by Karen Cole
I don’t answer. There’s nothing to say. The past is coming back. I can feel its dark tentacles stretching, worming their way into my life – into my family – and I’m powerless to stop it.
Chapter 24
2000
It’s getting cold. The evenings are the worst, when you’re sitting still. The houses here are not designed for the winter. There’s no central heating or proper insulation and the chill sea wind rattles through the hut while I sit wrapped in a duvet watching TV. Sometimes I rent a DVD from the video shop. Sometimes Hakan joins me and we huddle together. I like the old classics: Gone with the Wind, Mildred Pierce and my favourite, The Sound of Music. I love the bit where Captain Von Trapp is singing ‘Edelweiss’ at the competition in front of all the Nazi guards and he can’t sing because he’s overcome with emotion and then Maria steps in to help him. I want to be like that for Hakan. I want to be the person who supports him and fills his life with song, because Helen isn’t, that’s for sure. She just drags him down.
Thank God she’s in England at the moment, having her baby. She doesn’t trust the doctors here, she says, and she wants to be sure that they’ll speak in English to her if something goes wrong. That’s fine with me. It means that Hakan and I get to spend the next two weeks together uninterrupted. He still has to be careful about what the staff see but he trusts most of them to be discreet. Sometimes I even stay in the house in his bed. A couple of times I stay the whole night.
We wake up, limbs tangled, skin on skin, so close that I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. The birds are singing outside the window and a shaft of light pools on the skin of his back. I stroke his cheek, my hand catching on his stubble, and he opens his eyes. I’ve never seen it before, that moment of first consciousness. It’s like he’s being born again, and his eyes are brown, full of amber light and love.
‘I love you, Jojo,’ he whispers, cradling my face in his hands. We’re so close I can see the pores in his skin, the small lines around his eyes and the threads of grey in his hair. There’s a part of his earlobe that’s strangely deformed. I rub it with my finger and then I turn my head away because tears are filling my eyes and I feel silly.
‘Why are you crying?’ he asks, holding my head in his hands, and I can’t answer. I’m crying because I’ve never felt so safe or so loved, but I can’t say that out loud.
‘I love you too . . . maybe . . .’ I say, laughing, and he crushes me close. He kisses my neck, then my shoulder, then even my armpit, which makes me giggle, and he tickles me, which makes me giggle more, and he rolls on tops of me and I feel the weight of him.
‘You’re my girl,’ he says, pinning back my arms and gazing into my eyes. ‘Say you’re my girl.’
‘I’m your girl,’ I say, and he kisses me. But just then there’s a hammering on the door and someone tries to turn the handle.
‘Daddy?’ Adam calls out from the other side. Thank God Hakan remembered to lock it last night.
‘Shit.’ Hakan scrambles up. ‘Get in the bathroom,’ he hisses. ‘Just a minute, Adam. I’m coming.’
I scoop up my clothes and rush into the en-suite. In the bedroom I can hear Adam snivelling.
‘Daddy, I had a bad dream. Where’s Mummy? I want Mummy.’
‘It’s all right, son. It was just a dream. Mummy’s not here. She’s gone to the UK, remember?’
‘But I heard her.’
‘You must have imagined it, son. Now, why don’t you go back to bed, there’s a good boy.’
On the tiled floor, I dress quickly, shivering with the cold. Suddenly I feel like I’m making a terrible mistake.
Chapter 25
I watch Dave shuffle along the street, taking in the stooping shoulders, the shambling walk. God, how I hate him. I hate everything about him. I even hate the way he moves. I grip the wheel with shaking fingers, breathe in deeply and exhale slowly, trying to calm myself. He doesn’t know anything. He has no power over you, I tell myself. You’ve escaped from that life, from the mess of your past. You’re a different person now.
At home I stack the dishwasher and mop the tiled floors, trying to exorcise my demons. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but I can still smell Dave in the air. That distinctive blend of the roll-ups he smokes, and his BO seems to have permeated the house, as if he’s an animal that’s marked the place with his scent. I spray air freshener liberally around the living room and open all the windows wide, but the stench still lingers. I’ll never escape him, I think grimly.
It can’t be a coincidence, I tell myself, as I put the cushions outside in the garden to air. Dave turns up in the country and then shortly afterwards Grace goes missing. Could he have had something to do with her disappearance? Could he have hurt her? Killed her even? I shiver at the thought. But realistically, I know it’s not likely. I wouldn’t put anything past Dave, but he has no real reason to hurt Grace that I can think of. No, whatever’s happened to Grace, the answer is somehow connected with that letter. I just know it. What happened between her and Tom? Why did she break up with him so suddenly?
I go to my handbag and take out the copy of the letter Dino gave us. Then I sit at the kitchen table and read it again, tracing my fingers over the writing as if I could divine Grace’s thoughts by imitating the movements she made as she wrote.
I need to talk to Maria, I decide. She’ll know what happened between them. If Grace has confided in anyone, it’ll have been her. Relieved not to be obsessing over Dave and to have a plan of action at least, I take out my phone and ring her number.
‘Maria, it’s Jo. I need speak to you,’ I say when she answers.
‘Er, I’m at school, Jo.’ She sounds a bit breathless, like she’s walking somewhere. There’s the sound of children screeching and laughing in the background. ‘I’m late for my next lesson.’
‘Can I come and see you at your house, after school?’
‘Of course. Any time.’
‘I’ll come at about two thirty this afternoon, okay?’
‘Okay, gotta go now,’ she says and rings off before I can say anything else.
I’m just trying to decide what to do next when Lola scratches at the door and I realise I haven’t fed her yet. I let her in and scratch behind her ears. And I’m just spooning out her food when my phone rings. It’s Chris.
‘Jo—’ he begins.
‘Where are you?’ I interrupt. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gone to work again. I need you at home. Dave’s been here stirring up trouble like he always does and—’
‘No, I’m not at work. I’m at the police station,’ Chris says.
‘What? Why didn’t you wait for me?’
There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone. ‘I didn’t have a choice. They’ve brought me in for questioning. They picked me up outside the school and wouldn’t take no for an answer.’
‘What? Why?’ I say, shocked. I picture them handcuffing him in front of all the kids and parents at drop-off. In front of Jack. I shut my eyes and shudder.
‘Why don’t you just come down to the station?’ he says wearily. ‘I’ll explain when you get here.’
About twenty minutes later, I’m in the reception at the police station. I demand to see my husband but instead I’m shown to an interview room by a lethargic-looking officer. The room is bare apart from a desk and a couple of chairs with a large mirror covering one wall. Dino and Eleni are sitting at the desk, not smiling.
‘Where’s Chris? What the hell’s going on? I don’t . . .’ I begin. But my voice tails off as I fully take in the formality of the situation and the expression on their faces. The explosive rant that I’m about to deliver dies on my lips.
‘Sit down, please, Mrs Joanna,’ Dino says gravely, pulling up a seat for me.
I stay stubbornly standing, clutching the back of the chair. ‘Where is he? Is he okay?’
‘He’s okay. He’s
here, in the police station. You can speak to him in a while. But first I must ask you some questions. Please . . .’ He gestures for me to sit. ‘Do you mind if I record the conversation?’
I perch reluctantly on the edge of the chair. ‘Go on then. But please make it quick,’ I say, glancing at my watch. ‘I don’t want to be late to pick up my son from school.’
Dino pushes a button on the recording device and looks at his watch. ‘Okay, the date is the twenty-second of September and the time is twelve thirty. Present are myself, Detective Constandinos Markides, Constable Eleni Michalis and Mrs Joanna Appleton.’ He clears his throat.
‘Mrs Joanna, do you know where your husband was on Monday morning – the day Grace went missing?’
So, that’s why Chris has been detained. They’re still pursuing the ludicrous idea that he had something to do with Grace’s disappearance. I feel a wave of helpless anger. They should be out finding her, not wasting time harassing Chris.
‘Of course I know where he was,’ I snap. ‘He was at work.’
‘No, he wasn’t,’ Dino answers calmly. ‘We checked with the manager of Lambros Developments’ – he looks down at some papers on his desk – ‘Mr Markos Lambros. He says he fired your husband from the project two weeks ago.’
It takes me a minute to understand what’s just been said.
‘Two weeks ago?’ I repeat blankly. ‘That’s impossible.’ My mind is whirling, stirring up memories, trying to make sense of this new information. It can’t be true, can it? But then again, why would Dino lie? I think back, trying to remember any signs that I may have missed. It’s true Chris returned from work in a foul mood one evening a couple of weeks ago, saying he’d had a row with Markos. But that wasn’t that unusual, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about being fired.
‘It must be a mistake,’ I murmur weakly.
Dino taps his fingers on the desk and gives me a sympathetic look. ‘So, you didn’t know?’
‘No.’
How could I have? Chris went off in his van every morning for the two weeks before Grace disappeared, just like normal. He came back at about six o’clock every evening, like he always did. He even talked in detail about his day. Was that all lies? And where was he going all that time if he wasn’t going to work?
Dino leans forward, clasping his hands together. ‘That’s not all,’ he says gently. ‘We have a witness who says they saw his van parked outside the school on Monday morning.’
I stare at him, stunned. ‘What? Who?’
He shrugs. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.’
One of the busybody parents concocting stories to make themselves seem important, I think indignantly. ‘Well, they must have made a mistake,’ I say out loud.
Dino is looking at me strangely, almost as if he feels sorry for me, and I feel a twinge of disquiet.
‘I don’t think it was a mistake,’ he says. ‘As you know, it’s quite a distinctive van.’
I can’t argue with that. Chris brought his old van from England, the one with the lightning bolt painted along the side. It’s difficult to miss, even for someone like me who hasn’t the slightest interest in cars. So not a mistake then, but a malicious rumour?
There’s an awkward silence as Dino shuffles some papers. ‘I’m sorry but there’s another question I must ask you. It’s not a comfortable question to ask, but I must ask it all the same.’
‘Okay,’ I nod. It can’t get much worse than it already is, I suppose.
‘Has your husband ever been physically violent towards you or your daughter or given you cause to feel afraid?’
I stare at him for a moment then shake my head emphatically. ‘Never.’
Dino gives me a searching look. ‘Are you sure about that? Take your time. Think carefully.’
There’s no denying that Chris has a temper. There was a time early on in our relationship when he punched a hole in the door during an argument after a night in the pub, but he’s never laid a finger on me or either of the children and I’ve certainly never been afraid of him.
‘I’m absolutely sure,’ I say, meeting Dino’s eyes directly.
Eleni, who has been silent up until now, leans forward and says, ‘You said before that Grace said to a friend that someone she knew had committed a crime. We assumed it was Tom, but do you think she could have meant your husband?’
I shake my head. ‘No, Grace didn’t know about Chris’s criminal record.’
Dino and Eleni exchange a glance. Then Dino clears his throat. ‘We didn’t exactly mean that. Do you have any reason to believe your husband may have been abusing your daughter? Sexually?’
My mouth falls open. The idea is completely insane, of course, and I would laugh if I didn’t feel like the whole world was suddenly lurching like a boat in rough waters. I grip the chair, holding on tight, and shut my eyes, battling a wave of nausea.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I manage.
‘I’m afraid we’re very serious, Mrs Joanna.’ Dino purses his lips. ‘Some allegations have been made.’
‘By who?’
‘Your daughter never claimed that he did anything inappropriate to her or that he made unwanted advances?’
‘No!’ I dredge my mind. Have I missed something? But no. Grace loves Chris. I have never for one single moment suspected that he was anything but a loving father to her.
‘You never saw anything that made you uneasy? Anything between them?’
‘No!’ I picture Chris tapping Grace on the bum with a fly swat or embarrassing her in front of her friends by tickling her. It was inappropriate behaviour maybe. But I’m sure there was nothing sinister about it. It’s just that he still thinks of her as a little girl and hasn’t realised how quickly she’s growing up.
‘Look, I don’t know who’s made these allegations,’ I say. ‘Maybe it’s someone who has a grudge against Chris for some reason. All I can say is that it’s completely untrue.’
‘Can you think of someone who might have a grudge against him?’
‘Not really,’ I admit. ‘But he has a bit of a temper and he sometimes gets people’s backs up because he doesn’t mince his words.’
‘Mince his words?’ Dino looks confused.
‘I mean, he says it like it is.’
Dino nods. ‘I see. I’m still working on my English.’
I don’t answer. If he’s fishing for a compliment, I’m not really in the mood to oblige.
‘You may be right,’ he says at last with a sigh. ‘We get all kinds of false information during an investigation but when these allegations are made, it’s our duty to follow them up. I’m just doing my job, I hope you understand that.’
I do understand, of course, but right now I’m too angry and agitated to admit it. ‘Is he under arrest?’ I ask.
‘No, he’s not under arrest. We just wanted to ask him a few questions, that’s all.’
I breathe a sigh of relief. If he’s not under arrest, they can’t have any solid evidence or real suspicion that he’s guilty.
‘Good. So, then he can come home with me,’ I say. ‘Can I see him now?’
Dino looks at Eleni, who nods, and he turns off the recording device. ‘I don’t see why not.’
‘Mrs Appleton, are you sure you know your husband as well as you think you do?’ Eleni says as I head to the door.
I stare at her defiantly, my hand on the door handle. ‘Well enough to know that he’s a good man. How well do you know your husband?’
She shrugs and smiles faintly. ‘Sometimes we believe what we want to believe because anything else is too painful,’ she says gently. ‘Are you sure that’s not the case with you?’
Chris is waiting in the reception area of the police station. He’s rocking backwards and forwards in his chair, the legs thumping on the floor, a grim expression on his face.
‘Jo, thank God,’ he says when he sees me. ‘Let’s get out of this loony bin.’ He gives the officer at the desk a filthy look and sweeps outside into the stifling hot air.
We walk in silence to my car, which is parked outside the post office. Eleni’s last words to me are still reverberating in my head. Have I been kidding myself? Is it possible that this man walking next to me is a stranger?
‘There’s no point in going home now,’ I say once we reach the car. ‘We might as well pick up Jack. Where’s your van?’
‘I had to leave it outside the school,’ he sighs heavily.
‘I suppose you know why they brought me in?’ he says as we drive off, slowly caught up in the one-way system through the town centre.
‘Dino told me. I . . .’
‘You know that it’s a lie, don’t you?’ He stares straight ahead as we crawl through the backed-up traffic.
‘Yes, of course,’ I say with more conviction than I feel right now. ‘I know you would never hurt Grace. But Dino said you lost your job, is that true?’
‘I wasn’t fired. I quit,’ he mutters darkly. ‘You have no idea what an arrogant twat Markos is.’
I absorb this in silence. I look across at his profile, the blunt freckled nose, the laughter lines around his eyes. I thought I knew him inside out, but clearly I was wrong. I try to ignore a nagging sense of unease. If he’s managed to hide this from me, what else could he have been hiding? We draw near the school, where the traffic is even more chaotic with all the parents picking up kids. There are cars blocking the road, refusing to move, and other cars hooting wildly at them. I manage to squeeze into a tiny space between two parked cars and I kill the engine.
‘I don’t mind you quitting,’ I say quietly. ‘It’s the lies I mind.’
He sighs deeply. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’
‘I mean, what have you been doing all this time? You’ve been going out every morning in your van as if you were still working.’
