What She Saw: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist

by Wendy Clarke

  ‘I’ve phoned all of Beth’s friends whose numbers I’ve got, but no one’s seen her. They said that…’ He stops, seeing my tear-stained face. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I spoke to Colin. Gareth’s broken parole and gone missing. He says there’s no way he could know where we are, and wants me to stay at the house, but I’m scared, Scott.’

  Scott’s voice is strained. ‘If Colin said there’s no way he can find you, you have to believe him. The only way he’d know you were here is if you’d told someone.’ He stops and takes my shoulders, his dark eyes looking into mine. ‘You haven’t told anyone, have you?’

  A memory stirs. My mother’s hair soft against my cheek as I whisper to her.

  ‘Only my mum. I didn’t think it mattered because she doesn’t even know what day it is.’

  ‘Oh, Christ.’

  I’m on the verge of tears and he sees. Drawing himself up, he forces a smile. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  He answers my question with another. ‘Did you tell Colin about Beth?’

  ‘Yes, he says we should make a list of everything she’s taken with her. It might give a clue as to where she’s gone. I’ll look now.’

  Running up the stairs, I fling open her wardrobe and pull out all her drawers. Then I get down on my knees and look under her bed. Her sleeping bag is missing and her rucksack and sketchbook. It’s as I’m going back out that I notice that the torch, which she always keeps beside the bed in case there’s a power cut, has gone too.

  I go back down and tell Scott what I’ve found. He’s sitting on the settee, his fingers steepled under his chin.

  ‘I think the fact she’s taken her sketchbook is a good thing,’ he says. ‘Maybe she went out early to draw.’

  ‘But the sleeping bag?’

  ‘You’re right. Looks like she was sleeping out last night. Thank God, the nights haven’t been too cold. Christ, Leona. Where could she have gone?’ He stands and paces the room. ‘We have to think… What were her favourite places?’

  My mind is a blank. There are so many walks we’ve done. So many fells climbed. She hasn’t been out with me as much, recently, and of course I realise now it’s because there was someone else whose company she wanted more.

  I grab Scott’s arm. ‘What if she went to meet that photographer guy, David? What if she’s with him?’

  ‘If we had his number, we could phone him?’ He looks out the window at the distant tents on the higher slopes of Blackstone Farm. ‘Beth told me he was camping in an old VW over there, but I haven’t seen the van since that day I saw them together on the fells. I’d presumed he’d got bored and moved on… But you never know. He might just have moved to a different campsite.’

  I force my mind to think. ‘Maybe we could try phoning one of the magazines he works for. They might have a contact number for him.’

  ‘Good idea. I’ll go to the pub and get Pete to round up a few of the guys to form a search party. We’ll get some kit together and be ready as soon as you call with any information.’

  Scott goes to the front door and opens it. Reaching back in, he unhooks his waterproof jacket from the peg. ‘Looks like I might be needing this. It’s not looking too good out there.’

  Taking out my phone, I google one of the magazines, then click on the contact number for their London office. A receptionist answers and I tell her why I’m ringing. There’s the click of her fingers on the keyboard, then she comes back on and tells me she’ll call me back. It’s the same with the next one I try.

  Disappointed, I ring Scott. He answers straight away and I tell him what happened.

  ‘Never mind. You can let me know when they ring back. There are quite a few of us here and some of the holidaymakers want to help out too.’ In the background, I can hear voices, the scraping of chairs on a slate floor. ‘We’ll find her, Leona, don’t worry. The question is, where to start looking first. If only we knew her favourite places.’

  I shake my head, although he can’t see. ‘She never told me anything. All I know is she used to like to go out and sketch the birds. She’s sketchbooks full of them. Shall I get one? It might give us a clue. Hold on a minute.’

  I run upstairs and come back with an armful of her books. Tucking the phone under my chin, I flick through them. In amongst the horrible birds of prey are some sketches of places I recognise.

  ‘She’s drawn the tarn by the Three Shires, the packhorse bridge and the cairn on top of the fell behind our house. I don’t know this place, though.’ It’s a photograph she’s stuck in. Wondering if it’s one of David’s, I describe to Scott the pool of dark green water, the pillars rising out of it to form a vaulted cavern.

  ‘I know where that is,’ he says. ‘It’s called Temple Quarry. It’s disused now but the sheer sides are popular with climbers. At the bottom is a cave with what looks like a lake but is actually the flooded workings. You can get to it two ways – from the lower road via a series of miners’ tunnels or from the quarry top.’

  The place looks eerie. ‘But why would Beth go there?’

  ‘Kestrels nest in the cliff face and, at the top, there’s a slate bench overlooking the water far below. It’s probably where she sat to draw the birds. I expect that was the attraction.’

  ‘Do you think that might be where she’s gone?’

  ‘I don’t know, but if she’s drawn it in her book, it’s as good a place as any to look. She could have slept there or there’s also an old slate-miners’ bothy close by. That’s a possibility too.’

  ‘Can you reach the top of the quarry by car?’

  ‘Yes. The path from there is overgrown but manageable.’

  ‘I’ll take my car and meet you there.’ I’m eager to be going.

  ‘No, don’t do that. Someone needs to be at home in case Beth comes back and, anyway, Colin will be on his way. I’ll get some of the others to drive to the places you’ve mentioned and I’ll go to Temple Quarry myself. Ring me as soon as you hear back from the magazines. I doubt the phone reception will be up to much, but we can always hope.’

  He rings off and I try to think of something to do to pass the time, but can’t settle to anything. The thick flint walls that once made me feel safe, now feel like they’re closing in on me. I go to the window, wondering if there is anyone out there watching me. Watching the house. Colin says I’m safe, but right now I don’t feel it.

  I wish Mum was here to tell me everything’s going to be okay… wish I could tell her all that’s happened. But the mother I saw at the nursing home isn’t the one I used to know. I remember the narrow bed, the window looking out onto the street, the bedside table with its water jug. Then, I remember the folded note I placed there for Leo to find – my whispered words in my mother’s ear. What if I wasn’t the only person to visit my mother that day? What if they read my note? Spoke to my mum? How could I have been so stupid?

  A message flashes onto the screen of my phone. It’s from Scott.

  ‘Have split up into pairs to search. Am on my way to the quarry now.’

  I’m full of nervous energy. Pacing the room like a caged animal. I’m just reminding myself to breathe, when the phone rings.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Travis. I said I’d ring back with information about the man you were asking me about.’

  ‘Yes. If you could just give me his phone number, I’d be very grateful.’

  The girl’s voice is apologetic. In the background, I can hear the sounds that indicate a busy office. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got a number, but there’s something you should know.’

  She starts to tell me and, as she does, I go cold.

  Forty-Nine

  Beth

  The sketchbook lay open on Beth’s lap, the blank white pages taunting her. She’d hoped that sketching the birds that circled above her would help to clear her head, but it had been the opposite. She would never forget the humiliation of being dragged out of the school hall, or the cold eyes of h
er father staring out at her from the newspaper article.

  Closing the book, she placed it next to her on the slate bench, then stood up and walked to the edge of the quarry. Below her was the flooded workings where David had taken his photographs and, beyond that, the cavern where she’d left her sleeping bag. That day with David seemed a million years ago now. A time when she had been happy. Had thought she knew who she was.

  Beth yawned. Last night, she’d hardly slept. The cave had been cold, lonely too, and, as she’d tried to get comfortable in her sleeping bag, the slate floor hard beneath her, she’d been petrified that her torch might give out. At least it had been a clear night. She’d been glad of the company of the bright moon and the stars that twinkled in the dark circle above the slate walls, but, even so, when at last the sky began to lighten, sending orange fingers across the sky, she’d been relieved.

  Thank goodness the woman who’d offered her a lift had believed her story that she was meeting friends for a barbeque in the cave. If she hadn’t, she’d be back at home with a mother who didn’t care that she had no friends. No normal life.

  Stepping back from the quarry edge, Beth looked up at the sky. Heavy clouds were gathering and it didn’t look as though it would be long before it started to rain. She’d given no thought to what she was going to do next, but now, as the wind began to pick up, making the skin of her bare forearms stand up in goose bumps, she knew she couldn’t stay there forever.

  ‘Beth?’

  At first, she thought she was hearing things, just a trick of the wind as it blew across the bleak quarry top. But when she turned and felt her heart give a leap of joy, she knew that the figure who stood before her was not one she’d conjured up from her imagination.

  David held his long hair back from his face with one hand. In his other hand was his camera. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Feeling flustered, Beth pointed to her sketchbook. ‘Drawing.’

  ‘Alone? How did you get here?’

  ‘It’s none of your business.’

  She heard him sigh. ‘Don’t be like that, Beth.’

  ‘How do you expect me to be? You disappeared from my life without a second thought.’

  David frowned. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘How was it then?’

  Lifting his camera strap over his head, he clipped the lens cap into place. ‘I saw how it must look… Okay?’

  ‘How what must look?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Try me.’

  He took a step towards her. ‘You think I don’t care about you, but I do. That’s why I made you think I’d left.’

  ‘Where did you go then? I haven’t seen your van at any of the local campsites.’

  A smile played at the corner of David’s mouth. ‘You’ve been looking, then?’

  Beth said nothing – too tired to deny it. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more.

  ‘I parked at a site on the other side of Windermere. I still had some shots I needed to take, but after knowing how your dad felt, I thought it better to base myself somewhere else. From what you’ve told me, he’s a decent guy and I didn’t want any trouble between the two of you. But seeing you again makes me doubt the wisdom of what I did. It was a cowardly thing to do.’

  As he spoke, drops of rain had started to dot the path around them, soaking into the dry earth. Cooling Beth’s skin and speckling the slate bench. She looked down at her T-shirt. ‘I left my rucksack, with my waterproof, in the cavern. My sleeping bag’s there too.’

  ‘You slept in the quarry?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  He put his head on one side. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘Fair enough. Anyway, you can share my waterproof.’ He untied it from around his waist. ‘Always prepared, me. I never trust forecasts. We’d better find some shelter.’

  ‘The cavern?’

  ‘No. The rain will have made the path down too slippery. There’s a miners’ bothy not far from here. We’ll go there.’

  Above them, the clouds had joined to form a dark blanket. David held the waterproof above their heads and, together, they ran down the path as quickly as they could without slipping. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance.

  The rain was harder now. Running down Beth’s neck. Plastering her hair to her face. As she ran, she could feel her shorts sticking to her legs. ‘We’re going to get soaked.’

  ‘Just a bit further.’

  The bothy was nestled into the hillside, almost invisible against the boulder-strewn slopes. Its roof was just an overhanging slate slab with a wall built around it, a small opening leading into the dark space inside. Ducking their heads, they stumbled in.

  Beth looked around. The place was little more than a cave, the stone walls cold and damp. At one end was a makeshift bunk, made from planks of wood and, on the ground, someone had left a couple of crushed beer cans and an empty biscuit packet. Beth touched her walking boot to one of the cans, watching it roll.

  ‘Who’s been here, do you think?’

  ‘Kids, probably,’ David said, wiping the rain from his face with his sleeve. ‘Walkers would have the sense to clear up after themselves.’

  He stood with his hands either side of the opening, shoulders hunched, looking out. The rain was coming down hard now, blurring the scenery and bouncing off the moss-covered threshold. ‘Don’t think we’ll be going anywhere for a while.’

  ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘Wait until it eases, I suppose, then make a run for it. You should go home and let your mum know you’re okay.’

  ‘I don’t want to. She’s not bothered about me. She’s mucked up her own life and now she wants to muck up mine.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true. Come here, you’re shivering.’ He reached for her hand and pulled her to him. The heat from his body warming her. Beth leant her body into his and David kissed the top of her head. ‘Please tell me what you’re so upset about. You never know, I might be able to help.’

  The thought of telling him everything was like slipping into a warm bath. She longed to do so, but if she did, would he still like her? Who could possibly like a girl whose mother was losing the plot and whose father was a psycho? But there was no one else to tell and if she kept the terrible thing she’d found out to herself any longer, she’d go mad too.

  She took a breath. ‘My name isn’t Beth, it’s Lily.’

  And so she told him everything. About how she and her mum had come to be in the Lake District… About her real father… About how her mum had lost her mind at the exhibition.

  ‘So that photo you showed me was your mum.’ David’s voice seemed to come from far away. ‘How she used to look?’

  Beth nodded into his jumper, her tears dampening the wool. Outside, the rain had got harder still. Drumming against the stone walls of the bothy as though it wanted to get in.

  ‘That’s some story. No wonder you’ve been unhappy.’ David smoothed back her hair, then pressed his forehead to hers. ‘I can’t bear to see you like this.’

  ‘The thing that’s making me the most unhappy is you leaving. I love you, David.’

  She froze. The words had come out of nowhere and could not be unsaid. The weight of them hung in the cold space of the bothy, taunting her. Her head was still against David’s, his hands resting on her shoulders, and she thought she felt him tense. Minutes passed, but he said nothing. What was he thinking? Why didn’t he speak?

  At last, David raised his head and when he did, his voice was husky with emotion. ‘I feel the same.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Christ, I don’t want to…’

  Nothing mattered now. Nothing could hurt her. There was something she knew that changed everything. Beth pressed her lips to his and, after a second, felt him respond. Immediately, she could tell the kiss was different to the ones they’d shared on the fellside, or in the camper van. Before, there had been a slight reserv
e on his part – a pulling away when things got too heated. Now his mouth was hot on hers, his lips moving, and she could feel her own body responding.

  Turning her head, she whispered in his ear. ‘I want you to make love to me.’

  David’s reaction was not what she’d expected. Letting go of her, he sat back, his fingers raking his hair. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ She stopped, embarrassed.

  ‘It’s just…’ He buried his head in his hands. ‘Oh, fuck.’

  ‘You have feelings for me, but you don’t find me physically attractive, is that it?’ Her voice was loud in the empty space. Desperate. She should have known. He wouldn’t be the first to think this way.

  ‘Christ! Listen to yourself.’ There was frustration in his voice. ‘How can you say that? Don’t you know how hard it is to say no to you? You can’t imagine how fucking much I want to give in to this.’

  She could sense David’s indecision. The fight that was going on inside him. She couldn’t bear it. With a hand either side of his face, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him again, lips parted, her tongue seeking out his.

  He gave a low moan and then his hands were under her T-shirt, his fingertips a brand against her skin. She wanted more. Shifting away, she crossed her arms and lifted her top over her head. He watched her, his face flushed. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to her collar bone, tracing the delicate ridge of bone with his lips. Tipping her head back, Beth closed her eyes. He loved her and nothing else mattered.

  Fifty

  Leona

  ‘We’ve never had anyone by the name of David King working for us. A guy with that name applied for a contract job a year or so ago, but we didn’t take him on.’

  I grip the phone, my knuckles turning white. ‘Can you tell me why?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that.’

  I remember then what Scott told me. ‘He said he was a freelancer. Can you check again?’