the sense he doesn’t necessarily mean to sound abrupt, but there’s something rough around the edges with his tone. He’d tell someone he loves them and it would come out like a headbutt.
‘They were mirrors,’ I reply. ‘Mine overlooks the road, while hers had a view of the community centre.’
He turns to look towards the window but doesn’t say anything. I can almost hear his thoughts as he wonders if a one-room apartment is what their daughter’s life had come to.
I have no idea what to say – but then I barely knew their daughter. Sometimes politeness leads to any number of inexplicable decisions. I’m sitting with a pair of strangers in my flat because I wasn’t sure what else to do.
‘Why did Jade choose to come here?’ I ask.
Doug and Faith exchange a sideways glance and I can tell this is a point of contention. Neither of them speak for a moment and then, before the silence can become too uncomfortable, Faith lets out a small cough.
‘She was looking to explore new places,’ Faith says. I get the sense she’s chosen these words carefully. ‘She could have done her course in a lot of places. We tried to encourage her to go to Stirling, but it was too close. After that, we talked about Edinburgh, but she seemed determined to come to England.’
Doug snorts but seems oblivious to how we’ve both turned to look at him. He clearly did not approve.
‘It’s not a crime,’ Faith says firmly.
It takes a second for her husband to realise she’s talking to him. ‘What’s not a crime?’ he replies.
‘To be young and independent,’ Faith says. ‘If she wanted to put a bit of distance between herself and us, that’s more an issue for us than it is for her.’
‘Was for her,’ Doug hisses. ‘Not is.’
‘She didn’t die because she left home.’
Faith speaks with a sharp hiss. They stare at one another and then Doug thrusts himself to his feet. He mutters something like, ‘See you in the car,’ and then he’s across the room and through the door. His footsteps echo away to nothingness.
Faith picks up her tea and sips. Doug’s is untouched.
‘Sorry about that,’ she says after a while. ‘It’s hit him hard.’ She has another sip and then puts her mug down. I have no idea what to say.
‘Do you have kids?’ Faith asks.
‘No.’
She glances around the room, probably without meaning to. Even without speaking, she has a point. Where would they go?
‘There were no real problems between Jade and us,’ Faith says. ‘She was home last Christmas and then over the summer. She liked her space, that’s all. There’s not a lot to do where we live and I think she wanted to be around people of her own age on her own terms. I don’t think she even looked at courses in Scotland.’
Billy, dear Billy, picks his moment; trotting across the floor and settling next to Faith. He looks over to me with his endless dark eyes, as if he wants permission, and then he turns back to Faith. She rubs his head and he lets out a low, appreciative moan before lying on her feet.
‘She was living somewhere else around here at first,’ Faith says. ‘I’m not sure where. It was too expensive for her, though – so she was happy when she found this place.’ She gulps and then adds: ‘Do you think she was happy here?’
It feels as if there’s a spotlight on me. The truth is that I have no idea. Not really. What I do know is that, sometimes, telling a white lie is the right thing to do.
‘I think so,’ I say. ‘She always stopped to say hello to me – and she loved Billy.’
That last bit is true and Faith bites her lip and glances away to the corner of the room as she rubs Billy’s back.
‘Have the police been around?’
‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘Did they ask you about whether Jade was ever in trouble? Or if she was in a bad relationship? Anything like that?’
I nod. ‘There wasn’t much I could tell them. I’m not sure I ever saw Jade with anyone here. If she had a boyfriend, she never told me. If she was in trouble, I never saw it. She got in late a
few times – but that’s something we’ve all done. She was really quiet. The perfect neighbour, really.’
Faith nods again and gulps. It takes her a good minute to reply.
‘I just wish we had a reason. I don’t understand any of it. She’d call us once or twice a week – and would probably text most days. Sometimes it was just to say she had a lot of work on. We contacted the police after we’d not heard from her in over a weekend. They didn’t do much at first. Our force said they’d contact the officers down here, but I don’t know if that happened. By the time we finally got to speak to someone who understood, six more days had gone. It all got really dragged out. They were saying she was an adult, then I’d say, “Adults can still go missing.” We talked to that Lauren, but she seemed more concerned that Jade had taken off without paying rent. We’d have come down, but the police talked us out of it. I don’t know why we listened…’ She tails off. It sounds like someone made a mistake somewhere, but it’s all a bit late now.
Faith downs the rest of her tea in one.
‘This has been very kind of you,’ she says. ‘I’ve imposed enough, though – and Doug will be wanting to get back.’
She stands and so do I. Billy follows us to the door and then, in the corridor, Faith stops to press a hand to the door opposite. I watch but say nothing. She stands with her hand on the wood for thirty seconds or so and, when she turns, there are tears streaming over her cheeks.
‘I’ve gotta go,’ she says quickly. Before I can reply, she hurries for the stairs and then I hear her running all the way down until the main door clangs open and closed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Karen opens her door before I can knock. She winces dramatically as she holds it open.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I was on my way in and they were outside. We got talking and, before I knew it, I was blabbing about how I live on the same floor as Jade; that you live opposite and all that. After that, I could hardly wave them goodbye and nick off. Then you appeared and, er…’
‘You dumped them on me…’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘I think Jade’s mum needed someone to talk to.’
‘I couldn’t face it. When they were talking about Jade, I was thinking about Ty and Quinn. Sorry to pull the mother card.’ She frowns slightly and then adds: ‘Are you all right? You’re white.’
I press a hand to my forehead but can’t feel anything untoward. ‘I think I might have a cold coming on,’ I say. ‘Billy was a bit poorly and Nick said Judge wasn’t feeling well, either. Perhaps there’s something going around and the dogs caught it first?’
Karen shrugs as if to say she doesn’t have a clue.
‘What did you want a word about?’ I ask.
Her eyes widen as if she’d completely forgotten. ‘It’s a weird one,’ she replies. ‘I found some random chunks of meat in the hall.’
‘What do you mean?’
She waves me across to the kitchenette and opens the cupboard under the sink before pulling out the bin. I suppose this is what friendship really is – showing each other the contents of your bin. If strangers did such a thing, there’d be police involved.
Sitting on the top are four chunks of what looks like beef or lamb. They’ve been cooked until they’re a grey-brown colour.
‘Where did you find these?’ I ask.
‘I’ll show you.’
Karen takes me back out into the hallway, to the corner, where the light was out the other day.
‘Lauren never got back to me,’ Karen says, holding up the flashlight on her phone as if to emphasise the point. ‘I texted her to say the light was out.’
I remember how odd it looked against the background of the other dim orange bulbs that line the hallway. I should have contacted Lauren myself. She’s never that great at getting onto things if only one person calls or messages. It takes a degree of coordinated harassment to get anything done.
‘Where was the meat?’ I ask.
Karen takes a step towards the shadows and points at the ground. ‘Down there. I’m not even sure why I saw it. It was in the dark, but I guess it caught my eye, or something.’
I step into the shadows, but there’s nothing to see except the floorboards. There’s no particular smell; nothing odd at all… until I look up. We’d assumed the light was out because the bulb had blown. It’s not uncommon in the hallways – except that’s not what’s occurred here.
‘What’s wrong?’ Karen asks.
‘Someone’s taken away the bulb,’ I reply, pointing upwards.
Karen gets closer to me and, together, we both stare at the hanging light fitting. The lack of a bulb is something that, ironically, is hidden by the darkness.
‘You found the meat here?’ I ask, pointing to the floor.
‘Right there,’ Karen replies, indicating the spot on which we’re standing.
She lives in the final flat at the end of our floor. There’s nobody else who has any legitimate reason to be at this end other than her.
‘I thought you should know,’ she adds, ‘in case Billy eats it. I know he wanders around the corridors. Wouldn’t want him to eat anything that’s gone off.’
She seems oblivious to what she’s said. As if someone has accidentally left a bit of their dinner in the hallway. My thoughts are racing.
‘I’ve got to get back,’ she says quickly. ‘I have things to do. Are you still coming tomorrow night?’
It takes me a few seconds to remember she means her birthday party. ‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for anything.’
Karen heads back into her apartment, but I feel lost. The vet said Billy might have eaten something that poisoned his stomach. Judge was similarly poorly, too – and the pair of them have been allowed to roam the hall. That’s what happens when dogs are kept in small spaces like this: there’s nowhere else for them to walk.
Did someone poison Billy? On purpose?
I head along the corridor until I’m outside Nick’s door. I assume he’ll be at work, but it’s hard to know in this building – everyone seems to keep different hours. Until recently I’d have been out during the day.
Nick answers not long after I knock. He’s barefooted and wearing shorts plus a sweatshirt with a Marvel character on the front. His hair is unusually askew and it doesn’t look like he’s left the sofa – or bed – all day. Judge pokes his head around the door and the creeps onto the landing, looking both ways as if to ask where Billy is.
‘Was I being noisy?’ he asks.
It’s only now that I notice that music is seeping out through his open door. I don’t recognise the song, but it’s some auto-tuned nonsense. That’s all there ever is nowadays.
‘No,’ I say, angling towards the darkened corner. ‘Karen found some chunks of meat left on the floor over there. I didn’t know if you’d noticed anything?’
He stares past me and narrows his eyes. ‘Meat?’
‘Beef or lamb – something like that. She picked it up. I had to take Billy to the vet because he wasn’t feeling well. The vet said he probably ate something that gave him a bad tummy. I didn’t know if that’s what happened to Judge…?’
Nick turns to look at Judge, who is ambling along the corridor in the vague direction of the corner. Nick calls him back and the dog turns and comes back to him with reluctance.
‘How is Judge?’ I ask.
‘He was ill for a day or so – but seemed to get over it. If he’d been down for any longer, I’d have gone to the vet.’
We both turn to look towards the darkened corner of the corridor.
‘That bloody Mark,’ Nick says out of nowhere.
‘Mark?’
‘From downstairs. I told you about him aiming a kick at Judge. He’s always had a thing about dogs.’
‘Oh…’
For whatever reason, Mark’s name hadn’t occurred to me. ‘He shouted at me, too,’ I say.
‘Did he?’
‘He was playing loud music l
ast week and keeping up Vicky from downstairs. She’s got a young baby, so I went and knocked on his door to ask him to turn it down. He didn’t seem too happy about it.’
‘Give me a minute.’
At that, Nick disappears back into his apartment and pushes the door closed. I wait in the corridor, not sure what to do. A minute or so later, Nick reappears, wearing jeans, a shirt and shoes. There’s something about his focused, determined stare that makes me uneasy. He re-closes his door before Judge can leave and then he marches downstairs, with me tucked in a little behind.
When we get to the ground floor, Nick turns and strides towards Mark’s door before pounding on it with the palm of his hand. He waits three or four seconds before blasting the door a second time.
When the door opens, Mark is wearing loose basketball shorts and nothing else. His chest is like a Gruffalo’s plughole that’s not been cleared in a few years. The smell of tobacco and marijuana drifts into the hallway as a sloppy grin falls onto his face. When he spies Nick, Mark starts giggling to himself.
‘What did you do to our dogs?’ Nick demands. The sternness of his tone is somewhat offset by the way Mark is sniggering like an overexcited toddler who’s been snorting milkshake powder all morning.
‘You what, mate?’
The way he spits the word ‘mate’ makes it sound like a swear word.
‘Did you poison our dogs?’ Nick says.
‘What are you on about?’
Nick huffs out in annoyance and jabs his finger towards Mark, who slaps it away. Nick steps forward, chest puffed out, but Mark is a good six inches taller and it is clearly the wrong move. Mark shoves Nick hard in the shoulder and, possibly because Nick is off balance – but likely because of the difference in size – Nick stumbles backwards, clipping his heels together and faltering into the wall. I reach for his arm to help him up, but his pride’s been hurt more than his body and he shrugs me away.
Mark laughs. ‘Whatever you’ve got your thong in a twist for is nothing to do with me,’ he says.
Nick pulls himself up and straightens his top. His fists are balled.
A Face in the Crowd: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 19
