by Rona Halsall
She started to drag her case up the gravel drive, the little wheels bumping and sticking, making it feel like she was wrestling with the damned thing. Her stomach gave a gurgle, a reminder of hunger, or possibly nerves? Was Luke going to be cross that she was so late?
Although the glow of the lights made the house look warm and welcoming, when she opened the front door, it was as chilly inside as out. Does the place even have central heating? she wondered, a nugget of dread settling in her mind. Imagine what it’s going to be like if it doesn’t. She shivered and closed the door behind her.
‘Luke,’ she called. ‘Luke?’ She stopped and listened; the air felt still and undisturbed.
She left her bags in the hallway and went from room to room, taking in all the details, possessions scattered everywhere. The lounge ran across the front of the house, with a huge picture window looking out onto the front garden. It was nicely furnished with a red, squishy sofa in front of an inglenook fireplace, equipped with a large wood-burning stove, and two matching armchairs on either side. A blue patterned rug sat in front of the hearth, a pile of logs stacked on one side of the stove, a basket of newspapers and kindling on the other. Pictures of landscapes hung on the walls, and a series of downlights gave the room a cosy glow. Nice.
She went back out into the hall and opened the door on the opposite side, walking into a spacious dining kitchen, which was surprisingly sleek and contemporary, with a U-shaped worktop and an enormous American-style fridge-freezer on the far wall. The dining table was a large slab of oak, all wavy round the edges, sitting on stainless steel legs. A laptop was open on top of it. A pink fleece hung over the back of a chair, Luke’s jumper lay in a heap on the floor and shoes were scattered by the back door.
Mel clacked through the kitchen, her heels slipping on the tiles. The back door was unlocked, just as the front door had been, and she peered outside, the kitchen lights casting a glow across a paved patio area. Beyond that was a wall of rustling blackness. She closed the door and walked back to the hall, noticing the row of wellingtons. She frowned and glanced around. How strange. Maybe they’re hiding? It was just the sort of practical joke they’d play on her. Callum thought it was hilarious every time he made her jump out of her skin. She nodded to herself, a smile on her lips.
She slipped off her shoes and crept up the stairs, stopping to listen at every creak of the floorboards. But all was quiet. She held her breath as she sneaked into the first room, the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom by the door. She checked inside. Nobody there. Luke’s pyjamas lay on the floor. A T-shirt and underpants had been discarded on a chair by the bed. She threw open the wardrobe doors to find Luke’s clothes hung up, all neat and tidy, a pair of shoes sitting underneath, but nothing else. No child waiting to spring out and scare the bejesus out of her. Her eyes swung round the rest of the room and she walked over to pull the curtains closed. There was something eerie about a black pane of glass, something she really didn’t like, but as she glanced out she wondered if they might be hiding outside in the bushes somewhere.
She crept out of the room.
Back down the hallway, she peered into the children’s bedrooms, tutting at the mess they’d managed to create in the space of two days. A jigsaw puzzle had been started on a dressing table in the room that Tessa had claimed, the box tipped up on the floor, pieces everywhere. Clothes were scattered all over the unmade bed, sheets rumpled as though caught in a whirlpool. In the next room, Callum’s tablet lay on his pillow. She tapped it and a frenzied battle scene emerged on the screen, Transformer robots made out of cars, the sound deafening, making her scrabble to turn the thing off again. She listened. Surely there would be a giggle, a rustle of clothing, the sound of breathing?
Silence filled her ears, stuffing them full of the absence of her family. A shiver ran through her, making her teeth chatter, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
They’re not here.
She straightened, deflated by the lack of a welcome, and went back downstairs, no effort to be quiet now, her teeth nipping at her bottom lip and annoyance furrowing her brow. They were going to make her go outside. In the freezing cold. While they were probably all wrapped up in coats and scarves and not cold at all.
Well, they could wait a bit longer. In fact, she’d let them come and find her, while she worked out how to get some heat on. She sighed, disappointed that her imagination had been so wrong, her expectations of happy smiles and hugs so wide of the mark.
She hurried back into the kitchen to see if she could find a boiler of some sort. She had no idea what sort of heating arrangements there were, but she could see radiators, so that was encouraging. A search of the kitchen and utility room found no sign of anything resembling a heat source. Then she remembered the log burner in the lounge and wondered if it heated the house as well. It seemed the only option. She put a hand on the black metal. Cold. It was when she straightened up again that her eyes caught the note propped on the mantelpiece.
Gone for a hike. Weren’t sure when you’d be here. Luke
The note was scrawled on a scrappy bit of paper torn from a notebook. She went to put it back, then stopped, frowning. Shouldn’t they be back by now? It had been dark for a couple of hours, and knowing how meticulous Luke was when he planned his outings with the kids, she knew he would have made sure that he got his timings right. Then it dawned on her. A night hike! Why am I not surprised? It’s just the sort of adventure he’d decide to do with the kids, to make the holiday a little more special. They were probably out looking for badgers or bats or some other nocturnal creature.
She stared at the cold fire. So, they’d gone out and forgotten to stoke it up before they left. An easy oversight, she told herself, when you were used to a boiler on a timer that switched itself on and off, with no need to even think about it. Still, she could get the fire going and let the house warm up for their return. In the meantime, she had a little bit of space to grab something to eat and relax.
She sent him a quick text telling him she was at the house, and headed to the kitchen. She pulled the fridge door open then stopped when her hand grasped a bottle of wine. Wait a minute there. We need to think about this. She put a hand to her stomach. Can’t take risks. Not at my age. This could be my last chance. My very last chance.
She pulled out a carton of milk and flicked the kettle on. ‘Let’s make do with a nice cup of tea,’ she said into the silence. The fridge was well stocked and she was pleased to see bags of fresh pasta and ready-made sauce. Nice and simple. Things were looking up, she decided, delighted that she wasn’t going to have to start creating a meal from scratch.
Humming to herself, she took her mug through to the lounge and perched it on the mantelpiece while she started to get the fire going, looking forward to being there to welcome her tired and bedraggled family back home again.
On the whole, Luke hadn’t done too badly, she decided. It was a nice house. No, it was a lovely house. Plenty of space, homely, nicely decorated with a lovely bathroom and an en suite. There was even a utility room, she’d noticed, where all the wet and muddy clothes could go. Yes, it would do very nicely.
An hour, two cups of tea and a bowl of pasta later, Mel sat in front of the fire, watching the logs glow red, while she pulled the blanket she’d found in the bedroom tighter round her shoulders. She’d changed into her joggers and sweatshirt, with a fleece over the top and thermal socks on her feet, just until she’d properly thawed out. At least she could feel some heat from the fire now, but the rest of the house was taking a while to warm up. She checked her watch again and frowned.
They should be back by now.
She glanced at her phone, but there was still no answer to her text. Mind you, reception was a bit intermittent, she’d noticed, better at the front of the house than the back.
Slowly, she uncurled herself and straightened, feeling like she’d been frozen into place, all her joints stiff as she walked to the window, glad to see the reception change from one
bar to two. Maybe that’s the problem? She rang his number, but his phone went to voicemail. She tutted and peeped through the crack in the curtains, not able to see much for the rivulets of rain trickling down the window panes.
Fancy taking those poor kids out in this weather. She was starting to feel a bit annoyed now. He must have checked the forecast, because he always did, and would have known there was a weather front coming in.
Going outside was not something she relished, but she decided she had to go and have a look, see if there was any sign of them coming up the road. She shuffled into the hall, slipped her feet into her wellies, pulled on her waterproof and opened the door, shivering in the wind that rattled branches and murmured through the hedges that bordered the garden.
She walked to the road, the glimmer of lights from the house shining on the wet tarmac, but beyond that, an oppressive darkness. A loud swooshing heralded a sudden burst of hailstones, which bounced on the road, off the cars, the trees, finding their way down her neck, icy rivulets melting down her back, making her gasp and run inside, slamming the door behind her.
She wrapped a strand of hair round her finger and tugged.
Although Luke had taken the kids out in the dark plenty of times, it was now nine o’clock on a cold, wet February night and pitch-black outside. She’d been here for over an hour and the fire had been stone cold when she’d first arrived, so she had to assume they’d been out for several hours.
They should be back by now.
Three
Sunday
Mel went to the mantelpiece and looked at the note again. No time on it. No clue as to which direction they’d gone. She checked her watch. Ten past nine. Her jaw worked from side to side as she stared at the note, wondering what to do; unwilling to just sit there, waiting. She tried ringing Luke again, but when it went to voicemail, panic started to whisper in her ear that something was very wrong. Snatching up her car keys, she headed outside, her wellingtons slapping against her legs, in too much of a rush to find any other shoes to change into.
She backed out of the drive and decided she’d head left, towards Hawkshead, given that she’d driven in from the other direction and if they’d been walking that way she would have passed them. She drove slowly, her headlights on full beam, scanning the sides of the road. There was no pavement, just stone walls and trees and she followed the road through Hawkshead, all the way to Windermere. Then she turned around and retraced her route until the road branched, taking her to Coniston. She passed very few other vehicles and definitely no people walking. The wind had whipped up now, thrashing through the trees, splattering squally showers against the windscreen with a sudden force that made her clutch at the steering wheel as she struggled to see the road through the deluge.
The knot of nerves tightened in her belly.
Luke wouldn’t let them be out in this.
He was an accomplished outdoors person, having grown up on a farm in the mountains of Snowdonia and then, when he’d been in the forces, been trained in survival techniques. He would never put the children at risk. Of that she was sure.
They’ll be safe and warm somewhere, she decided, and headed back to the house. Maybe they’d crossed paths and had already returned. Her heart was racing now, her palms clammy as she hurried down unfamiliar roads.
She dashed inside, but could feel by the stillness, the eerie silence, that they weren’t there. It didn’t stop her calling their names, hoping to hear a reply. She left another message on his phone, desperation in her voice as she asked him to ring her.
Her hand went to her forehead as she paced in front of the fire. If they’d been caught out by the weather, or got lost even, maybe they were in a pub somewhere? That was a possibility, wasn’t it? She looked on her phone and located the pubs within a ten-mile radius, then started ringing them one by one, her heart pounding in her chest as each person she spoke to said they definitely hadn’t seen them and apologised for not being helpful, taking her number just in case.
She sat on the sofa, rocking backwards and forwards, chewing her lip so hard she could taste the blood. Her mind was crammed to bursting with possibilities, all of them worrying, making her uncertain what to do next.
Perhaps they’d had an accident and were in hospital? Her heart squeezed at the thought, but it made perfect sense. He’d have his phone switched off in hospital, wouldn’t he? Holding her breath, her fingers flashed over her screen as she found the nearest hospital, and waited while somebody answered. No, they hadn’t been admitted and weren’t waiting in A & E, she was told. Which was a relief in one way, but not in another; at least if they’d been there they would have been safe.
Rain lashed against the windows, the wind humming down the chimney, making the flames flutter in the stove as the storm raged outside.
She closed her eyes, unable to imagine what might happen if they’d been caught outside in this weather. They’d be hypothermic in no time.
Mountain Rescue. Her eyes snapped open. That’s it!
She dialled the emergency services, her heart galloping, sure now that this was her only hope.
‘Hello? Police? My husband and our children. They’re gone,’ she said as soon as the phone was answered. ‘Please help me. I don’t know where they are.’ Her voice cracked and the tears she’d been holding at bay shook through her body.
The operator soothed her until she was able to speak again and then took the basic details.
‘I understand that you’re worried,’ she said when Mel had finished. ‘But the kids are with their dad. Hopefully he’s just not got a signal, and they’re all okay.’
‘This is an emergency,’ Mel said, disbelief rattling round her head. Is nobody going to help me find them? She swallowed the fear that bubbled up her throat and tried to tone down the shrillness in her voice. ‘We’re talking about people who’ve gone out hiking and not come back. That’s what we’re talking about.’
‘I appreciate that, and what I’m going to do now is put you through to Mountain Rescue. They’ll ask you for more information.’
Mel waited while the call was transferred. Her fingers drummed on the arm of the sofa. She looked at her watch again. Five past ten. Had she left it too late? Should she have rung straight away and then gone out looking for them?
A voice answered, jerking her from her thoughts, and she gabbled her story to the woman on the line in one long, turbulent sentence.
‘Can you be as precise as you can with the location, please?’ the woman said.
‘I’m in Satterthwaite. Grizedale Forest area. I can’t think of the names of the other villages near here. I’m sorry. It’s all new…’ Mel stopped herself and took a deep breath, panic snatching at her words. ‘We’re staying in Dove Cottage.’ Mel’s body was trembling now, although the house had warmed up nicely. Things were getting serious. ‘I arrived today. This evening. And I found a note saying my family had gone out hiking. I’ve tried ringing my husband, but it just goes to voicemail.’
‘Can you give me a grid reference?’
‘A what?’
‘A grid reference, for the trail they’re on. Or do you know the name of the trail or what time they set off?’
‘What? No…’ Mel tugged at her hair. ‘No, the note didn’t say. I honestly have no idea where they went.’ Mel was silent for a moment, her brain frozen with the idea that nothing was going to happen if she couldn’t come up with a grid reference. She barely even knew what that was, never mind how to produce it. ‘Can’t you just come and look round here? Round the cottage?’
She could hear the clicking of keys on a keyboard before the woman came back on the line. ‘Yes, that’s no problem, we can use the cottage as a start point. It’s just the more information we have the better.’ She heard the woman take a breath. ‘Now, I’m sure you’ve thought of this, but could they have gone to a pub and are going to be late back? Could it be something like that?’
‘I’ve rung all the ones in a ten-mile radius and nobody has seen th
em.’ Mel started chewing a nail, then stopped when she remembered it was acrylic. No more nail chewing for her. It didn’t go with her profession. You couldn’t have people who chewed their nails telling you how to keep calm in difficult situations. She grabbed a lock of hair instead, curled it round her finger. ‘I’ve just got here. I told you. And there’s a note.’ Mel’s voice was rising, getting more strident. ‘And they aren’t back and it’s been dark for hours.’
‘And they didn’t take a car?’
‘No, the car’s still in the driveway.’
‘So, they’re probably within a four- to five-mile radius of Satterthwaite, given the ages of the children. Ten and nine you say?’
‘Yes, yes, that’s right.’
‘And this is out of character, would you say? To not be back on time?’
Mel had to think about that. ‘Totally out of character,’ she said, which was possibly a lie.
‘Okay, the team are on their way. It’ll take half an hour or so to get them together. And if your family turn up in the meantime, then you will let me know, won’t you? All these people are volunteers, you see. Most of them have got work in the morning.’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll definitely do that.’ There was a quiver in Mel’s voice. ‘Please hurry.’
She put the phone down on the sofa and wiped her hands over her face, not sure what to think because one of the woman’s questions had touched a raw place in Mel’s heart. This was not such an unusual occurrence. Luke and the kids did go out and not come back when she expected them. She’d given up trying to ring him on these occasions, because, as he’d told her several times, if they were nature watching he had to turn off his phone so the noise didn’t cause a disturbance. And then there were the times when he went up to the farm to see his family, when he would ring her at ten o’clock and say they were staying over, having left her fretting at home on her own.
